Chapter 4: The Sun Also Rises
If she wakes up now, giving in to the insistent buzzing of her alarm, she'll have time to do the whole make up routine. She'll have time to shower and straighten her fucking curly hair.
Instead she sleeps on. What's the point of looking pretty? Danny will love her forever, he says, even when she's old and fat and wrinkly, so what's the point in looking pretty?
Someone is calling her name. It must be Mom. When did her mothers voice get all low and silky?
"Eleanor."
But no one besides her mother calls by that stupid ass name.
"Five more minutes," Ellie mutters into her pillow, rolling away from the voice.
"Eleanor!"
Damn, the woman is pissed and persistent.
And she sounds like a dude.
Weird.
"Calm down, Mom."
"Mom?"
The fog of sleep is clearing, leaving Ellie disoriented. Her comforter is ripped away from her body and then she remembers everything.
The voice doesn't belong to her mother. She has no mother and she isn't tucked safely away in her childhood home.
The voice belongs to her megalomaniac, music loving, often confused, captor.
Shit, I just called him Mom.
Ellie rolls over to lie flat on her back, shivering slightly from cold and embarrassment. A sneering Loki looms over her.
"Mom?" He spits out the word like it tastes bad.
Ellie shrugs.
"You no family," he continues.
Ellie shrugs once more, not wanting to know how he knows that.
"Explain!" he demands.
"I thought I had a mom once upon a time," she says. "I guess I was dreaming. What time is it?"
It seems like only ten minutes ago she left Loki's bedroom after giving him his nightly song. Maybe he wants another.
"Arise," he says, snapping his fingers.
He must want another.
She sits up, stretching her arms way up above her head. He watches with a little too much intensity, prompting Ellie to move quicker. When she pulls on a robe and moves towards his room Loki snags her elbow, redirecting her towards the locked double doors instead.
Panic and delight bubble in her chest. Any change in the boring routine of her confinement is a blessing at this point but the possibilities of what he had planned for her beyond those doors terrify her.
Will he kill her? Rape her? Steal away everything that makes her human?
Without really thinking about it Ellie stops walking, digging her heels in as he tries to drag her forward.
"What is the meaning of this?" he snaps. The grip on her arm becomes painful and Ellie winces.
"Are you going to poke me with the glowing stick of doom?" Her question is a strangled whisper.
"Only if you continue to defy me," he replies. "And cover yourself, girl."
She tires her robe and willing moves forward, but feels the need to wrap an arm around her shoulders anyway. Ellie has to bite her cheek to stifle her protest when he covers her eyes with his hand.
"You are not wearing shoes," he observes as they walk.
"I just woke up."
"You never wear shoes."
Ellie shrugs as Loki directs her through what she assumes is his workspace. All is quiet now and Ellie wonders why her eyes need to be covered at all. As if he can hear her thoughts – he can't, she assures herself – Loki removes his hand.
Blinking as her eyes adjust to the dimly lit corridor, Ellie looks around. It takes her a few beats to realize that they are standing in the decaying hall she walked through on her first night as a hostage.
She's lost count how many nights have passed since.
The rocky ground is riddled with crumbling concrete, pea gravel, and rusted out metal. Ellie glances down at her bare feet and then up at Loki, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Why do you not wear shoes?" he asks, sounding weary.
"The heels hurt my feet."
He sighs heavily. "You are such a weakling."
"I can run back and—" She stops talking when he sweeps her into his arms.
"I know not why I bother with you," he mutters.
"'Cuz I sing pretty," she murmurs. She's a little shocked to see what appears to be a genuine smile on his face.
"That you do."
Loki moves quickly and they transvers the long corridor in a matter of minutes. He sets her down in front of a ladder before starting to climb. She gapes up at him.
"Follow," Loki says without looking down. "This you can manage without the appropriate footwear, I believe."
She follows.
By the time Loki is pushing up through a hatch in the ceiling, Ellie's arms ache and her breath is harsh. He offers her a hand, pulling her through the opening.
