Beneath
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four – Collision
Jane whipped around to the right. The doors were closed, the glow was gone, and just inside them stood a tall woman in a loose-fitting dark blue gown, long blond hair down her back, long pointy sword in her hand. Jane had only seen her back before, on Harvest Day, but she knew instantly who this was.
"There are forty Einherjar on the other side of that door," the woman – the queen, Frigga – said, pointing smoothly with her left hand as she crept a few silent steps closer. "But I think we can resolve this between just the two of us, don't you?"
Forty Einherjar? The ones Loki said would kill me and ask questions later if I showed up in Asgard's present? She wondered now if that had been entirely true; Jolgeir certainly hadn't seemed the shoot-first type. And Frigga probably didn't want forty sword-wielding Einherjar running around the bedroom with her babies in it, which must be why she'd come in alone. But all that was beside the point. One long pointy sword and the angry mother carrying it was more than enough to end her life a thousand years before it had actually begun. Jane hadn't even heard her come in or the door finally opening.
"Put that knife down right now," Frigga ordered, voice cold and hard, obviously used to rapid obedience.
Jane still hadn't moved, and she'd forgotten she had Loki's knife in her hand, forgotten what she'd been working on. She immediately let go of the knife; it clattered to the stone floor, the sound explosive in the otherwise silent room. The RF switch, fourth screw still loose but good enough – it would have to be – went into Big Red's left pocket.
"Hands out where I can see them," Frigga said in a raised voice that trembled, for the first time betraying the terror she must be feeling upon having her infant sons separated from her by a magically-locked door and then finding a stranger standing a scant few feet away from them with a knife in her hand.
Jane held her hands out, fingers spread. "It's not what it looks like."
"Really? Were you not just holding a knife while next to my sons' cradle?"
"Well…I guess it's kind of what it looks like…but I'm not here to hurt him. Either of them. I promise. I swear it," she amended, recalling that when Loki wanted to indicate that he really meant a promise, that was how he did it.
"Then come toward me, slowly, and we can discuss exactly what it is you are here for."
At that Jane's mouth gaped open before she quickly shut it again. That wasn't exactly going to work. I'm from over a thousand years into the future, from the place you call Midgard, and I came here to stop your grown-up younger son from committing suicide by killing himself as your baby younger son with that knife I just dropped. But don't worry, he's back at the South Pole now, safe and sound, and I was just doing a little repair work so I can follow him. She couldn't say any of that aloud, one because that was a horrible thing to tell a mother, two because that would really change history, and three because she was pretty sure Frigga wouldn't believe her and might decide to put that sword to use. But it reminded her that her two-plus minutes were rapidly running out, so she started moving slowly but steadily away from the cradle and changing table, and toward the foot of the bed, giving Frigga a wide berth and hoping to make it past her and her sword to the balcony at the opposite end of the room from the cradle, which at the moment seemed like a football field away.
She watched Frigga watching her as she went, saw her eyes flicker between the cradle and her several times, and realized she couldn't see the babies and didn't yet know that they hadn't been hurt. When Jane's back was to the bed and Frigga's to the wall, Frigga began to match her steps and they pivoted around each other. Frigga's first priority, Jane figured, was getting to her sons, not getting her. When Frigga was at last between her and the cradle, the queen twisted her neck around and took a quick look inside it; she exhaled a hitching breath and her shoulders sagged a bit, but her grip on the sword never wavered.
"Who are you?"
Someone who's going to become part of both of your sons' lives, a long long time from now, Jane thought, relaxing a little herself. Just the night before, she'd thought about how much she hoped to meet Thor's and Loki's mom, and tell her how great she was. She'd never imagined she might meet her like this. This Frigga, sword still at the ready to protect her babies, had no idea the challenges her sons would face, Loki in particular. "I'm no one," she finally said, speaking up because she was almost at the balcony now. "I don't actually exist, not in your world, anyway." She should have stopped there. She really should have, and she knew it even as she began to speak, but here precisely was the temptation of time travel. And her strength was not superhuman. "But Loki…Loki needs all the love you can give him."
Apparently it really was the wrong thing to say, because Frigga's face and body language immediately turned aggressive again. She started to advance on Jane, but then stepped back to remain next to the cradle. "How do you know his name? We haven't even announced-"
Asgard snapped out of existence as the familiar sensations of Pathfinder-travel grabbed onto her and snatched her away.
/
/
When he felt the structural integrity field generator kick in and the milliseconds-long sensations of pulling he instinctively tried to fight it, but he'd barely moved at all before he left Asgard – and Jane – far behind. "I'm not leaving without you," he heard her say.
