.7.
Jane had become very familiar with the art of lying.
Kneeling on the floor of her office, her heart hammering in her chest, she mustered her resolve and lied to Bruce. I'm alright, she told him between choked sobs. It's the time of year. Christmas. I miss Erik. I miss Darcy. I miss the way everything used to be.
I'm sorry, he told her. It nearly broke her heart to know that he absolutely meant it.
She calmed down eventually. Was able to breathe without panicked gasping, was able to blink without seeing Loki's haunting, enticing visage, was able to focus on things other than how good, how very wonderful it had felt to be touched again, to be kissed again, to be wanted.
She lied to Bruce and told him she was okay. And after the conversation was over, his worries placated and the subsequent pleasantries exchanged, she then lied to herself about what had transpired with Loki such a short time ago: I didn't want it. I didn't need it. I hated it—
Jane had become very good at lying.
.x.
It was a role reversal. In the following days it was Jane that moved through the house as a ghost of her former self, silent and wary. What had happened between them was of such consequence that it couldn't be ignored though she fervently wished it could. No, she couldn't ignore it, couldn't even try to because of Loki's presence. His touch and his words and his kiss had irrevocably changed them both. And now it was he that spoke, he that started and carried conversations while Jane watched him guardedly, remembering all the things she shouldn't.
His words. They haunted her always. In this new and sadistic game of house they were playing, Loki's words were nearly her undoing every single day. She knew what he was attempting. She knew what he wanted. And it was a brutal truth, a terrible truth, to know that some large part of her wanted it as well. He wasn't wooing her now exactly, but he was testing the waters. He was probing the new, flimsy defenses she'd erected around her emotions and heart and soul. He was looking for a way to free her of her ever-wavering convictions.
Every night, lying in bed and feeling utterly lost beneath the weight of everything she felt, Jane despaired because it was becoming harder and harder to remember why Loki was someone she should hate.
.x.
In her dream, she was not earthborn. She was simply energy, a fluidic, incorporeal being. She was unfettered by earthly travesties, by the moral ambiguities she'd known once in another life, in another form. Like this, she could simply be. And in a way that was heart-aching and soul-rending it was perfect, to allow thoughts and time and space flow around her unhindered by any substantial barriers of her own creation.
And then she was caught. And no longer could she just be. No, she had to think now, and feel, and subject herself to the cruel whims of an unjust universe. A cry left her, silent and sorrowful and desperate, lost to the spiteful vacuum of space as the pain she felt at the loss of such freedom remade her into something physical.
She came awake. She opened her eyes. And she saw instantly that Loki stood in her bedroom.
She could have reacted the way she wanted to, the way he expected her to. Instead she sat up slowly, passing a hand over her dry, gritty eyes and through her hair, knotted by sleep. Closed her eyes again and took a long moment to remember, to try and recapture, that distant sense of glorious freedom she'd known in the dream. Marshalled her inner resolve, girding herself to face yet another difficult day made so by the man standing before her.
"My door was locked." Her first words of the morning, words to him, were soft and slow.
She'd reluctantly allowed her eyes to find him, drawn as they always were by the magnetism of his mere presence. He stood with his clasped hands behind his back, his gaze unwavering upon her. He smiled as he so often did now, a gesture that carried in it a devastating amount of roguish charm.
"Locks have never proven much of a hindrance to me."
She didn't doubt that. She also refused to reflect on the fact that for the duration of his stay in her home, he could have entered her room at any given time. She was already nearly powerless in this unwanted situation; that he could so easily breach a barrier she'd had confidence in made her feel even more so. Resigning herself to that fact, she asked what needed to be asked.
"Why are you in here?"
"If I said it was to see you at your most fetching …?" Again, that smile. Jane knew what she looked like. She slept in an over-sized blue T-shirt and black and blue plaid pajama pants. There would be large, dark shadows under her eyes. Her hair was an uncombed monstrosity. And despite this Loki made her feel otherwise, made her feel attractive and desirable.
Which was why everything between them had become so dangerous.
She ignored the smile. It was difficult to do. Instead, she hardened her voice as she pitched her next question at him. "Why, Loki?"
