Notes: I've abandoned canon once again, and Loki has another opportunity to exercise his new skills of empathy and compassion. Let's see how that works out for him.

Warnings: None (yet.)

Chapter Seven

When Mitchell and Loki came through the door, Annie and George were stretched on the couch together, and Pride and Prejudice was on the television. George, on the side nearest the kitchen, glanced at them over Annie's head and mouthed the words, "Help me!"

Suppressing a smile, Loki walked into the lounge.

"Have you just begun watching?" he asked Annie, looking at the television screen. On it, the Misses Bennett were only just being made aware of the imminent arrival to their neighbourhood of the very desirable Mr. Bingley. It was therefore apparent the program had only just begun.

"Yes," Annie replied, then reached over and pinched George. "And George is plotting his escape already."

"I never!" George protested, scrambling out of Annie's reach.

Annie arched an eyebrow at him, in a gesture that frankly looked rather like Loki. "It's sweet of you to sit with me, George, but honestly, you don't need to. I'm perfectly all right."

One did not need to be the God of Mischief to suspect Annie's brave words were not entirely truthful. Pride and Prejudice was of course a favourite program of Annie's, but it was also one she watched for comfort. She was, of course, always pleased to show it to a new audience- Thor, for instance, when he was recovering from his time as a kitten. And if Loki's mother did indeed pay a visit, it would take little coaxing to persuade Annie to explain to the queen about Colin Firth.

However, George had of course seen the program many times before, so that was not the reason Annie had brought it out now. Loki strongly suspected her present wish to view it was an indication of an understandable lingering emotional upset. She had claimed to be all right after Owen's visit. Perhaps she really was, at least for the most part, but… still.

And with that realization, a decision was made for Loki. As he approached the house, he had wondered whether his wisest course might be to withdraw to his box room for the evening, and there study his spell books for a way to rescue Scamp. He had thought this would reduce the likelihood that he might tip Annie off as to his own state of unease, which would certainly upset her even if she only thought he felt jealous of Owen. Loki did not even want to think about how she would feel if she realized what he was actually distressed about.

The drawback to that idea was, simply, that Loki was not at all in the habit of spending the evenings alone in his tiny bedchamber. Loki loved his former box room, found it comforting, especially when he woke at night. However, it was far too small to be a comfortable place in which to spend much waking time, and besides, he liked to be with his friends. It would therefore be unlike him to retreat to his room for such study, and to do something so unusual would be an indication of something troubling him. It would, in other words, be an even stronger hint to Annie that something was wrong.

And so, now, he smiled at her and said, "If you will have me, and if George is willing to cede his place, I will come join you after I have tidied up and changed."

Annie smiled back, and Loki kept a straight face as both she, and George behind her back, blew a kiss at him.

~oOo~

Annie appeared to notice nothing amiss when Loki, damp-haired (really, what with getting all sweaty during his twice-daily runs, Loki used more hot water than George and Mitchell combined, and therefore the boiler problem was certainly all his fault) and in his sleeping clothes, returned to the lounge with three of his spell books and the kittens trailing behind him. Loki took the unoccupied end of the sofa, Annie shifted over to lean against his left side, and George surprisingly did not take the opportunity to flee after all.

It took a moment to get settled: Loki put two of the books on the coffee table in front of him, then opened the third on his lap, which Elizabeth and Philip took as an invitation to sit upon it. Loki was unsure whether it was normal for kittens to behave so, or whether his were unusually intelligent, but he had noticed that Philip and Elizabeth were always deeply interested in anything he happened to be reading.

This might have had unfortunate consequences to an ordinary book, and indeed Loki was very careful to protect those he borrowed from the library from their little clawed feet. Magical grimoires, being suited to use in the presence of supernatural forces (and probably dragons), were a great deal sturdier than they looked, and so the kittens would not harm them. However, it was quite difficult to read through their furry little bodies, or to consult the index at the back with both of them mewing in protest between the pages.

"Really, you two are most unsuited for the role of bookmarks," Loki remarked, as he lifted Elizabeth from the page for the third time and handed her to Annie. Elizabeth promptly squeaked and scrambled back onto the book beside her brother.

"It's not hard to tell whose pets you two are," Annie giggled, scooping the little animals into her lap. As the kittens protested, she added, "I know I'm not cozy like Loki, but surely I'm more comfy than that old paper."

"Apparently they are thirsty for knowledge," Loki remarked, fending off the renewed interest of the kittens while he changed books. Finally finding what he needed in the index of this one, Loki turned to the appropriate section.

"What are you looking for?" George asked, leaning over Annie to peer at the grimoire.

"I require a spell to scry for bones," Loki explained.