He would go back for her. Earthquakes or no. She'd gone after him, and though that had been to stop him from his presumed plan to kill Thor, she hadn't argued any less stridently when she realized the truth. "I don't want you to erase yourself from my life," she'd said. He believed her. "I don't want to lose you." "She wouldn't want this. Ask her." "You were rescued because you were meant to live." Meant to live. But why? For what purpose? He couldn't fathom it. But if he weren't meant to die, then did that not mean that he was indeed meant to live? There was a certain grotesque elegance in it. By all rights he should have died. How improbable was it that someone should chance upon him and spare him a slow death by exposure and starvation, and that that someone was none other than the King of Asgard? Yet it had happened. More than once he probably should have died, including just minutes ago, and had improbably lived. So perhaps Jane was right, and he'd been meant to live all along? But why? If not to destroy Asgard's royal family and Asgard itself from the inside out, to play the parasite to Asgard's host…then why?
He was no closer to finding an answer to the questions firing rapidly through his mind when the seconds-long journey ended and Pathfinder appeared in front of him. Except for the wind whipping up ice crystals into the air and noisily crashing into every solid object around, it should have been silent, but it wasn't. Loki steeled himself and turned.
He wouldn't have known who it was, covered in ECW gear except for a slit over the eyes, but for the name on the jacket. Selby Higgins. That, and the long single-bladed knife in his hand. Loki recognized it from the kitchen. As Loki watched, Selby gripped the knife harder. "I don't have time for this," Loki said, starting to move away, to go back into the jamesway and reprogram Pathfinder. He was by no means happy to see Selby standing there with a knife, but he wasn't overly concerned about it either. He could handle Selby, and a Midgardian kitchen knife wasn't a serious threat.
"I've been hearing that a lot recently. I think you're going to make time for it," Selby said, voice quavering minutely.
Loki recognized that particular quaver – the sound of someone trying to project far more bravery than he felt. He kept going.
"That's Jane's equipment," he said. "What are you doing with it out here?"
Loki rounded the corner to the long side of the jamesway.
"I asked you a question, Loki."
He stopped. He'd suspected, or really, he'd known as soon as he'd seen Selby standing there with a cook's knife, but he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge it. But now it was spoken aloud, out in the open, unavoidable. He turned back around the corner. Selby was still standing there, near Pathfinder.
"Congratulations, Selby. Perhaps I should be impressed, but it's not as though I've been especially trying to hide it these last few days."
"It's you who's been taking my food this whole time, isn't it?"
Loki huffed out a laugh. Is that his biggest concern? "I was hungry."
"You told me back in the beginning, you said there were rumors about me and Jane. That was never true, was it? There are rumors about you and her now, you know."
"Are there?" he asked in a low voice, more of a statement than a question. "Those are no more true."
"Whatever you're up to here…it's over. I told her. About you. Who you really are. She's calling the Avengers."
His exposed face, stinging from the cold, split into a slow grin. "Is she? Are you certain of that?"
Selby didn't respond immediately, and Loki wished he could see the man's face underneath that mask. "What have you done to her? Is she all right?"
"She's fine. And I'm sure she'll be touched at your expression of concern." Jane was of course not necessarily fine, and this reminded Loki that he needed to stop wasting his time with this man and get back to the laptop to tell it to send him back. But he didn't put his back to Selby immediately, because at the same time he realized how Jane had managed to show up on Asgard just a couple of minutes after him, though she'd been nowhere around when he left. She'd simply told Pathfinder to send her right after him. And he could do the same. Arrive back right after Pathfinder had recalled him, ready to either fix her RF switch, or pull her close to him and let Pathfinder draw them back together via his switch, as they'd done after Jane's poorly thought-out early attempt to go to an injured Thor on Asgard.
"I don't believe you," Selby was saying meanwhile. "And what exactly is this thing?" he asked, glancing over at his shoulder at Pathfinder, which was now behind him. "I saw you just…appear. So this is what you're using to come and go from here?"
Loki thought for a second, recalling what he'd written to Selby in that e-mail message two and a half months ago. "That's classified," he said with a smug grin he couldn't keep from his face.
"I know it is. It has to be. It wasn't enough for you to threaten me, was it? You somehow used that thing to go to Chicago. To threaten my wife. Did that make you feel like a real man? Huh? To talk your way into an innocent woman's home and tell her terrible things and scare her half to death? Did that make you feel like a tough guy?"