He sighed, a sound of light-hearted regret. And then, in a seamless mercurial shift, his mien altered into one of seriousness. It shook her, how quickly he could move so completely from one mood to another.
"Someone is here. Outside, in a vehicle. They arrived late last night."
Jane had let her gaze wander in order to keep her eyes from Loki. At his words, her head snapped back around to face him. Fear and alarm rolled over her.
"Who?"
He shook his head. "They haven't left the vehicle."
"You were awake?"
"I sleep lightly. I heard the sound of their arrival. I rose to see what it was. Given my … status … here, it seemed wise that I not show myself."
"You should have woken me!"
"To what end, Jane? Had our visitor meant to storm the house and take either of us captive they would have done so by now. I certainly could not stop them, not as I am now. That they've remained in the vehicle indicates they were waiting for daylight. I waited until then to rouse you."
Jane huffed out a sigh, the sound one of anxiety, irritation, and uncertainty mixed together. His words made sense, but she couldn't shake the feeling that whoever the morning brought with it meant dire trouble. She slid out of bed and motioned for Loki to leave the room. Surprising her, he did so without further comment, closing the door quietly behind himself.
Her stomach was roiling as she considered the possibilities as to who this visitor was. She was almost certain it was someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. It was the only thing that made the least bit of sense. Either they were checking up on her or Loki had somehow appeared on their radar. But what if it was someone else?
What if, her mind posed, this was someone else, another enemy of the Avengers and Thor? What if her new life, name, and location hadn't been enough to keep her safe after all?
Jane swallowed hard, moving around the room, grabbing clothes and putting them on. Whoever was outside the house, she'd go out to face them. She didn't really have another choice.
It was a cold comfort that she felt better knowing that with Loki here, at least she wasn't alone.
.x.
Garbed in her coat, gloves, and boots, Jane paused outside the door to her house. In a quick exchange she and Loki had both agreed that he only show himself if the unknown visitor posed a threat to her. He'd be watching from the window in his bedroom, which allowed for an uninterrupted view of the yard.
The vehicle was sitting in the middle of the driveway just as Loki had said it would be, parked behind her own truck. It was a black SUV; as Jane warily approached she the Chevy insignia emblazoned on the front grille. The windshield was fogged over, effectively obscuring her view of whomever was inside. Beneath her feet the snow crunched with each step she took. She circled around the vehicle to the driver's side, noting as she did so that the license plate bore rental stickers. She approached the driver's door from the rear. This window had only the faintest etchings of delicate frost designs and wasn't yet fogged over, allowing her to glimpse clearly the person who sat inside.
It was Bruce.
She made a noise of stunned disbelief. He was asleep, head lolled to the side, chin brushing against his chest. She could see that he was garbed in a bulky winter coat. The temperature was just below zero Celsius, which was relatively warm in this climate at this time of year. It would still be chilly in a vehicle that wasn't running, which led Jane to assume that he'd likely started it at intervals during his wait in order to let the interior warm up before shutting it off again. And all of this because he was too polite, too kind, to ring the doorbell in the earliest hours of the morning and rouse Jane from her sleep.
Seeing him like this, asleep and vulnerable and here, assaulted Jane with a wave of relief that was immediately replaced by a potent shock of alarm. She knew why he was here—obviously her on-the-fly cover story during their conversation on Christmas day had failed to do the trick. He'd been worried about her. He'd come to check on her. And at any other time in her life, she would have been ecstatic to see him. But now, with Loki in her house …
Jane wavered for long moments, fighting with indecision. Finally, she shook her head and stepped up to the vehicle. She had to face him. She had to speak with him.
She had to convince him she was fine.
She rapped on the window softly with one gloved hand. When that failed to wake him, she rapped harder. Bruce's head jerked up and he blinked rapidly behind the lenses of his glasses, turning his head in the direction of the sound. When he saw her standing there a warm, genuine smile creased his face. She gave him the same kind of greeting and stepped back as he opened the door.
"It's so good to see you," she told him as he got out of the vehicle and closed the door behind him.
"You too, Jane," he said. The two of them both took a step toward each other and then paused. Her laugh was tentative, his smile awkward, but when he opened his arms she walked right into the embrace.
