Chapter 8

Sven eventually found his way to a market. It was fascinating, the number of stalls all under one roof, the movement, the energy, the bustle. It only took him a minute or so to realise that it was at the end of the tunnel that Sven had spent his first night with Sam in. He'd never been inside and so he ducked in excitedly to explore. There was everything from fireplaces to flowers to clothes to food. It was the latter that drew him in. He looked round the stalls and his stomach rumbled, letting him know that it demanded substance. The wares here were so much more appetising than anything that Old Sam pulled out of the bins. If only the man would be willing to spend his money on this rather than his foul smelling 'booze'.

His eyes fell on the fresh fruit shop and his feet followed his gaze. He stopped by a pile of bright red apples, large and oh so tempting. Another tug at his hollow belly and his mouth started to water. He wanted one so badly, but he had no money. Instead all he could do was look on forlorn, eyes wide, and hope that maybe someone would be kind enough to give him one.

A boy walked by him, wearing a hooded sweater, just like him, but the older boy's was pulled up and down his face. He stopped by the oranges sweeping over to the shop keeper, who was busy running things through the counting machine. Swinging a bag off his shoulders he unzipped it and looked around. When he caught sight of his little watcher the older boy smirked, and Sven could see all of his face. Grey-blue eyes and red hair that seemed almost brown. There was a slight dusting of freckles across his nose. He lifted a finger to his lips, indicating that Sven should remain silent. He checked the vendor once more before he started to pick up oranges and drop them into his bag.

Sven gawked. Was he really just going to steal them? Old Sam may take from bins, but that was different, nobody wanted that food. These were supposed to be paid for. It was tempting though, to follow this boy's example and take a couple of those wonderful red apples. Maybe the older child was hungry and without money as well, Sven could understand that. After all, he was starving and he sure that the owner would hardly miss a couple of apples that were 40 pence.

As the teenage picked up his fifth orange he was spotted. The shopkeeper cried out in outrage and the boy took off. The vendor stepped out of his booth and the man took several steps to follow the thief who was quickly disappearing into the masses. Everyone was distracted by the scene. Sven couldn't resist any longer. He snatched two apples from the pile and slipped round the corner into another aisle. The wild urge to run was pulled back by something stronger telling him not to, that it would only draw attention to himself, then he really would get caught. He didn't rein in the urge completely and instead he was stuck between a walk and a jog until he reached the edge of the market and was out into the mid-afternoon sun.

He fumbled with the pocket on the front of his top and managed to get an apple inside to give to Sam later. Excitement from his steal still tingling through his blood, he grasped his prize in his both hands. Grinning, he took a large bite. His teeth broke the skin and immediately juice started running into his mouth. He revelled in the sweetness, the freshness, how it crunched and, most of all, how delicious it was. It felt as if it was the most divine thing he had ever had in his entire life.

Walking down the street, the cool air biting his cheeks, munching happily on an apple while wearing new, clean clothes, he had a feeling that this was the most like himself he had been for a while.

(&)

Despite tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Thor did manage to get some sleep. He awoke when the sun had set and the rush of the city had dimmed. The activity in the next room seemed quieter as well, he could only hear three people moving about and muttering now. He frowned, pushing himself up. Was everyone gone? Why? Had they found something? Steve had given his word that he would wake him if anything should happen, his comrade was an honourable man and would never give an oath if he intended to break it. Despite knowing this, Thor couldn't help the bubble of anger and indignation at the thought of betrayal. He thought he knew Steve, but he could be mistaken, he had misjudged people, people close to him, in the past.

There was only one way to find out. He swung his feet to the floor, letting the anger bubble under the surface. He would stride in and find out for himself. If he had misjudged his friend then there would be-

Steve's muffled voice filtered through the door, asking whether any progress had been made. Thor halted in his tracks, catching the answer telling him it was much the same as it was when they first arrived. He breathed out letting go of his anger and guilt rushed in to replace it. It was shameful of him to think so little of his friend who had never given him any reason to doubt him, but then, neither had Loki before his coronation. Thor ran a hand over his face and through his hair. It wouldn't do him any good to follow that trail right now. He turned away from the door, to the windows, unsure if he could face Steve after thinking the worse of him. Just another minute to himself. A minute to wash away the sleepy paranoia.

