SEVEN
I never thought
I'd feel this
Guilty and I'm
Broken down inside
Living with myself
Nothing but lies
I always thought
I'd make it
But never knew I'd
Let it get so bad
Living with myself
Is all I have
- "World So Cold," Three Days Grace
The next morning, Loki was awakened by sunlight streaming through the window. A small clock next to his bed read 10:30. He didn't usually sleep in late, but perhaps it was what Midgardians called "jetlag".
The clothes that had been provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. were simple and few. Loki dressed in a gray shirt and black jeans before washing his face in the bathroom sink.
He opened his door slowly, peering out. He was surprised that his door had not been locked. He could see lights on downstairs and smelled something warm and invigorating.
He stepped out into the hallway and cautiously walked downstairs.
Alana was curled in a leather chair with her back to him, wearing sweatpants and a loose blue shirt. Over her shoulder, he could see that she had a sketchpad in front of her and was drawing. Her hair was put in a messy bun, secured by… sticks?
When she stuck her pencil in her bun and took out a blue one, his confusion dissipated slightly.
He silently walked up behind her chair, gazing at her drawing. She was drawing a pair of cold blue eyes that were incredibly lifelike and seemed to look with detachment on Loki, as if he were a vaguely interesting fly on the wall.
She made another stroke on the eye, then closed her book and stood up, stretching. She obviously had not noticed him yet. Her back still to him, she walked around a low table and into a white kitchen, where she pulled out a mug and began to fill it with a brown liquid. He realized this must be what had smelled so good.
She turned around and saw him in the living room. "Good morning," she said with a yawn. "Coffee?"
He shrugged. Her eyes widened. "Have you never had coffee before?"
"No," he replied. "There is no such thing on Asgard."
"How do you survive the mornings?" she mumbled, mostly to herself as she filled up another mug and gave it to him.
He took a small sip. It was warm and rich, with an unusual flavor that he couldn't describe.
"Good, huh?" Alana said, yawning again.
He nodded, reluctantly.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I'm not a great cook, but we've got cereal and fruit and I can make toast or eggs, if you want."
Loki's stomach rumbled. He had forgotten that he had not eaten in over 24 hours, what with all the traveling.
"I'm making toast for myself," Alana said.
"Toast will do fine," Loki said distantly.
Alana popped some bread into the toaster and got out the butter. Loki sat down at the white table, drinking his coffee slowly, looking around.
The toaster dinged and Alana placed the toast in front of him. "Apple?" she asked.
Loki nodded, and she walked into the living room, grabbing a couple from a bowl. She threw one to him, which he caught, surprised.
Alana flopped down on a chair across from him and started eating her toast.
Loki was ravenous, and quickly devoured the apple and his toast. Alana looked at him in shock. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"
"About a day," Loki mumbled.
Her gray eyes widened in sympathy, and she got up and went back into the kitchen.
"Have another apple," she called.
Loki did so, and by the time he was finished Alana had cooked eggs and (slightly burnt) bacon.
He ate more slowly this time; unsure why she was feeding him, why she was being so nice to him. Wasn't she supposed to guarding him, not cooking for him?
Alana watched him concernedly, and when he was done with his meal, she asked, "Better?"
He nodded.
"Right then, tour of the house," she declared, standing up and walking down the hall.
Loki was shown the swimming pool, the TV room, the basement and the downstairs bathroom as well as the guest bedroom.
He was beginning to realize just how large the house really was, especially for one person.
He mentioned it and she agreed, with a sad smile on her face.
"I inherited a lot of money, but I didn't really have anything to spend it on. So, I just bought a big house, so that I can pretend that people are in the other parts of it and I just can't hear them."
She stopped talking, looking a little embarrassed to have revealed so much.
Instead, she showed him the upstairs bathrooms, the library, the attic and finally, her room.
It was covered with bookshelves, which in turn were filled with dozens of leather-bound books and sketchbooks. Her bed was neatly made, covered with a blue quilt. It looked comfortable and worn. Sketches covered the walls, tacked up, pictures of trees and birds and eyes.
On a small shelf in the corner lay a bullet.
Loki furrowed his brow. "What is this?" he asked.
Alana laughed a bit. "You're the first one in ages who's noticed that."
Her face sobered as she answered, "That was the bullet I was shot with."
She pulled aside the neck of her shirt to reveal a circular scar just below her collarbone.
Loki narrowed his eyes. Who was this girl? Why was she being so trusting of him? Did she expect the same in return?
Well, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
"I see," he said coldly, and left her room.
Loki was not used to an empty house.
On Asgard, the palace was always full of guards and courtiers and people come to ask requests of Odin.
He preferred the emptiness. It was peaceful, and he didn't have to pretend to be that which he was not.
Loki was also not used to following rules.
Alana had told him that he would be required to do his own laundry and take turns cooking, once he became more comfortable in the house. She told him that he wasn't confined to the house and could explore the surrounding woods, but that he had to have a phone with him.
Loki said that he didn't have a phone.
The next day, one mysteriously showed up outside his bedroom door.
She had said nothing at all about him being a criminal.
When he confronted her about this, she looked a bit confused. "Innocent until proven guilty," she said.
He didn't know what to make of it all.