Chapter 28: Crime and Punishment
Despite Eleanor's insistence that their visit to New York City is merely a vacation to celebrate some sort of meaningless American holiday, Loki understands the true purpose.
Since his mother's visit, Eleanor has sought new ways to punish him, to fulfill her duties as laid down by Odin. She is not pleased by the task anymore than Loki is, and he resents the Allfather that much more for putting her in such a position.
As he watched her struggle with her unfair responsibilities, Loki finally acknowledged that the moment he kissed her in the bathroom all those months ago a decision was made to stay at her side.
The plan still folded into his pocket is the desperate scratching of a being without logic and although the current arrangement cannot stand, it will not be Odin who removes the bond because Loki will not willingly retire an uncertain feature on the Isle of Solitude.
The plan is amended, for the original version is given up as a failure. Just another failure to add to the ever-mounting list.
The unknowns are too great. The consequences of entrapment on the Isle could prove unbearable and Loki dislikes the notion of separating from Eleanor once more.
Still, his resolve to sever the humiliating bond has not abated. It is Odin's power that truly subjugates Loki, and being under the Allfather's control is much worse than being under Eleanor's.
The bond is degradation to Loki and it cannot continue, even if he has been somewhat lax about seeking its disintegration in the months since summer ended. It is not permanent. He will find a way out of this painful arrangement, to finally be free of the influence of Odin, the very moment he can summon the energy to do so. While the insanity has abated in recent months, his exhaustion has not.
Mortals take "vacations" frequently to heal their sensitive minds from the minor stresses of their uneventful lives. Surely after all he's endured, Loki deserves rest.
For now he will follow the rules. He will work with Jane Foster. He will cooperate. He will be rehabilitated, but not for long. Until the burden of living no longer feels so great, the plan will be to lie dormant.
Loki's latest amendment to the plan in his pocket involves obeying the rules and this is how he comes to find himself back in Stark Tower.
As he waits for Eleanor to return from her meeting with Director Fury some levels below, he stares out at the city that almost became his. The memories are clear. He recalls fighting Thor atop this very tower and struggling to lead the senselessly and stupidly brutal Chitauri.
What he fails to remember is his own desire to win the earth. Why he would willingly tie his existence to this desolate realm with no intelligent life to speak of remains beyond his comprehension.
Revenge on Thor? A desire to inflict others with the rage that boils in his own veins? He can no longer say how precisely the titan remade him to rule this realm, but it does not seem to matter.
In the fifteen Midgardian months since his great failure, the mortals have made slow progress correcting the damage wrought by Loki's army. The streets surrounding Stark Tower still form a construction zone, while large quadrants of the city just to the north remain completely closed to the public.
Eleanor would have him put the broken city back together again.
This is entirely possible, given his mind has now healed enough to allow him access to his magic, and he will do this reconstruction, but only to please Eleanor and maintain the illusion of cooperation.
He highly doubts the secretive authorities of SHIELD will allow for such publically apparent reconstruction, but there was no talking Eleanor out of this.
Although he no longer understands his pervious desire to be king of the mortals, he does not particularly regret his actions. Eleanor wants guilt and remorse, but he will not be able to give this to her. Lying is always an option, but honesty is typically best with the songbird.
To a certain degree, of course.
The damage is done. She's seen his weakness, seen him, knows him, and as disquieting as it is, she remains at his side even if he is not wholly convinced that it is all not part of an elaborate revenge scheme. He would never willingly choose to actively show such weakness and vulnerability when in his right mind, but there is no changing it now.
It is something of a relief. There is no need for pretense with Eleanor and as much as he loathes the power she holds over him, Loki blames the situation on Odin rather than condemning his songbird.
The power of her command will not last long and he will be free as soon as he gets around to righting this egregious wrong. It will be up to Loki to break the bond and he will do so. Eventually.
There was no conscious decision made to trust her, but after months at his side Loki somehow stopped questioning her motives and accepted their situation for what it appears to be on the surface, enjoying her even if its all a beautiful falsehood.
