Beneath
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen: Seams
"I don't care how difficult it is, how long it takes, or what it does to me. You've barely even started. I'm not leaving until you've fixed it."
"Then I suppose you'll be moving in. You can take your usual room."
Loki showed no signs of backing off, and his hand – the one with the big knife in it that was just grazing Niskit's throat – was starting to shake. Jane stepped forward from where she'd hovered behind Loki's shoulder until she stood next to both him and Niskit. "Loki. Listen to me. You can't do this. For so many reasons, you can't do this. Besides, you think this is going to make her help you? You think she's going to help you if she's dead?"
"Me, dead?" Niskit said with some mad-woman smile on her face, eyes still fixed on Loki. "You should let me give you a real demonstration sometime, Jana. Perhaps even right now."
"Not helping, Niskit. Really not helping," Jane said, willing the woman to keep her mouth shut with a brief sharp look she hoped Niskit noticed. Niskit obviously didn't fall into the "watch what you say to Loki" school of thought…but then Niskit didn't know this Loki. She suspected the Loki of the past didn't make a habit of pulling knives on Niskit, as he'd done twice today already. "Loki, let's just sit down and hear what she has to say, all right?"
Loki continued to stare hard at Niskit, as Niskit stared back at him just as hard. "Get back, Jana," he said. He was aware of her presence beside him, and though he'd ignored them he'd heard her entreaties. He couldn't afford the distraction.
"No," Jane said, gaze fixed on the knife. Concern for the impact on history had faded fully into the background. She feared for Niskit, because Loki looked like he might really do this, completely irrational though it was. She feared for Loki, because she was certain he had tunnel vision and no idea that Niskit's right hand was hovering behind him and surely for some purpose. She feared also for Loki, because she didn't want to see him give in to this sudden urge to kill.
Then she sucked in a quick breath and remembered there was another reason he couldn't surrender to that urge. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten. She wasn't the only one. "Loki, you have to calm down," she said. This was the point when the angry irrational person was supposed to listen to the more rational person, realize that he'd been about to go too far, and let the rational person slowly and carefully take the weapon. But Loki's fingers were clenched tightly around the handle of his knife, and Jane had a feeling that even under the best of circumstances Loki wouldn't let anyone slowly and carefully take his weapon away from him. Instead, she slowly and carefully reached for his hand, the one that gripped Niskit's upper arm, his own arm pressed across her chest. She squeezed two fingers in between Niskit and Loki's wrist, pressing hard against the scar. "You can't do this."
Loki felt the pressure of Jane's fingers through his glove, and in the same instant that his body tensed to force her away while keeping the knife to Niskit's throat, he realized what she was doing. She thinks I'll slit my own throat. Her own face is inches from a blade that could cleave her in two, to stop me from killing myself. She doesn't know that curse only concerns mortals. The thought curled into his chest and pulled him out of his pure focus on Niskit. His eyes drifted closed and he stepped back, the knife going back into the hidden leather sheath he'd pulled it from. Jane was right. He'd acted like a mindless fool. The best way to ensure Niskit did not remove Odin's curse was to kill her first, and he knew coercion would not work on her. "I apologize, Niskit. Jane. I…don't know what got into me," Loki said. It was a lame excuse, and he knew it, but now that he'd backed off, he was physically exhausted and he could find nothing better to say.
"Neither do I," Niskit said after a moment of tense silence.
"Can we all just sit again? And Niskit, you can tell us what happened."
"All right. I'll tell you what happened, and then you'll leave and not come back for a good long while, until you've straightened yourself out. And you're paying for my carpets to be cleaned. You oozed all over them."
Loki looked down. His foot was bare – he'd forgotten – and when he lifted the right one he felt the slight resistance of stickiness. His foot ached terribly, there was something wrong with the leather of his pants, and from there he realized that every single inch of his body ached badly. He bit back a sharp response and limped over to the same chair he'd sat in before. Next to it, and in footprints he retraced on the short path back to his chair, was an unpleasant-looking wet area stained a sickly pinkish yellow. It was familiar; the wound on his foot had wept the same blood-stained pus in the beginning. It bothered him more now than it had before, and he reached for a cup of cooling honey mint tea sitting on the little table in front of him.
Jane was busy trying to gauge where things stood with Niskit, now that Loki had just held a knife to her throat for what had seemed like an incredibly long time, and the cup was already to Loki's lips when she realized what he was doing. "Don't drink that," she said, hurrying back over to Loki's side.
