Absolution Ch. VI (ThorxLoki)

This is the End, My only Friend, The End

Lucas looks at the photo standing on his desk. It is the same one Rachel and he have standing in their living room, a picture that was taken on one of her friends' wedding. Abby was her name, if he remembers correctly.

It had been a nice, sunny day one month after he had moved in with Rachel. They had laughed a lot. And everybody had mistaken them for a couple, what had caused Rachel to blush pretty much, to the extend that he had teased her about looking like a tomato. He still remembers the sharp pain her elbows had caused when she had nudged them into his ribs. She is stronger than she looks, he'd learned that day.

He leans in and takes the photo, looks at it for a bit, lost in thoughts of that day. Rachel, his Rachel. A small whirlwind, loud mouthed and straightforward, but still delightfully surprising in some occasions. He doesn't know what he would've done without her. Not only because she'd offered him a nice home, and had helped him with finding a job, but because she is always there for him to listen when he needs to talk about something, because she would never push, and because she offers stability. Over the time of a few months she has become an important constant in his life he doesn't want to miss.

He isn't delusional, he knows that the chance of them living together forever is small. It's only a matter of time until one of them finds a partner they want to stay with, settle down, maybe marry and start a family. It would be normal. He would never deny her that, as well as she wouldn't do it in his case.

But they could stay friends. No, they will stay friends. He is sure about that. Even if he should regain his memory and find his family, she would be there, next to him, taking his hand into hers and squeeze it reassuringly.

Because Rachel is home. She is safety. She is friend and family in one person. With her he could walk through the fires of hell. He could find his past.

But does he want to?

Lucas looks at the photo, at the way they're both smiling back at him. He has his arm around her shoulders, and her head rests against his chest. An image of genuine happiness.

Rachel has given him so much that he doesn't need anything else. The blanks in his mind don't need to be filled any more. Not with his past at least.

He will get new memories, new happy moments he can save in his mind inside a file labelled Rachel & me.

So much lays in front of him. In front of them. He can't wait for it to be discovered.

Lucas puts the photo back on its place next to his computer screen. His shift is nearly over, and he starts to pack his things, but when he takes his phone, it starts chiming for attention in his hand.

Rachel, says the display, and she is smiling up at him from it, a cup of coffee in hand. It makes him smile back.

"I was just thinking of you," he says with the smile audible in his voice for a greeting when he picks up.

"Did you?" He doesn't like the sound of her voice. It is meant to sound carefree, but there is a nervous tone to it he doesn't like. "Everything all right, Rachel?"

"Yes." A pause, her silence heavy with an uncertainty uncommon for his Rachel. "Well, no, not really," she admits then.

"Did something happen? Are you all right?" He hurries to pack the rest of his stuff, suddenly feeling uneasy and concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm all right." He can't help the sigh of relief, but his feet don't cease their hurried pace through the wide corridors of the library, his footsteps offensively loud in the quietness of them. Heads turn towards him, and he feels angry gazes on his back, but chooses to ignore them. Nevertheless, he continued to talk only in a whisper. "What's going on, Rachel, you're not telling me everything, I can hear it."

Her laugh is a defeated snort. "Yes you're right." But she's still hesitant to tell him. "I just wanted to warn you, so you won't freak out when you come home, because... you have visitors." Her voice lifts a bit at the last word, more a question than a statement.

"Visitors?" The word leaves a strange taste behind, feels strange. His hands are shaking, he needs some air. The air in the library is too thick, too heavy, tastes of dust and the past, musty, suffocating. The library is a place of the past, it's there, everywhere, whispering to him, from the pages into his mind. Out. He needs to get out, get some air, feel the cold wind on his skin. Needs to breathe again.

"Lucas?" Rachel sounds concerned, and he hears her mutter, "For fucks sake! I should've kept my damn mouth shut."

"I'm still here," he tells her, his voice breathless, weak.

He pushes the door open, and finally, there is room to breathe, the wind caressing his skin, his soul with its reassuring coldness. His breath is leaving his mouth in small clouds of mist.

"Are you--"

"Yes, yes, I'm all right, no need to worry, Rachel. I'm on my way."

"Okay. Just, don't freak out, okay? And remember, I'm here."