Eleanor continues to meet privately with the Director for the first time since she brought Loki back to Midgard. It has now been nearly an hour without her and he is uncomfortable when she is outside his line of vision, especially here surrounded by enemies who have gathered to celebrate this supposed holiday.
He remembers what the Tesseract showed him. He remembers Eleanor in the Void and feels the panic in his chest start to rise.
Loki paces along the length of the large windows, his gaze still on the recovering city. There is snow on the ground, but it is grey and foul, polluted by the humans and their preoccupation with machinery.
Despite the barren landscape, Loki finds himself longing for Eleanor's inconveniently small cottage in New Mexico, where the people are few and far between.
Where it is quiet.
Still, he would like to see Eleanor smile as she attempts to catch falling snow on her tongue. He once saw it in a Midgardian film. It looked pleasant.
He hears her before he sees her and rushes to the door of the rooms they've been given for their stay, opening it in time for Eleanor to storm through.
Without pausing to so much as to glance in Loki's direction, she marches over to the small bar area, pouring herself a tumbler full of an amber alcohol and consuming it all in a series of long gulps.
Loki admires the long column of her throat before he remembers to be concerned.
"Thirsty?" he asks, moving to lean against the wall to better study her.
"Yes," she snaps, pouring another. "Want one?"
He nods, recalling Stark's preference for quality scotch.
Eleanor finishes her second drink just as quickly as the first, but Loki sips slowly, swirling the liquid as he studies Eleanor.
"I would ask what was discussed in your meeting but I do not particularly care," he says.
"You don't care that I am upset?" she asks, giving him that blank look that is always an indicator of trouble.
"It seems the natural reaction to spending any amount of time with Director Fury and his thoroughly annoying band of killers and liars," he replies. Eleanor smiles and it pleases him endlessly.
The ultimate killer and liar makes her smiles, while Earth's mightiest heroes drive her to drink. What an odd creature she truly is.
"They're not going to let you help," she says.
Loki is unsurprised.
"They say it would raise too many questions and they are trying to keep the public in the dark, even if it means denying them your help," she continues.
"It is for the best, Eleanor," he says. "Despite the rumors, few know of my involvement with the attempted invasion. I thought you to would prefer to keep my presence here a secret. Would you have me erect a sky scraper, announcing my presence to all of Midgard?"
"I'd rather you erect other things," she mutters.
Loki chuckles but Eleanor is still frowning, and this will not do.
"You cannot truly be surprised," he says.
She shrugs and pouts.
"Eleanor, what upsets you so?" He pulls the tie from her hair, allowing it to tumble around her shoulders in an unruly blond mess that should not be half so appealing.
"I just hate the way the world works sometimes," she whispers. "You broke it. You can fix it. I want it to be that simple. It needs to be repaired and you should do it without it threatening national security."
She mimics the low timber of Director Fury's speck, making Loki grin.
"Is that all?" he asks.
"I just hate this," she repeats.
"Hate what precisely?"
"If I don't do this right he'll take you away! I thought if you could undo some of the structural damage at least then Odin will see that I am trying and you are trying and he won't take you away."
His recently dormant fury directed at the Allfather emerges in this moment. How dare that lair put Eleanor in such a position? His false father is causing the songbird pain and Loki can barely think rationally through the fog of animosity.
"It will not happen, Eleanor," he says through a clenched jaw.
"You don't know that. It seemed like a good idea to fix what you broke. So that asshole knows you are trying."
He is not trying, not truly, but this is one secret he will keep from Eleanor.
"This is important to you," he says.
She bites her lip and nods. Loki drops his own lips to her ear, pleased that he disabled the room's recording devices the moment Eleanor left for her meeting. Eleanor calls this vacation but armed SHIELD guards escorted them here and their departure from the tower would not be allowed.
"Let's go walking after dark," he says. "Perhaps we can find something more subtle than sky scraper construction."
Eleanor wears all black, sighting the need to go unseen.
At first he is offended that she thinks him incapable of keeping her hidden, but she is delighted by the projections he leaves cuddled up in their bed to dupe those who would look for them, and he forgives her.
