.11.
Alfheim was a paradise.
They spent only one day there, but even that was enough to let Jane know that she would never again experience a place like this. It was a world of light and color. Their arrival placed them in an ankle-deep pool of water fed by a small yet powerful waterfall that cascaded from cliffs far above. The cliffs were gray stone shot through with veins of glittering silver. Jane had released Loki and taken a tenuous step forward, the water rippling around her feet. She didn't mind that it was soaking through her boots, making her instantly uncomfortable. Even her earlier fears about arriving disjointed and out of sorts had vanished in the face of Alfheim's beauty.
The water that she waded through was clear enough that she could see every tiny pebble, every large smooth stone and shell that lay at the bottom amidst pale sand. Small fish swam through the water as she moved, darting away from her with colorful displays of fright. The cliff face that framed the waterfall was covered in vegetation, in vines that were so vibrantly green that Jane marveled at the lushness. Flowers had bloomed from various vines, their petals large banners that caught the sun and reflected a prism of colors that shimmered in the spray from the waterfall.
Jane's eyes moved skyward and she raised an arm to shield her eyes. There shone not one sun but two, one at its zenith and the other closer to the horizon on it setting arc. Her glimpse was brief, but as she dropped her gaze, blinking away sunspots, she was shaking her head in awed disbelief.
She turned to see Loki. He had moved, wading through the pool to the shore. Dense forest surrounded them on all sides, the trees huge with broad, majestic canopies. The colors of the leaves seemed to scintillate as they ruffled in the slight breeze, projecting impossible shades of blue and violet back at her. After casting one last glance at the waterfall, Jane turned to follow Loki out of the water.
"You planned our arrival for this exact spot, didn't you?" She asked.
He was waiting for her on dry ground, watching as she stepped out of the pool. "I did. Though," he added with a faint rueful expression, "I had not intended for us to arrive in the water."
The smile Jane gifted him with was dazzling in its earnestness. "This is … you have no idea how much I appreciate the things you're showing me."
He inclined his head at her open, honest gratitude. "I admit my motives are not entirely altruistic."
Jane arched a brow, faking disbelief, enjoying this light banter between them that was still so new, so unfamiliar.
Loki's smile was there instantly in reply to her reaction. He stepped closer to her, until she had to crane her head back to hold his gaze. "I confess to hoping for a certain kind of appreciation…"
Jane's grin was only visible for a fraction of a second before she put both hands on his shoulders and rose up to grant him a kiss. It was meant to be brief, a polite, teasing gesture. His hands centered on her hips immediately, grounding her, and suddenly she was lost again, adrift beneath the onslaught of his mouth on hers. When reality reasserted itself she was nearly clinging to him, her body tight against his, with one of his hands fisted in her hair. He lifted his head from hers and made a noise that was half laugh, half gasping breath. "If only I had known earlier the possibilities offered by securing your gratitude …"
Before she could voice a reply, he stepped back. His hand fastened about her arm and turning, he tugged her with him. "Much, much more to see," he said over his shoulder, "and so very little time to see it in."
Obedient under his touch, she followed.
.x.
From Alfheim they traveled to Muspelheim. It was a land of perpetual primal fury. From the sloping hilltop on which they'd materialized they watched as in the distance the earth was rent, as molten lava spewed up from within innumerable chasms. The rocky ground they stood upon trembled continuously, making it hard for Jane to maintain her balance. Clinging to Loki, blinking to see through air that wavered with heat and struggling to accommodate her lungs to the heavy, oppressive air, she understood that they were not to stay on this world. They'd come only so Loki could show her something.
With his arm around her, bracing her against him, he led them down the incline, a surface made rough and very uneven by the primeval reshaping of the earth. They walked carefully, stepping over ridges of black stone, avoiding large cracks riddled with jagged rock spears. When the ground finally evened, Loki pointed upward with his free hand. Jane followed the line of his finger and felt her eyes widen. Above them, wading through the fiery chaos as easily as she might walk through water, were creatures that defied all logic and reason she knew of. They were giants, their skin an ever-shifting hide of molten slag, towering to such a height that she knew they dwarfed in size anything that did or had ever existed on Earth.
"Fire giants," Loki told her, having to raise his voice over the near-deafening thunder of the world all around them being torn apart.
Jane nodded, rendered mute. The giants, she realized after a moment, were fighting. The molten colossi were throwing themselves at each other, grasping and wrestling in movements that should have been slow and ponderous given their enormity. Instead they were quick and brutal in their motions, striking out so quickly it was difficult to follow. As Jane and Loki watched, two giants converged on another, pulverizing into dripping bits of rock and magma within seconds.