"I know," he says and ends the call. "I know."

* * *

The woman lets her hand sink and touches the surface of the small device shortly with one finger, then it vanishes into her pocket again. Fandral is left amazed over the magic of this realm. In Asgard, one has to send a messenger to reach someone far away from them, but here, on Midgard, such a small device seems to be enough. He had thought of this realm as a primitive one, lacking the simplest of magic, but as it turns out, Midgardians use their very own form of it.

"He is on his way," she informs them, her voice shaky. He prefers her stubbornness, it suits her better than the expression of concern that has gotten a hold of her face. Her hands are shaking, he notices, as he watches her taking the cup again. His eyes flicker over to Thor, who's smile is a mixture of anticipation, hope, nervousness and anxiety, hands so tightly around Mjölnir's handle his knuckles turn white. The silence in the room is filled with nervous energy and foreboding. They do not know how Loki will react when he sees them. If it is Loki they will find opening the door, not someone else. Someone who is Rachel's friend. Someone called Lucas. Fandral is left hoping for the best.

"Thank you, Lady Rachel," he finally says to break the heavy silence between them all.

Her head jerks up, and he realizes he had ripped her out of her musings. First, she looks baffled, then her expression changes; her eyes squint and her brows furrow, a line appearing between them. Her voice is so cold that he can feel the hairs on his arm standing on end. "Don't thank me. Because if you hurt him, you should start praying to your gods."

Sif snorts, but it comes late, her hesitancy betraying her attempt of ridicule. Fandral, on the other hand, is able to recognize an honest promise. In terms of bodily strength she might be inferior to them, but willpower can turn the most delicate maiden into a fierce warrior. He nods slowly. "Understood. But be assured, we have no intention of harming your friend in any way."

"If Loki is not trying to hurt us first," Sif murmurs quietly, but Rachel seems to have the ears of a lynx. And its temper.

"Oi, shut it Tomboy! It's not Lucas' fault Mister CalvinKlein model here has no eyes for you." Only because she gestures towards Thor it is clear to them who she meant with that strange name. Fandral exchanges quick glances with his companions behind Sif's back, and sinks deeper into his chair, preparing himself for the imminent – how do they call it here on Midgard? – catfight. And Sif does look ready to pounce on Rachel; her stance is tense, her eyes narrowed, hands balled to fists. Rachel, has crossed her arms over her chest, her head tipped to the side, eyebrows drawn up in a taunting manner.

"I already told you to watch your tongue, woman! I hope for your own good that you were not implying that I harbour feelings for one of my most dearest--"

"Oh, blow me," Rachel interrupts Sif, rolling her eyes, and Fandral is convinced that this expression, however unfamiliar, is not a nice one. "Don't be so full of yourself! I don't care what you feel for anyone in this room, but I do care about the way you talk about my best friend-- how you describe him and how you look whenever someone says his name. What the hell did he do that you feel like you have to be such a bitch?"

The fierceness vanishes from Sif's face, and she even ignores the insult. She takes a step back, and her shoulders slump a bit, eyes dropping to the floor. Fandral shifts his weight uneasily in his armchair, all too aware of the sombre silence laying heavily on the room. It is not up to Sif or the Warriors Three to speak of Loki's deeds. This tale is Thor's to tell. They look at him, see him swallow uncomfortably, his thumb strokes Mjölnir's handle thoughtfully as if he needs to feel its reassuring presence to find the strength and talk.

And so he does, hesitantly, voice weak and wavering. He starts at the very beginning, with the babe that was found alone on the steps of a temple in a besieged city, in the lands of never ending winter. A Jötunn raised as prince of Asgard, wrapped in a spell so no one would know his true heritage. Thor's eyes glint with feelings of adoration and brotherly love when he talks of their time together as brothers, the tricks Loki knew to play, his talent in magic and the ways he could use his words as surely as a weapon, often painfully stabbing, at other times, though rarely, like a balm to a fresh wound. But Asgard is a realm of the power of muscles and men, of wars fought with the blunt force of weapons instead of diplomacy. Most of the time at least.