Yes, actually, it did, he thought, but it was probably about as pathetic as Selby made it sound, and fun as it might be to goad Selby, this would really be going too far. "I never laid a hand on her."
"And you just better thank God you didn't. But you…you saw Jane, you basically admitted it. She confronted you, and you…what did you do to her?"
"I never laid a hand on her, either," Loki spat out, anger masking the fact that this was a lie, and he had a slightly sore nose and shoulder to prove it.
"You're a liar."
"You're not the first to say so."
"I already told Wright who you are, too, you know. Did Jane tell you that? So whatever you're up to here, it's over." Selby glanced behind him again. "Are you using that thing to…to try again? Another alien invasion?"
Loki watched as Selby took a step back, then another. "To conquer the South Pole? It has been said that my ambition is too little, but that would be simply embarrassing." Selby was adjusting his grip on the knife – the layers of gloves he wore probably made it difficult to hold it securely, precisely why Loki had removed his gloves earlier and why his still-healing, sensitive hands were stinging terribly. Selby was also still backing up, closer and closer to Pathfinder. Loki's face hardened. Selby thought he was using Pathfinder to open up another portal to let in an army of invaders. If he tried to stop that from happening by destroying Pathfinder… Jane would be stranded forever in Asgard's past. He started advancing on Selby, keeping his movements calm and slow.
"Stay back. I'm not afraid to use this," Selby said, brandishing the knife.
One corner of his mouth twisted up, somewhere between a smile and a snarl. "I'm not afraid for you to use it, either," he said. Selby was right in front of Pathfinder now, and turning toward it. Not just looking. He was going to act. Even beneath the bulk of the cold weather gear he wore, Loki could see it in the way he moved, had seen it thousands of times before, in training, and in real life, the moment when someone committed to an attack. And suddenly he was afraid.
Jane would be killed, or if she were lucky, only imprisoned for the rest of her life. Perhaps if she were luckier still, her fantastic claims of who she was and where she came from and why she'd been in the royal bedchambers would be thought the ravings of a mad woman without the capacity for reasoning, and she'd be treated relatively kindly in her cell, perhaps even released in her inexplicably rapid old age. Perhaps she would seek him out, and he, too, would think her a mad woman and cast her from his sight. Except by the time she was released, he would probably be tied down underneath an enchanted serpent.
Loki surged forward. Selby got his left hand onto one of the support bars they'd built to hold a probe and was bringing the knife down onto the top of the device when Loki lunged for him and yanked him bodily away at the waist. Pathfinder wobbled but remained upright.
The two men scrambled on the ice, stumbling and getting up again, Selby swinging his right arm wildly and Loki more concerned about pulling him further away from Pathfinder than about the knife, which glanced off the side of his face without doing any real damage as far as Loki could tell.
A bright light flashed, blinding them for an instant, and in that instant Selby managed to pull free and turn back toward Pathfinder.
Loki knew immediately what the flash meant. He threw himself at the other man again, this time every thought and every movement focused on that knife. His hand wrapped around Selby's wrist even as they both tumbled back to the ice, loosening Loki's grip. Selby reached blindly behind him, scrambling away, and Loki lunged at him.
Night vision still recovering from the flash, Loki yanked at the nearest energy particles for some illumination, to better see the exact angle of the knife before he grabbed Selby's wrist, but nothing happened except blinding pain. Selby, by far the weaker man, was getting away. He'd only wriggled and crawled a few inches though before Loki was back on him, forcing him down onto his back, squinting through dizziness and vision that now faded in and out. More by feel than by sight he found Selby's wrist again and latched on, his determination absolute. Selby was groaning and grunting underneath him and trying hard to turn the tip of the knife toward Loki and there was screaming and scraping and Loki saw nothing but Selby and that knife and he hated Selby and he squeezed the wrist hard and felt a sudden blossoming of fresh pain and the knife began to slip and Loki grasped it and plunged it downward and Selby gave a gasp and stopped struggling.
Everything fell still, the only sounds the wind and heavy breathing.
Loki let go of the knife sticking up out of Selby's jacket but otherwise remained unmoving, panting heavily, staring now into Selby's wide eyes as they blinked up at him. I dare you to try again, you spineless useless wretch.
"Oh my God."
He finally looked up. Jane was standing a few feet away, looking down at him, eyes at least as wide as Selby's. She looked horrified, a bare hand coming up to cover her bare mouth. "Jane…are you all right?" he asked breathlessly. His chest was beginning to ache as he sucked in frigid air. "Put your…put your facemask on. Your gloves. You'll get…frostbite."