When the scent hit him, just before Jane called out, he was already swallowing. The burn shocked him; he wasn't used to it anymore. He gave a short cough, then twisted around toward Niskit, who was just now returning to the seating are. "What is this?" he asked, annoyed, lifting the cup.
Niskit rolled her eyes. "You know exactly what it is. And don't blame me. She drank yours."
Jane's mouth fell open, about to protest, but then she just shook her head and sat down.
Loki sat back again, regarded the cup for a moment, then brought it back to his lips and drained it over Jane's protests. The burn soothed and calmed and as always happened when he broke his rule, he wondered for a moment why he'd ever made it.
Jane let out a slow breath and held her tongue. First they'd walked into the home of a would-be assassin fresh from a would-be assassination, then they'd been thrown into a basement with no clue what was going on above them and what fate awaited them, then Niskit had basically tortured Loki with what looked disturbingly like a smile on her face, then Loki had nearly murdered her for it, and now Loki was merrily hurling himself right off the wagon. "Niskit," she said wearily, "would you mind telling us now what happened? Why it didn't work?"
"If Loki asks," she allowed, settling her tall thin frame down again, her expression unreadable.
"I do apologize for my behavior. I was…still affected by whatever it was you did to me," Loki said, and thought it might even be at least partly true. "You know I would never actually hurt you." He wouldn't have 90 years ago, anyway.
"Do I?" she answered with a raised eyebrow.
"I can do no more than apologize."
"You can pay to have my carpets cleaned."
"I'll pay to have your carpets cleaned."
"Then I suppose all's forgiven."
"Good," Loki said. "Thank you," he forced himself to add, along with an appropriately contrite smile. "Now, please do explain what happened. It felt like…like you were pulling me apart."
Niskit nodded. "That's because I was. I've never seen any magic quite like this. It was like I was ripping you apart at the seams. It's not a surface enchantment, but it's not even as simple as being inside you. It's part of you, Loki. It's bonded with billions of the particles that make up your body. Most heavily down around the foot with the mark, but it's there throughout. I tried to separate them, but the magic is completely intertwined in you. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I pulled or pushed or sliced, I couldn't extricate the magic. Your own body wouldn't permit it."
"The poison that courses through your veins is bonding with every particle of your being…" "So you will try again," he said quietly over Odin's voice. "You will try harder."
"Will you listen to me, Loki? Even if I somehow managed to separate every single bit of that enchantment from every single particle in your body – and keep in mind I did not manage to do that with even one particle – I believe it would leave your body itself disintegrated into jelly. The All-Father surely must have some way to reverse it…but for me, or for anyone else…it's simply impossible."
Loki shook his head and clutched his empty cup. "It can't be impossible. It can't be-"
"You need to accept this," Niskit said, sitting forward. It was the gentlest, kindest voice Jane had heard from her. "I wouldn't lie. If I could do it, you know I would. You were right, I'd love to best old Odin Borrson. And I think you also know that I wouldn't particularly care how much pain it caused you, as long as you wanted me to keep going, so it's not that, either. I'm telling you, it can't be done. It's as simple as that."
Loki slowly leaned forward and set the cup down before he could break it, then pressed his palms flat against his thighs. I'm here, he thought. I made it. In the past, across two other realms, while war rages and nine realms desire my head. This can't be…
"You must have really made a mess of things," Niskit continued. "I don't even want to know what you did. I think I'm better off not knowing. You rarely pay any attention to my advice, but I'm going to give you some anyway. I suggest you let go of that stubborn pride of yours and do whatever amount and form of groveling your father requires of you. That's the only chance you stand of being free of this particular enchantment."
A smile tugged at the corner of Loki's lips as those words sunk in and mingled with the disbelief. "…whatever amount and form of groveling your father requires…only chance of being free…" Even if he were to do so, even if he were to somehow make it past all the guards to gain an audience with Odin, even if Odin were to deign to hear him out instead of simply tossing him right back in prison…Odin wasn't likely to believe him, even if he told the most impressive lies he'd ever told in his entire life. Odin tended not to believe him even when he told the truth. No, he thought. He would never grovel before that man again.
"You should go. I'm as happy to open my home as the next elf, but now is really not the time."
