Beneath
Chapter Fifty – Perception
The light was instantly exchanged for darkness. Loki was blacking out.
He struggled against it, feeling dizzy. By the time he realized that the pinpricks of red and white light he was seeing were not imagined, and were in fact familiar, that he was not blacking out, gravity was hitting hard and he was stumbling, collapsing to his knees. He dropped the sword and reached out with his left hand to lean hard against the jamesway, to brace himself from pitching forward and planting his face into Pathfinder.
The cold was a shock and stole his breath away, but for the moment, at least, he hadn't the strength to move.
/
/
Jane sat up, startled by a noise behind the jamesway. She'd been staring off into space for what must have been the hundredth time, trying to decide what she was going to do about Loki's disappearance. At some point – and that point had to be soon – indecision was going to have to give way to action. The longer this went on, the worse it would be.
The noise sounded like it had come from behind back, where Pathfinder was set up. It reminded her she still needed to shut it down and bring it in, before someone discovered it. No time like the present.
She got her outer gear on and stepped outside. She could see the station, and the logistics and vehicle maintenance facilities, the other little buildings and cargo dumps between here and the station, and far off in the distance to the left, the red lights from the Dark Sector facilities. The flags were limp and still. No wind. Jane bit her lip. She had assumed the noise was caused by a gust of wind rattling something loose on the jamesway's exterior. She was suddenly afraid someone had stumbled across Pathfinder. It was just a piece of equipment, really; there was no way you could simply look at it and know what it did. But explaining why it was half-hidden behind one of the unoccupied jamesways instead of up on top of the Dark Sector Lab with her other equipment…that could prove more difficult.
Easier…somehow. Less cluttered. Better air quality. Better harmonics. More completely made-up and stupid-sounding excuses came to mind before one that might actually sound plausible. Less interference from all the other electronics. Jane nodded, happy with that one, and continued down the side of the building. Anger quickly replaced the happiness: anger at Loki for putting her in the position of having to come up with lies. She'd never lied about her work before, even when it resulted in rejection after rejection from journals and conferences, even when it cost her a post-doc at the University of Chicago.
She stopped just before rounding the corridor, as another possibility occurred to her. Loki. She wondered if he could have come back after all. But why would he come back now? It had been two full days already. Maybe time flowed differently on Asgard? Maybe for him it had only been an hour? Jane didn't think that likely; she'd seen no evidence for it. Of course, she supposed she'd seen no evidence firmly against it, either. Wormholes crossed space-time. And it wasn't even clear what exactly Yggdrasil was, a type of wormhole or something else entirely. Maybe there was some kind of weird time dilation effect. But no, the probe that had reached Asgard had shown no sign of being there for any longer or shorter time than had passed on Earth. You're procrastinating, Jane. Again.
She inched forward, then craned her neck and peered around the corner of the building. No one was there.
/
/
Loki knew he couldn't stay out here indefinitely. His entire body had already gone numb. He pushed up and got his right foot underneath him. The familiar ache from the sudden pressure on his foot didn't come. He gave a small laugh that came from somewhere in his chest and didn't quite make it through his lips, which he realized were freezing together. He lowered his jaw and forcefully pulled them apart.
Pushing a little against the jamesway for support as though he were an old man, he got his other foot under him and tried to straighten up, but he couldn't pull away from the jamesway. He turned to look at his hand, then tried to move it again, unsuccessfully. His bare hand rested against metal; his flesh had frozen to it. He had a brief flashback to his short visits to Jotunheim; he couldn't recall ever seeing anything made of metal there.
Bent awkwardly at the waist, Loki excited the appropriate particles around his hand and the metal until he was able to pull his hand away without leaving a layer of skin behind and giving himself yet another injury to heal.
/
/
Jane stared at the back wall of the jamesway. Twice she'd heard something rattle there. But there was no wind. And there were no animals here. She frowned, feeling a bit creeped out, and continued to inch forward – one step, two. She heard a sharp gasp. It wasn't her. The scream that immediately followed was hers.
She didn't really scream, not at first – it was really more of a startled yelp. The second time was a scream.