"You what?" George said blankly, and from the armchair Mitchell also looked interested.

"Have we not told you of our meeting with Catherine Bennett and Agnes Scott?... Apparently not," Loki answered his own question. Of course not: their attention had been otherwise occupied as soon as he and Annie arrived home. "Briefly, then, they believe the secret to freeing Scamp is to retrieve her bones. We will naturally search the grounds in case her grave has a marker, but I very much doubt that will be the case, and therefore we may have to resort to other means of locating her remains."

"Wait, wait, wait just a second there," Mitchell spluttered. Loki looked at him in surprise. "Are you planning to do a spot of grave robbing?"

Loki blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, are you sure you'll be able to tell the difference between dog bones and those of a small human, without digging them up, I mean? It's a pretty good bet some of the graves in that churchyard have lost their markers over the years, or were never formally marked in the first place. In fact, there could be layers of them. Will you be able to tell whether you're digging up the grave of a dog or a child before you do it?"

Loki felt rather at sea, and was becoming defensive at Mitchell's tone. "I will not know until I try. It is possible I will be able to get a sense of the shape of the skull or teeth, which would identify the species."

"I don't see what you're so upset about anyway, Mitchell," Annie weighed in. "There's nobody in that churchyard except for Scamp. Even if some of the people buried there are still ghosts, they're haunting places that have meaning for them. Personally, I've never been to my own grave, and I suspect that's true of a lot of ghosts. Loki won't be hurting anyone."

"Well, if anyone happens along and finds the graves all dug up, that would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention," George remarked. "I don't think we want that."

"No, I see that," Loki admitted. Glancing at Mitchell, he addressed what he now understood to be his friend's concern: "And I have no wish to offer any insult to the dead."

"I seem to remember there are rituals about the burial of the Church Grim," George said placatingly. "There might be clues that can help us narrow down your search. We could look that up, if it's not in your notes."

"I believe it is," Loki agreed, cast a summoning spell, and his notebook flew from his jacket pocket to his hand. (This was a matter of considerable interest to the kittens.) With Annie reading over his shoulder, Loki flipped through the pages, deciphering his own handwriting with a little difficulty. Normally his script was quite precise, but he had been distracted and hurried this time, and as a result some of his notes were more like scribbles, and tiny besides.

Even so, he was able to find the section to which George referred. Annie spotted it at the same moment Loki did.

"Wait, does that say she was buried under the altar?" Annie demanded in dismay. "Because digging all that up sounds like a lot of work!"

"I was mistaken in that note," Loki admitted. "It seems that was the custom in Scandinavia, where such creatures were also created. In Britain, let me see- she would have been buried on the north side of the churchyard." He glanced up at Mitchell. "Which does not preclude other graves near hers: if Agnes is correct and the current ruin is not even the original church- she suggested as much based on the length of time involved, I think- there would be many generations of burials, all mixed up together."

"So, no stonemasonry needed," Mitchell said grimly. "Just a strong stomach."

Loki felt himself beginning to lose his temper. "Mitchell, I am not going to leave her there. She met an ugly fate to serve the superstitions of backward people, and then was discarded when the church was abandoned, and has been alone ever since. The very least owed her is the chance to pass on to some sort of rest. If that means temporarily disturbing some other bones, I will do so, though I do not wish to. Since you cannot enter the churchyard, you will not be part of this effort, nor will I discuss the matter any longer in your presence if you prefer it so, but I will not stop."

There was a silence of the sort that once would have utterly terrified Loki, to say nothing of the anger on Mitchell's face. As it always did on such occasions, a part of Loki stood back and watched with lingering surprise as he quarreled with his friend and yet was confident they would continue to remain friends. An argument, even a fairly serious one, was not enough to destroy the love between them. There was untold relief in that awareness.

And then Mitchell sighed, and his shoulders relaxed. "Okay. Annie's right anyway, there's nobody really there. I just… Apostles' Creed. It must have popped back into my head, or something." He did not clarify this puzzling remark, and Loki did not ask. "Just… please, Loki, be respectful."

"I will," Loki promised, hurt in spite of himself, and Mitchell grimaced at the expression on Loki's face.

"I know. I didn't mean to sound like- I'm just making this worse. I know you'll be careful, and put things back as they were." He glanced at Annie. "And I know we can't just leave her. Of course not."

Loki very carefully did not sigh with relief. "I promise to be careful. And respectful." A thought crossed his mind, and he dismissed it. Mitchell had not lived in Bristol for long enough to have… for anyone he had…

Annie glanced at the faces of her friends and reached for the television controller. "I think that's enough P&P for now. Does anyone mind if I put in Monty Python and the Holy Grail instead?"