Loki didn't respond, and Jane was worried. He wore some odd little smile, his eyes were narrowed, and his whole expression looked quietly dangerous. No good could come of them staying here any longer. But there was a problem. "Yes, we should go," she said. "But, uh, Loki, your…" She pointed to Loki's pants. More of the leather below the knee had crumbled away as he moved around, and the white patches were still there.
Loki looked down and really took note of the condition of his pants for the first time. When he reached down to the cracked leather bits of it flaked away, and the white spots were fuzzy. "We call it snow spew," he said absently, still distracted, still stuck in the inertia of disbelief.
Niskit got up and came around to the other side, next to Jane, to get a better look at Loki's right leg, where the cracking and white splotches were worse. "Leather purge," she said, nodding. "Strange." She stuck her finger in where Jane's hand had been earlier and pulled; leather crumbled and fell to the floor. "Well, you can't go out like that. Not unless you disguise yourself, and I have a feeling you aren't up to it. Lucky for you, there's a drawer full of your things here. Hold on."
"Are you okay?" Jane asked as soon as Niskit left the room.
Loki's gaze slid over to Jane, followed by his head. He gave a small nod.
"I was really scared for you, Loki. You…I don't know exactly what she was doing to you, but it was obviously hurting you so bad, I was afraid it would kill you."
He smiled, really looking at Jane now, running about Alfheim in a dress he'd modified, hair braided and covered as though she were a Vanir from the mountains… She was in danger here, more so than he'd anticipated. "Would that be such a bad thing?" he finally asked.
"What?" Jane said, face screwed up in confusion and dismay. "Yes, Loki. Yes, that would be a really, really bad thing. You're coming back to…" She trailed off, glancing at the doorway Niskit had gone through. "You're coming back home with me," she whispered, "and we'll figure this out, and you have to be alive to do that, okay?"
"It was merely a jest," he said, looking beyond Jane to the little foyer leading to Niskit's front door. Home. To the South Pole. With nothing to show for it. Failure. He hadn't allowed for this. He'd been certain.
"Okay, well it was a bad one. Don't say stuff like that, even as a joke, or a jest or whatever. Okay?"
"Yes, Jane," Loki said in impassive and slightly mocking obedience. It was kind of her, to not want harm to come to him – he thought for a second that perhaps she didn't mean it, but then remembered what a terrible liar she was and thought perhaps she did. Of course, it was also true that getting back to the South Pole without him would be more difficult, and it was hard to imagine that she wouldn't take even a tiny bit of pleasure in his torment, for all he'd tormented her.
"Good," Jane said, nodding nervously. Loki was acting strangely, responding when spoken to but kind of distantly, as though most of his thoughts were elsewhere. Jane desperately wished she knew what they were, but she was pretty sure Loki wasn't going to tell her, at least not right now. "So what's…umm…snow spew?"
"You don't ever see that in the Vestmar Mountains? I'm surprised. Well, you Vanir don't live and die by leather quite like these Aesir," Niskit said as she returned. She dropped a bundle of leather onto his lap. "Here, put these on before your pants disintegrate into dust and you get locked up for indecent exposure again."
Jane was wondering if Loki was going to leave the room or if she was supposed to turn her back or something when she caught the "again."
"He hasn't told you that story? Make him tell you, Jana. You'll never see him blush harder. But not now. Now I want you to get changed and get out," Niskit said, following it up with a smile so friendly it looked almost grotesque. Jane was really coming to hate Niskit's smiles.
Loki stood and headed for the kitchen, not caring in the slightest if he tracked more excretions from his foot across Niskit's floor, since he was already paying for its cleaning.
"Snow spew has nothing to do with snow," he heard Niskit saying. "It's a stupid name some Aesir came up with. It's really leather purge. Substances in the leather can make their way up to the surface when there's a rapid change in humidity or temperature – fats and oils, things like that – and it looks a bit like snow, hence the Aesir name for it."
"Ohhh," Jane said, nodding. "I have seen that, a long time ago. We call it 'fatty bloom,'" she said, mostly to try to prevent Niskit from getting too suspicious of her. But it was true; she'd seen it on a leather parka at her grandparents' house in Colorado, and her father had called it that. The memory was vague; she thought she must have been really young at the time. "He felt cold, when you were trying to…separate the magic from his body."
Niskit nodded. "He burned like fire at first and then he turned frigid, down closest to the mark. Have you met the All-Father?"
