Chapter 4.
Jane's laboratory wasn't far away, but having to drag a drunken Selvig slowed him down more than he would have liked. It was a good exercise, though, one that allowed him to process all the food he had eaten that night. Loki had managed to overeat, not only the patron who had challenged him, but also two other men. A fourth contestant tried to approach and take the challenge, but the bar owner had stepped in and stopped the contest, saying that they had almost depleted his supplies. Selvig's drunkenness (partly encouraged by Loki himself) helped blur those memories so that the scientist couldn't recount any accurate detail of that night. Being a fast eater was one of Loki's most prominent abilities, but also one he never told too many people about, for it could ruin many bets.
He knocked on the trailer's door, presuming Jane to be awake, judging by the light inside. The girl opened in a hurry, and whatever she was about to say was replaced by a horrified gasp when she saw Selvig.
"Erik!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"
"He's only drunk," Loki chuckled. "Seems like he had his share of celebration. Where does he sleep?"
Jane hurried them inside where Loki dropped Selvig on her bed. The older man woozily opened his eyes and smiled at the girl.
"Hey Jane!" he saluted her, to then look at Loki. "I shtill can't believe you are Loki, but you shure have a shilver tongue and a quick jaw."
Thankfully he drifted back to sleep before he could say anything more, and Jane seemed not to have heard it.
It was only then that Loki became aware of the disarray inside the trailer, and how self-conscious Jane was al of a sudden. She tried her best to hide the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, but throwing a rag over them nearly sent them crashing to the floor. Her agitation distracted her from seeing the stains of grease on Loki's clothes.
To avoid her further mortification, and to let Selvig snore in peace, Loki accepted her invitation to go to the lab's roof. Around a brazier, two beach hammocks were neatly arranged; there was a telescope nearby, and next to it was a small, folding stool served as seating. Such meager furniture was the only things that Coulson's men had left untouched.
"I come here when I can't sleep," she explained as she gave him one of the blankets she had taken from the trailer. "Or when I have to reconcile particle data, or when Darcy is driving me up the wall," she chuckled, lighting up the brazier. "Now that I think of it, I come here a lot."
"Every brilliant mind needs a retreat," Loki said as they sat together.
She smiled but, at the same time, she looked at him quizzically, as if trying to make out anything about him.
"I'm glad you are ok," she said.
"Thank you," he took something out from his jacket. "I couldn't take anything more with me, I'm sorry."
She looked at the small book in bewilderment.
"It's… I…" she stammered. "It's fantastic! Now I won't have to start from scratch! Thank you so much!"
He handed her the book, amused by her childish enthusiasm. But her expression darkened very soon.
"What's wrong?"
"SHIELD," she said. "Whatever they are, they won't let this investigation come out to the light."
"Maybe," he ventured. "But you are not going to let them strip you off from your life's work, are you?"
"It's not only mine," she leafed absentmindedly through the book. "It's also my father's."
"All the more reason to do it," he said. "Besides, you were this close to find out the truth."
"How do you know? You said you had nothing to do with anything of it."
"Jane," he hesitated. "What if I wasn't what I told you?"
"Like a conman who only plays along with what I say?" she said, her eyes on the book, but without actually reading anything. "I heard what Erik told you on the caravan, about the quick jaw. "And now the inheritance thing. Who are you?"
"I…" he sighed. "My real name is Loki."
"Like the norse god? The god of lies?"
"I've been visiting your world more than once, and that gives one time to grow certain fame. I was called the god of lies because I could conjure illusions, things that were not there. But now my magic is sealed."
"And that's why you look like your ancestor," she mused. "Because it's you."
"The inheritance is money that I left for myself in case I wanted to spend some time here, or things went awry," he smiled humorlessly. "It has been the latter."
"So, Loki, then," she extended her hand. "Please to finally meet you."
He laughed openly.
"You never trusted a world that I said."
"The data never lies."
"But, even if you witnessed the Bifrost I couldn't trust that you believed me."
He took the book from her hands and searched for a page in particular.
"I hadn't realized at first," he said. "But you already have all the pieces, except one."
"Which is…"
"Destination," he smiled, taking the pen attached to the book. "Ever wondered where does that path would lead you?"
"Well…" she frowned, trying to remember. "The photos showed that the stars didn't correspond to ours, so the only logical conclusion is that it leads to another place in the Universe."
"Good enough. Now, have you read anything about what I told you?"
"Yes, I mean, what does that have to do with this? Erik was like mad, saying that those were just fairytales."
"Maybe he won't be saying such things in the near future," Loki ventured, still feeling an uncomfortable pressure on his waist. "What if I told you that your Einstein-Rosen Bridge was actually the Bifrost? What if Asgard wasn't a legend, but an advanced civilization which protected your people when they were still living in wooden cottages and hunting for a living?"
Jane looked at him wide eyed, but said nothing.
Loki chose a blank page and started writing down equations.
He spoke to her about her theory, but then he completed it with the pieces the Asgardians had uncovered millennia ago to build the Bifrost. It would have taken her an additional lifetime to reach the theory for an unstable prototype, brilliant as she was. Then he drew Iggdrassil, and the Nine Realms and spoke to her about their worlds and how Asgard had been guarding them.
Then he described Asgard: The Palace's glorious golden spires reaching for the clear sky; the sinuous cobbled streets of the city below, which paths were broken at intervals by squares where fountains of mother-of-pearl and gold murmured their incessant, crystalline song; gardens on perennial spring, home to sweet-voiced birds from other Realms; the lakes, waterfalls, the endless green meadows outside the city; the dark and ancient forests which still held long-forgotten secrets; the intricate structures which would be impossible to recreate in any other realm, for they were supported by a magic which was ancient as Asgard itself and, as he spoke, the memories and the thoughts he had been pushing away during that day came back to him.