The light is grey and below her is a sea of green. Ellie gasps when she realizes that they are standing on a roof. Outside. At dawn.
She sucks in great breaths, trying to get as much fresh air as possible in her lungs, greedy for the outdoors now. Her knees give out and Loki lets out a quiet noise that might be something close to distress as she falls. When he attempts to pull her back up, Ellie bats his hands away and for once he lets her be.
She breathes in deep and look out at the green treetops just below them, so close she could lean off the edge of the roof and touch them.
"Are you quiet alright, Eleanor?" he asks.
She nods.
"I must insist that you turn around."
Without hesitation, she does as he commands, shuffling around to sit in the correct direction.
"There," he murmurs. "Do you see?"
She squints at the dark sky, expecting to see explosions in the distance or something equally horrible. Panic rising in her chest, Ellie frantically searches for some sign that he's managed to destroyed the world.
But then she understands as the light shifts and the sky gets brighter.
Scrambling to her feet, Ellie cranes her neck to see the sun as it rises over the horizon.
"You requested sunshine," he mutters. "Did you not?"
She nods mutely, staring intently at the lightening sky. Even though she can feel his eyes on her, Ellie does an excellent job ignoring him.
The morning is already sticky and hot, but she revels in the feels of heat on her skin. After long days in a drafty underground bunker she lets it warm her bones.
"You cry," Loki say, disturbing long moments of silence.
Frowning, Ellie touches her face, somewhat surprised to feel the wetness there.
"Tears of joy?" He wipes the liquid from her face and brings his fingertips to his lips. "Much like the piano?"
Ellie nods and goes back to watching the sun slowly make an appearance.
"Why do you not show me your gratitude?"
The new anger in his voice is alarming and Ellie looks at him now, jumping slightly when she realizes that he's so close and so pissed. Holding her ground, she raises an eyebrow, silently asking him to clarify.
"Why I gift you the piano you were immensely grateful," he reminds her, scowling as he takes up his typical pacing. "So appreciative you that you lost all sense of propriety and smothered me with your disgusting mortal flesh."
She rolls her eyes because she's caught him checking out said "disgusting" flesh pretty regularly.
"But now you simply stand here," Loki continues. "Explain this at once."
"This isn't like the piano," she murmurs, turning away to watch the sun rise. "I'm not grateful."
"Pardon?" He makes the polite inquiry sound so hateful.
"That was a beautiful gift," she says.
"And this?"
The anger comes upon her suddenly and she bites her cheek to keep from screaming at him. He is the fucking reason she hadn't seen the fucking sun in what feels like fucking years and now he wants her to thank him for allowing her to do something that is her right.
"Eleanor!" he yells, demanding an answer.
"Before you brought me here I did not have a beautiful piano," she says, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.
He stares at her blankly for a few beats before his lovely features get twisted with rage into something monstrous.
"After all I have done for you, this lack of gratitude is what you give in return? You dare complain? You dare feel dissatisfaction?"
Ellie flinches, closing her eyes as she braces for the worst. He hasn't hit her since that first night, but she hasn't pissed him off like this since then either.
"Look at me," he demands.
She opens her eyes and he fills up her vision. He is standing so close, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
"Thank me," he says quietly.
She draws blood biting her cheek. The effort to hold back a slew of angry curses is painful.
Give him anything but what matters.
Reminding herself to survive this, she opens her mouth to fucking thank him for time out of her prison, but the words die on her tongue. Her voice is rebelling. She can't thank him for this when it is just a glaring reminder of the freedom her stole from her.
For whatever reason, Ellie can't bring herself to say the words, so she just gazes up at him, silently pleasing with him to just let it go.
"Thank me!" he screams, making her jump.
"I'm thankful to be outside," she whispers. "But the sun isn't yours to give, Loki."
When he moves Ellie instinctively jerks away, raising her hands and turning her head in anticipation of the coming blow. Instead he traps her face between his large, cool palms.