"What? Uh, no."
"Hang around him long enough and you will. And be on your best behavior for it. Proper bowing, 'my king,' all of that formal nonsense. To hear Loki tell it, his father has it out for him while his brother gets a pass. But he- Well. Every boy wants his father's love, doesn't he?"
"Every girl, too," Jane said with a nod. She wished the older woman had kept going, continued saying whatever she was going to, but she already knew that while Niskit may respect little else, she respected Loki's privacy. And what little she'd said already confirmed what Jane had begun to suspect, that as easily as Loki might fly into a rage over his father, somewhere beneath all that was love, and a desire for love, and more anger and probably pain because he thought Thor was more loved. And maybe Thor was more loved; Jane didn't know anything about Odin except what little she'd heard from the two brothers, who gave rather different impressions of the man. Was Thor oblivious to Odin's different treatment of them? Was Loki overly sensitive and imagining a difference? She thought for a moment that maybe that was it, Loki being overly sensitive, because he'd found out he was adopted. But what Niskit was telling her was what she knew of Loki ninety years ago, long before Loki learned he wasn't Odin's biological son.
Loki, meanwhile, deposited counterfeit money on Niskit's table, then worked through the clasps and buckles on his coat and the leather straps that secured everything in place. It wasn't strictly speaking necessary, but it would make removing the high-waisted pant s easier. He'd heard what Niskit said to Jane, before he reached the kitchen with its audible thrum of gadgets and magic. "Rapid change in humidity or temperature." He unbuckled, unlaced, and removed the pants, and by the time they were on the ground the right leg below the knee had indeed disintegrated. He'd only seen something like that happen once before. He wondered if Niskit were right, that his body would have turned into a sack of jelly had she succeeded in ripping out Odin's magic. He wondered if instead he would have turned into an icy-skinned Frost Giant. He didn't know how or why he looked Aesir; he'd never asked, and he'd certainly never experimented with trying to undo that magic.
As he pulled on the fresh pair of pants, his thoughts somehow came free of their quagmire and practical reality settled in. Yes, Niskit had failed, he'd failed, but he had to set that aside for the moment. His more immediate concern was that he'd left Jane alone with Niskit. If laces and buckles and clasps weren't done entirely properly, he could hardly be bothered to care. He hurried back out, finding Niskit and Jane in silence, and quickly retrieved his other sock and boot, working them back on and gritting his teeth to avoid giving any sign of how much putting the right boot back on hurt.
"Niskit," he said, standing up straight again. "I thank you for your efforts, and as always for your hospitality. I again apologize for…being uncouth."
"Is that what they're calling that these days?" Niskit asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Jana and I should be on our way. But I must remind you…please do not ever speak of this day again, not to me and not to anyone else. I will do the same. We'll both treat it as though it never happened, do you agree?"
"What about Jana? Can Jana and I talk about it?"
Jana who hasn't been born yet and won't be for over half a century, Loki thought. But he'd made a mistake not to mention her, too. "No, not to Jana either."
"Fine. Probably for the best."
Jane felt some small bit of relief at that, as they made their way back to the front door. Despite everything that had happened, despite all the ways in which their plan had fallen apart…this part of it appeared to still be intact. As impossible as it had seemed earlier, it looked like history would be unchanged, other than Niskit's knowledge of this visit and of Odin's enchantment on Loki, which they'd known all along was unavoidable.
"No one's watching at the moment, you can simply slip out. The magic on the wall is still active, and I have a few acquaintances who I told to alert me if any eyes lingered – none have."
"Acquaintances? How big is this assassination conspiracy of yours, Niskit?" Loki asked. With everything else on his mind he'd essentially forgotten what it was they'd walked into.
"Assassination conspiracy? I have no idea what you're talking about. No idea why you're in my home. No idea who you are."
"Of course you don't," Loki said with a dry smile.
"Ummm," Jane said, holding up her light green cloak to shoulder-height. The bottom of it pooled on the ground.
"Ah, yes. One second," Niskit said, taking the cloak. "Couldn't have anyone noticing this and wondering." She ran a hand over the material almost haphazardly and gave it back.