Where before there'd been nothing but cold dry Antarctic air between her and Pathfinder, now Loki stood, blood spatters on his face, black hair mussed and unruly, black leather satchel around his neck, black tunic and black leather pants and boots with bits of armor here and there and a few dark stains Jane quickly realized were probably also blood. Before she could really process any of it he was on the move, directly toward her. Her first instinct was fear, and she started stepping backward. Her heel soon caught on a ridge in the ice and she lost her balance; Loki grabbed for her arm and steadied her. She tried to pull away from him but he didn't let go and she didn't stand a chance.
"Jane, calm down. I didn't mean to startle you."
Startle. "Startle" was someone calling out to you when you were engrossed in a book. "Startle" was not someone popping out of the thin air you were just staring at, and looking like some lunatic ax murderer.
Still, she calmed down. A little. Her heart was still racing. Of all the things running through her mind simultaneously, she blurted out, "You've got blood on you."
He ran a hand over his face and looked at his palm. "It's not mine."
Jane's shoulders slumped a little in relief, then her eyes went wide. That meant it was someone else's. "What did you do?" she asked in a low voice, full of trepidation. He'd let go of her arm; she took another step away.
Loki's expression – open, relaxed, even concerned, perhaps – immediately changed, eyes narrowing, lips thinning. He radiated fury, but he didn't immediately speak. Jane took another step back; she was no longer hidden behind the jamesway.
"I'm going back to the station," he announced calmly, and started to turn around, back toward Pathfinder.
"No, wait, you can't."
"What do you… Have you told SHIELD that I'm here?"
"No! No," she repeated more quietly, glancing down the length of the jamesway and retracing her steps so she was again concealed from casual view. "Not yet. I couldn't figure out what to tell people here. It was awful. But you can't go in there like that. You've got blood on your face and your shirt and you…you don't look…" The word "sane" came to mind, but Jane figured it might not be wise to say it.
Loki put his hands together and rapidly drew them apart – Jane noticed his grimace as he did so – and a mirror perhaps eight-by-ten inches appeared there. He grasped it in his left hand and held it up. Jane stared but didn't comment, and only gaped for a second or two.
"I've got a water bottle in the jamesway. You can, uh, you can get cleaned up in there. And if you're going in the station, you're going to have to do something about those clothes. And aren't you cold?" she tacked on at the end, noticing his bare hands and head and thin shirt with a layer of what appeared to be light chain mail over much of his chest.
He shot her a look that was as plain as any words, "Of course I'm cold, genius." Then the mirror disappeared between his hands and he turned around and Jane's jaw dropped, for more than just a second or two this time. "You…you…" she finally stammered out, but then he was bending down and picking up something she hadn't noticed before. The moon still provided some light, but it was dark, especially back here where there were no red lights. When he stood, a sword – a sword – was in his left hand.
Her eyes went to saucers and now she was really stepping away. Loki's eyes were not on her, though; he stepped to the side as he approached and went right past her. She turned but stayed put for a moment, confirming she hadn't imagined what she'd seen before. "Um…Loki…" But he was already nearly to the door. She followed, hurrying as fast as she could in the bunny boots that didn't have the greatest traction in the world. The door was just closing when she got to it; she pushed it wider open and went inside.
He had stopped by the table where her laptop was still up and running, his back still to her. Which was really unfortunate. She jumped when the door closed behind her. "Loki, there's something sticking out of your back."
/
/
Loki stood up straighter at the sound of her voice. His skin felt prickly, sensation returning to it inside the jamesway. He was only slowly becoming aware of all the aches and pains his body now carried. "There's something sticking out of your back." As soon as she'd said it, he felt something burning in his upper back. He strained to look over his shoulder, then strained further, and then he saw it – the sword he'd been run through with. Only he clearly hadn't managed to get off it before Pathfinder kicked in and brought him back, and somewhere on Asgard an Einherjar was running around with a sword whose blade was severed in half.
"Take it out," he said, facing away from her again.
"Uhhhh…"
"Take it out. It's not that difficult. Just don't touch the edges. Not if you prefer having ten fingers." The metal and crafting were Asgardian; even the blunted ceremonial version of these swords could probably deprive her of a limb.
"But, you, uh, isn't it-"
"Jane. Can we discuss it in glorious minutia afterward? Put your fingers over the flat of the blade, from the end, not the edge, and pull it straight out, preferably along the angle of entry."