He stopped by the window, gazing down to the city below. To him it looked much like any other in this realm. Strange. Foreign. Never quite asleep. Yet, unlike any other city in Midgard, this is where his brother hid. At least, he hoped that his brother was here. The familiar itch returned. The urge to go out and look high and low, roam the streets and ask the locals questions. However, it would seem that that task was assigned to some of S.H.E.I.L.D.'s many men. It was an uncomfortable position. He wasn't used to sitting back in his hunts. He drove forward until he hit a wall or his duties pulled him back. He never had a thread to follow and done nothing. It gave him time to think and contemplate the near future. He wasn't sure he liked it. It forced him to face the reality that he had no idea what he would say and do if…when he saw Loki again. He had justified it months ago by saying his brother was unpredictable, even if he wrote the perfect speech to lure his brother home, Loki would throw something at him that would derail his entire speech or twist it around to mean something different. Thor no longer knew his brother well enough to even guess at his reaction. Now that the younger Odinson, he was that no matter what Loki said, had been missing for over a year for unknown reasons he wasn't certain what reception he would receive when they finally found Loki. He hoped to find his brother a changed man, that whatever else may have occurred over the last year and a half, that it had cooled Loki's anger.

He would not walk into battle on this dream though. If Loki had changed then so much the better, but to count on that was foolishness. Whatever had happened, Loki was hiding now. Though Loki may not be hiding from them, it was safer not to assume he would be happy to see him and his friends. He would enter the encounter with a cynical mind and react to the circumstances that unfolded. Planning ahead never been his strength, not that that had worked with Loki up to this point but what else could he do?

He wished he had something to distract him from his thoughts that just took him round in circles. He wanted to have faith in Loki while always holding him at arms-length. He breathed deeply in and slowly released it. Turning away from the window he stepped towards the door. He should relieve Steve, the man would surely appreciate the respite.

(&)

Sven avoided going straight back to Old Sam, he would return eventually, but for now he was enjoying the freedom. He wandered, munching on his glorious red apple, as he looked round the streets and within the shops. With his new clothes he drew hardly any attention and he loved being able to sneak about unnoticed. His feet eventually took him to a large building, most odd in his opinion, but being so different it drew him to it. It was rectangular, two together but the second protruding a little, completely covered in windows and appeared to be held above the entrance on this white pillar. To Sven it was appealing and pulled him forward. He had to discover the purpose of the structure. He took heart from the sight of people freely milling in and out, from an old man to a young woman with her babe. He slipped into the building with its bright and airy entrance. Several low, cushy, black and red stools were grouped together. What caught his attention were the racks and tables of books. A book shop? A most curious and huge book store. There were three floors above him, the entrance hall open and as high as the building itself so that he could see those floors.

Sven moved further into the building, walking passed the racks and wouldn't have paid much mind to the circular desks if it wasn't for the strange devices they held. A young lady sat at one such device staring at what he could only describe as a window. The only thing like it he could think of were the 'televisions' that he had seen in shops. Unlike the televisions though, the images did not constantly move, only a small white arrow. He realised that the arrow corresponded to the movements of the woman's hand. When she pressed down with her index finger on the object under her palm there was a click and the screen changed. He wanted to stay and watch, but the woman turned to look at him and he hurried on.

There was something most odd about this store and it was becoming more apparent that it wasn't a simple shop. A group of youths set round a table, scribbling away and chatting in low voices. Another sat on a comfortable chair reading. There was a calm and easy hush that lay over the room with only the smallest mummer and the noises from the entrance to break it. Turning down an aisle he found he felt strange, as if he belonged. As if… he had come here before. It was ridiculous, but amongst the books he felt a warmth inside that he'd not known since awakening.

