Chapter Six - In which we see whether there is hope for the being that was lost.

Hattie remembered that day clearly, as though it was in a picture somewhere in her room. She also remembered the ache when he did not come in the next few years. She forgot him from time to time, but remembered again when she walked through the country, seeing, looking for green.

Green. It became her favourite colour, and she would wear nothing else, hoping, yearning to see him once again, to look up at his sharp, white smile once more and share a laugh so mad and shrill that nobody else could make her replicate it when he was absent.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was the embodiment of playfulness with her, only her, although she did not know that part. That somewhere within him there was still nothing but a child, eager, although lost, looking for the people who had been with him once, calling for them to notice him again as they did long ago. Looking for the sparks that he had caught to show them and receive warm words and affection once more.

Perhaps that child was dead now, leaving behind nothing but a ravaged mind and sanity of an immortal along with bitter ideas of what could have been.

She brought her finger away from Loki's temple and nodded, comparing who he was to who he was back then.

"Do you realise how much trouble you caused that day?" She said softly, amusement creeping into her tone. "Everyone was convinced you abducted me. My poor uncle almost had a heart attack, and he had to deal with the police. He didn't ever like you much after that."

The corners of Loki's eyes creased up in a smile, but his lips stayed shut and still.

"I don't think you realised how much influence you had over me. Or perhaps you did, and did not care." She whispered, looking at his stitched mouth. "How I loved…"

She brought her hands forward, running her finger gently over the stitches of his lips, behind which perhaps, somewhere, his sharp, white smile was still lurking. He shut his eyes while she did so.

"How I loved it."

He returned her gaze with his fading one, then turned away. Hattie knew he was trying to keep his mask in place.

"I would have gone wherever you had. I did not care who you were. I loved you as only a little girl can."

Past tense, she read from his mind. His tone was bitter and grave.

She nodded, though with some regret.

"That was before you destroyed our lives, Loki the Silver-Tongued. It will be a long time before I can forget about that."

His eyes flickered to her as he stood and turned, walking back towards the room he was supposed to be in. Hattie heard the door slam behind him, deciding to leave him alone for a while.

Loki was putting on the shirt with his temper flaring. He struggled with it, his arms disobeying him, then gave a snarl through his lips and started smacking it viciously against the wall, cursing it to high heaven.

After he was done, he picked it back up, panting. Convinced the shirt had suffered enough, he made to put it on when out of it fluttered a letter. It captivated his interest, giving him an opportunity to let some grains of patience into himself and finally put on the forsaken shirt. It smelled of dust and it was creased.

He gave a small whimper of longing for a shower, his own magnificent garments and of disgust at the fact this garment had holes in.

Loki picked up the letter, pulled a face, ripped open the envelope and skimmed over it. It was not long before a conclusion formed in his head.

Haldanson had gone out, leaving Knottie alone, then disappeared the same day he had destroyed New York. And who had she pointed her fingers at? Him.

Loki scoffed internally and rolled his eyes. He didn't kill him, so she could stop with the attitude that was driving him up the wall. Those huge, grey eyes that were intent on seeing only fault poked him hard in the feelings, no matter how many times he tried to deny the fact that they did. Loki remembered how they used to look at him as though he was everything that was worth living for - a stark contrast to what they were now. A bitter reminder of who he was now.

She came in when he was skimming over the letter a third time, resurfacing the thought he had when he had tried to drift off to sleep before.

Henrietta Knott was a grown woman. Loki watched her as she moved, then sighed without knowing he did so. Watching her was like listening to music. She wove through the vicinity like the smooth voice of a clarinet, the flickering of her eyes sent the fiddles on the violins into raptures - her footsteps were the rhythm to the song of life she was weaving through her existence. If he was in the palace as a free man, he would have ordered an artist to paint her.

He longed to meet her eyes without anything to hide… Then he caught himself. He was Loki, the Liar, the being of broken promises, with dripping black hands and a heart darker than the void.

"What is this?"

He didn't move as she got closer and let her snatch the letter. He watched her intently as she scanned over it, feeling a pleasure seep through him. She had been wrong this whole time. He was, this time, superior.

How startled he was, when her eyes gave birth to liquid diamonds that dripped down her face. Clenching his fingers, he tried not to focus on the burning of his chest and heart. This was not what he wanted. He had wanted another reason to argue with her, that's all.

"Oh." She managed, looking up at him as she used to, for help instead of for chastising. "My uncle. He…"

Loki sat unmoving for a moment once she fled from him, staring at his hands. For a moment, he felt as though he had been frozen again, so that his lips could be sewn shut - he thrashed inside his mind, seeing the vile giant with a hundred red eyes before him, jeering at him as he drank Henrietta's tears.

He had not stood for a very long time, and when he did, his head began to swim. He breathed heavily, leaning against the old door frame, then clenched his fist and jaw and followed the presence of sorrow feverishly, to Henrietta's bedroom.

He watched her sobbing. He moved to sit next to her, held up by a will he forgot he possessed.