"Why do you fear me?" he asks, apparently confused.
"I'm a weakling, remember?" Her heart hammers around in her chest as she struggles to keep up with his rapid mood swings. "When you hit me it hurts."
"I would not hit you," he murmurs. That stricken, panicked, childlike look is back and there is green in his eyes. There is no alcohol to make her doubt it this time. There is green in his eyes and Ellie does not understand, but nor does she pull away, despite all her screaming instincts. "I would not hurt you," he continues, blinking as if puzzled by his own words.
"You have hurt me," she insists. "Here."
She places a hand over one of his that still covers her cheek.
"Here."
She touches the back of her head.
"And my hand."
She flexes her fingers.
"And here."
She touches her throat, thinking of their first bizarre encounter last February.
Frowning in a way that makes him appear years younger, Loki's fingers trace each spot she identified with a reverence that does strange things from her chest. She is crying. She never stopped.
The bruises he searches for are long healed. She's always healed quick.
His tentative touch makes her want to comfort him, a notion as insane as her desire to scream curses at him. She stands passively as he examines her. The green leaves his eyes and Ellie can pinpoint the exact moment that he remembers to be angry at her.
Bad Loki is back.
"You resent your living arrangements so very much?" he snarls, abruptly letting go of her. Ellie stumbles and tries not to glare. "You devote yourself to the sun instead? Very well. Enjoy the heat."
And then he is disappearing down through the hatch, slamming it behind him. She can feel the vibration from the heavy metal door beneath her feet.
She blinks at the closed hatch, glances around the empty roof, and then stares at the hatch a few more moments before she really understands. Now she wants the sun to stay low in the sky.
"Fuck you, Loki, " she mutters. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you."
"She hollered for awhile and banged on the door, sir," says the guard posted at the base of the ladder that leaves to the roof where Ellie spent her day.
"Did she take food and water?" Loki asks.
"Wouldn't know, sit," is the frustrating reply. "No one's been up since noon. She's been quiet as a mouse."
Loki frowns and makes the assent. When he pushed through the opening and steps out onto the roof he finds his sunbird curled into a tight ball at the very edge. The sight of her turned away from him, lying on her side in her silky garments on the hard, dirty concrete of the roof makes him violently angry, although he could not say at whom his rage is directed.
He thought she would be pleased to see the sun, as she was pleased to receive the piano, but instead his benevolent gestured only served to remind her of her imprisonment.
It would be exceedingly easy to spare her this burden, but he'd rather her discover the peace in turning her life over to him rather than using the tesseract. In addition he would miss her ability to surprise him and he fears that contact with the tesseract would alter her voice, making it somehow… less.
"Eleanor," he says, prodding her back with her boot.
Grumbling incomprehensibility she shuffles away from him. Her now filthy robe serves as a pillow, leaving her clothed in night attire he is coming to both loathe and enjoy.
When it becomes apparent that Loki is starting at her legs and smooth, subtle curves, he prods her again.
"Eleanor!"
This time she answers.
'There is an invisible barrier running around the edge of the roof," she replies without moving. "The whole roof. I can hear it humming and it threw me back when I tried to look over the edge."
"Were you attempting escape, my songbird?" he hisses. The possibility is far more troubling than is reasonable.
She fails to answer, as per the usual.
"There is no escape for you, Eleanor. For the remainder of your laughably short mortal existence you will be mine. You will do as I say and be grateful for what you are given and in return I will take care of you," he says, leaving no room for argument.
Eleanor sighs. Movements stiff and bones creaking, she slowly gets to her feet and turns to face him. The masses of once flawless skin exposed by her small garments is burned an angry red.
"Good job taking care of me," she says, glowing as she points to her face.
Ignoring the slight, he reaches out to touch her red cheek. That heat from her flesh against his fingers is uncomfortable.
"How?" he asks.
