Author's note:So I was debating another chapter in between this and the previous one, but couldn't come up with a theme that was working for me. So on with the story I guess. :D Oh, and thank you again to my amazing reviewers. You guys make my day!
Disclaimer: Loki is, sadly, not mine. This incarnation of him sort of is, but also owes a lot to interviews I've seen with Tom Hiddleston talking about his thoughts on the depth of the character.
Loki was spending the afternoon alone, which was a rarity. But Greg and Liz had taken themselves off for the day for some 'couple time', as Grainne put it, and she had decided to spend a lazy afternoon curled up in the guesthouse common-room with a book. He'd felt too restless for that, so had taken himself off for a walk and a think. The former was proving easier than the latter.
He was enjoying his new 'family'. They had accepted the odd gaps in his memory with more grace than he had, and had been very good about filling him in on concepts and references that he couldn't grasp. They included him in their music and their jokes and their casual physical contact and all up generally made him feel included. Wanted. So why did he feel so uncomfortable?
Partly, he knew, it was his ongoing frustration at not knowing. No matter how understanding and accepting they were, the fact remained that he wasn't whole. It wasn't just about whether he knew common references or remembered reading certain books or seeing certain movies, it was about knowing who he was. Knowing the little things that everyone took for granted, like what his favourite foods were or what games he'd played as a boy. Knowing the bigger things, like what his dreams and ambitions had been before they were lost to him.
Perhaps it was about time to accept that he wasn't going to regain what he was and craft something new instead. Decide on some new dreams and goals. Decide who he wanted to be.
So what had he learned about himself over these past couple of weeks? He was strong and agile and enjoyed the physical pursuits he had tried such as horse-riding and dancing. He was also intelligent, picking up knowledge and skills quickly and readily once he was introduced to them. He also enjoyed puzzles and riddles and the games of strategy that the group often played of an evening if they weren't performing. He could, apparently, sing; he smiled as he remembered how long the two girls had spent trying to convince him to join one of their performances. He'd held out on that one. He loved watching the trio and listening to them, but he didn't think it was for him. So that was another thing he'd learned: he didn't want to be a singer.
Inexorably, his thoughts turned to the other thing he'd learned: he had come to care very, very deeply for Grainne. Perhaps even to love her? He wasn't sure on this last point, wasn't sure how you could tell that you were in love. But his mood lifted whenever he was with her, no matter how down he had been feeling, and there were certainly specific things about her that he loved. He loved to touch her, both the innocent, casual touches that were so common and natural amongst the group and the comforting, intimate embraces when he was especially troubled. He loved talking with her, loved the way their conversations jumped from topic to topic without pause and could go on for hours if they weren't interrupted. And when she sang or played her violin, he felt like he could just sit and listen to her forever.
He thought she might feel a similar regard for him, too. They flirted almost constantly these days with a teasing banter that nonetheless held a slight tension. A heightened awareness. He swallowed hard, remembering the almost speculating look he caught her giving him occasionally. Was she thinking these same sort of things? He really hoped so.
Abruptly, he decided on a plan. He'd return to the guesthouse and talk to her. They should have privacy for the rest of the afternoon and evening - Greg and Liz had planned to go to dinner together and return late. Plenty of time to explore the question of hopefully mutual feelings. If he was really lucky, perhaps even time to explore a few other things as well. He grinned to himself as he turned to retrace his steps.
The thought of what he would do if she didn't share his feelings intruded. Could he still stay here? He didn't think so. The awkwardness it would create between them would be too much to bear. But he wasn't sure how much longer he could endure being with her without knowing, so he would have to take the chance. If it didn't work out... well, he'd endured loss before, he knew that, even if the precise nature of the loss was still hazy. He would survive. Somehow.
But it wouldn't come to that, he assured himself. He was sure she was interested in him, and why shouldn't she be? After all, he was a handsome, intelligent man. He was possessed of a sly sense of humour that he knew she appreciated. He was Loki. He was…
A god.
The thought crashed through his mind, driving him to his knees with its intensity. Memories assaulted him. The Allfather, Odin, looking down on him with anger and disappointment, vowing to cast him out without memory or power. Earlier than that, fighting with Thor and that band of misfits as he tried to lead his army to war against this world. Earlier still, the blackness of the void and his eventual rescue from it. Power crackled across his body as he threw back his head with a roar at the onslaught.
When the flood of memory died down to a trickle, he found himself on his knees in the middle of a green meadow. A small smile tugged at his lips as he recognised the similarity to an earlier awakening. This time, though, he knew who he was. What he was. The knowledge flowed through him and around him and crystallised into hard certainty. With it came a troubling thought. A thought to do with some of those speculating looks he'd been considering just a moment ago.
"She knew."
