11.
The sun fought the rain that morning and in the end the rain won out. The world had long since become suspicious of rain and long since used to hiding indoors at the first sight thereof. First it had been the floods and then the acid. The fallout had cut the world's population by more than a third over two hundred years ago and it had taken over a hundred years more for the rain to even begin to fall pure again. Everyone's grandparents had stories of how their parents could not go outside in the rain that would burn your skin and take out your eyes.
Thor could only assume that he was strange. He had always loved the rain; he wondered now if it was a kind of sympathy – that he had grown up loving it purely because everyone else hated it. He wondered if it was insensitive of him to like something that had caused so much damage, but whether he meant to like it or not, he still did and that was all. It was the first time it had really rained since he came here, and so he did what he supposed only came logically to him – he went out for a walk.
The rain, warm though it was, cleared his head as he took the cliff road towards town. He quite enjoyed the discomfort of it trickling down his hair and into his collar. He turned his face up to the sky and took in the smells of water and salt and wet ground. Out at sea the waves were as angry at the weather as most people tended to be, and they were shouting about it too, in high bursts of squalling chatter, flinging themselves petulantly against the shore, snatching greedily at the cliff edge and scurrying back licking chalk from their lips.
It occurred to Thor how much his ghost had consumed him almost since day one. He wondered if he had missed too much of the experience of the place in his searching after the past. He wondered why Loki had insisted so vehemently that it was not important. If it was not important why was he being led to work it all out? What did a ghost want if it was not for the past to be dug up? Was there something beyond rest that a ghost could hope for? And if so, what? Thor threw his loud and tumultuous thoughts out into the wind and rain but the waves and the gulls brought back only louder cries of their own and no answers.
By the time Thor reached the town he was wet through and regretting every decision he had ever made. He hardly even had time to wonder whether it would be alright to show up at Mjoll's house in the high street unannounced before he found himself on her doorstep. It had always been alright to show up at her house unannounced. She did not even look surprised to see him, just shook her head and grinned and nodded –
"You're wet."
"Yes, I'd noticed. You gonna leave me wet on your doorstep?"
Mjoll shrugged and started to close the door. Thor pouted.
"Just kidding," she opened up and stepped aside – "Come in. I'll get you a towel. Don't drip all over my shit."
She ushered Thor into her small front room, announced that she'd be back in a second, and left him to do the precarious dance of where to sit on his own. He really was wet through, and aware that there was only the one small sofa in the room did not want to drench at least half of it just by sitting down. In the end he knelt in front of the fireplace which Mjoll had clearly been in the process of prepping when he knocked. He carried on scrunching up newspaper where she had left off.
She was longer than he imagined it should take to find a towel and he thought he heard murmured voices from upstairs. When she finally came back, chucking him a towel, he raised an eyebrow at her.
"Euphemia Coulson, the stone mason's daughter," she nodded, trying not to sound smug and thereby sounding smugger than she even felt. The cool attempt to keep her face neutral fell apart at the end of the last word and her face broke into an enormous grin. Thor high fived her and she kept on nodding as she sat down.
"Ohh yeeah," she breathed – "Last night was –" unbelievably she almost giggled – "Quite a night".
"Hence the fire at half two," Thor nodded.
"Thor, not all of us rise at first rainfall like you. How's your ghost?"
Thor rubbed his hair to some semblance of dryness.
"You don't have dry pants do you?" Mjoll blinked at him slowly.
"Thor, I'm five foot two. No, I do not have massive-sized man pants. Light the fire."
He lit the fire, peering at it in intense concentration for a while until the first wisp became a flame.
"Mind you –" Mjoll added – "I think maybe Effie has a spare skirt…."
Thor side eyed her, unimpressed both at the offer and the dramatic pause she put in before following it, as he had guessed she would with –
"- On my bedroom floor!" Mjoll hit an imaginary drum in celebration – "Tea?" she smiled brightly before Thor could actively roll his eyes at her.
"My ghost –" Thor said slowly, when she came back with the tea – "I don't know. I – we – I think we had a fight."
"Oh my god," Mjoll groaned – "What, are you guys dating?" She was about to laugh when she saw the grimace that came and went on Thor's face.
"Oh. Oh shit. Thor – Thor dude you can't –"
"I know," he groaned.
"You can't be in love with a ghost."
"I know."
"I mean – he dead."
"Damn it Mjoll, I know that!" Thor rubbed his face in both hands. He had not wanted anyone to say it out loud. He should have known that she would.
"Thor –"Mjoll whistled, in a heavy breath out – "My friend, you are more fucked than you know."
"No, I do know."
"Aww man." As if the whole thing wasn't difficult enough, Mjoll, who avoided human contact like the plague was suddenly hugging him. He felt, for the first time in his life, like he was half her size, she managed to fit her arms around him so solidly and effectively. When she finally broke away and backed off it was with an awkward, half apologetic little grin.
"And that's a Mjoll hug," she shrugged.
"It was…nice."
"Yeah? Don't get used to it. But Jesus, you need at least a hug cause you can't have sex with a ghost."
"Well actually –" Thor began.
"Oh Christ. How? What? Oh shit-actually, no don't, I don't wanna hear about it."
It was a lie. Thor told her the whole story and she wanted to hear about it all. By the time he was done the sky outside was turning half dark.
"I wish I could be like you," he finished up – "You know – not doing Romantic."
"Yeah, you say that." Finally it was Mjoll's turn to grimace and Thor caught her take a furtive look at the ceiling.
"What, really?"
"Shut up."
"You could ask her to come down, you know. I don't wanna –"
"Meh. It's only five. Don't think we got to sleep until you were waking up this morning. But yeah I'll go wake her – you wanna stay for breakfast?"
"I really don't want to –"
"Thor please stay for breakfast, 'kay? I've not done this bit before."
Thor stayed. By the time he left it was full dark outside and, as he was dry and the rain was still unceasing he called Heimdall to take him home, Mjoll's insistence that he come round for that crap movie night sometime soon ringing in his ears.
-x-
"Loki?" he called out to the silent house. He tried the switch. Nothing.
"Loki?"
A feeling of dread began to pool in him like poisoned tea on a winter's day. He fumbled in his pocket for a rechargeable torch. It was damp, but with a bit of twisting he got it to work. He flashed the light around the hall and into the front room. The pool of dread solidified into an icy fear. The house was silent as the grave and it felt empty. Something it had not done since the day he moved in. And the hall and front rooms looked like a storm had charged through them, everything torn down, flung around, tipped over, the entire house, as he soon discovered, torn up into utter chaos.
As though a ghost had been at work.
_x_
Heh heh, I have more but this seemed such a good place to leave it. Tune in soon to find out what's up with Loki. *Drum roll*. Yes I'm back, miss me? :-)