He stopped and ran a finger down a well-worn book spine and realisation leapt to mind. A library. He'd found a library. This revelation caused a surprising amount of joy to swell in him. Of course it was a library! Why did he not know immediately?

"Because it doesn't smell like a library," a small voice whispered back

That was curious. What did a library smell like?

"Of dust," the voice replied. "Of dust, old paper mixed with leather and a hint of ink: the smell of books and wood. Though on warm days when the windows are opened for air, the smell of summer is infused for the most glorious smell you would ever know. It is the smell of knowledge, stories and wisdom."

Oh, well Sven supposed that it didn't really smell of a library then. He paused and frowned…

…What in all the realms was a library?

Sven had the distinct impression that he was being silently judge by his own mind.

The boy reached out excitedly and pulled out a book from the shelf. He understood that these were books, and he liked books, he must do with the way his stomach fluttered. Opening it he stared down at the words and his heart sank. Instead of seeing knowledge, stories and wisdom on the pages, incomprehensible scribbles glared back up at him. He didn't understand the symbols, their contents locked away from him. He closed the tome and put it back. He should have known, after all he was surrounded by words on the streets, he'd just never spent more than a passing frustration on them. It didn't stop the crushing disappointment within him. The prospect of reading had been such a thrilling idea. It had excited him more than anything else he could remember, not that his days were filled with endless thrills.

"Hello there, are you looking for the children's section?"

Sven jumped and spun round. Behind him stood a man, pushing a trolley filled with books. The child blinked up at him. There was an entire section for children? A little of his good mood returned, perhaps there was some hope for him still. Biting his lip he gave a small nod. The library worker looked down at his trolley and sighed.

"Come on then," and the man indicated that the boy should follow him. They walked through the aisles until they came to a corner that was brightly decorated in colours bolder than the rest of the library with animals and people on the walls, as well as pictures clearly drawn by other children. There were less books here, but the area felt happier, more room for sitting and a whole area with little chairs, pillows and strange bags. This section was currently occupied. A woman sat on a chair that was comically too small for her with a book on her knee that was just as absurdly large. The left page held only a few words while the right was entirely covered with a huge picture. At her feet were a group of children, gazing up at her with delight as she read.

"Three Bears out hunting, I spy Baby Bunting."

Several children pointed at the picture shouting 'there!' The story teller smiled and flipped over the page.

"Baby Bunting fast asleep, I spy Bo-Peep."

This time the children took a moment longer before one girl at the front cried out as she pointed at the picture. Once more the page was turned.

"Bo-Peep on the hill, I spy Jack and Jill."

Sven turned away, losing interest in what one could hardly call a story, lured instead by the rows of books. Taking one at random, he opened it up in the middle. A large pretty picture occupied one page and fourteen words written in bold opposite it. Flipping the pages he found that he understood these scribbles no more than the ones before, however his distress was crushed by the delight of seeing each page accompanied by a picture. A grin broke across his face. He may not be able to read they tale, but with the illustrations he could guess or create his own story. What was important was that he could begin to submerge himself in the world books again. He wasn't sure if this should make him as happy as it did, but it made him positively light-headed with joy. A little giggle escaped him.

Still clutching the book, he moved to the end and took a seat on the floor, his back against the wall. Starting from the beginning of the story, he thought of how this had been a very good day indeed.

(&)

Sven remained in the library until it closed and left reluctantly, leaving behind the book of letters he had found. While the morning had started like any other dull day, it was ending as the best day in his life. He had new clothes, stolen some fresh fruit, found a library and lost himself in books. He just needed to get back to Old Sam. Sven slowed his walk and realised that he didn't know where he was and had no idea where the beggar was in relation to him. He stopped at the end of the road. Would Sam still be there? At that thought there was a stab of panic. What if Sam had moved on? What would he do then? He didn't know how to survive, to do this on his own.