"Okay, fine, I'll try, just…try to stay still."
"Believe me, I'm not moving." He heard her step closer and held his breath so there would be no movement of his torso at all. His eyes closed, and he felt himself grow strangely relaxed. He'd seen Jane work on small things like the circuit boards; she had steady hands. There was a certain relief in seeing her, even if she remained her same argumentative self instead of simply doing what she was told. She was the one person who knew who he was, at least in part, but was neither going to arrest him nor stab him nor trap him in a cage of magic. The relief had even crossed briefly and irrationally into something quite close to joy. That had gone away the second she'd opened her mouth to accuse him of being responsible for the marks of violence he bore.
It stung terribly when she pulled the remains of the blade out, slowly and carefully when he wished she would have gone quicker and gotten it over with.
"There's…there's a lot of blood," she said; Loki heard the blade clatter to the floor.
He vanished the sword still in his hand and turned around to find Jane breathing shallowly and looking like she might pass out, or worse, vomit all over him. Did you know your woman cannot take the sight of blood, Thor? She would never make it in Asgard. He grasped her wrist in his right hand and led her to one of the chairs by the computer, where he pressed at her shoulder until she sat.
A dripping sound came from behind him; he turned and saw there was indeed a lot of blood. It had soaked the back of his tunic and was dripping to the floor. He wasn't concerned – he would be able to heal this wound. But he was – though he would never admit it to her – feeling slightly faint himself. He'd been stabbed and cut multiple times over the last two days and several of the wounds had bled copiously. He sank down into the chair next to Jane and it was much like old times, were Jane not sitting with her head between her knees in an effort to avoid getting sick and were he not dripping blood all over the floor. Still, it was the most comfortable he'd been since he left here.
Loki set the RF switch down on the small table, then removed the transmitter and structural field generator from his wrists, and set them down beside the switch. He gingerly took the satchel from around his neck and under his injured arm, then sent his armor away. He began to work his tunic off next, not permitting the groans he wanted to make when it pulled free of the still unhealed wound on his shoulder, because Jane was here. He dropped it to the floor, the back half of it a sopping mess with a new hole in it. "Your water bottle?"
"Backpack," Jane said, her voice muffled by her familiar black Carhartts.
He looked around and found it underneath the table, then retrieved the water and got to work cleaning the stab wound in his upper back, using a bit of magic to assist. The Einherjar had thrust his sword into the air, not knowing what he would strike – a sword in the back was considered extremely dishonorable – and barely missed his spine. It wasn't easy, healing this particular wound. He couldn't see it, didn't feel like retrieving the mirror again and trying to find just the right angle, and he couldn't reach it with his fingers. His right arm still couldn't move enough to dream of stretching that far, and his left arm couldn't get there, as it was just to the right of his spine. Still, after several minutes of intense concentration, he'd managed to get the tissues inside to heal, and in another minute or two the skin had knit back together, flawlessly, he hoped.
When he opened his eyes – he hadn't realized he'd closed them again – he found Jane staring at him. Have you never seen a man's chest before? he wanted to ask. But she wasn't looking at him like that. She was staring at the wound on his shoulder, the one caused by Brokk's enchanted dagger. It was red and inflamed, weeping something that wasn't quite blood, and, Loki had to acknowledge, it looked rather disgusting. The back of his shoulder, where the dagger had gone clean through, probably looked no different. Loki poured some water over that wound, too, and Jane looked away. He used the last of the water to clean the Aesir blood from his face.
/
/
Frigga hurried in through the private west entrance to the Healing Room, its name taken from the long-forgotten days when it was in fact a single room, run by a single healer…or so the story went. She was accompanied by two Einherjar, including new Chief Palace Einherjar Huskol, who had tried hard to dissuade her from coming here, where no added protections were in place. But Jolgeir, who had served Asgard and her family personally so well through the years, and who had now sacrificed so much, had asked for her by name. She would have gone to him no matter the risk.
Huskol entered Jolgeir's room first, ensuring no one was inside waiting to ambush the queen, then signaled for her to follow, while the second Einherjar remained outside to guard the entrance.