Jane held her hands out in front of her and saw they'd reddened. She ran over to Loki and Selby and dropped down to her knees, only then reaching into her pockets and yanking things out. "Selby," she said, leaning in close to Loki to look down at him while she felt around for her balaclava and pulled it on. "Selby, are you okay? Say something." She fumbled with the gloves and managed to get on the middle layer; she'd dropped the liners and didn't bother with the bulkier outer layer.
"Jane…run," Selby wheezed out, followed by a moan.
Loki moved to stand, but found himself dizzy and weak. He tried to push himself up and his right wrist turned awkwardly, bone scraping against bone. He didn't remember that happening. He braced his left hand on the ice next to Selby and finally got himself upright.
"Help me get him inside," Jane said. She didn't know what had been going on when she arrived, but she could guess that Selby had come looking for her out here – just two days ago he'd seen her coming from this direction, and he could have followed her and Loki's trail out to Pathfinder then – and found Loki and assumed the worst. Then just when the South Pole materialized around her in a wave of relief, she'd seen Selby reaching toward her with a knife, Loki right behind him. Now the knife was sticking out of Selby's chest, through his layers of gear. "Loki, come on! He needs a doctor!"
Loki nodded, the motion bringing back a wave of dizziness. The moment of intense fear and rage had passed and in its place was numbness and almost disbelief at the scene before him. Selby had started trying to move, but he was clearly no danger to anyone anymore.
He stepped around toward Selby's head, thinking to drag him by the armpits. He didn't touch the knife – removing it could further injure Selby, he knew, as did Jane apparently, or perhaps she simply didn't want to have to touch it. The thought reminded him of the time she'd had to remove a blade from his back, and it made him give an impulsive laugh. The laugh unexpectedly hurt, and quickly turned into a cough that hurt worse. When he got the cough under control, he started to bend down to lift Selby.
"Loki, stop," Jane said, coming around from where she'd readied herself at Selby's feet.
Loki waited as she approached, then watched in confusion as she reached for the snaps on his jacket and popped them apart, then pulled down the zipper. When she fumbled with the clasps on his overalls he began to feel like perhaps this was all an incredibly odd dream instead of reality. "I hardly think this is the time, Jane," he said with an attempted rakish smile, struggling to draw a breath into his empty lungs afterward.
When the bib of Loki's overalls fell down to his waist, even in the darkness Jane saw exactly what she'd feared. She looked back up at Loki. At the bubbly speckles of bright red blood around his mouth. "We have to get you both inside. Can you help me with Selby?" she asked, stomach clenching.
Selby mumbled something Loki couldn't make out as he looked down at his own chest. In the middle, centered a little to the left, was the outline of a wet spot that trailed down to his waist and disappeared beneath the Carhartts. He shook his head as it sunk in what had happened. "No. I…I was protecting…"
"It doesn't matter right now. Come on, we've got to hurry. I need you to stay on your feet as long as you can, okay? I need your help. I don't have my sling."
The sling… He remembered it. The flexible tube-like thing she'd used to pull him out of the simulated disaster. The day she figured out who he was. He nodded again and bent over, reaching under Selby's shoulders, grasping, and lifting.
The pain was exquisite, both from his probably broken hand and from his chest. He glared at Jane, back at Selby's feet now and lifting from there, wishing she hadn't pointed out his own wound. Better to be ignorant of it. In ignorance was strength. In discovery was ruin.
Together they trudged forward – Jane technically backward – around the jamesway and toward the station. Jane stumbled occasionally over the ripples in the ice she couldn't watch for, and Loki stumbled over feet that became less cooperative with every step. Selby struggled weakly against Loki's grip at first, but soon went slack, his labored breathing and occasional moans suggesting he was still conscious. Jane spoke to him occasionally, to Selby or to him, Loki wasn't actually sure; her words swam meaningless in his head as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
"Jane…" Loki said when they cleared Summer Camp and the elevated station was in the distance before them. In the insurmountable distance before them, it now seemed. He couldn't catch his breath and he was beginning to feel light-headed.
"Yeah," Jane said, huffing for breath herself. Selby was sinking lower and lower in Loki's arms, as Loki's posture became more stooped, and she was bearing more and more of his weight, and her shoulder was throbbing. "Keep going. You can do it." Getting one of them to the Station was going to be difficult enough. If Loki collapsed…it wasn't like she could carry them both. Her radio, she remembered, was in her bag in the jamesway; she wondered if it was worth leaving them both to run back for it. They were still closer to their jamesway than to the station.