His steps quickened again. He didn't want to be left alone in a big scary world that he didn't understand. He tried to retrace his steps, but he had wondered for too long with no purpose that the streets had become a muddled mess. It took him an hour to find himself back at the market place, but from there he looked hopelessly around. Under the night sky the city looked so different, he didn't know where he had been and in which direction he should go. He circled the square twice before hesitating between the most promising options. If he was honest, he wasn't sure if he should just return the way he had come or pick another street. Instead he peeked down the next road. As he walked he tried to remember the route, but nothing looked familiar, just shops he had seen a millions times in a million places.

He started to despair, afraid that he would be lost on the streets forever. Why did he wander off so far? He could have stayed close, just walked a street or two away. He should have come back after had taken the apples, when it was fresher in his mind and still daytime. Instead he just had to go running around and exploring. How stupid! He swallowed down a sob as the joy of the library quickly faded from him, lost as he was.

He turned round, wondering if he should just go back to the market and try another road or continue on this one. He took a step backwards. Now that he looked at the street this way-

Sven's back hit something hard and he stumbled, nearly falling over.

"Watch it!"

The child turned round to the voice, preparing to run away from an angry man, but found himself face to face with a disgruntled boy. An older boy with reddish-brown hair, a hoddie, a bag and a face he recognised.

"You stole the fruit," Sven blurted out. The boy's eyes snapped to his, but the cold look quickly melted into a cheeky grin.

"You're the kid. Thanks for keepin' quiet, not that it helped much."

Sven looked up at him curiously, his previous worries forgotten for the moment. "Were you caught?"

The boy's smile widened and he looked positively cocky. "Nah, lost him as soon as I got outside." He swung his bag off his shoulder. Opening it he showed the child his bounty. "See, still got 'em." The teenager reached in and pulled one out. He held it before the younger boy. When the kid just looked at it he chuckled. "Go on, take it. Ya know, for not saying anything back there."

"Are you sure?" Sven hesitately asked, though it looked so good and he hadn't eaten anything since the apple.

"Cause. We gotta stick together."

The younger boy looked up confused. "We do?"

"Nah, not really. Helps though, don' it. Easier this way. Anyway, you're only little. Go on," he waved the fruit to emphasis his point and Sven finally relented. He'd only ever seen them in shops. This strange round fruit was bright and waxy. It didn't seem particularly appetizing, but it looked better than anything Old Sam dug up. He lifted the food to his mouth, opening his jaw to take a bite when the elder boy's hands were on his, pulling them down again.

"Whoa, what you doing? You never had an orange before?"

An orange? He shook his head.

The teen sighed, though it didn't seem mean or malicious. He took the sphere and the younger boy only felt a moment of disappointment before it gave way to curiosity as the teenager dug his finger nail into the thick skin and started to peel it away. He threw the rubbish carelessly to the ground. He split it in half so Sven could see all the segments more clearly and handed them back.

"Now you can just eat it, careful of the pips though. Just spit 'em out."

Tentatively Sven peeled away a segment. He plopped it into his mouth, not really tasting anything, he bit down and immediately the sweet taste bust forth. It was undeniably fruity, but different to his earlier apple, less sharp but just as much flavour.

"Like it then?" the teen was back to beaming and it took a little more chewing before he understood that it was in reply to Sven's own smile. He gave a small nod and continued eating.

The smile faded a little from the elder boy's face. "So, got a place to sleep tonight?"

Sven looked up, no one had ever asked him that before and he wasn't sure what to answer.

"You've got no shoes," the teen elaborated, while Sven looked down at his feet. "So, you're either being bullied or sleeping rough. Don't think you'd be hanging round if you're being bullied. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Sometimes we just gotta disappear, right? Nice clothes though, new, how'd you get them?"

The little boy's face lit up he quickly swallowed the orange. "A lady gave them to me. I only had Old Sam's shirt this morning." Then the words sunk in and his previous fears and worries returned, remembering his terror from mere minutes ago. "I need to go back," he rushed, looking back round the street. "I must find Old Sam."