There is anger and regret in Thor's voice when he tells of the suspicion and distaste most of the Asgardians felt towards his brother, but most of it is directed at himself. Fandral can see it in the way his shoulders are slumped as if they were carrying a heavy, invisible burden around that was pressing down on him endlessly and unforgiving. Thor blames himself for Loki's fate, for the jealousy and envy that had been gnawing on Loki's mind and poisoned it with insanity, slowly, with every step Thor took towards the Throne and into the hearts of the Æsir.

"Equality, that is what Loki sought," Thor says, bitterness in his voice, his expression one of pain. "And I did not see it, too occupied as I was with my own pride."

"You could not have known what would happen," Fandral says in an attempt to lessen his friend's suffering, because he can feel Thor's pain when he looks at the way his head is lowered, the lines of worry carved into his face, the back that is usually straightened with pride and self-confidence slowly bending beneath the weight of self-blame and guilt.

But upon Fandral's words Thor's head jerks up, and his shoulders straighten again – not with confidence but with anger, and Fandral sinks as deep into the armchair as he is capable of, immediately regretting that he was not born with a talent for magic, because now he wishes he could disappear. "I could have known," Thor growls, his fingers digging into the armrests as he leans forward, towards Fandrals squirming-- no, not squirming, Fandral does not squirm, he merely sinks back into the chair as to not tempt Thor's anger more. But there is no reason to, because the wave of boiling feelings disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and Thor seems to slump down again.

"I should have known." His voice is barely above a whisper, strangled by grief. "Maybe I could have stopped him."

"Stopped him from what?" Thor flinches at the sound of Rachel's voice as if he had forgotten that she was present, and that he had indeed meant to tell the events to her. He looks up, and Fandral follows his gaze, sees her leaning against the table, her arms crossed over her chest, something small, thin and white between her fingers. There is a trail of smoke coming from the glowing tip of the white stick and the warrior watches as she brings the other end of it to her lips and sucks on it. She breathes smoke from her mouth like a dragon before she asks again, "Stop him from doing what?"

There is a pause, filled with fear of the word, of it's bitter taste, of the impact it leaves behind. Fandral's eyes flicker over to Thor, who is grinding his teeth in an attempt to crush the syllables between them, for when they are spoken it feels like it is set in stone.

"Betrayal," Volstagg finally says, and Fandral lets go of the breath he was holding.

"He lied to Thor when he was banished from Asgard," Sif goes on, but her tone is neutral, lacking all traces of grudge she feels towards Loki. "Told him their father was dead and Thor was never to return to his home and rightful place amongst us." She had walked over to Thor's side and now puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes it.

"He tricked Laufey into believing he could finally have his revenge on Odin Allfather, but then killed him," Hogun continues in Thor's stead, and Rachel looks at him, one eye-brow raised in disbelieving amusement since he had been silent the whole time they had been here. "But Laufey alone was not enough, and he went on to the Bifröst, using the bridge's power in an attempt to destroy Jötunheimr."

"And he tried killing Thor as well." Fandral shoots daggers with his eyes towards Volstagg, who shrugs and continues stuffing his face with cookies he had produced from Odin-knows-where. "But as you can see, he did not succeed, and Thor returned and stopped him from destroying the Frost Giants' realm completely. Then,... he fell," Fandral ends the sorrowful tale and they all fall silent again, the long exhales of Rachel the only sound. Even Volstagg had stopped eating for a short while.

Rachel is not looking at them, but follows the twirling movements of the smoke she blows from her lungs with her eyes, biting her lips while she is lost in thought. The small white stick slowly burns to its end and she crushes the ember in a small plate filled with ash and more remains of the glowing sticks. Then she sighs and rubs her temples, her eyes closed. "I can't believe you."

"I know this is hard to believe for a Midgardian." Thor is sympathetic, it is not his first encounter with a human and their simple ways of denying things that they had not come to see yet.

"No, you don't understand, Thor." His name is spoken with a sharp sound to it, and there is uncertainty, confusion and disbelief glinting in her eyes. "You are speaking of magic and gods, and... and... giants and--" She throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. "Rainbow Bridges between worlds. It is insane. It is against everything I believe in, everything I know. Against the laws of science. I just can't--"

She is interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock. Thor jumps immediately to his feet, his posture tense, his jaw set, and his eyes fixated on the door.