"How do you fare, Jolgeir?" she asked as she approached his bed. He was sitting up, his back against the bed's solid wood headboard, wearing a tunic with the sleeves cut to the short remaining length of his arms, a bright red spot on the side of his forehead.
"Well, Your Majesty, thank you for asking. Forgive me that…that I do not salute you."
Frigga sighed. "You do salute me, Jolgeir. Everyone who meets you will know you forever salute Asgard's throne."
"You do me too much honor," he said with a nod, his eyes trained in her direction. "Your Majesty…I need to speak with you alone."
"Absolutely not," Huskol interjected immediately.
"Huskol, a few days ago I was your superior, and there is no one else in this room besides me, and I cannot even get out of bed without falling on my face. I believe the queen is safe, or at least she will be no less safe with you waiting outside."
"And were you in my place, would you respond any differently in a time of war, days after the palace itself was attacked?"
"No, I would not," Jolgeir admitted with a chuckle.
"Enough. Huskol, I am still your superior. Wait outside. You've done your duty well."
Huskol started to protest, but thought better of it and brought his fist to his heart, then stepped outside to join the other guard.
"We are alone," Frigga said as soon as the door closed. "I understand you were the one who sent out the warning about the Felingard Forest."
"I was. But that's not what I wished to speak with you about. Not directly, anyway. Your Majesty…I don't know what to think of this exactly…but…come closer, please…"
Frigga's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement, but she did as Jolgeir asked, stepping nearer to the head of the bed, and leaning in close to Jolgeir.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Loki was here."
Frigga drew back as though struck. "What? What do you mean, 'here'?" He couldn't possibly be here. If he had made use of the gem and the tonic, she would have known about it. The tesseract had sent him to Midgard, and Heimdall had confirmed he'd made it safely there, although he'd lost sight of him soon after.
"It was he who told me about the forest, that we were vulnerable there," he said, his voice returning to normal, though still quiet.
Frigga watched him closely. He'd been brutally injured in the throne room explosion, unconscious for days, and he'd clearly taken another very recent blow to the head. "And how was he, Jolgeir?" she asked in the end with a kind, sad smile. She wanted to take his hand, to offer comfort that way, but she settled for a gentle hand on his shoulder. She was startled when he jerked his body away from her touch.
"I did not imagine it, my queen. I'm telling you, he was here. He claimed to be a healer, but he asked about you. He was afraid you'd been injured in the explosion. The way he asked…and his voice when I told him you were nowhere near it…I knew it was him. I tried to get him to stay longer, but he realized I'd figured out who he was. And it's just as he said when he realized it: I'm good at seeing what can't be seen. It's what I'm trained for. Then right before he left he warned me about the Felingard Forest. Ask Hogun. He told me he saw a blond, bearded man he didn't know but who nevertheless looked familiar leaving this wing as Hogun was entering it. I didn't tell him who it really was. I've told no one but you."
Frigga nodded slowly, forgetting that Jolgeir probably couldn't see it, as she tried to work through everything he'd told her. "All right…I believe you. I'm sorry I didn't before. But…I don't understand how it's possible that he could be here. And why would he come here? And how would he know where another realm was going to attack? It's the Fire Giants this time. They're burning the Felingard Forest."
"And the Einherjar encampment there?" Jolgeir asked, his voice tight.
"Destroyed. I don't know what the casualties are, but they at least had some advance warning of danger." Thanks to Loki? But how did he know? The question would not stop repeating itself, and much as Frigga wanted to think the best of Loki, he had done terrible, truly terrible things in the last year, and the question kept repeating at least in part because she was afraid to try to answer it.
"I don't know how or why he came here, or how he got his information," Jolgeir said after a moment. "But I do know he didn't come here intending to give me that warning. I don't think he even knew I was in here. Looking back on it, I think he was surprised. He asked what happened to me."
"Did he know about the explosion?"
"Yes, I believe so. He didn't seem surprised when I told him that's how I was injured. And he didn't ask any questions about the explosion itself. Only about your safety."