Without realizing it, he was describing the feeling of the breeze against his skin before the day broke and he stood on the tallest spire to behold the dawn; the play of colors on the sky and the sea as the day died and the stars appeared one by one; the crashing of emerald, aquamarine and sapphire waves on deserted beaches of white sand; the rumor of the wind when it caressed the golden and silver leaves of sacred trees, and the fruits they bore, not to be touched by mortal lips; the noisy evenings at the feasting halls, filled with the sweet aroma of mead and roasting meat, and with the sound of crackling fires, of laugher, music and songs about heroic deeds, and how sometimes it was best to get out into the chilly air to clear one's head from the liquor's influence, to then linger into the night's serene embrace until it was time to reenter into the suffocating atmosphere and start over again, or wander far away, to where silence would allow either some peaceful recollection or aimless drifting of the mind.
It all came to him, all those cherished days of careless youth, when the Universe itself seemed to bow to them: the two princes of Asgard, Mjolnir and Sorcery, power and cunning combined in an unstoppable force, or so they had believed in their conceit. Everything was now lost to him, all that he had known and loved dearly, for Odin had forsaken him without any hope of redemption.
"Loki," Jane whispered, startling him. Her hand was on his arm.
He felt as if someone had awoken him in the middle of the night. The fire on the brazier had nearly died out and now she was throwing some pieces of wood into it.
"You zoned out,"
"Sorry," he rubbed his brow. "I was supposed to teach you a lot of things and got derailed instead."
"You told me enough," she said, putting her hand on his arm again, this time with a reassuring squeeze, though she withdrew as soon as he raised his eyes to meet hers.
"I think we should go to sleep," she said, going to the other hammock and arranging her blanket.
He smiled tiredly while observing her, noticing her colored cheeks. Soon he also made himself comfortable and prepared to spend the night there. His arms and legs ached and seemed to weight trice than normal, but he knew he would have a hard time sleeping.
The stars were familiar to him, if only because he had been visiting Midgard so often. As he gazed at them, he felt something more powerful than nostalgia. He felt betrayed. He had been brought up believing a lie, that he had a family, that he belonged to a race of proud warriors and savants, of protectors, to then discover that he was one of those "monsters" Asgardians hated so much.
The moment Laufey heard the name of Odin, a fire of rage and hatred shone in his eyes, and he wouldn't stop calling him a thief and a murderer. Maybe Odin took him, Loki, as another prize, or as a prisoner of war to ensure the treaty was kept. Then, why having him believe himself as part of the royal family? He couldn't take that question out of his mind, or the events that led to his current predicament.
"I was banished from Asgard," he said aloud, still looking at the stars.
There was movement on the other chair.
"My-" he stopped. Suddenly the word father was impossible to say aloud. "The king of Asgard tasked me with guarding his son. Babysitting, more like. He's a powerful warrior, but too reckless and too stupid at times. Drunk in power and fame, and also appointed to succeed his father.
"He's not ready yet, and won't be for a long time. I tried warning his father, the King, but my words fell on deaf ears. I had to act. I provoked his rage so he would do something forbidden, visiting a word that was off limits to us. It all went well but," he chuckled mirthlessly. "The King is anything but stupid and he discovered the ruse. He sealed my magic and my longevity, and stranded me here until I die."
Jane said nothing, and Loki supposed she had fallen asleep. He cursed himself for being so open with someone he barely knew, especially in a world where people were so ignorant about life in the universe.
"Why would you help me, then?" she asked.
"What?" he turned his head towards her.
"If you are helping me with my investigation," Jane's eyes were fixed on the starry sky. "Isn't it to return to your home?"
There was a long pause then. She was right, what would he do then? He was no longer an Asgardian citizen, if Odin had punished him as severely as he thought. Heimdall would turn him away if not worse, and using brute force was out of the question, for it would imply gathering an army and starting a war with Asgard which would be doomed from the beginning.
"I have no home. Not anymore," he said at last. "Helping Midgardians is one way to earn a place here."
But on his mind he began to understand why Thor was the heir to the throne. It wasn't because he was the firstborn, it was because Thor had been an only child all along; and Loki had been kept away from any secrets not because they were restricted to the heir. It had to be it, that Odin was conscious all the time about Loki being a Frost Giant: a monster, thus subjected to its own brutal instinct.
Once a monster, always a monster.
If only it was something he could discard, but he couldn't tear his flesh open and rip whatever it was that made him different away. It was something he felt ashamed of, but he couldn't do anything to remedy it either.
The bitterness of it welled up on his throat, nearly chocking him: All his efforts to please, to be the good son, the one who, not only caused the smallest amount of trouble for his parents, but was also the one who so often fixed what Thor ruined… all had been doomed from the beginning. He hadn't been wanted, only kept alive and under surveillance for who knew which reasons, and then discarded when the treaty had been voided.
There was no reason for him to go back to Asgard, not now that he was but a mere mortal, destined to fade and disappear in a few years. He had neither the means nor the power to go back to his old home and face Odin.
But he could be king elsewhere. Heimdall was always watching over the Realms, after all. If he, Loki, could govern Midgard, or at least a great part of it, and keep peace in the same way that Odin did in the Nine Realms, he might prove that he wasn't a monster. He would die anyway, but he would do so laughing at Odin's face with his last breath, as the Frost Giant who ruled over Midgard, and the one who showed the path to Asgard and the rest of Yggdrasil to Humankind.
Loki raised his hands before his eyes. The hands which had woven so many spells, which had felled so many enemies, now stood impotent and weak as any mortal's. But, unlike mortals, he still had the knowledge and wisdom of many generations of them.
He could raise an Empire out of nothing, and write his name on History in such a way that future generations would remember him as a legend.
Yes, he could do that.