ELEVEN
Good morning, my love
It's been a while since we have talked
You have grown
Your eyes are older than the tallest tree you see
Thirty lives can be extraordinarily long
Lay me down
Lay me down
Again
My friend
I know it's been a while since I could look you in the eyes
'Cause I am foolish and I am sorry
But sorry never made it feel all right
All right
- "Thirty Lives," Imagine Dragons
When Alana awakened the next morning, she stayed in bed with her eyes closed, feeling much better than she had the night before.
Was it possible to hate and to love someone at the same time? It felt like she was falling in love with Loki all over again with each new memory he showed her, but then she remembered his lies and wanted nothing more to do with him.
And then she remembered the feel of his arms supporting her, his gentle hands tucking her in bed, his cool lips pressed briefly to her forehead…
No, she didn't hate him, but she couldn't love him.
She took a deep breath. No, today would be a good day. Today she wouldn't think about him. She hadn't had any nightmares last night, a peaceful change. Maybe she'd just stay in bed, cozy and warm.
The light penetrating her closed eyelids was coming from an odd direction, more suited to the opposite side of the house.
Nope. She wasn't going to think about anything strange. She was just going to lie in bed, with an arm curled around her, a soft hand stroking her hair, and her head resting on a cool marble chest that was rising and falling ever so slightly…
She tensed and hesitantly opened one eyelid, wondering if she was imagining things. When she realized she was not, she sat bolt upright and heard a grunt from Loki. She quickly removed her hand from his chest, moving as far away from him as she possibly could without falling off her bed.
"Morning, love," he said, yawning. "I must say, you're awake early. It can't be past six."
She was in a bed with him. She had been sleeping next to him. "I'm not your love," she responded automatically; trying to collect her thoughts, control her breathing. "Yes, you are," he said softly, one hand creeping up and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, but she slapped his hand away. Why was she in bed with him? "What the hell, Loki? I thought you respected me at least enough not to go crawling into my bed! Out. Now."
He just looked at her, one eyebrow raised, propped up on one elbow, a smile just starting to make its way across his face. "Did you hear me?" she asked, eyes firmly fixed on him – god, he was handsome – getting more and more frustrated as he started to laugh silently. "Loki! Out!"
He smiled mischievously. "Darling, you happen to be in my bed."
Oh, damn.
She looked around her for the first time. It was his room, the spare one across the hall from hers. She mentally slapped herself. She must have sleepwalked into his bed.
"Well," she said, trying to regain some lost ground, "this is my house, so technically this is my bed."
"Feeble argument," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. "You should have at least woken me up, Loki. Why didn't you?"
She stopped him, looking away. "Never mind. I don't want to know."
"Of course I tried to wake you up, Alana." He looked slightly injured. "You think I am… like that? Willing to take advantage of you?"
Her immediate reaction was a heart-shattering, earth-quaking no. But she shook it off. She was in his bed. Of course he had innocent intentions. Right.
His eyes turned away from hers, almost as if he were telepathic, too. "You were… talking to me in your sleep. You refused to leave."
She flushed a little. "Now I know you're making this up."
His fingertips came up to her temples, but she pulled away. "I thought you said no memories today."
"This one won't hurt," he said gently. "I promise."
"It's not about the hurt," she whispered, suddenly feeling quite small. "I don't want to see that side of me. I don't know what she's like. I don't know if I like her yet or not."
She looked up at him, and his gaze was tender. " I don't know if I want her back," she said. "And I know you want her back, that you don't want - " she gestured at herself contemptuously " – this, you want her, not me - "
Here he cut her off, a finger on her lips. "Don't talk like that. You're not split into two, Alana, not you before the mind wipe and you after it, you're you. All of you. And I love you, not just the you that loved me," he said quietly. "I'd love you if you never loved me again."
She just looked at him for a minute, trying to decide. Finally she sighed and took his hands, pulling them to her temples. "Show me."
And then it was dark and she saw Loki, sprawled on his bed, lying awake in the middle of the night. She hears the door click open and sees his reaction, tensing and then relaxing as he sees her in the doorway. "Alana, what – are you all right?"
She could see that her eyes were open but distant, and – was that a flash of green shimmering across them for a second? - and she shivers a little bit. She had always found sleepwalkers a bit creepy.
Sleeping-Alana walks over to the bed and curls up on it, next to Loki. She laces her fingers through his. "You can sleep now," she says softly. "It's okay. I'm here."
She could see his puzzled expression as he touches her lightly on the shoulder. "Alana? Wake up."
She just looks at him. "I'm asleep?"
He looks confused.
"Damn," she sighs softly. Then, an afterthought, "Are you asleep too?"
He pauses, then tells her, "Darling, you're sleepwalking. Come on. Back to bed." He begins to get up, but she stops him, pulling him back.
