Lucy rolled over in her bed for the millionth time. Her blankets lay on the floor in a tangled mess, put there by her frustration. No matter how many times she closed her eyes and cleared her mind, she could not sleep. She had spent the better part of the month exhausted, and when she needed to sleep most, it evaded her.
She needed to sleep so she could dream. She heard her alarm clock ticking away, each precious second escaping her. She felt the future pressing down on her shoulders. She needed to figure out what her cryptic dreams were warning her about this time, and perhaps how she could stop it. She rearranged herself again in an impossibly uncomfortable position and huffed a heavy sigh. She covered her clamped eyes with her hand and repeated a mantra over and over until the words sounded funny in her head.
Everything in Lucy's life seemed to be right out of her grip of control. She would get so close to working it all out, and then, just in the nick of time, it would spiral from her. No matter what, she was never content with what she had, and could never seem to reach what she was striving for. A door at the end of the hallway she would never reach because she was too busy tripping over the carpet.
Frustrated with herself, she sat up at the edge of the bed. She let her feet dangle inches above the floor and tried to clear her mind. She set her feet on the cold wood floor and walked into her living room.
Right smack in the middle stood six canvases. Slowly, Lucy paced past each once, nit picking every single inch of canvas. She was pretty happy with herself and her workmanship, but doubt still sat heavy in her heart and on her mind. If she couldn't sell all six, what would she do for money? She would have to take up a part time job, but she knew she still wouldn't get the money in time. She was staring at life and death in her own living room.
Sell each one, and life would move on as normal. Fail, and she would be attending another funeral. It would be like having to watch Max die all over again, and she wasn't entirely sure she had the heart to do that again. For a moment, a thought flickered in her delusional head. She could ask Will for money, or maybe Roxie. She would pay them back when she could.
No, Lucy thought. I could never do that.
She didn't want hand outs. She didn't want to be the girl who couldn't hack it in the real world. And owing your friends money was never a particularly amiable situation. Especially since Lucy didn't know how she would even pay for next month's medical bills.
She would have to work harder and longer. She couldn't get a high paying, full time job since she never went to college. She didn't have the money, and scholarships weren't exactly rolling in, so she figured herself better off sticking to painting. She had started a new life for herself in New York. She had been doing okay for herself too, making her own money, paying her own bills. But these new tests being run on Max cost a fortune. Lucy was living pay check to pay check as it was, and seeing extra thousands being tacked on was starting to really get to her.
Will was another story all together.
At first, he had been a figment in her mind. He was something to think about every night, right before she fell asleep. He was the outlet she needed, he had given her something to look forward every night.
And then she met him in real life. Although she had no concrete proof, she was almost positive he had saved her life. He held her together when she thought she might crumble into millions of pieces. Kept her going, gave her a reason to wake up in the morning. But now, with the dreams rolling in like the dark clouds before a torrential rainstorm, Lucy realized the calm before the storm was quickly coming to an end. She had thought Will's secret was his inconsistency, but that problem had come to pass. Yet, she was still haunted by graphic and violent nightmares, all of which included not only Will, but Max.
But Max was in coma, and had been for years. Only a miracle could bring him back, and that was what Lucy was holding onto. A glimmering hope that things would turn out to be okay in the end. Because she was suffering to get through the day, and the very thought of her life amounting to little to nothing was enough to stop her from doing much of anything.
Slowly, she crept onto the balcony. She didn't care that she was absolutely freezing and that every time the wind blew her entire body prickled in pain. She needed the shock of cold to snap her out of the slump she felt herself falling in. She watched the rolling sky turn from pitch black to a hazy winter morning. She kept her feet planted on the cold concrete until her toes went numb.
Lucy had only lived a short twenty two years, but she felt so much older. Most people her age were having fun, going to parties, getting their first real job…experiencing the things Lucy never would get to appreciate. She had been launched into reality far too fast for her dreamy personality. She never wanted this kind of life. The type where she fell apart at the slightest budge. She didn't want to live paycheck to paycheck. She didn't want to need anyone like she needed Will or Roxie.
Lucy retreated back into the warmth of her apartment and glanced at the wall clock. She wasn't really sure how long she had been standing out on the balcony for, but it was long enough for her to gain the courage to call Will.
Or at least she thought. When she picked up the cell phone, she froze at the sight of his number. Lucy knew it was foolish to be so afraid. Avoiding Will would not change the fact that something was terribly amiss. Running away would not make her problems disappear. Hiding them in a portrait wouldn't either – not this time. But just as she had summoned the strength, her phone lit up with a number she recognized all too well.
She hesitated to answer, but shook away her nerves and pressed the phone to her ear.
"Hello," she stuttered. Her heart raced and she clamored to the sofa, her head spinning like a top.