Everyone, even Rachel, is holding their breath when the door finally, and painfully slowly opens.

***

With every new thing Thor talks about, Rachel questions his sanity more. Magic. Giants. Norse Gods being alive. It was ridiculous.

Her coffee has already gone cold, so she exchanges it for a cigarette, desperately needing something to do with her hands, to stop them from shaking. These people are not right in their heads. She has a hard time trying not to snort a disbelieving laughter. Rainbow Bridges!

Rainbow Bridges. A bridge between worlds, Bifröst.

"--and Thor returned and stopped him from destroying the Frost Giants' realm completely," Fandral says and she pricks up her ears.

'We were fighting on a bridge gleaming in all the colours of the rainbow.' That is what Lucas had told her the first time he talked about his dreams. 'The blond man-- my brother, he wanted to stop me from... from destroying... something.' Jötunheimr.

The words echo in her mind, bounce of her skull. It can't be true. No it can't-- this is crazy, there is no such thing as Norse Gods. No Odin Allfather, no Asgard, no Thor... No Loki.

And still they are sitting here, claiming they are gods from another world, here to rescue one of their own. To bring him back to their home. This here is serious insanity, but she can't tell any more if it is they who are insane, or if she had lost her mind in the last hour or so since they had been standing in front of her door. Maybe insanity was contagious after all...

"Against the laws of science. I can't--" she stops immediately when she hears the familiar sound of a key turning in a lock. For a moment, time slows down, and Rachel turns towards the door. She fears what is about to happen, fears for Lucas, because she does not know what exactly is going to happen. What they will do, what Thor will do when he thinks he has found his brother, what Lucas will do. What it will do to him, to his mind.

What is she herself supposed to do?!

For now she is just standing there, rooted to the very spot, her eyes wide and locked at the slowly opening door. She watches as it gives way to Lucas standing there, in the door frame, his hand still on the handle, the other clinging to the keys he's holding as if they could help him through this.

For the time of a heart beat, nobody is moving.

Then time returns to its usual pace, and Rachel sees Lucas blinking in disbelieve, scrutinizing the visitors until his eyes find the blond man standing in the middle of the room, frozen in his steps. Something flashes up in Lucas eyes, something like recognition--

"Brother!" Thor's voice is a strangled sob composed of too many feelings; delight, pain, sorrow, pure joy, relief. It is too much, and he moves forward and in an instant he is in front of Lucas, and Rachel jumps, because she doesn't know what else to do, because it is all too much and she doesn't want her friend to get hurt, and please don't hurt him.

And then Thor's muscular arms close around Lucas' slender form and he presses him to his broad chest, one hand caught in the long black strands of hair. The blond buries his face in the crook of his brother's (or not brother's – Rachel doesn't know what's right and what's wrong any more) neck, and she can see that he inhales deeply, murmuring something that's muffled by the skin and hair, so all she hears is the deep voice of the man, and in all this craze she is reminded of a purring cat. Lucas seems to be as helpless as herself, because he just stands her, dumbstruck, his face pressed against this blond man's shoulder so that she can only see his eyes, opened wide. All in all he looks too overwhelmed to do anything.

Then his arms move, and Rachel thinks for a second he's going to push the taller man away, but they hesitantly come to a rest on Thor's sides, grip the red fabric of the ridiculous red cape. Slowly, Lucas' eyes close and his features relax.

Rachel lets go of the breath she has been holding for far too long, and there is a heavy weight lifting off her heart. Maybe everything will be all right...

Thor slowly, carefully, as if he fears his brother would disappear again if he moved too fast or hastily, leans back and takes Lucas' face in both hands, looks him over for any harm, softly caressing the pale skin with his thumbs. "Brother," he says again, whispers it to him in a way that tells Rachel the blond man had been waiting a long time for this. There are tears rolling down the sides of his face and the nurse feels like she is invading an intimate moment between the two brothers, standing face to face, eye in eye. Thor's hands slide down to the sides of Lucas' neck, but his thumbs don't stop stroking his face softly, exploring something he had missed for so long. They draw along his jawline up to his earlobe, and in the back of Rachel's head there is a small voice asking if this might still be considered appropriate for brothers, even if they hadn't seen each other in a long time.

