10. Professional Grief Counseling

. . .

Skye wandered into the rec room, noticing dully that it was going on two in the morning and the only light in the room was coming from the entertainment center. The television was playing quietly at least, which her insomniac's headache was thankful for. She stood behind the ugly couch that was just long enough for the resident demigod to flop comfortably on and rubbed at her thumping forehead. "You somehow on night watch even though you just got back, or is this one of those deals where you're not tired for days?"

"I napped in the car on the way back from South Carolina." Loki paused the film, leaving Sigourney Weaver standing frozen in a blueish-green room with a pissed off expression. Skye heard the flopping sound of the plastic remote dropping onto his prone chest.

Skye squinted at the image on the screen, her head tilting as she put it together. Some of the sleepy weight left her voice. "Are you seriously watching Aliens of, like, your own free will? The hell is going on in this place anymore."

There was a long pause, followed by a quiet voice. "It came about via an odd recommendation. I already watched the prior tale a week ago."

"...'Kay..." She staggered around the side of the couch, too worn out to find it weird that he immediately bent his knees to let her sit down. She reached out to pluck the thick box off the table. "I didn't even know we had a copy of the whole set." She turned it around to look at the gleaming green back of the case, not actually reading all the tiny technical details. "You're gonna stop after this one, right?"

"I feel like I've committed to something here, regardless of of my opinions on its quality. I have to admit, the first was almost passably interesting. This one is a bit more brutal in trying to make its thematic points, but I rather like the woman's harsh persistence. Though I wonder what happens to the cat left behind. That Jonesy. Was the cat that truly laid eyes on the beast first, after all." Loki rubbed the side of his hand across his forehead, examining the tired young woman. "What are you doing awake again? I notice it's always you finding me in here in the odd hours, torturing myself with this nonsense."

"Dude. The other two films... they're not great. At least, if you're gonna watch the next one, watch the assembly cut. I think that's what it's called." She put the box down. "Who recommended them?" She looked at him when he didn't answer. "Oh," she said, realizing something. Her face wrinkled a little. "The Montana thing."

"I don't actually see a resemblance between the architecture of these creatures and those warrens of the damned half-Chitauri, yet I think I understand now how Agent Triplett came to find one. These films were his. I found them in one of the storerooms, a few scraps of his that were missed. Some extra copies of that music he talked about during your winter. From his aunt. I remembered..." The sound of the name creased her face further. "Ah," he said, falling quiet when he realized why.

"That had to be a rotten surprise when you got here." Skye sighed and sat back hard against the couch, hugging her fuzzy oversized shirt around herself. Her wrists stayed buried deep in the fabric arms, hiding the gauntlets she almost always wore. She tried to keep her voice level. "I mean, I know you're all 'screw your brief tinky human lives,' but man. You just saw him not all that long ago. One of the last to actually do a big job with him before..." She shrugged and leaned further back, not aware she looked like she was trying to burrow. "Maybe your way is better," she muttered under her breath.

"He had loyalty and a certain strength. Dry and not easily taunted, compared to Coulson's wry nature, but I don't mean that to be insulting. He defaulted to rolling easily with new situations, not puzzling at them beyond a necessary due. There's value in that." He watched Skye pull in on herself, her eyes staring through the table. He could tell they were growing wet. "Yes. I was surprised. A far briefer life than even I expected."

She swallowed hard, then spun her head to stare when he said the last thing she would have ever guessed from him. "He was a good man. And it was not your fault."

"You don't know that." She didn't mean to make the words sound so angry. It wasn't that she was angry with him. Just... She swallowed again, then looked away, not really understanding what she was feeling.

Loki shrugged, unruffled. "I know a few things about causing collateral damage in my wake. You're simply not the type to leave things unhealed, much less embrace chaos when it comes to you. Though clearly you are the sort to let those pains consume you when you ought to be resting."

"He died because of what I started. It's all my fault."

"Started by what, just existing?" He tugged his legs up a little further before rolling his eyes. "Well here's a disgustingly familiar topic I didn't even remotely wish to draw close to. The chain of events that caused you to be born, to be brought to SHIELD's shores, and that ultimately awakened this violent change in you... are not solely to your blame. They are a fate woven around you without your consent. What you do with your life from here, that's your lookout." He sighed, then sniffed as he took the remote off his chest to clatter it onto the nearby table next to the disc case. "These changes should not be keeping you up at night. You're not a monster. You were not born one. You're not even a funny color. I insist all unholy child-eating abominations at least not be a humanish pink. It's tacky. You've got to represent, so to speak. The worst you do is flit around in those atrocious shirts."

She couldn't help staring at him in disbelief, his weird diatribe successfully distracting her. "Oh my God, I'm getting a pep talk on surviving guilt from you."

"I know. It's incredibly bizarre. You must have gone through a dozen iterations of this conversation with Coulson before winding up here. Resorting to my bleak shop of advice earned through horrible ways. Perhaps eventually it'll seep in." He arched an eyebrow at her from beyond his long leg, still sardonic. "Look, come back to me after you dump a major metropolis upside down with what you've got to work with. We'll compare notes. If you can't wrangle at least five hundred million dollars worth of property damage in an hour, you're a damned lightweight."