"You want me to leave?" she asks. "The nightmares will come back."
He freezes. "Alana, we – you don't remember that yet."
"Probably not," she yawns. "But I'm asleep. So telepathy works." She frowns. "Didn't I tell you that once already?"
He looks down at her fingers twined in his.
"Alana, as much as – as much as I wish you could stay, you have to go back to bed."
"You want me to leave?" she asks, cuddling closer to him.
He scoffs a little. "Alana, this isn't about what I want. It's about you and how you'll murder me in the morning."
"Too bad." She kisses him on the cheek. "I'm not leaving." Her eyes close and she falls into a deeper sleep, one that does not lend itself to sleep talking.
"All right, then," Loki says quietly, one arm curling around her and the other stroking her hair, a tiny smile on his face.
His hands removed themselves from her temples but trailed across her cheeks and she looked away from him.
"Please, Loki," she whispered. "Don't make… don't make this harder for me."
And then his hands were gone and he rolled out of the bed, away from her, his pale chest taut and lean above his baggy, roughly woven breeches. Despite her words, her wishes, she couldn't take her eyes off him, much as she wanted to. They followed him as he walked, stretching, to the window, gazing out at the sunrise. Every movement was lithe and graceful, deliberate, intentional. A strand of dark hair fell into his eyes and she wanted to brush it away, to tuck it behind his ear and stare into his eyes…
No. No, no, no. Stop, she told herself. Get up and leave. Now. Before you do something you'll regret later.
"The sunrise is beautiful," he commented quietly. "Come and see."
Leave now, Alana, her conscience warned her. But instead she clambered out of the bed, walking up next to him and gazing at the golden sky shot through with red. "Oh…" she breathed, pressing her face up to the glass. Sunrises always awakened the artist in her, but she could never quite capture them as they truly were.
Now it was Loki's turn not to be able to take his eyes off of her: her hair, curling down her back, her lips, parted slightly in astonishment. Her sense of wonder, her ability to see the beauty in everything never failed to amaze him.
She had even seen the beauty in him, had once called him beautiful as she knelt beside him, trying to convince him he was not a monster.
"Your birthright was to die! Cast out on a frozen rock." The memory rang in his ears, and he didn't know whom to believe.
He suddenly wanted her to see him in his other form again, to make sure that she did not think of him as a monster, so he let the blue creep up from his feet all the way up through his torso and onto his face, icy ridges unfurling over his bare skin like flowers.
She turned around, a faint smile on her face, one that dropped away quickly as she took in his new form. "Loki?" she asked softly. "You're a Jotunn?"
He dropped his gaze and remembered his dream from a night ago. You are a monster, she had hissed. A monster. And he was. He had shown her, once again, that she should stay away, had given her one more reason to hate him, to flee.
She lifted his chin with her fingertips. "Don't move," she ordered, and ran out of the room.
She came back up thirty seconds later with her sketchbook, the one he had given her. She rifled through the pages until she found the drawing of him.
She touched her fingers to the sketch, then to his face, hesitantly, fingers running over the ridges in his skin. "Blue…" she said softly. "That's how I knew they were blue."
She smiled proudly. "And I got everything right."
"Alana – " he began, but she placed a finger on his lips. "Don't move," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, face turned downwards as her fingers traced across his face, feeling her hands on his cheeks, brushing the curve of his jaw. One hand tucked a strand of hair behind his ears, one finger crept to the corner of his lips, tracing them, and he parted his lips slightly as her thumb brushed against them. And then, finally, her lips were on his, soft, warm, hesitant, unsure, only for a second, and then she pulled away from him and her eyes were rimmed with red. "I shouldn't have done that."
He let his Jotunn form melt away and cradled her face in his hands. "Alana," he whispered, "I love you."
She smiled sadly. "Loki, I can't…"
He kissed her on the forehead. "I know," he said quietly. "I know."
He had expected her to avoid him after that, and he was right.
She stayed in her room the whole morning. He could hear crumpling of paper and a pencil sharpener when he had gone upstairs to ask if she was hungry.
He had paused outside her room, hand raised to knock, but then had left as silently as he had came.
The moment he had waited for had come and gone and left him alone again. He understood why she had pulled away, he did, but it had hurt all the same.
She needed time.
Well, he thought dryly, time is the one thing I can give. Two thousand years from now, I'll still be waiting.
Two thousand years from now, she will be dust, a voice sneers. She will be dead and gone.
He shook off the voice and grabbed a worn paperback off a side table, attempting to lose himself in the words of others.
A/N: (belts out singing)
POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS! in PAIN! in NEED!
and sadly for them, I plan on doing a lot more than taking their voices.
If anyone has any comments on the story lines, characters, or any feedback, I'd love to hear your input.
Drop a review if you liked! (Or hated... or wanted to scream. If so, I'm doing something right. ;D )