Loki glanced down at Jane. She met his look, uncomprehending of the smile that flitted across his face. He turned his head back to the giants below, opened his mouth and shouted. The noise shouldn't have carried, but Loki was a demi-god. His voice erupted forth with all the strength of a horn sounding men to battle, and as it carried out over the hellish valley Jane watched with horror as more than one giant turned to face its origin.
"Loki!" She hissed as first one giant and then another began to move with alarming speed in their direction. She took a step back, pulling at Loki, but he remained firmly where he stood. He shouted out again, a booming, wordless cry meant to challenge, to tease. The ground they stood upon began to quake so violently that Jane was knocked to her knees.
"Loki!" She screamed as the giants hurtled down the slope toward them, dislodging huge chunks of rock that also came rocketing downward. This close she could distinguish the vague facial impressions of the giants, the uneven gaping maws that functioned as mouths and the smoking craters that were eyes. Jane lunged to her feet to avoid being crushed by a rolling boulder and grasped at Loki's arm, tugging him back with terrified urgency.
He looked back at her, his wide and fierce smile shocking her in what it signified: triumph, mischief, glee. As the world began to tremble so strongly that she could no longer retain her balance, as the giants loomed so close as to cast their cruel, ancient shadows upon them, Loki reached down, caught Jane by the upper arms, and hauled her upright. And then they were travelling again, their essences spanning the gulf between space and time, between stars and planets and everything in between.
When they materialized next in the midst of snow and ice, he was laughing, a sound of complete delighted abandon.
.x.
Jane slowly grew to know Loki as he truly was.
That he'd so obviously enjoyed provoking the giants of Muspelheim gave her great insight. One of his sobriquets among the Asgardians had been Loki the Trickster. He was not above mischief or jokes. There was a side to him that took pleasure in simple things, that did in fact look for the lighter side, the humorous side. After he'd spirited them both from the grasp of the fire giants, after he'd transported them both to a snow-covered plain on some world she didn't yet know, he'd taken one look at her expression and began laughing even harder. Furious at how close they'd come to being stomped from existence by the fire giants, she'd balled her good hand into a fist and punched him in the gut. He'd doubled over, laughing still between pained grunts, holding up a hand to ward off any further attacks. Still enraged, she shoved him hard so that he toppled backward into the snow.
As she stood over him, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, the tidal wash of fury and terror ebbing away bit by slow bit, she was reminded suddenly of the day he'd arrived on Earth. In that instant she could recall with perfect clarity how the baton had felt in her grasp, how she'd been sick beneath the weight of triumph and terror as he'd lain prone below her in the snow.
He was again on his back in the snow as she stood over him. He was chuckling still, his mirth being slow to abate. If he was having the same recollections she was he wasn't showing it. When finally he quieted, he stared up at her through eyes that had become heavy-lidded.
"I rather enjoy seeing you above me," he said after a moment.
Jane didn't miss his true meaning. Color flared high on her cheeks as visions of just what could be between them flashed through her mind. Seeing her flush, knowing the reason, a slow smile of utter satisfaction spread across his face.
"Come, Jane," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Bestow upon me compensation for services rendered."
"You want compensation?" Her voice climbed an octave toward the end, incredulity and mirth lilting her words as all remnants of fear and anger vanished.
Lounging on his back in the snow, propped on his elbows, he looked utterly and perfectly at ease. "For showing you the fire giants of Muspelheim."
"And nearly getting us both killed?"
"With privilege come inherent risks."
She snorted a laugh and shook her head. Mockingly grudging, she took the two steps she needed to be standing right at his side. He leaned his head back and grinned lazily up at her as she mimed aiming a kick at his head. And then, in a flash of movement so swift it was a blur, he knocked her legs out from underneath with a sweep of one leg. With a startled cry she fell, toppling over so that she was sprawled across his body. Thumping him in the side with one fist, she attempted to right herself, disentangling her legs from his. He was still laughing at her, she noted, though when she elbowed him hard in the ribs he oomphed in a very satisfying way.
Eventually she arranged herself on her knees beside him. The snow as it melted through her jeans was as cold as expected, but not shockingly so. She took a moment to scan their surroundings. They seemed to be on a vast plain. The lay of the land was flat for as far as she could see in any direction. And while it was cold, it wasn't anything worse than what she'd known at her home on Earth.
