FIFTEEN
I have nothing left to give
I have found the perfect end
You were made to make it hurt
Disappear into the dirt
Carry me to heaven's arms
Light the way and let me go
Take the time to take my breath
I will end where I began
And I will find the enemy within
Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear Agony
Just let go of me
Suffer slowly
Is this the way it's gotta be?
Dear Agony
- "Dear Agony," Breaking Benjamin
Alana woke up slowly, her head hurting from her vicious nightmare.
Except it wasn't a nightmare. It never was, never had been.
It had all been real.
She buried her face in her hands, struggling to contain her tears.
A small cough snapped her back to reality. She opened her eyes and peeked out through her hands.
Loki was sitting next to her bed, a look of concern and relief on his face. He was still in his swim trunks and his black shirt, now covered with sand.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
Alana nodded, not trusting her voice. She looked around her, confused. Weren't they at the beach? How was she in her room, in her bed?
Loki read her look of confusion perfectly and said, "You fell asleep on the beach and… um… had a nightmare. I couldn't wake you up, so I drove us back here. You've been sleeping for about six hours, curled up and… well."
She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at Loki a bit strangely.
"You were sitting here for six hours?"
"Er… yes?"
"You really didn't have to do that."
"You looked as if you needed the company."
"I'm fine," Alana said as she swung her legs off the bed, standing up and then immediately falling, her legs collapsing under her.
In a flash, Loki was there, catching her in his arms and pulling her back up. She smiled weakly and said, "Thank you."
Loki shrugged, but Alana said again, "No, really. Thank you. For everything." She hugged him, her face pressing into his salty, sandy T-shirt. His arms curled around her and he hugged her back.
Loki was flying again, Alana in his arms, just them standing there, only them.
His flying was interrupted as Alana let go. "You should go get something to eat, Loki."
He didn't want to leave her, but she smiled at him, saying, "Loki. I'm fine now, really. You, however, must be exhausted. Go get some food."
Grudgingly, he left the room, turning once more before he left to see her smiling.
Alana's smile faded off of her face as Loki left the room. She leaned her head against the wall. What was she doing? Why was she acting this way? She felt something for Loki, unquestionably, but she had learned to not let anyone close.
When people got close to her, they generally ended up dead.
He was simply another childish crush, an infatuation. There had been others before him, and there would be others after.
But no one else would come close to her. She wouldn't allow it. She'd made her decision a long time ago.
But then why did her decision feel so wrong?
Loki slumped against the other side of the wall. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Alana had someone else. Who else could Oliver possibly be? Besides, she'd pushed him away.
But she had also hugged him… no. He wouldn't dare to think about her. She thought of him as the alien she had to keep from destroying small towns, or a best a friend.
Nothing more.
And even if she had feelings for him, she was mortal. She would wither and die before he reached his second millennium.
Always, always, alone.
The next morning, Alana decided to tell Loki something. He deserved it, after sitting with her for six hours.
She fiddled with her fork for a minute, then stood and walked over to where he was lounging, perusing a tattered copy of Hamlet.
"Loki… I may not have been completely honest with you."
Loki looked curious., setting his book down on his chest.
"Go on," he said when it was apparent she was reluctant to say more.
"These nightmares that I have aren't really just ordinary nightmares. I have post-traumatic stress disorder, and sometimes, well, a lot of the time, I have these dreams that make me… remember." Not that she could ever forget.
"So… what was your traumatic event?" Loki asked softly.
Alana's eyes filled with pain. "I don't talk about that. Ever."
She took a deep breath to calm herself, and continued.
"But they usually have to have a trigger, something that reminds me of it in a way… did I say anything while I was asleep? Anything at all? I sleep-talk sometimes, so…"
She fiddled with the strand of hair that was perpetually loose.
I love you too. Goodnight, Oliver.
Loki shook his head, and casually said, "No."
She loves him, not you. Don't make a mistake, Loki. Leave, now, before you're in too deep, his brain said. You are the rightful king of Asgard. She doesn't deserve you.
Oh, shut up, said his heart. I'm not leaving.
I need her.
And maybe she needs me, too.
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but things are definitely going to heat up (cool down?) between Alana and Loki in the next chapter.
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