Loki leaned over and kissed her.

~oOo~

On Friday, it rained so hard that not even Loki was foolish enough to go searching for bones. He and Annie caught a bus across the river and arrived at the ruin late on Saturday morning. Once again, Scamp was thrilled to have company. Wagging her tail violently, she spun in circles and jumped up on their legs, yapping gleefully. Annie crouched down, Scamp crawled halfway into her lap, and Annie scratched the roots of her ears and scruffed down her spine. Scamp plastered herself against Annie, but when Loki came over to say hello the dog seemed pleased to see him as well, twisting her head in his direction and wagging her tail even harder.

"I am happy to see you, too," Loki crooned. "And I hope in a short time we will be able to release you from this place." Scamp ran out her pink tongue and smiled at him, and Loki continued to scratch her neck as he turned to Annie. "I will cast the scrying spell and search for her bones. If I think we have found something, I will come back tonight with the spade." Mitchell and George had made it very clear that no digging could go on in daylight. The church gate had been one thing, but evidence of digging within the actual graveyard would upset any humans who heard about it. He would have to work either at night or under a glamour, and very carefully hide all traces of his activity.

Loki really did not understand why this was considered such a serious matter, given the graves were effectively unoccupied and the bones within them had been forgotten for so long. However, he could only remind himself that he was not himself human- and also that he expected, when his time came, for his remains to be burned on a pyre and his ashes scattered, so his frame of reference was quite different from that of a modern Briton. Living as he did on the humans' realm, it was only polite to avoid giving offense.

And besides: there had been the business with the human who had nearly encountered the werewolf only a few weeks ago. Interest in the incident seemed to have died down, but really, it was still too soon for someone to be digging up the graveyard in these same woods.

"Oh gosh, that's right," Annie agreed, when Loki mentioned it. "With our luck, half the city would end up thinking the woods are full of devil worshipers or something."

Loki actually felt himself blanch. "Or connect these strange events to the dubious sorcerer who has taken refuge in your city."

Annie patted his knee. "Not so dubious, and it's your city too, now. I'm pretty sure nobody here is going to assume the worst of you. But still- "

"Best not to draw attention to strange activities in the very woods where George transforms," Loki completed the sentence for her. "Very well. I will be careful. Perhaps you could play with Scamp while I conduct my preliminary investigations?"

It was unclear to Loki whether Scamp understood any of this exchange, or whether it was a coincidence, but she immediately squirmed free and dashed into the ruin, emerging with the red plastic ball clutched in her little jaws. It crossed Loki's mind that if any humans happened by, the sight of a red plastic ball apparently floating about on its own would certainly attract the attention they were trying to avoid.

But he could hardly take the toy away from her now, and he did not especially want to make an issue of ghosts at the moment. So he left Annie tossing the ball for the happy little ghost dog, and walked slowly along the boundary formed by the derelict iron fence, casting a low-energy concealing glamour as he went.

With that done, Loki reviewed the location of the sun and used it to position himself on the north side of the ruin. He could hear Annie's laughter and Scamp's excited barking from the other side of the churchyard as he turned his back to the broken wall and took in a deep breath.

Let it out slowly.

Breathed in again, and once again let it out in a long silent sigh.

As he drew in his third breath, Loki could feel warmth and light beginning to fill him.

Since coming to Midgard, Loki had seen many films and television programs which depicted the use of magic. Many of them seemed to feature, if not actual pointy hats, then at least self-important rituals of a sort in which Loki could not imagine himself indulging. Admittedly, these rituals had probably evolved for reasons which made sense in the Midgardian context, but Loki could not see the utility for himself. For one thing, his earliest practical experiences had mostly come while tagging along with Thor and his friends, who had had little enough patience with his sorcery, and so Loki had quickly learned to waste little time in getting to the point of any working. Also, in fairness, magic cast under these circumstances had generally been for the purpose of extracting them from the jaws of some peril too large for Thor to deal with by hitting it, and thus the impatience of the others had in fact been justified.

So: Loki had learned early on to dispense with ritual and incantation, and depend mostly on his own powers of concentration and whatever magic he could produce or scavenge from the environment around him. On Midgard, this was normally not very much, and so it was the case now: the power filling him now came from inside, as though his heart and lungs were filled with light.

The sounds of Annie and Scamp playing receded into the distance and faded away as Loki's consciousness reached out, then down, feeling its way through the earth before him. He worked slowly, pausing to investigate anything that seemed out of pattern with the soil, pulling gently back when small tunneling or wriggling consciousnesses shied away from his "touch."