"Loki wouldn't do this, Thor." She'd been certain he couldn't be involved in any of this. She was certain. Mostly certain. She wanted to be certain. She longed to be certain. But he was so consumed with hatred. So full of rage. Her baby boy. Her sweet, sensitive, wide-eyed, worrying, contemplative, compassionate little boy had tried to obliterate an entire realm, an entire race, in something Thor had described as little short of a fit of madness. He'd killed wantonly on Midgard, the realm he knew Asgard had long protected from outside interference, the realm he knew Thor now had a special affection for, and tried to bring it to its knees, to proclaim himself its ruler. The Loki she knew would never conceive of such things. Was he no longer the Loki she knew at all? Is my Loki lost to me? She swiped at a tear that had escaped and slipped down her cheek.
Unacceptable. That is unacceptable, she told herself, reigning in her emotions. There were other explanations, of course there were. Whatever he knew, however he knew it, he had told them. He'd told Jolgeir, and he would know that Jolgeir wouldn't keep such information to himself. He didn't have to say anything. If he had truly turned on Asgard he would have kept that warning to himself. Perhaps Loki was out there somewhere, behind the scenes, gathering information on Asgard's foes, then delivering it in secret. Asgard's secret protector. But why in secret? And if he knew where Asgard was going to be attacked, why hadn't he warned them earlier? Why hadn't he warned them about the throne room? If he'd somehow gotten word to them about that, Jolgeir wouldn't be missing two limbs and his eyesight, Hogun wouldn't be relying on canes to get around because of his shattered legs, and four people – at a bare minimum – wouldn't be dead.
It seemed overly optimistic – unrealistic, if she were completely honest with herself – to consider him Asgard's secret protector. And Jolgeir had already said he was certain Loki hadn't come here with the intention of providing this warning. Loki had once greatly looked up to him, adored him even, as a child, after Jolgeir rescued him from a traumatic incident at a lake. For a while after, Loki had declared to anyone who would listen that he would be an Einherjar when he grew up.
"Loki…you can't be an Einherjar. You're a prince. Princes do not become guards," Odin explained kindly but firmly as they sat at their dinner table, just the four of them.
Frigga watched Loki – his rapidly blinking eyes, his trembling chin – and breathed in deeply. She knew what was coming.
"But…but I want to be an Einherjar."
"I'm sorry, Son. That isn't your future. Your destiny lies elsewhere."
She shifted her gaze from Loki to Odin, trying to catch his eye, but his attention was back on his plate, where he was cutting into a piece of meat.
"I don't want elsewhere. I don't want to be a prince. I want to be an Einherjar," Loki said quietly, the tears already starting to fall.
"Stop this right now, Loki, and listen to me. You will command Einherjar when you're grown. But you will not be one, do you understand?"
Loki's face crumpled like an apple well past its time and sobbing quickly followed; he squirmed down from his chair and was half-way to Frigga before she rose from her own chair and picked him up, shooting a look at Odin, who finally met her eyes with a frown. Though she and Odin had both vowed never to lie to their children again, beyond what they were already committed to, her resolve crumpled like Loki's face when confronted with such sheer heartbreak. "If you really want to become an Einherjar, we can make an exception to the rules, Loki. It's an honorable pursuit," she said, settling down with Loki on her lap.
"You can be First Einherjar and protect me when I'm king," Thor put in.
"Frigga," Odin said in a warning tone.
Which she ignored.
"Can I, Mother?" Loki asked, sniffling. His eyes were reddened and wet and full of innocent hope and trust.
"Of course you can, darling. If that's what you want." "He's five," she mouthed to Odin, who sighed and held his tongue.
Loki had of course grown out of that particular phase, and he'd grown apart from Jolgeir centuries ago, but perhaps he'd looked upon Jolgeir's state now and felt compassion. Perhaps he knew more about the plot against Asgard and felt guilt. Surely, surely, he could not be involved in the plot.
A knock came at the door, pulling Frigga from her memories and worries.
Huskol stepped in before she – or Jolgeir, who had remained respectfully quiet – could give permission. "My queen, we must return to the palace immediately. There's been an attack at the observatory."
Frigga froze for just a second – the observatory, the temporary one, was a stone's throw from here – then nodded and headed for the door.
"Your Majesty, please, just one more thing," Jolgeir said.
"Yes? What is it?" she said, pausing and turning back to the former Chief Palace Einherjar.