Loki nodded, paused, and fell to his knees. Selby gave a sharp cry. Loki pushed up on his left hand, stood, then stumbled a few steps to the left and fell again, this time onto his side.
Jane set Selby's legs down and hurried over to Loki, who was really beginning to look out of it. "Loki, are you okay? Can you hear me?"
"Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" "I'm unable to breathe," he said, trying to muster a smile.
"Yeah," she said, nodding rapidly. "You got stabbed in the chest. Magic-stabbed. I can get Selby. If you can't help me, I still need you to keep moving. I need you to get to the station with me. Okay? Come on," she said, reaching for his hand.
Loki grunted and winced when she pulled at his right hand; she immediately let it go.
"Sorry, sorry. Give me your other hand." He was on his left side, and his left arm was underneath him.
"It's not your job to get me air. I'm not…inhaling any smoke."
"What?" Jane asked, shaking her head in frustration. She looked back at Selby, who was pushing with one arm against the ice, apparently in a futile attempt to get up, and tried to visualize how she could keep moving him on her own. The hood, she thought. She could pull him by Big Red's hood. Selby was tall, but fairly thin and not particularly muscular. It wasn't ideal, definitely not as good as the tube sling her firefighter trainer had given her, but it should work.
She whipped her head around back to face Loki, suddenly realizing what he'd been saying. "Your heart better not stop beating," she said, forcing a smile to her face. "Can you get up? Can you keep going?"
Loki shook his head, the memory of Jane inside in her firefighter gear and the actual Jane out here in the dark on the ice blending together. "Doesn't matter. Get him inside. They can…do nothing for me. Not…of Midgard. And…him first. Can't heal unless he does. Take him."
"Okay. Right. I understand. I'm going to get him in, and then I'll come back for you, okay? I'll come back for you. You just hold on. I didn't want to lose you on Asgard, and we didn't make it back here just to lose you here instead. Got it? Are you listening to me, Loki? Tell me you're going to hold on," Jane said, gripping his shoulder.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said, looking up into Jane's brown eyes, all he could see of her.
/
/
Frigga paced impatiently just inside one of the eastern gates. She'd sent word that she needed to speak with Odin urgently, but she hadn't wanted him to have to take the time to go back to the palace and up to their chambers to do so. There had been another breach of the shield while she was on Midgard, this one at least not as deadly as the last, but Huskol had tried his best to convince her not to leave the palace. He had of course failed, but had then insisted on accompanying her, to which Frigga did not object.
She heard the unique pounding of hooves that sounded Sleipnir's approach and drew herself to attention; Odin appeared seconds later, nimbly dismounting, still looking fresh and rejuvenated after his long Sleep.
"You're well?" she asked, quickly inspecting him with a practiced eye.
"Perfectly well. I slept for too long. And you? Midgard?"
"Thor's friend Tony believes it went well. His PR team is conducting…surveys of some sort. I confess I didn't pay as much attention to that part. Hugin and Munin stopped by for a visit." There was neither time nor need for pleasantries between them, and Odin had never been one to publicly show much affection.
"Yes," he answered with a crisp nod. "I sent them to look for Loki."
"Why?"
"Were you aware that if we must negotiate terms, and the Jotuns won't back down from the demand for Loki, Thor intends to give himself over to them in Loki's place?" Odin saw the surprise on her face and knew that she had not been. "Thor has learned from his mistakes. He lacks the wisdom that only comes with many years of experience, but he's done well. He is Asgard's king. Under no circumstances will I allow him to sacrifice himself in that way."
"But you'll allow Loki to be sacrificed," Frigga said, keeping her tone neutral.
"Thor did not try to destroy their realm, and he did not leave it physically and politically unstable, embroiled in a three-way civil war. Loki did. We'll try to satisfy their demand any other way we can. But I personally offered reparations and assistance before this alliance against us even formed, and they rejected it."
"Nor did they demand Loki at that time."
"They did not. Which is why I am hopeful it won't need to come to that. But their demand for him is not unreasonable."
"He was the legitimate king at the time, Odin. We may not like what he did as king, but-"
Odin barked out a laugh. "Your gift for understatement is impressive."
"But we were in a state of war already with Jotunheim, declared by Laufey and initiated by Thor. So-"
"So you do believe I should let Thor be locked away in a Jotun prison for Loki's actions?"
"No! I'm not saying that, and you know it. I'm saying Loki was fighting a war, as Asgard's king. He should not be treated like a common criminal for his actions. And the things he was judged guilty of…Odin you know there was more to it."