"I was worried." His voice beside her ear was one of the most wonderful things she'd ever heard and she brought her arms up to hug him back tightly.
"You didn't have to be," she said, stepping away as he released her. "I'm sorry if I scared you."
"I wasn't scared. Just concerned. This last year has been a rough one for you. And you're up here all by yourself. Way, way up here," he amended, turning a little to take stock of the yard and the house, all of it blanketed in a thick layer of snow.
"What time did your flight come in? You know could have woken me up? And that you didn't have to sleep in the vehicle?"
He answered her questions in order, smiling. "Late, I didn't want to, and it wasn't so bad."
She considered him a moment, knowing she was also smiling. Finally she shook her head. "It's so good to see you," she said again, meaning it in a way that he couldn't possibly understand. A thought occurred to her. "How'd you find me way out here? S.H.I.E.L.D give you a map?"
"Yeah. Several maps, actually. Topographic, infrared, a map of the country, a map of the province, a map of the county, a road map … so yeah, it was relatively easy to find you."
She laughed, enjoying his wry tone. A moment later she remembered her current situation regarding Loki and felt her stomach drop in an extremely unsettling manner. There were several different ways the events of this day could play out and most of them weren't good. But she had to keep pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary, because if she didn't …
"Come on in," she told him then, because she really had no other option. As she turned and made her way back to the house with Bruce following close behind, she sent out a silent plea to Loki: please, please stay where you are. No games. Not with Bruce.
Because Bruce wasn't just Bruce. He was also the Hulk. And she knew exactly what had transpired between the Hulk and Loki the last time they'd encountered each other.
She asked, because she had to, "No bags? How long are you here for?"
"Only the day, I'm afraid. It makes Fury nervous when I travel. The only reason I don't have several S.H.I.E.L.D security details with me is because I told him I was coming to see you for a very short visit."
At the door, she turned to face him with her hand on the knob. "Fury tells you what to do?"
"Fury makes suggestions. Sometimes I follow them. Most of the time I don't." He flashed her another smile and shrugged before going on. "I wish I could stay longer, Jane, but Fury did make a good point. The longer I'm here, the more at risk you become. I'm sorry."
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, feeling a sense of gratitude so strong that she could feel tears gathering in her eyes. That Bruce cared was a remarkable, wonderful thing—she desperately needed at this moment to feel like she had a friend an ally.
"The fact that you're here at all has made my day," she said sincerely before opening the door.
.x.
She gave Bruce as close to a thorough tour of her home as she could. To not do so would seem strange. The door to the guest bedroom remained closed, with Jane explaining that she used it as a place to store all her things that were still unpacked from the move. Bruce accepted the explanation as easily as she'd hoped and prayed he would.
In the kitchen, he sat at the table while she went about making them both breakfast. He accepted the coffee she offered gratefully and sat with his fingers wrapped around the mug as though to absorb its heat. Out of his bulky winter coat, he was wearing layers—she could see the collars of at least two other shirts under the collar of his outermost sweatshirt. It made her smile. When first she'd arrived here, she'd been in layers all the time too.
They talked of trivial things as she peeled and sliced potatoes into small chunks, adding chopped onion to the mix as it fried. In another, smaller pan she had a few sausages and two eggs cooking. As the kitchen filled with the appetizing smell of breakfast, as Bruce's voice answered her questions and asked his own in return, she found herself falling complacently under the false shroud of normalcy. Abruptly she remembered Loki, sequestered away in the spare bedroom and undoubtedly able to hear every word they said. She felt her appetite fade away, but continued cooking all the same. It was imperative she give nothing away.
Once the meal was done she joined him at the table. As they ate he quizzed her about living in a country so thoroughly in the grips of winter, how much it differed from what she'd known, and how long it had taken her to get used to it. As answered candidly, it suddenly occurred to her that there was genuine interest in her tone. As foreign as it all was, as far as it was from places she'd previously thought of as home, this house and this little parcel of land had somehow become dear to her.
At one point, a thought occurred to her. "Why didn't you call me, once you'd landed? I could have come and picked you up from the airport. You flew into Calgary?"