Jane took it and swung it around her shoulders, impressed that it was now exactly the same length it had been before. It was faster and more effortless than most of what she'd seen Loki do. But maybe that's what Loki could do, when he wasn't magic-handicapped. Loki was looking away; she wondered if it bothered him. He did have a lot of pride, crossing the border and journeying way past it into arrogance, so she figured it probably did. "Thanks," she said once she had fastened the clasps. "And sorry for the trouble. Thank you for trying. It was nice to meet you, Niskit." "Nice" wasn't quite the right word of course, "interesting," was more like it, with a side of "terrifying."
"You, too, Jana. Sorry you didn't get quite the demonstration you were hoping for."
Niskit opened the door and Loki stepped out first, scanning the dry pebbled yard even though if Niskit said the path was clear he had little doubt that it was. "Farewell, Niskit," he said when he turned around to face her.
As soon as Jane followed Loki out, Niskit closed the door to a crack that she stood in. "Never bring a weapon into my home again, Loki."
Loki gave a solemn nod, then narrowed his eyes. The next time he'd seen Niskit, after this, she'd made him leave every single one of his knives outside the door. He'd never known why, and never particularly questioned it, moody and fickle and unpredictable as Niskit could be. "All right," he said. But you'll have to remind me.
"You can bring your Midgardian girlfriend back anytime, though."
Jane's eyes went wide; Niskit was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I- I'm not-"
"After all these years Loki still sometimes thinks I'm an idiot. I would feel insulted, but he thinks everyone's an idiot, so I try not to take it personally."
"You're understandably paranoid, and your mind is playing tricks on you," Loki said, carefully avoiding looking at Jane. "Jana is not of Midgard. Father hasn't permitted travel to Midgard in a long time. She isn't my girlfriend, either," he added almost as an afterthought. He didn't care if Niskit thought that, but he was certain Jane did.
"Since when has what your father does and doesn't permit had anything to do with the price of mead on Nidavellir? I bet that's why he- Hm. Yes," she said, pausing a moment and looking hard at Jane. "I hope she was worth it. But we aren't getting into that again. Don't be too mad at him, dear one. It's not because he used your real name."
"Believe what you wish, Niskit. We won't expend the effort on trying to correct you. Good day," Loki got out quickly but firmly, putting a hand behind Jane's back and giving her a light nudge to get moving, which thankfully she did.
"Mm-hm. Of course not. Good day, Loki. Good day, Jane," Niskit called to their backs.
Jane stopped, but when Loki gave her another nudge she forced her feet forward again. The gate clicked when they reached it and Loki opened it, then closed it behind them. They were down the alley, past Niskit's house before either of them spoke.
"I did not use your real name."
"How else do you think she knew it? You did. When she was…doing whatever it was she was doing to you."
Loki clenched his jaw and kept walking. He didn't remember it. But it was true, there was no other likely way Niskit would have learned Jane's name. I suppose I failed at that, too.
"Are you really okay?" Jane asked when the road that would lead them back to Darpin, where their carriage was waiting, was in sight. "You're limping, and it's a long walk."
Unaware he'd been limping, Loki immediately corrected that. "I'm fine. And I would appreciate it if you'd stop asking," he said sharply.
"All right," Jane said quietly. She hated it when Loki got all moody like this. But she supposed she could understand it, after he'd been so convinced this would work, and they were leaving with nothing.
Loki spared a surreptitious glance in Jane's direction. He'd probably hurt her feelings, snapping at her like that. And why should I care? he asked himself. He hadn't in the beginning. He'd enjoyed hurting her feelings, making her dangle on the end of the string and giving the string a pull whenever he felt like it. He'd planned to hurt more than her feelings. He had hurt more than her feelings. But he did care. Curses upon curses. He remembered how easily he'd once been able to cast aside all thought of regrets. Yes, it was a weakness. But more than that, at the moment, it was a burden, and he did not need any more burdens. Curses upon curses upon curses. He glanced at Jane again. "I should never have sought you out."
Jane looked up at Loki. The words were soft, barely enunciated, and he was looking at the ground. She wasn't certain she'd understood him correctly at first. "Maybe not…but I'm glad you did. Maybe you found me for a reason."
Maybe so, Loki thought. But it couldn't have been for a good one.