"There is always more to everything," Odin said with a sigh. "That doesn't negate his guilt. Frigg," he said, clasping her hand, "of course I don't want him to have to go there. Of course I don't. I sent him to Midgard, did I not? When others were calling for such dire punishments?"
"Which you were tempted by."
"Yes. I was angry. I don't deny it. My queen…there's nothing common about Loki, there never has been. I haven't given up hope on him." Odin sighed again and shook his head. For a moment, he gazed back in the direction of the palace, too far away to be visible from here, reflecting on his long uninterrupted Sleep. "I was surprised at how much time had passed, when I woke. I was certain I would have woken earlier, because of him. I don't know why it's taken so long…but I wish to give him this chance, for this journey to reach its destination, to see what he'll do when he arrives. A detour to Jotunheim is the last thing I want for him. Or for us. But if we have no choice, no other way to prevent Asgard's ruin…then yes. He will face his punishment on Jotunheim for the actions he took against them. And therefore…I need to know where he is." Frigga nodded, but Odin knew her expressions better than he knew his own; he knew she wasn't happy about it. "It's for his own protection, too. His control of magic can't possibly be at full strength, and Gullveig's got the entire realm of Midgard looking for him. If he's hiding there, as I suspect he is, then he's in danger."
Frigga nodded again, still conflicted. "Go," she said, giving his hand a quick squeeze. There was no use trying to dissuade Odin from a decision once truly made, whether it was riding right back into war or sending Hugin and Munin in search of Loki. She stood there watching as Odin mounted Sleipnir and rode back out through the gate, and continued staring at the gate after it had closed again.
"Your Majesty?" Huskol prompted from the discreet distance he'd waited at while she spoke to Odin.
"Yes, let's go," she said distractedly.
They each mounted their own steeds, and the ride back provided plenty more time to think. Odin and Thor, it was clear, were headed for conflict. She was certain Odin hadn't told Thor that he'd sent the ravens. For all Odin might say that Thor was king, not telling him about the ravens meant that he wasn't leaving the decision about Loki to Thor. He didn't trust Thor to make a rational decision where Loki was concerned. And going in his place as a prisoner to Jotunheim…that was not a particularly rational decision, and not a result Frigga could accept any more than she could Loki becoming a prisoner there. But if Thor were truly king…it was his decision to make. With he and Odin acting independently of each other and essentially in opposition to each other on this one issue, conflict was unavoidable.
Unless the ploy on Vanaheim worked. In that case, their collision course would be moot. Frigga, however, did not wish to count on luck. This conflict, with her in the middle and Loki the unwitting pawn between her husband and her older son, was precisely the one she'd feared might arise, albeit with the added dimension of Thor serving as king at Odin's pleasure. Her family could truly be ripped apart, far more than it already had been, and from this she feared it would never recover.
Odin was right. If she divorced her head from her heart, she understood that the realm as a whole had to come before any individual on it. Divorcing head from heart, though, was Odin's responsibility, not hers. It should, perhaps, be Thor's as well, but Thor she wasn't sure was capable of it in general, much less when it concerned his brother and a promise. If she supported Odin against Thor, Odin would capture and relinquish Loki if he felt he had no other choice. If she supported Thor against Odin, Thor would move Yggdrasil itself to spare Loki the fate he feared most, but it could come at the expense of Thor facing that fate himself. It was an impossible choice, a choice no one should have to make.
Yet Frigga was not without recourse. She could, for now, prepare for that choice without having to actually make it yet. Tony knew more than he was saying, but he may not be willing to share it with her, much less keep it a secret from Thor. There remained the necklace. She hadn't pursued it, and she'd told no one how she'd had it modified. She wasn't certain it could be used to find Loki; it was only a theory. But the key to maintaining her options was knowledge. If it worked, she would find Loki first, and would tell neither Odin nor Thor. Afterward, if the time came, it would be up to her to tell Odin or not, to tell Thor or not, to warn Loki or not.
She considered it all the way back to the palace and all the way back up to her chambers. She paused outside the doors, where Huskol would take up his position, and spoke to him for the first time since they'd left the gate. "Huskol, send for Maeva."
/
/
It couldn't have been the most comfortable transport back to the elevated station, but then, having a knife buried in your chest probably wasn't all that comfortable in the first place. Nor could it be very comfortable to be left lying on your back outdoors on top of the ice when it was windy and probably -80. "You called him Loki. You knew?" Selby had asked when they reached the DZ steps. "Just hold on, Selby, I'm getting Nora," Jane had responded as he coughed up blood, then raced up the stairs. Explanations would have to come, but medical attention had to come first.