Leaving Stark Tower undetected proves laughably easy, especially given the security precautions taken by SHIELD when Eleanor first announced her need to spend the holiday with her false sister's family in New York City.
As they walk the abandoned streets, Eleanor takes his hand. These small gestures of affection seem like second nature to the songbird, but they never fail to surprise Loki. Now he can feel the heat from her skin even thought her gloves.
It is snowing once more and Eleanor tilts back her head, trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Although he would never admit to it, Loki is quite fond of this winter weather.
"You've got snow on your eye lashes," Eleanor tells him, continuing to smile.
Loki is stunned to realize in this moment that her happiness brings him happiness.
"Will you kiss me?" she asks.
And he does.
They continue walking and Loki fixes cracked pavement as they go. Eleanor points out potholes and Loki repairs these as well. She stops them in front of a chain link fence that forms a circumference around a nearly completed building that will serve as apartments.
"So, we're like, invisible?" she whispers, eyeing a security camera.
"Essentially, yes," he replies. "And there is no need to whisper."
He leads her into the building.
Loki puts finishing touches on the apartments as they stroll down the hall. Eleanor sings loudly, enjoying the thrill of being in a place banned to her.
The mortals are not quite stupid enough for his modifications to go unnoticed, but they will disregard their confusion. Unlike the sudden overnight appearance of a skyscraper, this will cause no great panic, only baffled mortal construction laborers.
That, and Eleanor will smile.
He meets her false family under an equally false name.
"Do try to explain the point of this so-called holiday?" Loki asks without looking from the window. He's never been amongst mortals in such a heavily populated area and he finds the city they've built here to be both grotesque and oddly fascinating.
They are driven to Eleanor's false sister's home by two heavily armed SHIELD agents in a non-descript vehicle. There is no way to separate the front seats from the back, but the agents stay quiet and serious. Their presence brings Loki tension and he attempts to pretend that only Eleanor is with him on this journey.
"It's Thanksgiving," she replies as if she offers new information.
"Is this a celebration of the genocide of an inferior race of mortals?" This appears to be true from what he's found, but it seems an odd thing for Eleanor to take part in when she is so distraught by his own genocidal attempt. "Do we extol the successful conquest of your forbearers?"
"No!" Eleanor says, horrified. "There is no such thing as a superior race of mortals."
"On this I very much agree," he says. "You are all equal in your inferiority."
He says this more to annoy her than anything.
"Oh, be quiet," she says, rolling her eyes. "We're talking about racism here. You should know all about it."
"Racism?"
"Yeah. The Aesir are crazy racist."
"How do you mean?"
"The Asgardians systematically oppress Jotunheim on the basis of racial superiority. That's like the definition of racism right there."
"So on this night we celebrate racism?"
It is obvious by the look he receives that Eleanor is well aware of his deft subject change, but for once she does not push on this most forbidden of topics.
"No," she replies, sighing. "Racism is not something to celebrate. This holiday is crap. I don't even know how to explain it."
"It is hypercritical?" he ventures.
"Yeah. For me and most other people, it is just an excuse to see family and eat way too much. Plus, there is nothing wrong with being thankful. I'm very thankful this year," she says.
"Are you?" Loki asks, finally tearing his gaze away from the mortal world of the city that was almost his out the window.
"I won't be alone this year," she murmurs.
Loki silently agrees that this year is markedly better than the last. And the one before that as well.
He strokes her cheek and goes back to staring out the window.
They arrive and there is no hesitation in Eleanor's movements as she drags him up the steps, boldly entering the household without even a knock. In the months without Loki, Eleanor managed to repair damaged bonds with the people she once thought to be her family. Loki does not want to resent her for it.
He hangs back in the entryway as Eleanor is accosted by the vile sister that attempted to steal away his songbird, her messy offspring, and an older version of the false sister. Loki takes this woman to be the infamous Maureen. The embrace she shares with Eleanor is undeniably awkward, but his songbird is smiling shyly so Loki makes no move to rescue her from this liar.