It was slow and tedious work, almost like a magical version of the painstaking archeology he sometimes saw depicted in scientific television programs, in which the humans sifted patiently through layers of dirt, seeking clues to their past. Loki had never used his magic in this way before, and he was discovering he was not especially talented at it. The task was not impossible, and he was sure his perceptions would improve with practice, but he was far better at locating beings who were alive, and gaining a sense of their intentions, than at finding items that were not alive and determining their shape. He felt rather as though he was fishing through a kitchen drawer, blindfolded and wearing heavy mittens, trying to find a particular teaspoon.

Even so, Loki eventually found himself able to form an impression of the relative size of these buried objects, and if he focused hard enough he was able to "see" whether the article was a single large rock or a collection of smaller things that might perhaps be bones. He had taken the precaution of providing himself with a pocketful of small white stones, and groped his way forward to place some of them on the spots underneath which he thought there might be a skeleton. These places would at least bear looking into a little more closely, when he came back with rested and better-practiced sorcery.

He had marked half a dozen such places, three of them near the church walls, before giddiness and pressure at his temples forced him to stop. He more or less felt his way to the church wall, and sat down with his back to it, head tilted to lean against the cool stone, eyes sliding gratefully shut.

He was not sure how long he sat there, but eventually he felt a cool presence close to his left side, and another across his feet. Loki opened his eyes to find Annie by his side, and Scamp on his feet, both looking at him with friendly interest and concern.

"All right?" Annie asked, taking his hand.

Loki started to nod and then thought better of it. "Yes, fine. A little light-headed, but it will pass shortly."

"We should have thought to bring lunch," Annie said, her fingers tracing a cool pattern on the back of his hand. Loki turned his head toward her.

"That is unnecessary. I will have a cup of tea when we return home." And really, he preferred not to eat in front of both Annie and Scamp, neither of whom could join him.

Annie smiled, and Scamp stretched, then got up and trotted around the ruin. She returned carrying her red ball, dropped it next to Loki's right hand, and backed up a step. When Loki did not take the hint immediately, Scamp pushed it toward him with her nose, then stepped back again and barked hopefully.

Loki found he had not the heart to tease, so he picked up the ball and threw it as well as he could from his seated posture. Loki was not particularly good at such throwing- a ball was not exactly the same as a knife- but Scamp was not critical of his skills and happily chased and brought it back repeatedly.

"One thing about a ghost dog," Annie remarked, "she'll never get tired playing fetch. We might be here for a very long time."

Loki made a face. "I am a member of a very long-lived species." Whichever one it was. "I have time." Annie giggled and leaned into his arm. Just at that, Scamp brought the ball back and fell over at Annie's side, chewing awkwardly but happily on the toy.

Annie reached down to scratch Scamp's floppy ears, then asked, "Have you found her yet?"

"Not yet," Loki admitted. "I have located several possible graves, but I have been unable so far to be sure what they are, let alone determine the size of the, the occupant. It may take further practice before I can really see what is under the earth."

Annie hugged her knees. "Too bad you can't just ask some ants to look for you. You know how you are with ants."

Loki wrapped an arm around her. "That is a wonderful idea," he said. "I shall try it next time we come here. Or perhaps some other tiny creatures would be willing to assist us."

Annie snuggled into him, gazing out over the churchyard. "It's so quiet," she said softly. It seemed she wished to say something else, so Loki tilted his head against hers and waited. After another long moment, she said, "I wonder if it's this quiet at my grave."

"You said you have never gone to see it," Loki said.

"No," Annie replied.

Loki turned toward her. "Would you like to?"

~oOo~

They wished Scamp farewell and caught another bus back across the river. Loki made a detour to purchase some flowers, since he had the impression, from television, that leaving flowers on a grave when one visited was an accepted Midgardian custom. (He had every intention of going back to the flower vendor later, to obtain more flowers for Annie to bring home with her.)

The cemetery was well-cared-for, peaceful, and much larger than the little churchyard in the woods. As Annie had no idea where her grave lay, Loki made his way to the maintenance office and asked for information. The woman there kindly looked up directions and sent him on his way.

A few minutes later, they stood looking down upon the shining stone, Annie's cool fingers entwined with Loki's. ANNA CLARE SAWYER was engraved upon the surface, with the dates that confirmed the heartbreaking brevity of her mortal life.

And below, that, in large letters, the legend: Beloved Fiancée of Owen.

As he read it, Loki felt himself once again bristle inwardly at the statement of possession, as though Annie's only claim to importance was Owen's claim upon her. He tried to remind himself that he was known to be over-sensitive to such assertions, and often unfairly. His own parents had not meant to call him a possession, when they said he was theirs.