Lucas slowly lifts his shaking hand until it closes around the wrist of his brother, never letting go of the other's eyes with his own, and Rachel can't fight down the hope blooming in her stomach. Maybe everything will be all right.

"Thor." He says the name slowly, as if it was a word in a language he had long forgotten, his mouth forming the syllable with uncertainty. Thor gasps when he hears his name, and there are unshed tears glinting in Lucas' eyes. A strangled sob escapes his lips, and he lets his head sink, leans in until his forehead rests against his brother's chest, and more sobs follow. A tanned hand strokes over black hair, trying to comfort. "Everything is all right, Loki, everything is all right." It is a mantra repeated by the blond man, for the sake of his brother, and for his own.

But the sobs do not stop. The trembling does not cease, and Rachel sees the way Lucas' grip around Thor's wrist tightens, how his knuckles turn white, and she knows, she knows what is happening.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" she screeches and jumps towards the two men.

***

Brother. He had called him Brother. Lucas knows this man, he had seen him in his dreams. Blond and strong and usually proud, but then hanging over the edge of the shattered bridge, holding the staff to which his brother clung for dear life.

"Thor." That is his name, he knows it. Thor Odinson. And Loki, that is his. Loki Odinson.

No. That isn't right. No, not Odinson.

Laufeyson. A voice in his mind whispers, a cruel hiss. Laufeyson, Frost Giant, child of winter.

Slowly, the door in the back of his mind opens with a creak that sets his teeth on edge, and images pour out, fill his mind – two boys running along hand in hand through vast halls, laughter, blond hair, black hair, a mirror image of himself but without a mirror to exist, moving on its own, fire licking on his hands, but he feels no pain, again laughter, but this time he does not laugh with them, a ballad he sings to the blond boy, a broad back turned towards him, the pain, the pang inside him and then wrath, burning hotter than fire consuming, too much, too much too much...

No air. Can't breathe. Too much.

A high-pitched scream. Rachel. More screaming, a name. Lucas.

Then darkness.

***

Thor startles when he hears the woman scream, and she is at his side in an instant, tries to push him away from his brother, fingers scratching over metal in search for leverage. "Get away from him!" she says again, and he does not understand. Why? He has finally found his brother again, had felt his skin that was cold compared to his own, had smelled the dust of old books, of magic that was Loki. Why would she want to take this – take him away from Thor?

Suddenly she is lifted up and dragged away, and she screams and squirms and scratches and bites, but Fandral doesn't loosen his grip around her waist.

"Let go of me! LUCAS! Let go, you--! I NEED TO HELP HIM!"

And then Thor sees it. Notices that Loki hasn't stopped shaking, that he is not sobbing, but gasping for air, that the grip around his wrist weakens, and then his brother collapses in a heap. Thor sinks to his knees and manages to catch him before his head can hit the floor, but what he sees when he turns his brother around fills him with dread. Loki is as pale as if he is with sickness, beads of cold sweat on his forehead and running down his temples into his hair, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth grinding fiercely, his face a grimace of pain. "Loki," Thor gasps, and shakes him softly. "Loki, open your eyes. Loki, please."

A small hand appears in his line of sight, and there is the Midgard woman, kneeling opposite of him, her hand coming to a halt on Loki's forehead. Fandral must have let go of her when they saw Loki falling to the ground. Thor wants to shove her away, what good could she do? But then he sees her face, the determination, the strength glinting in her eyes. Her hands pull on his brother's scarf, loosen it and Thor watches her opening the jacket. "Lay him down," she says, no orders, but he doesn't realize at first who she's talking to, until he feels a small hand coming down hard on his cheek and looks up to see her looking at him, her eyes piercing and cold. "Lay. Him. Down. NOW!"

To his own surprise he does as the woman tells him and carefully releases the shaking form of his brother. "He's having some kind of seizure," she says, more to herself than anyone else, and bites her lower lip. "Give him space!" she suddenly barks at Thor and he is so baffled that he stumbles to his feet again and takes a step back, but he can't bring himself to bring too much distance between the shaking form of his brother and himself. He can do nothing more than stare as the woman fumbles with his shirt and opens the buttons on his collar and then rolls him on his side.