Bruce nodded. "I wanted to surprise you. I seriously underestimated how long it would take to get here, though."
Jane smiled. "I was surprised."
"Then it's mission accomplished, in a roundabout way."
After the meal, they moved to the living room, seating themselves on opposites ends of the couch near the fire. Bruce, cradling the mug of coffee she'd made in one hand, let his eyes roam throughout the room, taking in the cedar walls, the wood-burning stove, the furniture, the bookshelves crammed full of titles of all genres, the stray pieces of art she'd put up. "Cozy," he said appreciatively.
"I think so," she replied, her eyes following the path his had just taken, roaming over all the little things that made this her home.
She asked him then about the Avengers, curious to know what was happening in the lives of Earth's guardians. Bruce talked at length about each—excluding Thor— and entertained her a great deal with detailed accounts of Tony Stark's recent scandalous exploits and Nick Fury's subsequent ire. Jane, her eye straying upon occasion to the digital clock in the satellite receiver, was both surprised and saddened at how quickly her time with Bruce was passing.
"A part of me would like to ask you about how your work is progressing," he admitted to her suddenly, stretching his legs out in front of him. "The other part thinks you don't really want to talk about it."
"I don't." Her tone was mild but firm.
"There are some things we do need to talk about, Jane."
The new solemn inflection in his words gave rise to an odd, unwanted sensation in Jane, extreme reluctance mixed with panic. Panic because she knew what he wanted to discuss. Panic because she knew Loki would overhear. Panic because she'd tried so hard to keep him from knowing about this.
As though aware of Jane's inner turmoil, Bruce's expression softened. Carefully setting his now-empty cup down on the floor next to the couch, he turned and leaned toward her. "I'm not asking to upset you," he told her.
"I know that, Bruce."
He was silent a moment, his eyes searching hers intently. After a moment he nodded and leaned back again. "Thor," he said. "Have you heard from him? Have you seen him?"
As though from a distance, she heard herself reply, heard how terse and low her voice had become. "No. Not since …"
He finished her sentence, "Not since the first time?"
She shook her head.
A silence fell. Finally he cleared his throat. "So he doesn't know what happened?"
Loki's words resurfaced from her memory, mocking and cruel and heavy with truth. Jane felt an unpleasant smile twisting her lips. "At this point," she said, "I'm almost certain he does know. He has to."
"Why? Have you had a message?"
You have no idea, she thought. Instead she replied with, "No. There's been nothing. But Heimdall watches over Earth. Heimdall is always watching."
Bruce nodded slowly. During her time in the hospital and his subsequent visits, she'd explained to him all she knew of Asgard and all she'd seen when she'd been there. Another long silence fell. Jane, unable to bear the grave concern in Bruce's gaze, focused her eyes with feigned interest upon the striped rug on the floor.
"He's a coward."
Jane's head snapped up at the uncharacteristic sound of anger in her friend's voice. "If he knows what happened to you—if this Heimdall saw it—there's no excuse for him not coming for you. There's no excuse. You were tortured because of him. You bled for him. When I found you, you were broken. There's no other word for it. Jane, if Thor knows that you were—"
"He knows. He knows and he hasn't come. And now I'm here and life goes on." She'd raised her voice in her interruption. Still smiling that mirthless smile, she lied to him as she so often lied to herself. "Thor is no longer my concern."
Another pause. She met his gaze steadily this time, recognizing the compassion in his earnest dark eyes. "You really mean that," he said finally.
"I do."
"What if he comes back?"
Even though he'd just given voice to a very real fear she harbored, she shrugged. "I'll deal with it," she said simply.
Again she was subject to his scrutiny. When he finally spoke again, he did so with a small smile of his own. "Maybe you were right. Maybe I don't need to be worried about you. That said, if Thor returns, you call me. You let me know immediately. Alright?"
"What will you do?"
"What he didn't," was all he said.
Jane swallowed hard at the knot that rose in her throat, at the prickling threat of tears in her eyes brought on by his words. Again she found herself wishing that she'd met Bruce at a different time in her life, before she'd been aware of realms beyond this one. He had a beautiful soul even with the burden of his alter-ego. Aware that if the tears spilled over things would become more than a little awkward, she cleared her throat a few times and spoke.