Comfort? He forgot how to give it. It was such a long time since he was this close to anybody that did not wish to kill him. That he did not wish to kill or harm.

Touch. That was it. Touch gave comfort.

He lay a hand on her shoulder gently, afraid of her reaction, deeply fearing that she would flinch or pull away.

She accused him of knowing all along, and he did not deny it, although this was false. He was watching her face, remembering his fondness of her, a long time ago, when she was his little girl. When he had a piece of her heart that she offered to him, even though he did not realise it at the time. He regretted it so badly he winced, bending over a little.

"I'm sorry. It's just… I'm alone." She gave a snort through her tears, sheepish. "It hurts."

The man who was trapped within his useless heart gave a cry at her words, hammering on the crystalised goo that would never go away, throwing himself against it - unable to see and breathe through his tears.

"No," He was screaming, choking, sliding down to his knees, bloody and battered, banging on the black. "No, it doesn't hurt. It's agony. It's a poison that kills everything within you!"

Loki blinked and was back. He tightened his hand on her shoulder and tried to smile, but he knew he did not have a right to one. Not to an honest one. He couldn't.

He wanted her to see him once more. Not him - not the shell that had not long left before it was drowned in the toxic gas of hatred again, but him.

The god of lies waited as she remembered - it only took her a second. He feared her judgement. He only just registered what she had to say to him about it.

Then, she touched his lips.

Her fingers were delicate and soft, like the mattress downstairs in the room he had come from. Soothing, cool enough for him to feel on his jotun skin. He closed his eyes, storing the sensation in his memory - but then she took them away.

"How I loved it."

Her words gauged him to the bone. They were not what he wanted at this moment. He did not want to be reminded that he was long gone, that her childish love for him died with him, years ago. But alas, she was not done.

"That was before you destroyed our lives, Loki the Silver-Tongued." She whispered. "It will be a long time before I can forget about that."

The man in his heart cried out and slid to the floor, weeping bitterly, but Loki's face stayed still. He rose, feeling his heart bleed and turned, stumbling back to the solicitude and chaos he knew so well and hated.

Hattie came again before the day was out, with a fresh cup of milk and thin straw. She knocked on Loki's door and pushed it open with her hip, surprised to find it dark. He hadn't even put the lamp on.

"Are you asleep?" She whispered, putting the tray down onto the floor. "Tap if you are not."

There was a long silence, so she picked up the tray again and just made to walk out, when something tapped twice on the bedpost.

"I'm putting the light on."

She did. He didn't even blink as he turned towards her. She still could not get used to the sight of his mangled lips and that thing around his neck.

"Now, I don't know whether this will work, but I have two proposals."

She put down the tray on the bedside table and sat on the chair, folding her palms neatly on her lap.

"Proposal one: I am going to read your mind to communicate with you, but that's up to you to agree with first. I don't know what goes on in your head and what you wish to keep to yourself, so I will try to restrict myself to reading only what you wish for me to read. It may not work, however."

He nodded jerkily, his eyes widening a little in eagerness.

"Okay. Now, the second proposal, which I am unsure will work: this."

She pointed at the straw and milk.

"The straw is thin. I don't know whether it will fit through the stitches, however-"

She stopped, for he had spoken.

Now, bear in mind that we do not think in words, but rather in images. Collections of memories, notions and recognition of objects and beings that we filter through certain words so that others can understand them. Hattie could only get a certain picture that contained what Loki wished to communicate with her, and so the message was not always as clear as when he articulates himself. She also could not hear his voice.

No food or drink, he thought, or I'll bring it back up and that will not be pretty.

Hattie nodded.

"Very well. I have called Filip this evening to monitor the situation with the metal. He says the blacksmith is away but will be home in the next two weeks."

Loki breathed out a long sigh through his nostrils and dropped his hands on the covers.

"I know." She said, softly, looking away. "It will be over sooner than we both think."

He shot her a glance.

What is the matter?

"Nothing. I don't want you to deteriorate over that time. You will not get better unless you eat."

You're worrying about me. It's sweet to think about.

Hattie shot him a poker-face. He still didn't smile, but a tinge of amusement was visible on his face.

"As a human being worries about another." She replied, then rose. "I will leave you now."

Knottie.

She froze, pausing in the doorway. She forgot he called her that. She looked over at him over her shoulder.

I am going to use your shower.

It wasn't a question.

"I… I don't have any male shampoo." She said, shutting her eyes and blushing. "And what if you fall over?"

Then I will get back up. I am sure you have plain soap.

"I do." She added in a whisper. "I'll bring some up with a towel."

One last thing. I demand that tomorrow morning we go out and get me some decent clothes.

"Oh, you demand." She smirked at him, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't think that you are allergic to the word please, god of trickery or not."

His chest moved up and down in a chuckle. Hattie received a flash of his old grin, not from his thoughts, but from hers. Only his lips prevented him from showing that bright smile that changed his face.

"I will think about it." She used his words from their first meeting, then turned, a little bit of a smile showing on her own face. "Goodnight."