"Where are we?" She asked, returning her attention to Loki.
He'd folded his arms behind his head, as though oblivious to his bed of snow. "Nidavellir once more," he said. "Much further south, out of the mountains. But you are deliberately dodging the topic at hand. I still await my compensation, Jane."
"I don't know what you're expecting for nearly getting me trampled to death."
"Ah, but you cannot deny it was exciting!"
"Terrifying, actually."
"The two are usually one and the same. Now, Jane—grant me what I am owed?"
Jane leaned over him, placing her palms flat in the snow on either side of his head. Her fingers twitched from the cold. Her hair, secured in a loose, messy ponytail, fell over her shoulder to brush against his chest. Her eyes caught and held his, noting the way his pupils dilated with her nearness, the way his breath hitched in his chest. "Your payment," she murmured, her eyes dropping then to his mouth. A heartbeat later her lips followed their path, gifting him with a kiss.
Cold was forgotten. Circumstance was forgotten. For a very long time, the universe consisted only of the honest, conflicted promise of Jane's mouth against his.
.x.
From Nidavellir they moved to Niflheim, a land of harsh and desolate splendor. The entire world, Loki explained, was cloaked eternally in snow. The cold was an assault beyond anything Jane had known even in the grasp of the Canadian winter, relentless in its attack. It only took seconds after her arrival for her to realize that death awaited her here; no Earthborn could survive this climate. She turned to tell Loki as much, jaw aching from how hard her teeth were chattering. She'd stepped away from him after the ground had solidified out of nothingness beneath her feet. He reached for her now, his hands cupping her face, and the words she'd been about to utter died before they escaped her mouth. Warmth flooded through her, originating from the point of contact between them. It reminded her of how he'd healed her in the way heat suffused her body, pouring along every inch of her skin and out along every limb. He kept her face framed in her hands until she no longer felt the cold, and then after delivering one quick ghost of a kiss, he let her go.
Jane marvelled at how she felt so comfortably warm in the middle of so much snow and ice. "How long will this last?" she asked him, wondering again at the extent of the powers he contained, wondering if she'd ever know their limit.
"As long as I do," he told her. "Shall we explore?"
Her nod was emphatic.
And so he showed her what wonders he knew of Niflheim. They trudged through drifts of snow so high that they brushed at their thighs. Loki broke the trail with Jane following not far behind. It was surreal to know that the wind that blew around them should chill her blood, that the snow she ploughed through should soak through her clothing and make her bones ache. None of this happened. Instead, she walked cloaked in magical warmth, able to appreciate the deadly beauty of this hard, alien world.
Niflheim was the kingdom of winter. There were no forests where she and Loki tread, only a vast plain littered with dunes of snow. In the far distance rose peaks that were taller and more jagged than any that existed on Earth. At one point Loki paused in his trail-breaking and pointed off in one direction. Following his indicator, Jane strained her eyes to make out what it was he wanted her to see. Eventually she made it out. Rising even taller than the peaks of the mountains were two spires, towers of some fortress of unfathomable origin.
"What's there?" She asked him.
"I know not," he replied, his tone uncomfortably sober. "There are defenses near that fortress that even I cannot breach."
Jane considered that for a moment and suddenly wondered how safe they were on this world.
"Safe enough," he said, responding to her unspoken question.
They continued on.
For two nights they remained on Niflheim. Loki found them shelter in his typical unerring way, leading them through periods of blinding, blowing snow to another ruin from another race of beings Jane never before believed in. It was an ancient stone hall, built within the shadow of a miles-wide and miles-long escarpment. The pillars framing the staircase entry had long since crumbled, but the interior, huge and empty and echoing, was for the most part intact. Loki led her with easy familiarity through the hall proper to a small antechamber near the rear of the structure. Jane's eyes struggled to absorb the architecture, the remnants of a culture long gone. Statues still stood on pedestals in alcoves lining the hall, depicting creatures that didn't even exist in human myth. Artwork hung in massive frames, too faded to make out aside from small remaining splashes of faded color. And through it all, the perilous tendrils of Niflheim had intruded. Ice crystals lined nearly every surface, large drifts of snow lying where cracks in the outer walls existed.
In the antechamber, Loki conjured again fire from nothing. As he began preparing a small meal from foodstuffs they'd accumulated on Alfheim—fruits, greenery—Jane left the small room and wandered back out into the hall, intent on absorbing as much as she could before the time to leave came. This was marvelous. This was unbelievable. This was exactly what Jane had hoped for when she'd accepted that she had to leave Earth and instead travel to other worlds.