"Thank you. I mean it. You've done a lot for me that you didn't have to do."
"And I'd do it again and again."
"I know," she said softly, on the verge of losing her emotional battle.
Bruce saw and recognized the impending break. Swiftly he rose to his feet and beckoned her to follow. "It's time," he told her, "for you to show me around. Outside. Let's explore this winter wonderland you were waxing poetic about earlier."
Her gratitude at his kindness in the face of her distress was nearly overwhelming. Blinking hard, Jane got to her feet, throwing him a smile that held all the things she was feeling. "We can do that," she said.
.x.
After Loki had delivered the news that morning of an unknown visitor, Jane had had the foresight to remove all of the things she'd purchased for Loki from immediate sight, throwing it in the spare room. His coat, boots, and gloves were subsequently nowhere to be seen. She found she'd wished she had them available when it came to the quandary of what to outfit Bruce in for an outdoor stroll. Even though he'd come prepared with winter boots, gloves, and a lined coat, he wasn't accustomed to the cold. He insisted he'd persevere despite her voiced concerns, and so they left the house.
Outside she led him around the yard, pointing out her chopping block, the woodshed, the paths that led into the woods. The horses were back in the field beside the driveway and greeted the two humans in their friendly, food-seeking way. After that, Bruce and Jane walked down the drive and out onto the main road, bantering in the manner that friends do about all things inconsequential and light-hearted.
Jane loved every second of it.
When finally they returned to the house, the sun was hanging low in the sky. Bruce had held up well in the cold, his hands in his pockets and his hood pulled up tight around his face. They came to a stop beside his rental vehicle. Jane, glancing at her friend, couldn't smother the laugh that left her. Bruce's glasses were fogged over, his unruly dark hair made even more so by the hood, sticking out in thatches from beneath it. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were red. Knowing exactly what she was laughing at, he grinned in response.
"I think it would take me a while to get used to all of … this."
"You know you're welcome here any time, Bruce. I mean it," she said, resolutely ignoring the facts that Loki lived in her house and that her life and the trickster's were so intricately entwined.
"I'll visit when I can. This is the first of many." He'd removed his glasses to blow warm air on the lenses in an attempt to clear them; glancing up at her, he read her suddenly sad expression. He said gently, "I promise, Jane. I'll be back."
Unable to find words for how much she would like that, she just nodded. Bruce slid his glasses back on, checked his watch, and jammed his hands back in his pockets. "So … it's nearly time for me to go. Flight leaves at midnight, and it's a long drive back."
"Thank you," she told him, stepping up to hug him. He squeezed her back tightly, holding her for a long moment before she stepped away.
"Anytime. I was worried about you, you know?"
"And now?"
"And now …" He smiled. "And now I think you're fine. Better than fine. This place agrees with you, Jane. I think you belong here. "
She realized that, at some point during his visit, she'd reached the same conclusion. As he moved to the door of his vehicle, she told him, "Drive safe. Up here, wildlife is thick. Especially on the roads at night."
He nodded, opening the door to the SUV. "I will. Take care, Jane. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?" When she nodded, he got into the vehicle. "I'll talk to you soon. I'll call you once I'm back home."
"Please do. Thanks again for coming, Bruce. I'll talk to you later."
He gave her a little wave before closing the door. As he started the vehicle she strode to the steps that led up to her house before stopping and turning to watch as he backed around, the snow crunching beneath the tires. He waved at her again before he steered the vehicle away from her house and down the drive.
Jane watched him turn from her driveway onto the main road and kept watching him until he was out of sight. She felt thoroughly deflated at the thought that he was gone. His presence had given her a welcome reprieve from the tense and unpredictable prison her life had become. He'd made her remember how it had felt to be normal. His departure brought her back hard to the unpleasant reality of the situation.
Turning, sighing, she walked up the steps toward the house.
.x.
Loki was waiting for her inside, as she knew he would be.