She kept staring at him, realizing in a crappy, backwards way he really did understand something about what she was dealing with. That he was reaching out of his comfort zone, and doing it willingly. "This is kinda messed up, huh?" She got another one of his familiar, creepy-thin grins. It was almost comforting in a wonky way that became genuinely comforting. That tickled the rest of an instinct. "So, no, really. Why are you up, too? I'd think you'd just hole away and read after your road-trip rather than watch flicks that remind you of dead people."

Loki looked at the table, reaching out to shove at the heavy cardboard case with a finger. "Reading would distract my focus. I can look at this and think."

"And? Something's got you, too. You're all weirdly extroverted here. You don't talk this much unless you're trying to pull one over on someone, and you're not doing that." She grinned, wry. "Least I don't think."

He pursed his lips. "It's pointless." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman still watching him. He continued grudgingly, using his elbows to pull himself a few inches upright. "I think that Stutgart man might have wanted to walk away. That's why he burned his envelope. A symbolic act. He wanted – chose - to be a teacher, to stay with the little ones he taught. The few things he left, his place amidst the school hierarchy suggests as much to me." He shook his head, thinking unwillingly of the crying girl in South Carolina. "Not that it changes anything. I suppose it adds pathos to the children's plight, those left behind. He wanted to alter his fate, and for him it simply could not be."

Skye looked at the TV, getting it. The guy was always on the edge of being permanently screwed up, but he wasn't a pure sociopath. Phil was dead certain about that much. If Loki was right, that was the exact sort of thing he, of all people, would be empathetic about. She lifted both her brows almost to her hairline. "Well, crap."

"Succinctly."

She shoved a hand through her hair while they sat in silence for a while. She still didn't feel tired enough to sleep but, weirdly, she felt a little better. "You got, what, like another forty minutes on this flick?"

"Mmm. Might just watch the next after."

"It's super-depressing, either version."

"Perfect." He reached for the remote.

"You want popcorn?"

He paused in mid-reach, considering that particular human treat with a lifted eyebrow. "Yes."

"It's extra butter or nothing, I'm just gonna warn you." He flapped a hand by way of response, drawing a tired but real laugh as she hoisted herself up from the couch.

. . .

"You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fu-" The metal popcorn bowl rattled a handful of hot, unpopped kernels at the bottom as Skye reached out to adjust the volume just a notch higher. Ellen Ripley finished wearily dressing down the greasy Weyland-Yutani peon. "-ing each other over for a goddamn percentage."

"Are there things as weird as these aliens out in space?"

"Absolutely." Loki reached out for the bowl, his voice perfectly deadpan. "You don't want to know. Makes this look like those twee animated hellscapes you keep forcing on me. Half of Asgard's people can just pop the backs of the heads off like grotesque bone helmets, revealing the impossible, eldritch horror within. Slime and tentacles."

"Oh my God, I can't tell if you're joking." She watched the pale hand take a handful of popcorn before passing it back.

"Could be a documentary, all this. Rivers of acid all through the universe. Don't visit, it's dreadful. Stay on tiny, dull, backwards Earth."

She almost inhaled a corn hull. "Nope. You're joking."

"You'll never be able to tell for certain." He deftly tossed a kernel in his mouth, watching the slimeball get shoved around by a thinned-out squad of Space Marines and the pissed off Ripley just before the lights went out in the fictional facility. "Gods, I loathe that little company man and his disgusting hair. That Burke. I hope he gets killed soon."

"No spoilers." Skye twisted her mouth, unhappily realizing something familiar about the way Loki fixated his dislike on that specific character. "So... hey. Since we're, like, bonding here, I'm gonna skip a surprise you're supposed to get tomorrow at a formal briefing."

He reached out for the bowl again, not saying anything.

"Like, this was my idea, and I'm really sorry." Loki was still grabbing popcorn, but the narrowed green eyes were studying her instead of the frantic space marines. She cringed. "We're sending you out to California to talk to Ian Quinn. On the bright side, you can scare the crap out of him?"

He pointed at the screen with the hand that just came from the bowl, nearly dropping a few kernels across the carpeted floor. His voice was full of terse command. "Tell me. Does that Burke character die?"

"Real soon."

"Good." Then he paused the film again and stood up in a quick, aggravated motion, tossing a kernel in his mouth and swallowing before speaking. "Now I'm getting a beer. You can tell me why I have to go suffer the presence of that walking oil slick tomorrow, as you intended." He glanced at her. "Any other bad news I ought know?"

"Besides the fact that you're not gonna get a kill order on him?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "I can't hardly expect that much of a gift." The green stare fixed on her again. "But he can be terrified."

"Yeah, totally. If you need. Have fun with that part."

He looked away, clearly annoyed, but at least he didn't look furious with her. The guy's moods could still be mercurial as hell, but since moving in, he never really lashed out directly at anyone. Skye relaxed again, balancing the bowl on her knees. She managed to not tumble it when he spoke one more time, still grumbling. "It's business, I suppose. Am I bringing another for you?"

"If you don't mind." She threw in another peace offering. "You'll like how Burke dies. It's appropriate."

"Gods. I look forward to it. At least someone gets a happy ending around here."