/
/
The sun was already setting when they reached Darpin, later than Jane had hoped – they hadn't counted on having to hide out in Niskit's basement, or Loki passing out from pain. They'd walked mostly in silence, Loki answering in monosyllables when Jane tried in vain to draw him into conversation; she'd eventually given up. Their driver was waiting for them under a tree near the carriage, reading a book which he snapped shut as soon as he heard them approach. Loki, who'd begun limping again – Jane didn't comment on it this time – climbed right in, and the driver hurried over to give her a hand up. She was pretty sure that under normal circumstances she could have done it without help actually – she wasn't that short – but her head was pounding and she was exhausted. Jane thanked him and settled in next to Loki, his right leg stretched out in front of him. In another minute they were moving.
Jane resisted the temptation to open the curtain covering her window; she would have liked to continue watching the sun set, since the only time she ever saw them anymore was on other realms, but it wasn't worth a probable argument with Loki.
"Everything'll be fine, Loki," Jane said after a few minutes, when it seemed they were about to spend the couple of hours sitting there alone in silence. "No one knows you're at the Pole, no one except me and Tony. And neither of us is telling anybody."
"You can't imagine the relief I feel at knowing my fate depends on the Iron Man's protection. Did he by any chance mention that I threw him out of a window?"
"Yeah, he did mention that," she said to the side of Loki's head, his eyes turned in the direction of his own covered window. His voice was quiet and nearly devoid of inflection. "But he trusts me. He hasn't done anything about you being here all this time, has he? Why would he start now?"
Perhaps if he inventories his alcohol collection and notices two missing bottles by a particular name. That might do it. It had been a stupid move, taking those bottles. An impulse he'd given not one second's thought to before acting on it. Why? He hadn't drunk the Johnnie Walker, and he had no plans to. They were a trophy, and not even one he could sit back and admire from time to time, tucked away in his hidden storage as they were. He'd done it for no more than a moment's thrill. No, he thought, gaze lowering to the gloved hands folded across his lap. There was more to it. There's always more. Part of you wanted Tony Stark to know exactly who broke into the private spaces of his tower and rained down chaos and ruined his toys. Like an angry little child. Because he could not leave well enough alone, and had to send that video to Jane… He'd learned in his studies of SHIELD that Stark often drank heavily, sometimes to the point of worrying others; perhaps he went through his collection so quickly and indiscriminately that he took little note of which bottles stood on his shelves. He supposed he should be grateful. The thrill of the theft, in retrospect, was an empty one, not even a trace of residual excitement left in it. Empty and pointless. Like the rest of that entire trip. Except for the book he'd brought back for Jane. He hoped she did indeed have it, and that it brought her a measure of happiness. If so, it would be the only useful thing to have come of that journey, which had caused the Iron Man a mere week or two of frustration and sent one innocent stranger to the healers, and perhaps to his death.
"Hey, Loki, ummm…"
"What?" he answered after a brief intent to ignore her.
Jane hesitated for a moment, startled by the drawn look of his face. "Um, do you think we have anything to worry about from…" She pointed forward.
"The driver?" Loki said, then made a quick check to confirm that the sound barrier he'd put up when he'd first gotten in the carriage was holding. "No," he said. "He only knows that he drove us to Darpin. He has no idea we continued on to Rombakkin, no idea we were at Niskit's home."
Jane nodded, then bent over and felt at the knot on her head. On top of the throbbing her head was feeling a little foggy, as though she'd had a couple of drinks. Maybe she'd had something close to the equivalent in that first cup of tea, the one Loki had finished. She sat up and looked his way, finding him staring at the curtained window again. "Are you an alcoholic?" she asked, not realizing quite how blunt it would sound until the words were out. "I mean…I assumed you were, but then Tony said that thing about drinking whiskey, and you said you…what, make exceptions? But Niskit obviously thought you didn't drink, too. She gave me one of the teas with mead in it, and…" She paused, nervous laughter unexpectedly bubbling up. "You did say she might try to set me on fire. So then I drank yours instead. So it's kind of my fault that you wound up drinking that mead."
Loki turned to look at her, to really look at her for the first time since Niskit had tried to lift the curse. "That's how she knew. There was very little mead in the tea, but it's quite potent compared to similar drinks on your realm. You reacted to it as only a Midgardian would, I imagine." He frowned at himself, at how ridiculously glad he was that it was Jane and not him who had given that part away.
Jane nodded, but she couldn't be bothered to worry too much about it now. Loki hadn't answered her question. "I'm serious, though, about the drinking…I mean…should I keep an eye on you or something?"
"You think I'll be unable to stop myself from drinking more alcohol?"
