Chapter 2: Everything, Everything

One long dash. Two short dots. One short dot. Another short dot. One long dash. Another long dash. Two short dots. Then a desolate silence that seemed to stretch for eternity.

"Dead." Lydia's voice was thin. "They're all dead."

Amélie stood in shocked silence, as well as the rest of the healers.

The whole fleet was lost. Lost in sea, struck down by a storm. One survivor, who had made through it alone. One survivor.

And no one else.

He was dead as well.

Amèlie felt the loss crash against her, crash against her like a fearless wave did helpless pearls of sand. Crash against her like aircraft to the ocean. Crash against her like her whole world was.

They had dated three months. A kiss. A promise. Then he had vanished forever, leaving her alone in this cruel world of the living that Amèlie now loathed to reside.

She turned, ignoring the sympathetic eyes aimed at her way, heading to the room where her only … semifriend of sorts … would be. He would likely make her even angrier, judging him on the few days she had known him. But Amèlie couldn't do anything else.

"You look depressed," commented Loki as she entered the room. "Something wrong?"

Amèlie glared at him.

"The whole fleet is dead. The fleet that left two weeks ago. They're all goddamn dead."

"Oh, how sad," Loki smirked, showing he felt otherwise. "How tears fall from my eyes."

"You didn't know them!" Amèlie hissed, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice. "You didn't know how brave and strong they were! You didn't know how young and intelligent they were, how much they were looking forward to get out of this stupid war you caused and have their normal lives back!"

"You're boyfriend was in there?"

Amèlie realized she had given herself away. She had never stood up for her fellow healers in the few days they had been together, at least not in front of Loki.

"Yes," she replied, venom dripping in the single word. "And it's all your fault."

"What happened to 'I promise to treat others fairly, no matter who and what they are'?" Loki smirked once more.

"Just … " Amèlie felt herself hating him, felt the anger creeping in. "Just shut up, will you?"

She stormed out of the room, leaving Loki alone. She wasn't about to endure his sarcasm today.

She spent the rest of the day furiously working, trying to lose her grief in work. She tried to forget his smile, his promise, the promise he would return.

But it was impossible.

She had a boyfriend.

The realization stormed his brain, though Loki told himself he did not care. He had only known her for a few days, and she was nothing, nothing but a tool he would use for escape, use for freedom.

In the few days he had gotten to known her, he had realized she had far more to her than it seemed on the outside. Yet he still did not know what it was. A darkness of sorts resided inside, yet every time she saw him, she would push it out with a stronger light.

Over those few days, they had made small talk, though Loki had deemed it as boring and Amèlie as useless. Both had nothing to do; Amèlie had been officially assigned as his healer, being the only one who could really tolerate him. They sat all day in the hospital, Amèlie making the general checks once an hour. So they had submitted to talking, though it resulted in a number of infinite arguments.

Her favorite color was orange, the color of the sunrise. Her favorite hour of the day was the sunset. Her favorite season was spring, when the first dandelion would bloom. They had talked on so forth, though Amèlie would soon complain or he himself would.

He sometimes wished he could leap out of that window beside him. It was like a prison here, though it literally was. Before he had gotten injured, at least he had been allowed outside, to a certain extent. Now he was stuck here, watching something he couldn't have.

Loki continued to tap his fingertips on the edge of his bed, thoughts coming in and out of his head. Thor. Frigga. Odin. The nine realms.

He intended to watch Asgard burn, to remain to nothing but ashes. He intended to watch his once family at his feet, grovelling and begging for his mercy. He intended to break Amèlie Kramer, to use her like he had been used. Yet some dissatisfaction remained with that decision, an empty space Loki could not decipher.

Something was wrong with him, all right, Something big. Except Loki didn't know what it was. The exile to Midgard had changed everything.

Everything.

As night fell in the Emergency Room, Amélie sat back, a sigh escaping her. She laid down her book back on the table, barely ten chapters through.

A girl. A boy. Two teenagers who had not seen each other for thirteen years. Before, they had been girlfriend and boyfriend. They met again as adults, only for the boy to go off to the army and die there.

Goddamn.

The book had only reminded her of painful memories.

She stood her chair, her thoughts and action instinctively going to Loki. Then she remembered her shouting at him, and she sat back down with another groan. Lydia put a hand on her shoulder, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry about Ryam. He seemed like a promising person."

"He was." Amélie drooped completely. "He absolutely was. Once this damnable war was over, he was going to marry me."

"He already proposed you?" Lydia asked, an expression of surprise on her face. Amélie nodded.

"I should have known, though. A relationship during a war cannot last."

"Some do," responded Lydia. Having no response to this, Amélie merely nodded. A typhoon of sorts clouded her brain, causing her to stare blankly out of the window. It was raining.

Droplets of water slid down the glass. Three years ago, after that family, Amélie had sworn never to cry again. Yet she was tempted, tempted to let that storm break into rain, like the weather outside.

She heard that old voice whisper in her ear, echo throughout her head and mind: it's not fair.

No, Amélie thought. Nothing's ever fair. And it's about time you knew that. Sometimes, things happen for no reason. And sometimes … you can't be always there for them. She was willing to sacrifice herself for Ryam, if she had been there. But she had not.

And now everything, every part of their relationship had burnt into nothing but ashes.

Perhaps a fire that burnt so brightly, a fire of the fiercest love possible, was not meant to last.