He watched as she shed her coat and boots, tucking her gloves into her coat pockets. Watched as she hung the coat up. Watched as she approached him with the intent of ignoring him entirely. As she made to pass by, however, he stepped directly into her path. With an inward, resigned sigh, she looked up to meet his eyes.
"My brother—was he worth it? Worth the torture? Worth the pain?"
His voice was soft, deceptively so. In his eyes she saw the now familiar glint of his anger, still burning low, simmering in the icy depths.
Realizing that this conversation was going to happen and that there was nothing she could do about it, she answered candidly. "I thought so then."
"Even as it happened?"
His words prompted memories, long buried, to resurface with powerful vengeance. Jane closed her eyes tightly, shook her head, and breathed deep to banish them again, to make herself forget about that pain and that shame and that helplessness she'd known so intimately. When she controlled those memories again, when she could open her eyes without seeing a monster's face, she replied.
"No."
"You knew then that my brother was unworthy."
"Yes."
"You pretended otherwise, all this time. Why?"
"I needed …" To pretend that he was. That there was a reason for what happened. That Thor hadn't left her to the cruel, innovative ministrations of his enemy when he could have kept her safe.
Loki was relentless. "You needed what?"
"For it to make sense," she told him helplessly, staring at him and entreating him to understand, to veer away from this topic and the hidden, brutal barbs it carried with it.
"Who was it? This enemy Banner spoke of, an adversary of Thor. Who was it?"
She told him, the single word nearly inaudible, the hated, horrible memories battering at the worn barriers of her psyche as she did so.
His eyes widened. He made no move to stop her as she pushed roughly past him, seeking an escape from him, his words, his insistence on dredging up things better left locked away. He followed after a moment as she knew he would, shadowing her long, agitated strides as she moved into the living room.
"You were a pawn, Jane, meant only to lure my brother here, to Midgard. "
Whirling on him, she snapped back, "I already know that!"
He caught her by the shoulders and she made to whip back around, to move away from him. "You do not understand. You could not understand. But now it is made clear to me. My brother is considerably more foolish than ever I imagined."
"Foolish to let me suffer?" She asked, furious now. "Foolish to leave a mortal behind?"
"You," Loki said. "He left you. Foolish, yes. Myopic in his loyalty to his father, to Asgard. Blind as always to the difference between duty and priority."
His words, nonsensical to her, riled her to a new level of rage. She tore herself out of his grasp, twisting around and quickly putting the couch between them both. Watched as he followed her again with that same slow and careful tread he'd used the night he'd kissed her.
The night she'd let him.
"You see him now—the mighty Thor, Odinson—for his true self. You know the cleverly hidden truth Asgardians are so willingly made blind to. He was not worth your affection then, Jane. And he is not worth it now."
She watched him approach, wild-eyed, unable to move or speak for the chaotic force of her emotions. His voice had become hypnotic, pitched low to soothe. "Can you better see now what it is I offer you?"
"You'd make me a pawn too, Loki! You'd use me to hurt him. And I know that in a heartbeat you'd leave me behind just as he did. Because I'm mortal. Because I'm human. Because I was his!" The last words she spat at him, moving backward even as he moved forward, keeping the two of them in a steady cycle of advance and retreat.
And he said with perfect calm in the face of her fury, "I never leave behind what belongs to me."
It was too much. It hurt too much. Jane's hands on the back of the couch clenched hard as she felt blinding pain race up her neck and along her jaw to explode behind her eyes, a white-hot flare of fury and anguish. She dropped her head, closed her eyes and concentrated simply on breathing, on holding the fragile threads of her being together while all around her the world strove to remorselessly unravel them.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She stood alone in the living room, holding onto the couch for support, unable to stop herself from replaying his words over and over again in her mind.
.x.
He greeted her the next morning as he usually did since the kiss. He was perfectly amiable. And Jane, gritty-eyed and feeling ill from no sleep, could only do her best to keep herself away, far away, from the combustible magnetism of his presence. She skirted him as he stood in the kitchen, fetching her own coffee before circling him widely, intent on escaping to the living room.
He made a noise as she stepped down from the kitchen, a strangled hiss of pain. Jane whirled to find him hunched over, one clutching the counter top for support, the other still holding a mug of coffee.