"I was advised that you must speak with a palace servant named Vigdis. Nothing else was said on this."
Vigdis… The name was familiar but she couldn't place it. "Thank you, Jolgeir. All of Asgard thanks you," she said before Huskol hurried her out the door.
/
/
"I don't know how you're going to explain…this," Jane said once she finally sat up again, waving a hand in his general direction and studiously avoiding looking at the nauseating stab wound on his right shoulder, "but you've got to get to the doctor." She'd never seen anything like this before. Scrapes, small cuts, minor burns, those she was used to tending. Never so much blood, or holes where there weren't supposed to be any. She didn't remember the car accident that claimed her parents' lives and injured her, and by the time she'd woken up in the hospital she'd been tidy and clean, no sign of what had happened.
Loki gave a small laugh. "Your doctors' methods are barbaric."
Jane frowned. His sense of superiority was truly grating. A sudden memory of Thor's dismissive and clearly unappreciative "They will suffice," when she'd provided him with clothes that fit, albeit a bit tightly, came to mind. "Call it whatever you want, but their methods work pretty well for…stabbings. If you don't get those punctures sterilized and stitched up they could get infected. And that much blood loss can't be good even for Aesir."
His face hardened at the naming of the thing that had been snatched away from him. The thing she so casually – and erroneously – ascribed to him; he couldn't recall her even using the word before. Then he smiled. "You're right, Jane, I'll never be able to explain this to the station's doctor. But you are a doctor, too, are you not?"
"Not that kind of doctor," she said, paling. "Really, really, really not that kind of doctor."
"You'll do fine," Loki said with his warmest, most reassuring smile.
"No, I can't- I don't know how to do that stuff," Jane said.
"Does this building have one of those first aid kits?" Loki asked.
Jane nodded. "I remember seeing one when we first set up shop in here."
"Go get it."
Jane nodded again and got up; she soon found the kit in a box of emergency supplies near the door. There wasn't much in the kit itself, she realized. Some bandages of various sizes, tape, gauze, an antibacterial topical cream, aloe vera, a liquid antiseptic, some aspirin. The other items in the box included a few bottles of water, some MREs that Jane thought might be relics from the days when the US Navy ran the station, a flashlight, batteries, a few of those heat sticks you could snap and have instant warmth from through a chemical reaction inside them, and some extra ECW gear, the smaller pieces like gloves, gloveliners, socks, neck gaiters, and balaclavas.
When she got back to the table with the kit, Loki was holding something thin and shiny between his thumb and index finger. "What's that?" she asked, afraid she knew exactly what it was.
"I thought you were a doctor. It's a needle. You said my wounds needed to be stitched up. This one," he said, pointing with the needle toward his shoulder, "went straight through, so you'll have to stitch it in the front and the back, along with the one you pulled the blade out of. It isn't complicated. You simply slip the needle through the skin on one side, then the other, then pull it tightly together with the thread, then you put-"
"All right, all right, I'll do it. I'll try. I get the concept. Just…just shut up, okay?" She gripped the edge of the table with one hand and closed her eyes and pressed her face into the other. "Just give me a minute. And then…we'll do it on the bed."
Loki bit his upper lip to hold back a snicker. If only Heimdall could have overheard that and passed it along to Thor. Her face was mostly hidden so his eyes lingered on her hair, down loose over her shoulders. He knew her habits; he knew that meant she'd recently washed it, probably this morning, given how soft and silky it looked. Loki squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment. Soft and silky? It didn't look soft and silky. It looked brown and straight. He had no idea how soft or silky it might or might not be. It must be, though. And he began to feel something else he hadn't felt in a long time…and it wasn't guilt.
He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his own hair, trying to smooth it back into position. He didn't have time for this. And it was revolting. An image of her from the sunset dinner, when she'd had on that short black dress that nicely displayed her legs came to mind unbidden. That isn't helping, he told himself. What is wrong with me? He made himself instead picture her looking up at him in fear right after he'd choked her. That helped somewhat. Then he made himself picture her in Puente Antiguo, running around trying to get people out of the Destroyer's way, then crouching over the shell that had been Thor, whimpering over him, probably wetting his face with her tears, infecting him with more weakness with every passing second. That helped. Poison, he told himself. She is poison. I have to get out of here. I have to think…
"Get on the bed," she ordered.