.x.
Days passed. Jane had difficulty distinguishing them. After spending two nights on one world, they would hop to another with a long or shorter day to night cycle. It became confusing, so eventually she gave up trying to keep track. It didn't bother her, though she thought it might. It occurred to her suddenly that she was content with this new life, such as it was. She was a wanderer—in essence, a vagrant of the cosmos. And it was a revelation to her that she was profoundly at peace with that.
Loki, too, became more content. Or at least that was how it seemed. His powers again intact, away from the influences and eyes of any other living being save herself, he seemed utterly at ease. The bonds between them began to strengthen in small, subtle, powerful ways. He was alert always to her needs. He provided for her whatever she needed, often before she even realized she needed it. That he'd spent extensive time exploring each of the realms on his own previously was apparent. He found them shelter, food, and water with ease. He made a point to show her landscapes and structures that he knew would awe her. She wondered, early on, whether he would resent her for her helplessness as a mortal among realms meant for other, stronger races. It seemed to be exactly the opposite. And she realized, finally, that a large part of his contentment stemmed from the fact that he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. Jane belonged to him because he was literally her survival.
There were moments, though, that she realized he struggled with his new reality. Sometimes she would catch him watching her, a frown furrowing his brows. At other times she would find him lost in thought, and with his mind so occupied she would see expressions flicker across his face that worried her, anxious doubt and uncertainty. Her glimpses into his inner turmoil were always brief. He would remember himself and his façade would shift to that of the Loki she was more familiar with, assured and commanding.
The attraction between them never abated. It was a constant entity, a tension that existed between them both with a potency that could never be denied. She thought for a time that Loki might fight it indefinitely, regarding it as a potential weakness. He surprised her. During the day he was her guide, her provider, her protector. It was during the nights that he slipped free of all of those roles and offered her comfort and solace. It became routine for them to sit before the fire after they'd eaten, Jane reclining against his chest, his arms around her. They rarely spoke. When they did, it was usually Loki answering her curious questions about everything that was so new to her and so familiar to him. They were careful, both of them, to regulate their touches, to never lose grip over the tenuous control they both held over their own desires. Loki's warning about being hunted rang clear in her mind always.
It was that warning that led her to ask a question one night that had been in her mind constantly. "How do you know they hunt you? Can they track you?" She'd asked him in a voice that was unintentionally hushed. For a long while, the only sound around them had been the gentle sizzling and crackling of Loki's conjured fire while they sat, Jane in front of Loki, his chest solid against her back.
It was a moment before he responded. "I long ago discovered how to obscure myself from Heimdall's vision. I travel unseen. I know they hunt us because it is the only choice left open to Thor. He will have seeded the realms with scouts, with soldiers. He will have alerted all those that Asgard is allied with. They will be looking for traces of our presence and they will be very, very adept at finding them. For us it is a matter of keeping ahead of those that search."
Jane considered this. "You've been hiding our trail?"
He shifted behind her, leaning back a little, his breath tickling the nape of her neck. "As much as I can. Those that look for us have skills in hunting that far exceed my own."
"You don't seem worried that they'll catch up to us."
His laugh was slight, a small exhale. "I am not, Jane. We need only keep ahead of them until Thor calls off the search. And he will, eventually. He cannot spread his available manpower too thin. There are far more pressing matters that must be addressed in the interest of Asgard."
Like adjusting to Odin's continued absence, Jane thought. She said nothing, however, struggling to stick to her earlier resolution not to care about anything that didn't directly involve her wellbeing. She was content to merely lean back against Loki and feel secure in his embrace.
.x.
Vanaheim reminded Jane the most of Earth, from what she was able to see of it. There were thick, expansive forests and an abundance of lakes that ranged from small to huge, dotting the landscape. As she and Loki made their way through the wooded terrain with a pace that was very nearly leisurely, the scents and sounds hit her with a sense of deja vu. She was transported to another time, shortly after moving onto her property in the Canadian Rockies, when she'd decided to explore the woods surrounding her home. The pang of homesickness she felt stopped her in her tracks, unexpected and unwelcome as it was. Earth was no longer her home, could no longer be her home. There was no room in heart for useless longing. She hardened herself and pushed it resolutely away.