How Eleanor can offer smiles and embraces to those who lied for the entirety of her life is baffling to Loki. He does not understand her desire to be here but somehow envies her ability to let go at the same time.
Still, he also does not know how she would have him interact with these loathsome mortals who have wronged her so grievously.
A man is hugging her now – the sister's husband, Henry Green – and Loki clenches the bottle of wine Eleanor insisted they bring, reminding himself that what may be horribly inappropriate behavior on Asgard is merely a friendly greeting on Midgard.
This man has no designs on Eleanor. He stands next to his wife and his infant child, but all this logic does little to combat Loki's jealousy.
But then Eleanor is turning back to him, taking his hand and smiling fondly. She introduces him once more under the false name Luke Smith.
Maureen the liar knows Loki's true identity, but the husband believes Eleanor's falsehood and he greets Loki with an unnecessarily enthusiastic handshake.
Maureen offers a smile and murmured "hello." This pleases Loki as touching the repulsive woman who lied to Eleanor would have proved unbearable.
The false sisters bicker, but both parties seem to enjoy it. Eleanor avoids her false mother, their relationship strained and unsure, but nowhere near as adversarial as Loki was expecting.
Henry Green attempts to bond with Loki, seeking out male companionship amongst the Tate woman. The man gives Loki alcohol and cigars, and is not a horrible chess player. Despite Loki's distaste for his wife, this mortal man proves bearable company, although he accepts the ridiculous falsehood that Loki is a nickname for Luke, nodding when Eleanor offers a hasty explanation for why she seems incapable of calling Loki the correct false name.
He would not willingly see these people once more, even with the high quality meal, but Eleanor smiles and Loki accepts that in all likelihood he will be meeting them again in the future.
"Fury's going to start sending me lists," she confesses to the window of the sleek black vehicle bringing them back to the tower.
"Lists?" Loki repeats.
"Of the people that died that day in New York," she murmurs. "Of the people you and your army killed. Oh, and the ones that died when you first stole the Tesseract."
Something clenches within his chest. He does not regret his actions, but he is not eager for Eleanor to connect names to a body count.
"Why?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
"Even though Heimdall can't see us, Odin knows about your progress, right?" she whispers, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "Because of our bond?"
"Indeed," Loki admits, hating this fact.
"I'm not going to give them a reason to take you away, Loki. I can't… I mean, this is the only punishment I can think of. Reading the names. It feels important for a couple reasons."
He does not argue but is swamped with dread, consumed by a certainty that after Eleanor makes each of the dead into a real person, it will not matter what plan he's added to the paper folded in his pocket for it will be Eleanor to send him away, unable to even look at him.
A package without a return address arrives at the lab for Ellie. Loki watches her thumb through its contents and sighs heavily, knowing what's to come. This is more of a punishment for Eleanor than Loki, but it feels important and there is no talking her out of it.
He's tried. Extensively.
This so-called punishment was originally a result of her crippling fear that Odin would look at the normal life they've carved out here together and decide Loki is not suffering enough. In the months since she's started this painful exercise it's become her own personal brand of atonement, a way for her to go on caring for him while remembering those who died as a result of his actions.
Still, she hates it. Loki remains unmoved when she tells him about his victims and Eleanor is kept awake at night, convinced that Odin will appear at any moment, declare Eleanor unfit for this role, and take Loki away.
It's her very worst fear.
The car ride home at the end of the day is silent as she contemplates her approach for the evening and it appears Loki is resigned to this activity.
When they get inside, Loki captures her hips in his hands from behind, lips moving against her neck, and Ellie wants to drop the envelope, but she doesn't. She can't.
She brought him back here and he'll at least hear their names, even if he doesn't care, even if it makes her sick.
He knows all too well that on envelope day Eleanor gets sad and has no desire to indulge in the physical side of their relationship, but still he tries to distract her.
"Loki," she mutters, hunching her shoulders and trying to discourage his affections.
"Surly you do not still plan to continue with this laughable attempt to make me feel remorse," he whispers in her ear, pushing up her t-shirt.