Inside, the main corridor was deserted like before. The galley, Jane thought, not even bothering to stop at Club Med which was just before it. She'd seen Nora there before.
"Oh, Jane, I'm still holding that beer for you…hey,everything chill?"
Jane turned so fast she nearly stumbled in surprise; to her right, just inside the corridor leading to the A-1 berthing wing and emerging from the men's room was Ronny, giving her a funny look. "I need your help. Selby's been hurt."
"What happened? Where is he? Hey, Tristan, get out here," he called, opening up the bathroom door. "Selby got hurt."
"He's…he's been stabbed. I dragged him back here, he's at the bottom of the DZ stairs. Please, get him up here as-"
"On it," Tristan said, grabbing Ronny who'd repeated back "Stabbed?" and hauling him into motion.
Jane continued on into the galley. The party was still going strong, the band was playing, and someone had hung the disco ball from the ceiling. "Where's Nora?" Jane asked several times as she pushed her way through the makeshift dance floor, never lingering long enough for an answer. It seemed to take forever but Jane finally spotted her on the far side of the crowd, dancing in a small group. Nora's bottle of water quickly got shoved into Elliot's hand.
They detoured up to the bar – "Gary's the only person herewho hasn't been drinking" – got Gary and ran back out to a growing number of curious stares.
Inside the clinic, Nora called out in rapid fire a list of things for Gary to get ready, then turned briefly to Jane as she pulled items from cabinets herself. "What exactly happened?"
"Exactly?" Jane echoed back. "I…he was stabbed. There was…kind of a struggle. And he got stabbed in the chest."
"Are you okay?" Nora asked, looking up sharply at the mention of a struggle.
"Yeah, it wasn't-"
Jane was saved from an awkward and complicated explanation when the doors opened; she ran over to the entrance to hold one of them out of the way and Tristan backed through carrying Selby on a spineboard at one end with Ronny at the other.
"Over here," Nora called, directing them to the waiting ER bed.
Jane stood by the door and watched numbly as they got Selby on the bed and Nora did a quick check of his vitals, before they started working off his gear at Nora's direction. Ronny stepped back – with four people around the bed they were just getting in each other's way – and stood there, waiting to be told what to do, Jane supposed. Everything was happening quickly, and soon among the medical terms Nora was throwing around, Jane heard the word "surgery." She swallowed, feeling like she should stay, like she was somehow responsible for all this, but she didn't know anything about surgery or treating stab wounds and her mere presence wasn't helping Selby.
"I'll be waiting for you."
She slipped out the door and pulled her balaclava back down as she started running again.
/
/
Loki laid there for a while, on his side, just as Jane had left him. Lying still was much, much less unpleasant than moving. But before long, he took conscious note of his surroundings, and it made him uneasy. He was completely exposed out here, and though the day was as dark as ever, the bit of moonlight and ever-present red lights at the station made him feel as though the sun were shining right down on him, illuminating his pitiful form to anyone and everyone who might emerge from the station or the universe. Thus without awareness of any conscious decision to do so, he found himself digging his bare fingers into the ice and dragging himself along, eventually twisting over onto his belly, eventually pulling himself up to his knees to crawl, eventually forcing himself to his feet, eventually staggering to the door of his and Jane's jamesway.
He got inside and closed the door behind him, then stooped over in exhaustion. Stooping over made it harder to breathe, though, so he quickly got upright again and stumbled further into the giant canvas tent. The beds, he thought, eyes fixating on them. There were no sheets or blankets, but the two he could see, where he and Jane had removed the flimsy excuse for walls months ago, looked like the finest luxury in all the realms. Besides, he was feeling hot and flushed, and wouldn't have wanted any sheets or blankets anyway.
When he finally reached the first bed, he contemplated how to lower himself onto it as gently as possible – both hands were now prickly and burning cold, one was most likely broken, and the thought of anything jarring his body was distinctly unappealing. The matter was taken out of his hands, though, when another round of coughing racked his body and he could no longer hold himself upright. He leaned forward enough to make sure he at least landed on the bed, and land there he did – on his chest.
He opened his mouth to let out a startled shout of agony, but a shout would have required air and all that came out was a short cry followed by wheezing gasps. When he could again contemplate something besides the pain, he twisted and pushed and hefted until he made it onto his back on the bed. Instead of the physical relief he'd thought he would feel, he squinted and squeezed out tears at how difficult breathing became in this position. Behind his closed eyelids he saw the pitch-black emptiness of the abyss, what he now knew to be the interior of Yggdrasil, and remembered that particular form of terror, of instinctively struggling to live while wishing to die. Of being unable to breathe. Gritting his teeth, he forced his elbows back and managed to brace himself up just slightly. His chest still hurt, and his breathing was still disturbingly labored, but in this bit of an angle, finally, was sweet relief.