The frequency with which they hopped between worlds was steadily decreasing. They were spending several days on each realm now instead of just a couple nights at a time. They'd revisited some of them more than once, always in a different location from where they'd arrived previously. Jane had accustomed quicker than she'd assumed she would to the life of an interstellar nomad. Still, she found herself longing more than one of the luxuries she'd had before. Foremost among those were the comforts of a mattress and the highly desirable convenience of a shower.
Loki had pointed out on each realm they visited sources of water that were safe to drink and use to freshen up. Jane had long been tempted to ask for the luxury of bathing, but always assumed that with Asgardians and the natives of each realm on the lookout for them, it was anunnecessary convenience. Now that it seemed pursuit had slowed, she decided the time was right.
On Vanaheim, after Loki had led her to a small lake that looked so very inviting to her travel-stained, somewhat bedraggled self, she posed her question to him. She'd predicted his response: eyebrows raised suggestively, a teasing and utterly seductive smile curving his lips. Her own response was just as predictable. Picturing him unclothed in the water with her made her heart misbehave, made other parts of her body throb with constrained lust. He read it in her eyes, his own darkening with desires that were so very similar. In the end they'd stood staring at each other in silence thick with want. She'd watched him struggled with what he was feeling, watched with no small amount of disappointment as necessity won out over need. He told her in a voice made thick from the strength of his desire that he would be nearby, keeping watch.
And so she bathed fully for the first time since leaving Earth, leaving her clothes in a heap on the lake shore, wading naked into clear and calm waters. She went about her business quickly, uncertain even with Loki's assurances that they were safe on this world. More than once she glanced over her shoulder, both hoping and fearing to see Loki approaching. He did not, and so she finished her bathing feeling an aggravating mixture of frustration and relief.
When Loki did return some time later, Jane was again clothed, sitting on the dry sand a few feet from the water. She was barefoot, her boots sitting upright next to her folded and dirty sweatshirt. She'd rolled the hem of her jeans up so that her legs were exposed to the knee and was enjoying the sensation of a foreign sun warm and welcoming against her limbs. She'd just finished binding her wet hair back into a loose braid when she heard the sound of Loki's approach.
Still sitting, she half-turned to watch him as he neared. He made no concessions to the warm weather, clad still as he always was in green and gold. He never seemed to suffer from an extreme in temperatures. Recalling the way he'd used his powers to warm her on Alfheim, she found it logical to assume that he didn't need to. His otherworldly abilities seemed to extend even to the condition of his clothing; he'd been everywhere Jane had been, and they looked as clean as they had when he'd first appeared on Earth wearing them. Jane made a mental note to ask him to magic hers back into cleanliness.
"Feeling refreshed?" He asked as he neared, dropping easily into the sand next to her, stretching out his legs.
"Very," she told him. "See anything of interest?"
"Nothing compared to what I wished to see." There was a small note of mock plaintiveness in his words. Jane smiled, shaking her head, and transferred her gaze back to the lake.
The landscape was quite simply idyllic. The lake was calm, undisturbed by wind and reflecting back the image of the thick stands of trees that bordered it. Above, the sun shone unchallenged in the sky by any clouds. Bird calls sang out around them, reminding them that they were not the only living things on this planet. Jane, feeling more relaxed than she could remember feeling in a very long time, eventually laid down on her back with one arm pillowing her head and the other draped across her eyes to shade them from the sun. Lulled, she soon began to drowse.
Loki's words brought her lazily back to awareness, "Jane?"
"Mmmm."
"Is there truly nothing you regret leaving behind on Earth?"
She was a long moment in replying. Her brain didn't want to think about Before. It wanted to dwell on Now. Still, she cast about sleepily for an answer, finally producing one. "I miss my home. It was the only home I really, truly felt comfortable in. I miss trivial things, like my books and my computer. I miss the Internet."
And before she could think about the ramifications, before she could stop herself, she said, "And I miss Bruce."
She was met with stony silence. Immediately aware of how she'd transgressed, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked to Loki, shading her eyes with her hand. "Loki, I didn't mean—"
To her great dismay, the smile he turned on her was dismally familiar, a smile without mirth, cold and cutting. "You forget, Jane, that I was there. I was witness to you and Banner. I overheard the words you exchanged."
Her dismay soured abruptly into anger. For all his confidence and power, Loki was profoundly susceptible to the lesser emotions like pettiness and jealousy. He was ill-equipped to deal with either. "I didn't forget you were there. As far as I recall, nothing like what you're insinuating happened between us."
"But he wanted it to, did he not?"