Eleanor closes her eyes.
There is a part of him that is so cruel and she does not expect this will ever change. Still, he is her God of Complexity, and Eleanor entered this arrangement with her eyes wide open. He is selfish and lacks a conscience, so Eleanor will just have to be his moral compass.
As flawed as he is, Loki cares deeply for Eleanor in ways she only understands slightly better than he does. And maybe he can find a little redemption in that, but more likely this whole thing will leave Eleanor gutted.
Still, she will try. For both their sakes.
Loki shows no signs of removing his hands, but Eleanor continues anyway. Drawing the latest document from the manila envelope. This one contains twenty-five files on twenty-five of the dead from New York. These will be victims 111 through 136 of 1873.
This is the fourth packet sent by Fury.
Frigga scared her with the cryptic warning that Loki needed to be more thoroughly punished, and after the Avengers shot down her plan for Loki to physically rebuild the city Eleanor decided this was fitting.
It's like her own personal tribute to those who died, an apology for her own part in it, a remembrance.
After she goes through the dead of New York, she'll start on those SHIELD agents who died as a result of her lover's actions.
The practice is for her as much as him, but only Eleanor is ever affected by the names. It seems important to remind herself of what's he's done because it is such a large part of the narrative that brought them here, that makes him who he is.
She reads through the first two files and he watches her, bored. A combination of fear and anger takes over, making the idea that pops into her head seem like a good one.
"This woman was thirty-seven," she says, pulling out file number three. Loki lets out an annoyed huff but continues to run his hands up and down her sides. "She was a software developer who was well-known for her barbeque. She lived in New Jersey with her husband Patrick and eight year old son Kyle. She was a dog lover and really good at skiing. Her name was Eleanor Tate."
As Loki tenses behind her, fingers digging into her hip, Eleanor holds her breath.
Of course this victim's name is not Eleanor Tate. Her name is Mary Ann Nickel.
Mary, Mary, Mary Nickel.
Eleanor repeats the name in her head, a silent tribute to the woman who loved dogs and barbeque and her son Kyle. She prays for Mary Ann Nickel and those left behind even as she changed the name in an attempt to make a point to the God of Chaos.
"Eleanor Tate sustained third degree burns over eighty percent of her body," Eleanor continues. "She died of an infection after a week in the ICU. Eleanor Tate is survived by her parents, Mary Ellen and Fred, as well as her husband Patrick and her son Kyle. May she rest in peace."
"Stop." The grip on her hips becomes slightly painful but it's the pain in his quiet tone that hurts Eleanor in ways his hands never could.
Fuck Odin for this. Fuck these impossible circumstances.
She pulls another file from the envelope and reads about a fifty five year old cab driver named Frank. She changes his name to Eleanor Tate, too.
With a low growl, Loki finally releases Eleanor and starts his frantic pacing.
Eleanor opens the next file, turning to watch Loki's movements in her periphery. This is much more than his typical bored reaction. Eleanor reads and prays and cries. She gives tribute to a total of eight people, changing all their names to her own before Loki's panic becomes too much and her heart cannot take it.
"Why?" he demands, continuing to pace. Eleanor leans against a counter to keep herself upright as her knees quake. "Do you mean to use my entirely unreasonable and begrudging affection for you against me?"
"No!" Of course that is how he would intemperate her actions. With the rage and fear replaced by heartache, the idea no longer seems like a good one at all. "Not at all."
Loki comes back. He invades her personal space, caging her in against the counter, his hands digging into the countertop at her sides. Eleanor continues to cry as she drowns in so many layers of guilt and fear that understanding how she feels seems impossible.
She feels guilty for hurting him. She feels guilty for caring about his feelings at all when so many are dead. She feels guilty for caring for him the way she does even as she prays for his victims and their families.
"Do you enjoy torturing me so? Does causing me pain please you? Do you mock my affection?"
"No!" And suddenly this is not just a bad idea, but an enormous mistake. "God, no, Loki. That's not the point at all."
