Another quickie, I'm afraid, but I hope you enjoy. :)
Chapter 8...
April wasn't quite sure what to do. Should she pull back her hand now? The man didn't seem to want to release it.
A shiver ran down her spine. His skin was so cool to the touch. Unnaturally so. Was the life slowly ebbing from him as death was nearing?
She swallowed tensely, her heart racing in her chest, still shocked that she had made such a bold move. But it had been instinctive, a reflex, the desire to give comfort. She didn't like to see anyone suffering. Even someone like him.
She had been equally shocked that he hadn't been angry at her nerve and snatched her away. Or worse, given his volatile temperament. Though she doubted he'd have the strength now to attack her.
Her brow furrowed, her responses to him confusing her. She had had ample opportunities to flee and call for help, but still she remained, tolerating his abuse, risking her safety. Why was she still here?
His eyes remained closed. Dry blood, from his nose bleed, was smeared across his cheek, vivid against his deathly pale skin. His forehead still glistened with perspiration and there was a worrying tinge of blue to the tight line of his lips. His face had relaxed a degree, but she could tell he was still in pain. It seem to be coming in waves, rising and falling, but the peaks were intensifying.
Watching him, she accepted there was probably another reason why she had reached out for him.
But it was crazy...insane...this strange man was as different to David as night was to day. As dark and arrogant as David had been full of light and kindness. And yet, reaching out for him had almost felt like reaching out for David.
Her chest constricted as grief overwhelmed her, though guilt was not far behind as she remembered...
David had died on the way to the hospital, though at the time she hadn't even known he had been in an accident. But the fact was, she hadn't been there for him. Hadn't been able to hold his hand, give him comfort in his final moments...
She hadn't been able to say goodbye.
"You are thinking about him...your husband..."
The man's voice startled her. For a few seconds she had zoned out. Had not even noticed that he had opened his eyes again and was now watching her.
She regarded him warily. She couldn't tell if he was asking or telling her. His delivery was slightly ambiguous. Was he that perceptive...or did his magical powers extend to reading minds? She shuddered, hoping that wasn't the case.
"I..."
"How long..." he cut in firmly, though there was a touch of sensitivity to his tone.
She didn't need to ask what he meant. "A year," she returned, somewhat reluctantly, perplexed by his interest. Why should he care? "A year ago yesterday."
His gaze lowered questioningly. "And the necklace marked the event?"
She quickly reached for the chain, fingers wrapping around the ring defensively. "A friend suggested it. As a compromise. Said I couldn't keep it on my finger forever."
Sentimentality, Loki despaired, though he found himself wishing he had something of his mothers to remember her by. One of the ornate pins she liked to wear in her hair, perhaps, or an item of her jewellery. He wondered whether her letter was still in his pocket but hadn't the strength to search for it. It mattered not. He would probably be dead soon. If the fates were merciful, he might even be reunited with her.
"Mortal lives are far too fleeting for grieving," he said at length, but regretted his words when she quickly pulled her hand from his. He had tried to keep his tone sincere.
"I'm supposed to just forget about him?"
Though it vexed him to acknowledge it, he missed the warmth of her hand almost immediately. It had been a pleasant distraction. The contact dulled the pain somehow. Or at least, made him focus away from it.
"Would it not be easier?" Again, he tried to keep any derision from his tone. Tried to be...sympathetic.
She eyed him cynically but finally seemed satisfied that he actually might be in earnest this time. "You can't just stop loving someone. David's a part of me." Her shoulders heaved and she struggled to compose herself. "He always will be."
Loki experienced a sharp twinge of envy. That a worthless mortal would be remembered with such passion while he, The God of Mischief, centuries old, would die this day and no one would even mourn his passing. Odin would, no doubt, be relieved to finally be rid of him, while Thor might grieve for a while but soon return to his fighting and feasting and playing the hero.
But at the same time this chain of thought angered him. Why should he care? It was only the sentimentality that he abhorred so much. So what if no one would grieve. He would be dead. It would not matter.
And yet it did suddenly matter, more intensely than could be deemed rational, and it frustrated, confused...even frightened him. He wanted this mortal to care. He wanted someone to care. Just once. Before it was all over.
"How did he die?" he blurted, torn between not really caring and needing desperately to know. It was only after the words had been uttered that he realised it might have been rather tactless of him.
"Look," she took a deep breath. "I really don't want to talk about this."
When she suddenly stood up and headed back towards the door, Loki stared after her with something akin to panic, a shaming voice inside imploring her not to leave. "Where are you going?"
She looked back at him in surprise and he hated the fact that she had picked up on his desperation. "To get a damp cloth from the bathroom."
"Cloth?"
"To clean the blood from your face." She watched him anxiously. "If you want me too."
Because words eluded him he simply nodded, her small skittish smile lingering in his mind after she disappeared from the room. He didn't know what to feel. How to feel. He only knew that his pain had dulled again, as if her hand was still wrapped around his.
Reviews appreciated, thanks. Even little short ones. They encourage me to continue on...:)