"It was one hundred and fucking three fucking degrees!" she yells, arms flailing wildly around her head.
Loki takes a step back, shocked to hear her address him in such fashion. Despite her penchant for silence, she did raise her voice on the night he brought her here. Those pathetic shrieks for help were not direct at him. Now he seems to have truly incurred the wrath of Eleanor.
Although he reaction is irritating and unacceptable, Loki finds himself impressed by the formidable force that lurks inside such an unassuming creature.
"You left me up here all day in this crazy southern summer heat on a fucking roof!" she continues. "There is no shade! There wasn't a goddamn cloud in the goddamn sky!"
There is something in her gaze that prevents him from putting a stop to her insolence through disciplinary action. Her typically bright blue eyes appear lifeless and glassy. His own concern mounts.
"Eleanor," he murmurs, reaching out for her.
She smacks his hands away, taking a staggering step back.
"I cooked!" she continues. "I fried! This is a fucking sunburn, Loki. If you wanted me to hate the sun than good fucking job. My skin hurts. My head hurts. Your goons only gave me only one fucking glass of water for the whole fucking day!"
She sways dangerously and doesn't fight him when he steadies her with hands on her shoulders. The heat from her skin warms his palms, making him wince.
"Eleanor, calm yourself!"
"People—" She loses her breath and closes her eyes. "People die like this. Heat stroke."
Her head lolls on her shoulders and Loki wraps his arms around her as she leans heavily against him. Her voice gets sluggish.
"You're so cool and I'm so hot it hurts to move," she murmurs. "God, touch me please."
The delirium seems to take her and Loki lifts her into his arms, marveling at her lightness.
"You will see a doctor immediately," he says, not understanding his own panic.
"No," she says, sounding more like herself now. "I'm just dizzy and hot. I want water, dinner, and to lie down in my own bed."
"If you are quite certain," he begrudgingly agrees. In this he'll have to trust her judgment as he obviously knows nothing of Midgardian physiology if this latest blunder is any indication. He meant for her to be bored and uncomfortable, not burned.
He would never wish burning upon Eleanor.
"Take me home," she says. The word choice is odd.
Home.
He doesn't like it.
Rushing back to their living quarters, Loki curses her fragility. His worry for the little songbird is some what shocking but he feels something else as well that churns unpleasantly in his gut. The unnamable feeling is both foreign and familiar simultaneously, like something he once felt in a dream or the echo of some long ago memory.
As he allows Eleanor to rest against the chilled skin of his bare chest, Loki thinks endlessly on the feeling.
It takes hours for him to give it a name.
Guilt.
"Let me up," she says.
Loki holds her to his bare chest and shows no sign of releasing her. With his cool skin soothing her sun burned cheek, Ellie glances at his face, checking to see if he's fallen asleep.
His eyes are closed and Ellie wiggles, trying to get out of his grip.
The coolness of his skin is so soothing, but now that she feels better and less delirious her anger returns and being this close to him becomes unbearable.
"Why must you arise?" he asks.
"I feel better. I want a shower and need to slather myself in lotion."
"You are not too weak?"
"No."
He lets her up, standing himself and pulling his tunic back on over his head.
"Eleanor," he says before she can slip away into the bathroom. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she waits as he struggles to find the words. "I will keep your fragility in mind henceforth."
There is genuine contrition in his voice. Even if it is no apology, it's close, closer than she thought possible.
"Have you figured out why you did all this?" she asks.
"To punish you," he replies.
"No," Ellie says, shaking her head. "You brought me to the roof to see the sunrise. That was a nice thing. You did something nice for me. Have you figured out why you tried to do something nice for me?"
Loki just glares at her, but he feels bad and Ellie takes advantage of the moment.
"You wanted to make me happy," she explains. "Like with the piano. And you wanted a hug."
Now he is sputtering. Ellie finds his reaction amusing.
"Do you want me to sing?" she asks.
"No," he says, clearing his throat and backing towards the door. "Rest."
And she does.