"What is the point of regaling me with scenes of your gruesome demise? Do tell."
Loki looms over her and it's painful for Ellie to meet his eyes, but she does. This was a mistake, given how fragile he still is, how much he hates all she feels for her, and she has to make him understand her motives and reasoning at the very least.
"You made so many people feel the way you feel now," she whispers. He stills and raises a questioning eyebrow in confusion. "All these dead people were someone's Eleanor Tate, Loki, and I am just trying to make you understand all the grief you caused. I want you to try to understand how those left behind feel, why causing so many such pain is bad."
They stare at each other for along moment until Loki's face falls and his head drops forward to rest against her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice hitching. "I shouldn't have done it this way. I'm so sorry and just so scared that if we don't do this right, if I don't fucking punish you then you'll be gone, and I'm sorry. The thought of you hurt kills me too. I won't do it again. I just don't know what to do."
He sighs heavily, lips moving against her skin.
"You would prefer me to care for these mortal I've harmed," he says, sounding miserable. Eleanor stays still before making the decision to stroke his hair.
"Yeah," she replies. "But I don't expect you to."
"This exercise pains you," he murmurs. "Reading of the dead pains you, Eleanor."
She nods.
"I will bring you no more pain," he says, pulling back to look at her. "I promise you this. Is that enough?"
"It shouldn't be."
"But is it?" He holds her face between his palms and Eleanor is still crying.
"I don't know, Loki," she whispers. "I just don't know. For me maybe, it could be enough. But what about Odin?"
When his lips meet hers, she willingly returns the kiss.
She will always kiss him back it seems. The only question is if she'll be able to live with herself. And if Odin will let her live with it.
"Do you understand what happened to you?" Eleanor murmurs. Snow is rare in New Mexico and Loki stares out at all the white, thoroughly entranced by the big, fluffy flakes.
It's already been a rough night, but he is calm now and willing at least to hear her out.
"To which event do you refer?" he asks, continuing to stare out the window. Ellie sits sideways on the couch, facing him. She stress-braids her hair and Loki will notice at any moment and make her stop.
"After New York. When you lost the scepter and the Tesseract and Bruce beat the shit out of you."
Loki actually flinches at the memory.
"Insanity," he replies.
"You were kinda already insane, sweetheart," she says gently.
"You would like to blame my actions on my mental state. To justify your feelings for me."
"Yes." Still, she knows it isn't that simple.
"But it was I who kidnapped you, hurt you, and attempted to steal your identity and enslave your people. It is foolish to forget this, Eleanor," he says, both stern and sad. "I am responsible for every name of every victim you insist on reading."
"Loki, I know. I'm not making excuses for you. I know you can be cruel and there is still so much hate in you it scares me, but your actions weren't only your own," she says. He looks at her now. It has been awhile since she's seen that look of pure exhaustion on his face. "You told me once that you were remade. Unmade and then remade in his image."
"Did I?" He seems to genuinely not remember.
"You told me a lot."
"Far too much."
"I think it was always in you," she continues. "That capacity for destruction, but it doesn't have to be this way. You did those things, but there are reasons, factors."
"Does it matter?" Loki asks. His weariness is contagious, but Ellie presses on.
"Yes, it matters," she insists. "Do you regret it?"
"My attempt to rule this world?" he clarifies. Ellie nods. "Not particularly, although I can't understand it."
Ellie is not surprised. It could never have been that easy. She takes his hand, bringing it to her throat. He strokes her skin and frowns.
"You do regret hurting me?" she whispers.
Loki yanks his hand away. "Most deeply. I regret hurting you above all things," he murmurs.
Ellie doesn't look at him. "After I found out I was adopted, I wanted to destroy things," she tells him. "I settled on destroying myself of course, with the drugs and the alcohol and the anonymous sex."
Loki growls. Eleanor takes his hand again.
"My father died because of it," she continues. "My family fell apart. If I could go back knowing what I know now, I wouldn't do it. Would you do it again?"
Loki is silent for a long moment, but Ellie is patient. She does not mind silence.