Jane wished she could refute his words but found she couldn't, recalling the revelation she'd had during her last conversation with Bruce. Belatedly, she struggled to mount a defense, "It wasn't like that … Bruce was the one that rescued me from—"
"And in light of his heroics, his bravery, you never felt anything other than the most platonic of affections?"
Jane's eyes narrowed. She shifted from her supine position onto her knees, facing him. Trying very hard to keep her temper in check in the face of his illogical ire, she said honestly, "No, I never felt for him in that way. Sometimes I wished I could."
Loki's eyes had become icy with his withdrawal, reminding her disconcertingly of the day he'd arrived on Earth. He glanced away and got to his feet. Hastily, Jane stood as well.
"Goddamnit Loki, there were other men in my life. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. If this is going to work you're going to have to accept it. And Bruce wasn't one of them!"
"No," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "But my brother was."
Jane swallowed hard and backed a step. She couldn't deny it, couldn't even try. She wondered why now this was coming to light, why after they'd forged an undeniable bond, why after she was so sure that they would be able to make it work. And then she recalled those moments when she'd seen through the chinks in his armor, seen his worries and doubts. What she'd said had bolstered those uncertainties and he was lashing out on account of that. "Thor is in the past," she told him.
"Would he have been, I wonder, if I had not taken you away?"
Jane set her jaw with grim resolution. If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one. "I already told you the answer to that."
He was quiet a moment, his eyes fixed on her face. She read the turmoil there, the anger and the frustration. Understood that he was still wildly unprepared to deal with things the way they were. Understood that he was merely giving vent to that uncertainty in the only way he knew how. "I'm here with you, Loki. And it's where I would choose to be no matter what."
"How can I be certain of that?"
"You could trust me."
Loki made an aggravated sound, low in his throat and turned so that his back was to Jane. From over his shoulder came his next words. "You cared for Banner."
She considered lying, knew he would be able to ferret it out. "Yes. He was my friend."
"Did he make you an offer similar to my own? To save you from Fury's untender mercies?"
Jane's hesitation was as telling as her words. "… yes."
"Would you have taken him up on his offer?"
"I turned down his offer. Before you arrived."
He swung back around, his eyes unwavering upon her face, examining her expression for any hint of a lie. Jane met his stare directly with her own, challenging his accusations.
He said, "And if I had not taken you?"
"I'd be wherever Fury wanted me to be."
"Thor—"
"Forget Thor!" Jane snapped, her voice rising as her temper slipped free of her tenuous control. "He's not the fucking issue here. At least, not for me. But I'm not the one he's chasing across the galaxy, am I? What exactly are you planning to do with Odin, Loki? Still holding onto that dream of being king one day?"
"Odin's life," Loki said slowly, precisely, "is serving as my insurance—our insurance—against an order of execution should we be found."
Jane's found herself succumbing completely to her mounting anger. How dare he? How dare he slip so easily into the familiar comfort of distrust and suspicion, now, after so much had occurred between them? "You're a liar, Loki. I've always known that. Odin's life is yours because it gives you an advantage over Thor and Asgard. It's the only advantage you have left and you don't want to let it go because if you're not actively fucking someone over, you're not being you!"
"And what do you know?" His words rapped out, growing louder and louder under the weight of his own fury, taking three furious, fast steps to be directly in front of her. "What do you know, little Jane Foster, a mortal out of time and space because of me? What do you know about what I do and what I mean to do?"
"Deny it, then! Tell me you're not still keeping Odin because you think you can use him to your advantage! Do you think Thor will hand over Asgard to you for the life of your father?"
"He is not my father!"
Loki's voice echoed all around, booming across the lake, terrible in its vehemence. He was breathing hard, having surrendered to the surging whim of the insecurity and fury and hatred that Jane knew he carried with him always.
"And Thor's not your brother. So it should be easy enough for you to leave it all behind, move forward. But you won't. So they both mean something to you. They must, if you aren't willing to cut ties."
"You know nothing!"
"Prove me wrong! Let him go! Asgard can't be yours and you know it!"
She saw in his eyes, only for a moment, something she'd never seen before, a fleeting shadow of what she suspected was fear. It was gone almost immediately, replaced by a flaring anger so intense that it was nearly tangible. Her own anger ebbed enough for her to realize that she'd pushed him too far, for her to remember that she was no longer on Earth, for her to recall that Loki was her one and only lifeline. He was a demi-god, he was powerful beyond her comprehension, but he was also a man. And he was a man mired in emotions shared by Jane that he'd never known before, didn't know how to handle. His initial outburst was caused by that, but she'd provoked him further, riding the heady, indignant rush of her own anger.