He nearly dashed off again in blind panic, but the teen stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Whoa, who's Old Sam?"

The boy blinked up at him. "He is… Old Sam." What else could he say? "He looks after me." After a fashion, a voice in his mind whispered.

The teen's faced brightened a little. "You have someone looking out for ya. Want me to help you find him? Bet he's well worried."

Sven looked up hopefully. "You would help me?"

The older boy ruffled his hair. "Can't leave a little thing like you all on your own at night." His hand dropped again. "So, where'd you last see him?"

Sven thought long and hard, searching his memory for anything useful he'd seen or heard from that morning. "Outside McDonalds."

"That's easy. On a corner?" Sven nodded. "Near here?" This time he shrugged. "Not been in Newcastle long, but I think I know where that is."

The little boy's hopes soared and he felt his earlier doubts at leaving Sam at all disappear. "Truly?"

"Yeah, sometimes go into McDonalds cause it's easy to swipe food, or money sometimes. Friend got spotted so we had to move on. Come on."

The teenager started leading the way. How many wonderful people he had met today, so many who wanted to help him. Then Sam's voice crawled its way back into his head, ranting and raving the uneasiness back into him. He didn't move to follow the other boy. Noticing he wasn't being trailed the teen turned back.

"You ok?"

"Are you a Faceless Man?"

The boy laughed. "Do I look faceless to you?" Sven supposed not. "Where'd you get something like that?"

"Old Sam," Sven picked up another piece of orange. "He tells me about them." He didn't really understand much beyond that, just the important things.

The older boy said nothing and Sven looked up. There was that look in the boy's eyes, the same one he saw in the kind lady and the baker lady and it dawned on him that it was worry. Why would they be worried?

"How'd ya meet Sam?"

"He found me when I woke up." He ate some more of the orange, it really was very nice, and choose to look at that rather than his helper.

"Found ya?"

Sven nodded. "He looks after me," he repeated, "and he gave me a name."

"What name?"

"Sven."

"What were ya called before that?" Sven shrugged and continued eating. "Where are ya from? You not from around here."

"Neither are you," Sven countered. "You do not sound like a Geordie." Sven was very proud of picking up that word.

"Nah. I'm from London, but ya sound well posh."

Sven frowned. "I do?" That was a new word and he couldn't catch the meaning. A group of people from Posh? Po? Though maybe he knew a little more about himself now.

"Yeah, well kinda. Ya talk funny. Where ya from?"

"I-I do not know." Maybe there was no such place as Posh then or no place Posh people come from. "I just woke up."

"Do ya remember anythin' before that?"

Sven shook his head, feeling increasing embarrassed. Was he damaged? Broken somehow? He never really thought about whether or not he was abnormal, but this boy's reaction and the questions made him realise that perhaps something more was wrong with him than he knew. It was clear that he was supposed to know these things.

"Least ya have Old Sam though." They'd reached the square the covered market was located on and the boy was leading him round. "Maybe it's better ya don't remember."

"Why?"

"Well, ya know, if ya forget then maybe it's 'cause somethin' real bad happened. Ya don' wanna remember that."

"Oh," was all he managed. Going down a road he was heartened to see it looked very familiar

"Ya been sleepin' rough long?" He looked up blankly.

"Sleeping Rough?"

"On the streets," the teen clarified.

Oh. "Perhaps." He hadn't been counting. The rest of the discussion fled his mind as McDonalds came into view.

It took only a second to find Old Sam. He hadn't moved from his spot, though his mood hadn't seemed to have improved either. He sat by the wall, his head ducked as he rocked back and forth. Sobs still racked his body and that little happy bubble Sven had been in burst at the sight of the vagrant so distraught. Had he been a part in that? He must have been away for a long time and Sam often seemed to regress back into his mind, so maybe he hadn't noticed. Sven was definitely relieved though. He was about to dash over to the man when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning his eyes up, he saw the teen looking at him with more anxiety than ever. Why? He'd found his guardian again. The teen's eyes flicked back up to the old man.