"Lucas," she says, softly and with a calmness that leaves Thor astonished. She is waiting for a reaction, her eyes fixated on Loki's face, searching. The blond god feels a hand on his shoulder and looks to his left, where Sif is standing. Behind her he can make out the faces of the Warrior's Three, all wearing the same expression of fear and surprise. He wished he could just look away and at his friends, but his brother is drawing his eyes back to his violently trembling form. Thor just wants it to stop.

And it does. There is a gasp, and the shaking stops as suddenly as it has started. Fandral sighs in relief, but Thor sees the look on Rachel's face as she leans in over Loki and brings her ear up to his mouth. Her brows furrow, and now Thor hears the breathless mumbling, sees the faint movement of his brother's lips. He's on his knees before he even realizes that he moved, greedy for the sound of Loki's voice, for him to say that everything was all right.

"Brother?" Thor asks silently and holds his breath.

"--away," Loki breathes, and Rachel shakes her head, signals him that she hadn't understood as well.

"What?" The blond god whispers, and reaches out for his brother's hand. He wanted to take it, squeeze it, show him that he wasn't alone, that Thor was here, and he would take him home, where he was save.

Loki's eyes were still closed, but relaxed, and he cleared his throat, licked his lips to make his voice return. "I said," he begins, and suddenly his lids shoot open with one quick movement and he looks directly at Thor. "GO AWAY!"

He should have know it. He should have seen it in his eyes when he opened them. The way they pierced through Thor, the anger, the hatred, the pain boiling inside them. He had thought as soon as he would have found his brother, everything would be all right, and the problem would disappear into nothingness.

How could he have been so foolish?

There is the prickling of magic around them, and Thor can do nothing more than turn his head away before he is lifted into the air and thrown across the room. He hears gasps of pain and surprise, the shatter of porcelain, a scream that is abruptly brought to its end by a thud and a sickening crack. He feels his back connecting painfully with something hard that gives in before he is thrown further against the wall.

It is over in a second, and Thor feels a throbbing pain spreading at the back of his head. He grunts and opens his eyes, ignores the stars dancing in his vision. Stumbling, he comes to his feet, steadying himself on the edge of the table that had been flipped over by his own body. "Sif," he growls and receives a painful moan as an answer, but when he looks in the direction it came from, he sees her scrambling up, unharmed apart from a few scratches. "Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral!"

His friends are scattered over the room, but they look fine enough that he hasn't worry about their well-being. Immediately, his eyes search the spot where Loki had just laid on, but it is empty and there is no trace of his brother. Or the woman.

He remembers the scream. The thud and the crack. The crack of bones. What Loki did was merely a distraction to flee, he hadn't attempted to kill the Asgardians, it needed more than that to actually harm them. But, they hadn't been the only ones in the room. Slowly, Thor's eyes wander over the floor towards the open door Rachel had knelt in front of when she was tending to Loki. It led to the hall way and there he saw her legs sprawled out in an awkward position, her left leg turned to the side in a way only a dislocated hip could make possible. Her torso, then her right shoulder, disfigured, her arm hanging limply. Her head, drooping, giving way to a red flower of blood spreading out at its back. There was a smeared trail of blood leading towards her from the highest point of the wall.

"LOOOOKIII!!" Thor screams and runs out of the flat and around the corner into the hallway, a peal of thunder following his voice and filling the air with electricity.

***

"Volstagg! Look after Rachel!" Fandral barks as he runs off, following Sif and Hogun, who took off after Thor.

Volstagg does not feel well when he looks down on the limp body of the girl. He might be a warrior, but seeing an innocent being wounded – or worse – is nothing he can take lightly. Especially not since this young woman had given everything to protect Loki from them. And how did the trickster thank her for it? By throwing her against a wall, that's how. He sighs and crouches down beside her, combs the renegade strands of hair away from her face.

To his surprise and relief she flinches and draws a shuddering breath. "Lucas...," she breaths, and it makes Volstaggs hair stand on end, for it sounds more like the whisper of a ghost than a young woman. "Hush now, girl," he says, and carefully cradles her into her arms. "Everything will be all right."