Selby, probably, was with Nora now. I didn't mean to hurt him, he thought reflexively. But it wasn't true. He could have subdued Selby, prevented him from getting to Pathfinder or Jane, without planting a blade in his chest. It had gone beyond protection, straight into a fit of anger he couldn't explain. And now Loki had a hole in his chest to remind him of it.
In that moment, that handful of seconds, it had felt good and right and satisfying – the fulfillment of something a long time in the making. But it wasn't, and it never had been. He'd walked back from the edge, because Jane had convinced him to. Then after precisely five minutes out of her presence he'd hurled himself right over it.
A shudder went through him, a full-body convulsion that sapped whatever remaining strength he had left and sent him sprawling back on the bed again, no longer able to prop himself up. A dull ache emanated from nowhere and everywhere and for a moment masked the constant pain from his chest. Breathing again became more difficult and his head swam, whether from the exhaustion, the new pain that was fading, the old pain that was resurging, the lack of air, or all four. Around him he heard things crashing and clanging and breaking. Earthquake, he thought with frustration little short of despair. He'd gone back in time despite Jane's warning and his own assurances, he'd changed nothing, and he'd caused more earthquakes. He was certain he couldn't imagine things getting any worse if he tried.
He turned his head to the left then, toward the door, because he realized he could imagine how things could be worse. If death was the price he had to pay for his mistakes, he could accept that; he'd already been ready and willing to pay it voluntarily. But in that short span of time, things had changed.
"I'll come back for you," he saw her saying, crouching down over him.
He didn't want to die alone.
/
So, this has existed in my head, at least in vague primitive form, for over three years. It's actually pretty much this climax, this chapter, that was the very first thing that solidified (in broad terms) in my mind about this story, before I began writing it. I believe my notes from then refer to Selby as "the crazy guy," because he didn't have a name and I thought he'd be...yeah, a crazy guy. Of course, that's the lazy way out, much more interesting if he's *not* crazy, but has legitimate sane reasons to behave as he does, though he *has* been pushed a bit into paranoia and fear, which was mostly Loki's own doing. Yep, Loki is his own worst enemy. In more ways than one. And if you want to think all deeply about that you can, and if not, you can sit back and (hopefully!) enjoy the ride.
Gold stars! Back in November 2013, "j-mercuryuk" posted a review on Ch. 71/72 wondering if the person in Frigga's supposed dream could have been Jane. If anyone else commented on this so far in advance, go ahead and brag! I'm sorry I missed noting it down. And a "Guest" on the last chapter got it too. "Guest" posted a review in February 2014 on Ch. 84/85 saying Selby's "paranoia could push him to do something drastic and would affect everyone." And "Analise17" noted on the last chapter that Loki "better stay away from Selby, that guy's a loose cannon." (You can picture me on the other side of the computer biting my tongue.)
Extra-highly recommended re-reading: Ch. 20 "Mythology." This chapter also heavily references and recalls Ch. 33 "Mass Casualty Incident," and also references Ch. 30 "Friends" (when Loki sent Selby that fake threat letter from SHIELD).
"Lyn" (133): I do hope to publish original fiction and plan to go back to a novel when this is done. Several people have said they'd like to read something I publish, but given my real name's not on here I'm not sure how to let folks know if it happens. Thus far my best idea is to "follow" me on here, and I will put up some wee little story with notification, as a bribe to go buy my first novel. ;-) "Deirdre" (133): Thanks for dropping in a comment. They could never film this, it would cost too many bazillions of dollars, but I certainly would love to see these actors act it out! "Servantatheart1" (133): Not shying away from Loki's darkness was critical to me. If you ignore it, it's not canon Loki. And yeah, Loki *does* get emotional, but not at the drop of a hat, and not constantly; it's powerful in the movies b/c we *don't* see it constantly (and b/c Hiddleston's a brilliant actor). Guest (133, Sep. 16): So you remembered that, huh? ;-) (And everyone I didn't specify: the common suspicion about who Loki was going back for was right, huh?) "Armand" (134): So you got your Frigga, past and present. I hope you enjoyed her! And everyone: THANK YOU!
Previews: The station now has twice as many wounded as doctors, and one of these patients is not like the other. Jane's got to figure out their options and make some decisions...