"So astute," Loki said in a voice that had gone deathly soft, "at pinpointing the flaws inherent to my character. And so capable of ignoring your own. What is it within you, I wonder, that has you traveling through realms—willingly—at the side of a terrorist, a criminal? And yes, a murderer, Jane. I've killed many without qualm. I would do so again if it were to benefit me somehow. There is your truth."
"And you," he whispered, reaching out and catching her jaw in an iron hold, his fingers intentionally squeezing her with bruising force, "are here. With me. Willingly. You have gone and misplaced certain elements of your humanity somewhere, dear Jane. You have gone and left your morals behind. But still you think to lecture me, to instruct me on the right and the wrong when your perception of those facts is so greatly distorted!"
She cried out as his hold tightened, as pain radiated out through her jaw. And then he released her, backing a step as she tenderly rubbed with her palm at the places his fingers had been. He said, "We are both lacking, it would seem. I in the resolve that has served me well in the past, you in your conviction to be … whatever it is you were trying so hard to be. Crucial errors made on both sides."
She knew what he was going to do, knew what weight his words carried with them. "Loki, please—"
"Should he find you first, express my apologies to Thor for yet again escaping his blundering efforts to hunt me down. And if he doesn't find you, Jane … well, something else certainly will."
His smile knifed through her as surely as any blade, a baring of teeth that was hateful, cutting. There was an element to it that pained her further, a bitter disappointment that she knew he wished he could hide, that she wished she didn't see. And then he was gone, flickering from existence, and Jane knew that he was no longer on this world. He'd left her behind as easily as he had done every other cruel, malicious thing he'd done in his life.
Jane Foster, mortal, was alone on Vanaheim.
.x.
Emotion carried her back into the lake, the storming turmoil of rage against sorrow. She waded out until the water hit her knees before halting, grasping at her head with both hands as the reality of her situation struck home. She was alone. On an alien world. Without a protector or guide. And she had no powers, no skills to draw upon to ensure her survival. She'd been utterly, entirely dependent on Loki …
Loki. A sound left her, a throttled sob that had knotted in her throat. Her tears were slow, furious, ugly. She'd trusted him. She'd known what he was—he'd pointed that out clear enough. Known him for a liar and killer and traitor. Known him for his capriciousness—had witnessed it first hand. And yet she'd trusted him. Wanted him. Actually had the naive foolishness to hope for a future with him. Had she forgotten his rages when they'd been together on Earth? How had she forgotten the fear he'd instilled her with, the distrust?
And it hurt her, God, it hurt, to know that he was right to question just how far she'd changed, been warped, to fall for him. He'd made his point with all the force of a hammer to her heart. Jane Foster and her ugly, twisted soul had been the one to fall in love with a trickster god. She thought she'd made peace with that, in the way she'd changed, in how she felt. She'd altered enough to want Loki, to need his presence and his words as much as she wanted his body. And infuriatingly, agonizingly, she found she needed him still.
She waded further into the water, until it lined her thighs. Wrapped her arms tight around her middle and stared unseeing into the distance at the lake and the trees and the skies that weren't from Earth. Struggled to calm the panic that was steadily rising with the intent to cloud her mind eternally. I can't do this, she thought, and at the same time a small part of her said evenly, yes you can.
He wouldn't be back. She knew it as surely as she'd ever known anything. His pride was torn. His emotions would be ragged, such as they were—she was certain she was the closest he'd ever had to an actual relationship. He'd cared for her in his own way. And he would fight as hard as he could to distance himself from it, to regain the clarity that had served him so well before he'd been cast down to Earth.
Jane breathed deep once, twice. Narrowed the focus of the dissonance between logic and emotion in her mind until only one thing remained and mattered. Survival. She had to survive. She could survive, had to, if only because she'd survived so much else. Clinging to that one thing that had more importance than anything else in the universe, Jane marshalled her newfound resolved and turned to head back to shore.
She froze immediately. Standing on the shore were three men. She assumed they were men, at least; their visages were hidden from view by fierce, inhuman masks. Feathers, fangs, and tusks mixed with black and white linear markings made their faces. They wore armor, primitive leathers adorned similarly to the masks. And they bore weapons, she noticed instantly, blades strapped to their chests and hips. Everything about them screamed hostility. Jane swallowed hard. It was her argument with Loki that had drawn them here, she knew. Their raised voices had carried through the wilderness, alerting these natives to their presence. And now Loki was gone and she was absolutely, pitifully alone.