And yet… and yet, surely, when he fell, when they thought he was dead… surely his father and mother would have chosen other words, if asked to speak of him. Surely there was some quality besides ownership they would have referred to in telling others of their child, to make them understand what was lost, who was lost. Surely Annie's parents and sister would, in speaking of Annie, really speak of her.

Surely, in all of the English language, there were words, perhaps from one of their poets or their books of prayers, that could evoke Annie, and not merely the man who claimed entitlement over her.

Annie herself did not seem disturbed by the inscription upon the stone, and so Loki held his tongue as he laid down his sweet-smelling tribute. After a moment, Annie remarked,

"It really is peaceful. You'd think I'd be able to rest here, wouldn't you?"

"I hardly think so," Loki teased gently. "There is no one here to talk to. You would find it very- " lonely "- dull." He jumped as Annie poked him just below the ribs, where he was ticklish.

Then she wrapped her arms around him. "You're right. I like our house better. Are you ready to go home?"

"I think so," Loki replied, refraining with difficulty from any gesture that would cause passersby to realize he was embracing an invisible companion. "Are you?"

"Yes," Annie said, and then stiffened against him.

"What is it?" Loki whispered, glanced down at her, and then looked in the direction she was facing.

There were two humans walking toward them, or rather Loki, or rather the grave. The man was tall with smooth brown skin, the woman small and pale, her eyes gentle. Both were careworn, older than their years, and something about their features… If one was to combine their features…

Loki knew before Annie spoke who they must be, but he stayed quiet until she whispered,

"Loki- those are my parents."

"I thought they must be," he whispered back.

"What are they doing here?" Annie asked, a question which needed no answer. "We have to go."

"It is too late," Loki pointed out without moving his lips. "They have seen me, and will wonder who I am. And besides- "

He thought of his father, paying his lonely visits to Heimdall, asking for word of his lost son. He thought of these two sorrowing mortals, coming to visit this place because they thought their daughter rested here. How often had they come, and Annie had not known it because Annie was elsewhere? Had they believed she could hear the words of love they must have uttered, told each other they felt her presence, tried to find comfort in the illusion?

Loki stood his ground as they approached, smiled at them and then knelt before the grave to straighten the little bundle of flowers he had laid there. The woman smiled tentatively.

"Were you a friend of our daughter?" she asked.

Loki stood and turned toward her. "I was. I… did not know her well- " the lie felt strange on his liar's tongue, but he wished to offer comfort, not embroil himself in more complicated lies- "but she was kind to me, when I came to Bristol." There- he found his footing, ironically, by taking refuge in the truth. He looked at the two faces that reminded him so much of Annie's, saw their hunger for a crumb of contact, of something new and fresh they had not known of their daughter's kind-heartedness. He stood with Annie right there beside him and tried to find a way to reach across the gulf of their grief. "I had come here, briefly, to study. I did not know anyone, and though she was herself new to this place she made me feel welcome."

"Annie was like that," said her father.

"Were you a friend of Owen's, too?" her mother asked.

"No," Loki replied, partly because Owen was alive to be asked, partly because something in him revolted at the idea of friendship with the man for whom he had, briefly, felt such compassion. "No, I met him once, I think, but I did not know him." Loki felt an unaccustomed sense of anxiety over the lies he was weaving: he could not consult with Annie right now, but nor could he remember times or dates or how long she had been in Bristol as a live person. He did not want to say things that her parents would later recognize as lies.

The best lies were the simple ones, the ones that were mostly the truth. "I did not know Annie for very long- I was only here for a short course of study, and then… I recently returned to Bristol and, and thought I would… I had not time to make many friends, when I came here, only Annie, and I was sorry we had, had lost touch." Annie's fingers brushed the back of his hand, but she did not distract him by speaking. He had told more fluent lies in his time, but this stumbling recitation suited the lie he was telling now, and the truth that lay under it. "I had never forgotten her- she was the kind of person who is never forgotten- and when I tried to find her, the young men who now live in her house told me… I am so sorry for your loss," he took refuge in the commonplace words used by humans at such times, but what else was there for him to say?

They were looking at him strangely, Annie's parents, but not because they mistrusted his words. Loki was sure they believed him, but there was something else there, something…

"She must have… made quite an impression on you," Annie's mother said at last.

"She did," Loki assured her, and was astonished to feel his throat begin to close, as though he had lost her, too. "One does not need to know a person like Annie for long, to always remember her. She was a kind, good person, and more alive than anyone I have ever met. It does not seem possible that she could be- "

"No," said Annie's father. "It doesn't."

And her mother looked at him, her eyes still gentle but very steady.

"Are you the reason he did it?" she asked softly.