"Loki …?"
Slowly he straightened, bit by bit as though each minute movement was agonizing. Her next words of frightened concern died on her lips as she saw that the cup he held had shattered in his grip. Even as she watched shards of it fell loudly to the floor. Steaming hot coffee streamed over his fingers, following the broken bits of the mug as they fell.
And yet he didn't flinch from the scalding heat, didn't make a sound.
"Something … has happened." His voice was husky, strained as he managed to stand fully upright. "… My brother …"
Realization hit Jane like a hammer to the gut. The obvious, sudden pain he'd suffered, the cup breaking so easily in his grip—
She was unable to mute the mewl of terror that crawled its way up her throat and spilled from her mouth. Even as his eyes found hers, as his fingers loosened to drop the remnants of the cup, Jane was already moving. Driven purely by instinct she bolted, dropping her own mug and racing for the door.
He was in her path immediately. He hadn't moved. He'd appeared, flickering into existence. Jane skidded to a halt, struggling for traction on the hardwood floor, hitting one knee but getting back up instantly. She twisted to the side and altered her frenzied trajectory—she needed to get to her room, to a phone—
An image of the baton appeared in her mind. If she hadn't been completely infused with fear, she would have laughed at that sad, pathetic idea.
She hadn't even reached the hall and he was there again, shaping himself out of eldritch shadow. With the return of his powers his appearance had changed and he was clad once again in green and gold, a prince again. This time, Jane came to a shuddering halt and remained still. There was no way out. There was no escape. Loki the trickster was whole again.
And Jane was just a mortal.
She watched him through wide eyes, breathing hard from her failed efforts at fleeing. Fully in possession of his powers, he appeared as he truly was, as he was meant to be—otherworldly. Dangerous. Deadly. Caught as truly as any animal by the hunter's snare, she could only stand trembling before him as he approached.
"You are right to fear me," he said, reaching out with one hand to touch her. His fingers found her chin, cupped it, tipped her face up so that all she could see was his face. His eyes, cold and brilliant, held hers captive with absolute authority.
"You tremble before me." His words were almost gentle as his other hand drifted upwards to trace the line of her shoulder, to slowly and purposefully glide over the column of her neck. She shut her eyes the moment his lips touched hers. He pulled back, only a little, and she felt his breath as a warm caress against her mouth as he spoke. "Open your eyes, Jane."
She complied with reluctance, with fear, with anticipation so strong it was nearly crippling. He watched her with an intensity she could feel as it hummed along every nerve in her body. He didn't kiss her again.
She despaired to know that she desperately wanted him to.
Somehow, she found her voice. Somehow, she was able to form words with it. "What will you do?"
He smiled, the smile of Loki the prince, both radiant and sinister. "Return to Asgard. I must discover what has befallen my brother that this has happened."
"And after," he continued, his fingers now softly brushing over her parted lips, his eyes tracing a smoldering path in their wake. "I will return here. For you. We have much to discuss, you and I."
Please!—she wanted to cry, and simultaneously: don't! No sound left her. He stepped away from her then, his fingers slowly, gently falling from her mouth. She watched, unmoving, as a faint glow began to creep over his form.
"Soon," he told her as it shrouded him entirely, as his features were obscured from her view by coruscating shades of gold. And then he was gone as surely as he'd never been there, the house a stark and empty place in light of his sudden disappearance.
It took long minutes before she could finally react. She moved. She headed down the hall, walking with a wooden gait, to her bedroom. Operating in a state of mechanical self-preservation, she moved from the closet to the dresser and back again and again until the duffel bag on her bed was full. It didn't take her long to get what she needed from the bathroom, either. Didn't take long until she was packed with everything she might need.
And then she was driving, away from the house, from her home. Fleeing another monster. Fleeing the perilous tumult he'd wrought.
Fleeing, too, how much she was drawn to him.
.x.
Sol's Notes: I apologize for the delay. This will likely be the last chapter until after the New Year. I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed for their support and encouragement. It's what keeps me going and I greatly appreciate your feedback.
I'd like to wish you all a fantastic holiday season! All the best from me to you!