One of the men—the one with the mask with tusks, took a step forward into the water. All three of them watched her in focused silence. When he began walking again, striding into the water with a purpose Jane didn't care to know, she made her decision. There was no way out past them. Her only option was to escape by traversing the lake. She whirled around, the water dragging at her movements, and plunged ahead. She heard the sounds of pursuit from shore, the loud splashing letting her know that all three were after her now. As the water hit her chest she threw dove forward, beginning to swim. If she could outdistance them now, she stood a chance. Of course, if she exhausted herself in the deepest part of the lake she'd likely drown, but she knew instinctively that to surrender to them was to invite a dire outcome.
She set a rhythm quickly. She didn't look back, couldn't look back. Ahead was the only thing she could focus on. As she cut through the water with a skill born from a lifetime of loving to swim, hope soared in her chest. She could do this.
Hands grabbed her. Jane screamed, twisted, kicked out blindly as she struggled to stay afloat. Her feet struck flesh and she heard a masculine, pained grunt. The touch fell away and she rolled over, intent on getting away. More hands on her legs this time—they were quick, these men, and as sure in the water as they were on land—wrenching her backwards, towing her back to shore. She fought hard, frenzied in her efforts, submerging herself in the process, inhaling mouthfuls of water that she choked on. More than once her foot or knee or fist struck home, more than once she gained her freedom. Always they recaptured her, with one of the men finally gripping her hair by its braid and using it to tow her through the water as she cried out in agony.
They got her out of the lake with quick, brutal efficiency. When she felt the lake bottom beneath her feet she fought again, tearing her hair free and swinging out blindly. A fist in the gut ended her struggle for a time as she doubled over and struggled to remember how to breathe. A kick to the backs of her knees send her sprawling to the ground. One of the men grabbed her feet and began dragging her through the shallows and up onto the shore. She writhed and bucked as she began to breathe normally again, fighting through the pain and the fear. One of the men not carrying kicked her hard in the side with such force that her vision momentarily went black.
When she could see again, think again, the man with the tusked mask was crouching over her. The other two stood conversing with each other in the background, their language sounding guttural, primal. Jane, greatly daring, rose into a sitting position. The tusked man immediately shoved her down again, hard. Jane rolled, attempting to put some distance between herself and him with the intent to bolt. Another kick to the side rendered her helpless and she lay panting in pain on her stomach. With deliberate purpose the tusked man placed his booted foot on the back of her head, forcing her face into the sand. You are nothing, his unspoken message said clearly, I am what matters now.
Hands grabbed her by her shoulders, hauling her roughly off the ground. The other two men held her upright, securing her arms. The tusked man's voice emanated from behind the mask, deep and husky while it issued forth words that made no sense to her. He stepped closer, lifting one hand to Jane's face. His fingers, encased in a leather glove, caught her chin in a hold so very similar to the way Loki had touched her earlier. Jane closed her eyes and tried to twist her head out of his grasp. His fingers tightened, hurting her already bruised skin. His gloves smelled of leather, of earth, of other things she didn't know. Her eyes opened. From behind the holes in his mask, she watched his dark eyes rove over her face and then down her body with what she could only interpret as appreciation.
One of the men lifted her bad hand, holding it up for inspection, prying her fingers open. The tusked man's gaze moved from her face to her hand and he reached out to touch the shortened nubs of her fingers with his own. What he said next was in words foreign to her, but the meaning was clear enough: damaged goods.
And in that moment, Jane knew what was going to happen.
The sound that left her was a cry that promised no surrender, a wordless sound of despair and defiance and fury. She threw herself backward, pulling at her captors, unbalancing them so that they stumbled with her. Gathering herself she surged forward, tearing one arm free, stumbling bodily into the tusked man, intent only on knocking him over, on taking him down.
The pain, when it came, was not unexpected. But it was different from the kicks and punches she'd suffered before. She sagged to her knees as the tusked man backed away from her, her eyes falling to where her good hand had come up to clutch at her ribs. There was blood there, seeping forth slowly between her fingers. With gradual dawning comprehension, Jane's gaze moved upward. In his left hand the tusked man held a knife, the blade coated in her blood.
.x.
Sol's Notes: I apologize for the delay. This is getting harder and harder to write. The end is near, though!