"No," he replies. "I do not know if I would have the strength to resist, but given an option, I would not do it again."
It's enough for now.
"Let's go to bed."
"It's our anniversary," Eleanor mentions casually as she finishes cleaning the kitchen after dinner.
Loki looks up from his book. He is reading on a stool at the counter and now he gives her a smile. Only Eleanor can make the harsh planes of his face soften so and never has he felt such fondness for another.
It is now February, four months after he decided to mend his plan, giving up the foolish idea to retreat to the Isle as a means to end Odin's continued control over Loki's life. There must be a way for Loki to break the bond himself, but he has done nothing as of yet to advance this goal.
The months have been restful, peaceful, and verging on boring at times. Eleanor and a growing interest in learning of the work that goes on in the laboratory interrupt the tedium.
Still, it is long past time that he altered the power dynamics of his relationship. Why he is delaying in his quest to put an end to the magic is a mystery to even him, but he's enjoyed the rest.
It's been so long since he's had any true rest.
Then eight days ago Eleanor made the depth of her fear clear to him. She used her own name to tell him of those that died at his hand and made the extent of the pressure she feels as a result of her bót mannaforráð responsibilities. Odin has placed Eleanor in an unbearable position and breaking the bond will benefit her as well.
He refuses to consider the possible negative impact breaking the bond will have on his relationship with the songbird.
"We met two years ago today," she says when he does not respond. "It's been two years."
"Has it?" he asks.
Eleanor's tinkling laugh delights him.
"You probably remember the exact minute we met, Mr. Brilliant," she says.
"We had our first conversation ninety–seven minutes past the midnight hour," he replies.
"Show off," says the songbird, still smiling. "Can't you just say one thirty-seven?"
"Why use one word when twenty will do?" he asks.
She shakes her head.
"I first saw you at 11:02," he supplies.
She grins and continues her cleaning. As Eleanor wipes the dark green countertops with a damp rag, Loki watches her intently, waiting for her to get close enough to touch.
"I don't like this day," Eleanor whispers, looking at the counter but not actually seeing it. The plainly spoken words seem to slice through him, but he hides the hurt from her and then himself also.
Hardening his heart against her becomes progressively more difficult with each day that passes. The duality of his pathetic need for her and her unacceptable ability to wound him is a conundrum to which there is no clear solution.
"I suppose the anniversary of meeting the monster who would then take over your life would be a troubling memory indeed," he mutters.
The petulant, defensive edge in his voice is nowhere near the nonchalance he was striving for, but still serves to snap Eleanor out of her daze. She tilts her head to the side as she blinks and frowns.
Although no words escape her lips, her expression seems to say "what the hell, Loki?" It is so clear he can hear it in his mind.
Instead Eleanor lifts her laughably short frame onto the counter separating them, pushing herself close and kissing the corner of his mouth. In his surprise, Loki fails to respond or touch her in return.
"This is probably ridiculous, but I am super glad I met you, Loki. You woke me up."
As much as he does not want to, Loki echoes her sentiment, but he will never tell her. She already holds far too much power over him.
His songbird hops off the counter and resumes her cleaning.
"I was really drunk that night."
"You hid it well."
"I was drinking because I was sad," she whispers. Loki would move mountains and slaughter thousand to keep Eleanor from sadness, but he doubts that would help in the slightest. Such actions would undoubtedly have the opposite effect. "It was the eighth anniversary of my Dad's death."
Her voice breaks and Loki is helpless to do anything but observe.
"So today is the tenth," he murmurs.
"That's why we had fried chicken for dinner. Dad loved fried chicken."
Loki detests all things fried, but now does not seem like the ideal time to make this known.
"You miss him," Loki says, not understanding how this could possibly be so.
"Yeah. A lot. I really loved him. Still do, blood or no blood."
Loki snorts. Eleanor scowls.
"He lied to you and then he abandoned you," he says.
"He tried to protect me and then died," she corrects.
"The love was a falsehood," he says because it is so painfully obvious.
"It wasn't. He loved me, just like Laura and Maureen love me still."