"Ya sure ya wanna go back to him?"

This confused Sven even more. Why would the older boy suddenly object to the reunion? "Yes, why would I not?"

"He don' seem…safe."

The boy looked between them. "But, you helped me find him."

The teen looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, but that was before, weren't it. He seems kinda crazy."

Sven furrowed his brow slightly. Did being sad make you mad? He'd seen plenty of people, particularly in the evenings, when the unsteady adults stumbled through the streets, screaming, laughing and weeping at each other. Sam was different, he understood that much, but did that really make him a lunatic?

"I am Sam's boy," he stated.

Strangely, this made the boy to scowl more. "Has he…done anything to ya?"

Sven blinked up before frowning. "I do not understand."

The brunt looked uncomfortable. "Like…ya know…hurt ya?"

"Oh no, Sam looks after me. He stops the Faceless Men taking me."

Still the elder boy look uneasy. "And he told ya about these 'Faceless Men'?" Sven nodded and for a moment he feared that the teen thought he was lying.

"They took his girl," he rushed in defense.

This didn't ease the concern either. The elder boy bent down so he was closer to his height. "Ya can come back with me instead. Not just me, there are a few of us kids. We look out for each other, make sure we have food, place to eat and that no one will take us."

Sven shifted, this boy had been kind to him and he wasn't ungrateful but… But he didn't know who this stranger was and he knew Sam would look after him. Maybe this was what Sam meant by Faceless Men taking people, luring them away with kindness only to steal their faces, or perhaps this boy was really in the same position as him. That made the decision harder, he didn't think he'd ever met anyone like him before, and for a heartbeat he wavered.

He turned and pulled his arm from the boy's grip as he walked away. "I must return to Old Sam."

"Wait," Sven paused and twisted round. The teen had dropped his bag and had taken out two more oranges. "Take 'em." Sven hesitated. "Go on, just… if ya need to get away from the loon, come find me. I'll stick around in the area or ask a woman bum to take ya to the Woman's House. Can't say I'll still be here after a week, but ya can try. I'm Jake." Taking the oranges he backed away and nodded. "Ya don't have to stay with him, just so ya know."

Sven spun round and dashed back towards the old beggar, not sure how to feel about the conversation. He shook his head, he'd found his way back. It would be ok. He somehow managed to get the two oranges in his sweater pocket, where they sat snuggly next to the apple. He stopped in front of the vagrant, but the man's eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Old Sam?" His voice was soft, Jake's words making him cautious.

The old vagabond looked up and stared at him. Five heartbeats went by and nothing happened. Sam simply turned his eyes on the child, the expression blank. Sven looked back, nerves starting to tickle his belly. Should he have gone with Jake? What if Sam had forgotten him? What would he do now? Then recognition crept back into those eyes. The mouth stretched into an ecstatic smile, the rotting teeth on full display.

"Ma boi." An arm snaked round the child and pulled him into a hug. The old beggar's head fell onto Sven's shoulder. "Ma boi, ma Sven com' bac'. Ma Sven bac'."

He wasn't sure if Sam was crying again, but he had never known how much the man had missed him. When the grip loosened, he pulled away. He untied the old man's shirt from around his waist, now fully dried, and handed it back to Sam. Then he pulled out the apple he had stolen that afternoon and one of the oranges and gave them his guardian. "I bought these for you."

There was no anger and shouts of theft this time. Sam grinned up at him and took the offered fruit. "Ma boi." He put them down in his lap. He pulled Sven down and planted a kiss on the child's forehead. "Ma beau'ifu', kin' boi." He pressed another kiss on him. "So goo'. Ma precious boi."

He let go of Sven, who immediately scrubbed at his wet brow. There was a small smile on his lips though, proud at making Old Sam so happy. He was sure that he had made the right choice.