"What?" Loki asked.
"Get on the bed. If we're going to do this, we better do it now, before I lose my nerve."
Loki rolled his neck around until he felt and heard a gratifying pop. He swallowed. It took a distressingly long time before he remembered what he'd told her before, and he couldn't bring himself to continue the charade. The needle disappeared. "I value my life too greatly to let you near me with a needle and thread, Doctor Foster. This is skin, not cloth. I can heal my own wounds much more efficiently. Look at my back, see? No sign I was ever injured."
Jane glared at him, then stepped around behind him. She saw where the knife or sword or whatever it was had come out the other side of his shoulder and it made her stomach rebellious again, but the place where she'd pulled a broken-off blade from his back was healed, bits of dark drying blood on his back the only sign of it. She got what he meant then about Earth's doctors being barbaric; she supposed to him it would seem that way. Thank God. What am I doing playacting at being a doctor, anyway, and for Loki-you-crave-subjugation? He was just supposed to come back and tell her he was all right then go back to his own stupid realm, not show up two days late, full of holes and asking her to stitch them up. Making fun of her, apparently.
"Creep," she muttered under her breath, then gave a final sigh of relief that she wasn't going to have to do that. She wasn't sure she could have made it through without passing out. "So what about this other one, why haven't you healed it?" she asked, lightly touching one fingertip to his shoulder, away from the wound.
"That one is magic-resistant," he said, twisting away from her. "I can help it along somewhat now, but it will have to heal on its own."
"Magic-resistant? What, like antibiotic-resistant?"
"I have no idea what that is, but if it will satisfy your curiosity and cease your questions, then yes, it's exactly like antibiotic-resistant."
"Well, it still looks gross. It still looks like it's getting infected." She reached back into the first aid kit and took out the blue bottle of antiseptic and some gauze.
"What is that?" Loki asked, watching as she soaked the gauze pads in a clear liquid with a sharp scent.
Jane explained, then handed him the damp gauze. "Um, here. You do it."
He took the gauze in his left hand and pressed it over the wound, then immediately took it off as he sucked in a sharp breath. "You might have mentioned that it stings."
"It's supposed to sting. That's how you know it's working. I thought you were smart enough to know that."
Loki scowled and pressed the gauze back to the wound. Jane prepared more gauze and did the same to the one on the back of his shoulder, dabbing gently at it – very gently, hoping to avoid a violent outburst – and tried not to think about what she could feel underneath her fingers through the gauze, lest she get sick. She bandaged and taped the back, then the front. "What's that? A ruby?" she asked, pointing toward the large round stone hanging around his neck from a chain so fine she could barely see it, and she couldn't imagine how it supported the weight of the gem. "It's the biggest ruby I've ever seen."
"It's not a ruby. It's- It's not your concern."
"No?"
"No," Loki said with a smile.
"What are you doing here, Loki?" Jane said, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. "Why aren't you getting yourself treated by your non-barbaric Asgardian doctors with their magic rocks? What happened to you on Asgard? What's going on there?" She stopped only when a wave of guilt struck, because she'd known there was a risk of danger in Asgard, and she hadn't conveyed the entirety of it, because she'd wanted him to leave.
"That's not your concern, either."
"Is that going to be your answer to everything I ask?"
"Probably."
"We'll see about that. So…are you back? You're staying? Because that wasn't the plan. It kind of seems like this isn't a 'hey, Jane, Pathfinder works, our modifications work, everything's great, Thor says hi, I'm going back home now' visit. What happened to parties and speeches and whatever you said was going to happen when you went back? What happened to that little test your father supposedly constructed, for you to get back to Asgard without magic? And don't tell me it's not my concern because it is my concern, and you know it."
"Yes, well, I may not have been entirely honest about a few things."
"No kidding. Really?" Jane deadpanned. She didn't press it though; she hadn't been entirely honest about a few things, either.
"I'm back. For a little while. Nothing for you to worry about. I just need to figure a few things out, then I'll leave again."
"How long is a little while? We had a deal, Loki. You can't just stay here. And I can't just keep this secret forever."