He scoffs again.
"I was so childish and so selfish back then," she continues, much to Loki's irritation. "I had a family that loved me. Sure there were issues but we were a family and I was blessed. I wish I could've fucking recognized that sooner. When it really mattered. I could have saved us all a lot of heartache."
"When you talk of your false family it is always to teach me a lesson of some kind, while simultaneously attempting to rule me through your example," he says, studying the nails of his left hand.
"Oh, okay, God of Selfishness. Maybe I just wanted to talk about my dead dad." She continues to glare and he misses her smiles of just a moment ago.
"You are more manipulative than that, my sweet," he says with a smirk.
Eleanor turns crimson. She really is such a delight to gaze upon when she is angry.
"You changing me by example. A ridiculous notion."
"Okay," she says, barely restraining her anger. "So I have done that, in the past. But this is the anniversary of my dad's death! I wanted to talk about my dad."
He does not know how to talk to her about her deceased fake father so he does nothing but stare like a fool.
"Would you rather talk about your father?" she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling in a way that is adorably and unnatural on her delicate features.
Now if only she would go back to the silence he once enjoyed in her so.
The damp wash she holds in her hands drips on the floor and on her dress, but she fails to notice.
"Do you refer to the monster responsible for my existence whom I killed at first chance or my false father who disowned me as vehemently as I reject him?" he snaps.
She sighs heavily.
"I really wish you would stop comparing our situations regarding heritage," he comments absently, studying his fingernails as he leans casually back in his stool. "There is nothing remotely similar about out pasts."
Eleanor stares at him. She raises a solitary eyebrow, unable to determine if he is serious.
"Nothing remotely similar?" she repeats.
"Yes," he says, shrugging. "I am a monster. You are divinity, trained by mortality."
"Nothing remotely similar!" She is yelling now, waving her hands around her head as she gestures wildly in her frustration.
The wet dishcloth hits him square in the face. Slowly it slides down, until dropping to the floor with an unappealing flopping sound. He blinks rapidly at her, having a hard time determining what just happened.
What did just happen?
Eleanor is doubled over in laughter, words such as "accident" and "I'm sorry but not really" are barely discernible through the strength of her guffaws. She manages to straighten but when she sees the look of utter disgust on his face she starts laughing again.
"There is nothing remotely similar about our familial situations," he says again.
Eleanor goes back to be angry so quickly it is a bit disorientating.
"You… oh, just, you!" Eleanor is so mad she has a difficult time forming words. "You're just… acting like a big bag of dicks!"
He fixes her with a look, questioning her sanity. She referred to him as a big bag of male gentiles.
What an odd thing to say.
"Tell me, my sweet songbird. Is this a compliment or an insult?" He regards her warily, wiping dirty dishwater from his face with his sleeve. The smile that stretches across her face is most surprising.
These mood swings are more characteristic of Loki than Eleanor. He'd hate to think that he is changing her in some way.
"I just threw a wash cloth at your face," she says with a giggle. "What do you think?"
"You called it an accident!"
"It was. A happy accident. I am glad that you are covered in dirty water."
"We are both adopted," he says, her laughter stealing his resolve to disagree with her.
"Yeah," she says, bestowing him with a soft smile far removed for her amusement and anger of moments before.
"Eleanor, I do not know what to say in regards to your false father's death."
"You can stop calling him my false father."
"Your father," he amends. "I do not know what you would have me say."
"There is nothing to say," she murmurs. "But you could hold me and kiss me and make it hurt just a little bit less."
He does as she suggests and enjoys it far too much. It is when he comforts Eleanor, taking on her pain as if it were his own, that he realizes that he can delay no more.
He's grown far too complacent here, far too comfortable, and it is long past time this unacceptable power was put to an end, for both their sakes.
But mostly his. The Allfather has no place in his life any longer, no place in his relationship.
Aw, you guys really like the Frigga chapter! I do too. Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I'm going to try to reply to them tonight. Right now I am on my way out of town for the day, but thought I would post this for you all first!
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!