"Hello Miss Levins. I believe you may want to get to the hospice as soon as possible."
And without a bit of doubt in her heart, Lucy grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. She walked down her hallway to the elevator, but found herself running by the time she got to the entrance. She hailed a taxi in the nick of time.
Was it truly possible? Was her dream really becoming a reality?
Her stomach flopped around as she began to think. If it was true, and Max really was awake, then there was a good chance that whatever happened in her dream may also come true. But that didn't make much sense, seeing as her dream foretold the complete and utter destruction of New York.
Looking at the skyscrapers, Lucy couldn't genuinely believe they could ever fall to the crumbled mess she had seen. She didn't think that the ground could crack entirely, or that thousands of people would really be begging to help. It was impossible to fathom. Surely, it must be some sort of sub conscious exaggeration. Perhaps there would be a snowstorm.
Or the dream could be less literal. There could be some symbolic reason behind the utter destruction, though she couldn't really think of one at that moment. Truthfully, it all seemed rather irrelevant to her. There was a damn good chance that Max was awake, and Lucy didn't really care what consequences came with that. She had waited most of her adult life to hear Max's voice again, see him smile…
The world could end and Lucy would be happy knowing her last moments were spent with Max.
Loki sat down on Lucy's small sofa with a frustrated sigh.
Where could she have possibly gone? Her front door had been open, along with the balcony door. Her bed had been ripped apart and clothes were flung precariously on her floor. If he didn't know any better, he would've suspected foul play.
Loki toured the apartment and took inventory of everything. He didn't see anything that hinted she knew any valid information on him. She hadn't appeared to have relocated, since everything she owned was still in the apartment. He focused his attention on the six concealed paintings in the center of the living room. One by one he lifted the linen that covered them. At first, he hadn't been very surprised.
But the sixth painting had wrenched his heart. It was a portrait of him. It was seemingly normal – dressed in a grey suit on Lucy's orange sofa. It really was quite good, and looked just like him.
It was the golden horns that pricked his curiosity. Once again, she had shown knowledge of his otherworldliness. And yet, never once did she bring it into conversation. She did not even give an inkling that she knew his secret. So how could she have possibly created two paintings of him with Asgardian clothing? It was far too precise to be any kind of coincidence.
Loki covered the painting once again, but it didn't shroud his curiosity. If he brought it up to her in conversation, would she admit to knowing something? No, he doubted it. She was far too unargumentative to ever confront him on such matters. And what if she didn't want him to know that she was aware of his true origin?
Was Lucy hiding something from him?
His mind swirled with a thousand possibilities, but decided on staying in the apartment until Lucy returned. He would figure out this enigma of a mortal within the day. He didn't have time to base off of mere assumptions. There was no more room for error. Thanos made it clear that if the strike didn't occur soon, it would not only be the end of him, but the end of Lucy.
If he had been stronger, he would've slain Thanos right there. Loki was smarter than that. He was not arrogant and selfish like his brother had been. He knew he must bide his time and his strengths and eventually, Thanos would meet his end. Loki knew that creature was a ticking time bomb, once set to explode right in Loki's face.
He could not put Lucy's life in jeopardy. Despite her overall unreliability, Loki couldn't shake his attachment to her. From a logical view, it would appear Lucy was just collateral, and if anything, was a detriment to his overall plan. Yet Loki knew logic no longer played much of a role in his arrangement. He was playing with hearts now, which was far more dangerous than any game of sense.
It was a different, more complicated form of trickery. The wise choice and the right choice were hardly ever the same thing. Lucy wasn't a chess pawn he could skip from square to square at the snap of a finger. Only through seduction and affection would she willingly put herself on the front lines. Even so, Loki was afraid to send his Queen out in fear she would only get check mated. And he knew he couldn't lose her that easily.
He had fought too long and too hard to get her. She was the most valuble piece in his inventory. Not to mention he…cared for her. Not only would her death be inconvienent, but utterly depressing.
He somewhat enjoyed her company. He had grown quite accustomed to having her around. And although it killed him to admit it, he truly did care for her, manipulations aside. It was all for the greater good in the end. If she had to struggle a bit now, so be it. He would give her the Kingdom of Heaven to cherish and to rule. Such magnificent gifts could only be created through bloodshed. And she might despise him at first, but so be it.
In the end, she would fall back to him. She would need him so desperately that there would be no way to refuse. Lucy would finally be all his, and not a single obstacle would stand in his way.
Loki began to think of how he would welcome her into her own apartment. He craved her a bit at the moment, and wouldn't mind indulging himself a little. Besides, it was delightfully adorable to watch her emotions fluctuate so, to feel her love for him as well as her modesty. She was fighting a losing battle though, and Loki knew that. Her wants would outweigh her modesty, just as it had before.
He couldn't resist the chase.