"I'll keep to myself. I don't need you anymore, Jane. Go back to what you were working on before Pathfinder. You can forget you ever knew me, and I shall do likewise," Loki said, standing, and bracing himself against the table to do it when he realized it would require more effort than expected.
Jane shook her head and her gaze drifted downward. She wished she hadn't. "Your leg is bleeding, too."
Loki looked down and found the injury he'd forgotten about. "It's ruined," he said, bending over and inspecting the leather, sliced clean through in a nearly vertical line from ankle almost to the top of the boot. His favorite pair of boots.
"What, is that magic-resistant, too?"
He rolled his eyes. "No."
"Then why can't you just fix your stupid boots if you're so upset about it?"
"I'm not 'so upset' about it," Loki said, though he was. It wasn't like he had his second- or third-favorite pair with him, or any other pair at all. "But this isn't living flesh. I can't just fix it."
"I would think fixing boots would be easier than fixing a stab wound."
"If you cut yourself, does your skin not knit back together, eventually, even without a healer's treatment? And does the same thing happen if you cut your clothing?"
Loki seemed to expect an answer to that question designed to make her feel stupid, because obviously clothing didn't knit itself back together again, but Jane refused, clenching her jaw a little tighter. How was she supposed to know how magic worked?
"Flesh wants to heal. It's created with the ability to heal. Magic only helps it do better what it's already doing. I could mend the boot…but it'll never truly be the same. I'm going back to the station," he said, retrieving his suitcase. "I'll heal my leg in my room." He certainly couldn't do it here. He wasn't worried about the actual cut, which wasn't too bad; it was the condition of his foot he wanted to make sure Jane didn't see.
"What?" Jane asked when he stopped moving and stared at the suitcase he'd pulled out of thin air and opened up on the floor.
"No more tunics." He closed the suitcase and got rid of it, then retrieved Big Red instead and put it on directly over his bare chest.
Jane stared at him. "You stole Big Red?"
"I was issued Big Red in Christchurch, just as you were," he answered.
"Yeah, but you took it with you, to Asgard, and you weren't planning on- Loki, wait."
"What?" He had retrieved his satchel from the table along with the sword tip from the floor, and was almost to the door.
"You've got…grass or something on the bottom of your boots."
"And?" he asked, quickly growing exasperated.
"You aren't supposed to track foreign plant matter here. And they mean from New Zealand. You're tracking plant matter around from another planet."
Loki shook his head, rolled his eyes again, and headed out into the Antarctic winter. It was almost as though he'd never left. Almost.
/
Looking back
My personal Loki obsession began in June, 2012. The first document in planning this story was created on June 27. The first words of this story were written on June 29. The first chapter (the prologue) of this story was posted on July 6, when a few chapters were already written. The longest-running readers I know of (via reviews) are Shaida01 (July 7), Megumisakura (July 8) and, tied, redrascal1 and DreamFlight (July 17). Thanks for sticking with it all this time, wow! The first review was from a Guest (July 6). Number of hours I slept in July 2012...you don't want to know. Neither do I. It would be very, very low. Genuinely, truly, YOU are a big part of how I've been able to keep this going.
Would you please drop me a line on this chapter? I'm kind of celebrating the Chapter 50 milestone. Whether you've been reading since July 2012 or yesterday (if you're a speed reader who doesn't require sleep). Although of course I always love and appreciate your reviews, I'll specifically request them just once more...when we reach The End! It's approaching...but there's a lot left to happen between now and then.
And now some previews! In the next chapter, Vigdis is questioned and Frigga struggles to keep it together; the two battles rage on and we check in with one of them; Jane's on edge and there's a phone call, a moment of embarrassment, a confrontation, and Loki running. (And you do know I occasionally attempt to misdirect you in these, right?)
Excerpt from Chapter 51:
"Concerned? I'm touched, Jane, truly. It's heart-warming," [Loki] mocked, hoping she would get mad enough to turn her back and leave. He didn't want to deal with her at all today. Or ever.
"You know, I guess I was, for about half a second. And then you opened your mouth. Your heart must be a block of ice," Jane said, standing her ground.
His fists clenched at his side, resting on the sheet over the mattress. "Get out."