"I don't know. If you have an addiction, yeah, maybe. How does that work on Asgard? Here we have twelve-step programs and therapists and what do you call those…sponsors. People who understand addiction because they've been there, and they help you recover."
"Do you want to be my sponsor, Jane Foster?" Loki asked, smiling faintly.
"Well, I can't be, I mean, I'm not an alcoholic, and I don't really know how to… You can talk to me, and I'll listen. And I can stop you from drinking."
"I'd like to see you try," he said, smile still in place. It felt good to think that she cared about him, even if her caring was muddied by ulterior motives such as a desire to avoid having him become intoxicated, lose his temper, and go on some murderous rampage of destruction at the South Pole. It still felt good. And with precious little to feel good about at the moment, he was content to permit himself to enjoy it for a moment.
"All right, I guess I couldn't physically stop you. But I could remind you that you made a decision not to drink, and that it's only going to hurt you in the long run, and-"
"Enough, enough," Loki said with a tired wave of his hand. "I'm not an alcoholic. We don't even have such a concept on Asgard. There is no addiction."
Jane sat up straighter. "Is that what people really believe where you're from? Addiction can happen to anybody. It's not a question of how strong you are."
"Our bodies aren't susceptible to it." Theirs aren't, at least. But he assumed it was true of all the other realms, including Jotunheim.
"Okay, maybe your bodies aren't, but what about your minds?"
"Our minds-" Loki stopped and shook his head. His mind was tired, and his body sore, and he didn't care to either think or talk any longer, and he wasn't sure how Jane had roped him back into conversation in the first place. "Remind me of whatever you like if I suddenly decide to visit one of those little shops on our way back to Asgard and purchase a few barrels of mead. But even if I were an alcoholic, you would have nothing to worry about on Midgard. Your alcohol has little effect on me."
"Okay, so how much whiskey did you drink with Tony?"
"I didn't drink any whiskey with Tony."
"Then what-"
"He offered a drink and I accepted. There's no story, and I'm not an alcoholic. I simply prefer not to drink alcohol." He offered a drink, and I lost count of the bottles. His smile had faded but now it returned, bitter. Perhaps I'm an alcoholic after all. Why not? What difference would one more failing make?
"But you did today."
"I make exceptions. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired."
Jane reluctantly nodded. "Me, too. I don't think it helps that I had some of the mead tea on a mostly-empty stomach." She slouched back and yawned.
"Rest, then. Sleep, if you want to. We have another hour and a half or so."
Loki watched, at first out of the corner of his eye, as Jane let out a sigh and relaxed; she was asleep within minutes. He longed to follow her into darkness, but he didn't dare, for fear Thanos and his lackey would choose this moment to reach out for him and find him in the grip of sleep, vulnerable. He watched as she shifted, head jerking from time to time as it tipped downward. Eventually she shifted in his direction, leaning against his arm, and he held himself very still, but instead of jerking away she breathed deeply and settled her head against him. She seemed to sleep more deeply after that, and Loki allowed himself to relax again.
He couldn't take his eyes from her. His hand twitched in his lap, so close to her. It would be so easy to touch; she would probably never notice. It would be so easy to pretend this was something else. To pretend all of it was something else. He latched onto the idea with a desperation he preferred not to ponder. You'll regret this, he thought, then had to stifle a bitter laugh. What was it you told her about regret? A tool to generate emotion? A falsehood? A weakness. A burden. What's one more falsehood? One more weakness? One more burden? He was certain he could feel the warmth of her breath even through his coat, and the soft press of her body so relaxed against his was gentle and soothing. She cares about me. What is one more weakness?
She wore the gown he'd made her. She wore the scarf he'd made, with the flowering green vine pattern he hadn't been able to resist adding, over the hairstyle he'd asked her to wear. The braid had deteriorated over the course of the day, especially once he'd fumbled around with it in the dark, trying to determine if she'd been injured. That could be something else, too. He'd touched her. Caressed her gently in the dark. They were not Loki and Jane. They were a man and a woman, riding home in a carriage as the sun set, and no one else and nothing else in the cosmos existed but the two of them. He trusted her with his life and in her eyes he could do no wrong. There were no lies between them, for there was nothing to lie about. They had a little cottage in a quiet village; the moon would be shining brightly on them when they returned. They wouldn't leave it for days. Maybe they would never leave it. She cared about him, and she was all he had.
His hand inched closer, but in the end he allowed himself no more than a brush of his little finger against her thigh. What is one more lie?
/
/
"Your Majesty," a nearby voice huffed.
Thor shifted only his eyes in the direction of the voice. People were always calling to him, delivering messages or summons while he fought, and he'd learned after a particularly painful cut to his arm not to turn from the enemy. The one calling to him now was a uniformed Einherjar who appeared to have been trying to fight his way through to him but was now pinned down by two Dark Elves and barely holding his own. It took just a fraction of a second for Thor to survey the battle around him. "Sif!" he called, just as she felled an opponent. She, too, looked around her carefully but quickly, then raced past Thor to assist the Einherjar.
It was the middle of the night, but there was plenty of moonlight and the fighting this day hadn't slackened with nightfall. Fighting more or less alongside him were his closest friends, something that hadn't happened often in this war. The Warriors Three and Sif were among the realm's most skilled warriors, and they were more often fighting apart from each other in separate battles, going wherever they were needed most. Fighting at their side again felt good, for their friendship went back centuries, as did their fighting together. They needed few if any words between them to execute complex coordinated attacks and defensive moves. Thor trusted them completely, and they him.
A few minutes later, Thor was face to face with the red-faced Einherjar, while Sif and the Warriors Three formed a ring around them, ensuring that they had a moment to talk.
"Your Majesty…Heimdall has sent me," the man said, breathless. "It's King Gullveig."
"What of him? What's happening?" Thor asked, worried.
"He's on Midgard."
/
/
"Jane, wake up," Loki said softly, only after he'd eased her off him. "We're here. Time to get out and go to the portal."
"Yeah. Portal," she muttered groggily. Her hand went up to her head, accidentally pushing the scarf off. It woke her up the rest of the way and she sat up straighter, then took the scarf off entirely and put it on again, checking its placement by feel.
"Will you be all right? We don't have far to walk," Loki said, backed as far to the other side of the carriage as he could get. It was hard to let go of the fantasy.
She nodded, squinting her eyes against the light that was now on in the carriage. She still had a headache, but that wouldn't stop her from finishing the last legs of this journey. "Let's go home."
Loki swallowed hard against the tidal wave of conflicting emotions that that word evinced – everything from relief to disgust – and stepped around Jane to climb down and reluctantly give her his hand.
/
Line I wanted so badly to include here but couldn't make it work naturally (you'll get it if you're also reading The Memory Casket) - LOKI: [something like] I'm going to forget this day ever happened. NISKIT: You're not going to one of those shoddy mind healers are you?
"Snow spew" is a real thing. On Midgard we call it "fatty bloom" or "fatty spew/spue." According to what I read it's not entirely clear what causes it, but it may result from impurities in the tanning process or natural elements of the leather somehow coming out after shifts in temperature or humidity.
BTW, I'm going to start posting some pictures to Twitter - pics of things from the story. For some reason it just occurred to me that I could do that. If interested, you can find me on Twitter under the same username.
Guest Jan. 25 thank you for your enthusiasm and Guest Jan. 26 thank you for defending me. ;-) It's okay. You have all been so supportive, and I think everyone gets that like everyone else I have a real life beyond my writing, a full-time job, and other obligations. I know that many of you are really eager for the next chapter, and I'm glad to hear that. You may think that because this story has a lot of reviews "my confidence-cup overfloweth" and so forth, but writing, like any other art form I'm sure, involves really putting yourself out there, and there's a vulnerability and fear in that, and I wonder if that's something that ever fully goes away. So your encouragement and eagerness is always appreciated!
Last week was unusual in that I was really technologically cut off for most of it, which is why you didn't hear from me much. But I was still writing every day (maybe not one of the travel days, I forget), so not only is Ch. 116 done now, but Ch. 117 is about half-done, which means you shouldn't have long to wait for Ch. 116. Speaking of...
In Ch. 116 "Annnnnd Then The Crazy Times Began" (yeah, not really, all titles in this story are nouns), well, we find out that while Jane and Loki stepped out of time, time in fact kept right on progressing forward without them. And everyone's going to have some stuff to deal with.
Excerpt:
"I'm really sorry we worried everyone. I just forgot to turn my radio on. Lucas, too. It was stupid of me. Did we miss a fire drill?"
Selby laughed, little puffs of air crystallizing onto his balaclava. "You missed a lot more than a fire drill. Come on, let's go inside first."
