Fandral asks Loki to talk following his resurrection by Stevie. Loki obliges. They have a tense conversation about recent
events.
⚠
Discussion of death, insinuated touch PTSD
Though in reality it had only been a matter of hours since Fandral’s (second) demise, he couldn’t tell if it felt shorter or longer somehow. One moment he’d been fading, grasping at the wound the beast had made of his stomach and the next he was waking up on a patch of grass in the shade of an old building. That had not been where he’d died, and a look to the network of what he had missed over the last twenty-four hours or so told him that Loki had taken matters into his own hands to move his remains, as well as Wynonna’s.
He needed to thank him for that, even if it seemed a bit of a moot point now.
Grateful that Loki had agreed to come spend time with him, Fandral dressed down in a pair of Derleth marked sweatpants and a t-shirt. He’d had half a mind to wear a hoodie, to cover his newly pink colored skin as much as he could, but he didn’t have the energy to care just then. Perhaps Loki wouldn’t care, either.
Staying quiet was still important though -- this week felt longer than usual with the addition of the creatures outside of the walls. So he waited by the door to his quad for Loki and once he arrived, he let him in and then quietly led him back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them as softly as he could so that it would hardly make a sound.
Fandral was tired, though not physically. The idea of sleep didn’t seem to appeal to him much. Neither did food, though he had the container Natasha had brought by that had a peanut butter sandwich in it for him sitting on his nightstand. His skin felt cooler than normal, and he could swear that his heart was barely beating. How was he alive? That would be a question for Stevie, if she even knew the answer.
Still. He looked exhausted. Drained. The joy that normally radiated from Fandral seemed nearly non-existent just then, though he managed a small half-hearted smile for Loki when he’d greeted him wordlessly.
Admittedly Loki didn’t really want to leave the little fort he’d constructed for himself on Natasha’s floor. It had become a nice private space for him while she was out-and-about doing her hero duties. Duties Loki didn’t agree with, but he wasn’t really in a position to tell her what to do. Taking care of the people of Derleth was her new mission. He understood. He really did. It was good to have a focus. To have a cause. Loki needed a focus, too. But first he had to get over his feelings. He still hadn’t come to terms with the situation with Julia. He still didn’t know what to do. Well, he knew the right thing to do, but he wavered anyway. Why? Because Loki was selfish. And because he didn’t know if the right thing was really a good thing. Giving Julia back her shade was fair and just, but it was also cruel.
It was a conundrum.
And Loki didn’t really want to interact with people until he’d resolved that problem. Then, of course, there were the recent ups-and-downs he’d had with Fandral. They still had a lot of things that they needed to talk about, but it never seemed to be the right time. Either Loki was dying or Fandral was dying or some other emotional event was happening. It was all a bit overwhelming. And Loki just wanted to lie on the floor in his pile of pillows and blankets and his halfhearted attempt at making a tent — so Natasha could have her privacy when she was in the room — and just be alone.
But Fandral was his friend and he was in pain. And he knew Fandral would have done the same for him. Well, Fandral would have done more for him. But being there was the best Loki could do at the moment. So, that’s what he did.
Loki’s smile was equally as small when he entered the room. But at least it was honest. He, too, was clad in something comfortable and quiet. It was funny how quickly he was adapting to the t-shirt and sweatpants he found in the Theatre. How very un-Loki of him. It made him wonder who he even was anymore.
He leaned up against the dresser and did his best to avoid telling Fandral how atrocious that shade of pink was. Which actually wasn’t too hard because he was trying to keep his words to a minimum on account of the monsters.
To be fair, Fandral wasn’t in much of a state to want to interact with people right now either. Usually he would be something of a social butterfly, but as it stood, he just wanted to stay in his quarters alone for the remainder of the week.
Well, not entirely alone. He wanted Loki there with him and he was grateful he’d agreed to come and see him, even if it wasn’t going to be much of a conversation. Butler Hall was the safest place in this world for any of them, but it wasn’t entirely protected against the creatures outside, he was sure of it. So any conversation would have to be kept as quiet as possible, but even then he wasn’t positive that whispering was safe.
He wished he could put them both in one of Stevie’s bubbles so that they could talk a bit more freely.
Still, he wasn’t much in the mood to talk, either. Perhaps it had been stupid to ask Loki to come by, to keep him company, when he had no desire to actually discuss anything. Fandral quietly crossed over to his bed and glanced over at the other man as he sank down onto the edge of the mattress with a heaviness to his body language that wasn’t seen often at all. Fandral was quite aware of how ridiculous he looked, though a part of him felt as if he had no right to be bothered by his delicate mauve appearance -- at least he was alive again. No one else that had perished so far that week could say as much.
Was it better to be alive again in this world, though? Struck with grief and guilt in a place where he couldn’t make a noise without risking not only his life again, but the lives of everyone else. He almost wished Stevie had let him be, even if it seemed to bring her some sense of comfort to know that she’d managed to at least spare one life (as much as she could, anyway).
Yes, Fandral did look ridiculous, but Loki thought his fixation on the change of his physical appearance was an insipid waste of energy and emotion. That’s what he’d tried to express to Fandral earlier on the net board. Fandral was pink, but he was also alive. The same could not be said for many others. Likewise, the change would only last for a few more days. And so it struck Loki, who had also died again recently, as somewhat selfish to be concerned about one’s physical appearance when a poor woman’s body lay decapitated behind the gym.
But he wouldn’t say anything about that. He’d already spoken his mind on that topic. Fandral would have to work it out within himself.
Loki’s thoughts drifted back to the day before when he’d quietly moved the bodies on the lawn to their temporary resting place out of sight of Butler Hall. He’d done his best to give Wynonna some form of respectful positioning, but that wasn’t easy when the body wasn’t in a single piece. Hopefully she wasn’t too emotionally damaged when she woke up after the reset. Loki had only been stabbed and he was really struggling to keep it together. He couldn’t imagine what she would be feeling in a few days.
Assuming she came back at all. Loki still had his doubts about that being a law that Derleth would continue abiding by.
Loki fidgetted. Then, after a pause, he made his way over to the bed and sat down beside Fandral. Close, but not too close. Loki was still having some wary aftereffects of his death and intimate touch was one of them. Once he caught Fandral’s glance, he slowly mouthed a silent sentence: ‘I’m glad you came back.’
It wasn’t just the fact that he was now pink -- however temporary it may have been -- that was bothering him. Truthfully, that was the least of his concerns but it seemed the easiest option when confronted with whether he was alright or not. No, he wasn’t alright. It was worse than waking up every week and feeling phantom daggers in your chest, a fact that seemed to weigh on him more heavily with every reset. Now he had the added memory of the damage that creature had done to him, the fresh memory of his life fading away and then nothing.
Nothing.
There’d been no Valhalla. Again. No great hall where he would see Volstagg and Horun again, his fellow warriors who had also perished at the hand of Odin’s daughter. Loki claimed it was because he’d died in a time loop this time. Fandral was struggling to find comfort in that.
How was he meant to cope with it when he’d put so much faith into what awaited him after death for hundreds of years? He was a warrior and twice now he’d died in battle, and yet...
Derleth was his reward, apparently.
Fandral’s expression could only be described as dejected as he looked at his fellow Asgardian. The only piece of home that mattered. He tried to give him another smile, but it faltered and he nodded slightly in response before mouthing back: ’I am, too.’ There was a pause and he breathed in slowly before letting it out in a gradual, quiet sigh. ’I should not have gone.’
Loki wanted to slap Fandral. And he would have if he could have done so without making any noise. Instead he simply rolled his eyes. This he didn’t try to hide. Part of him understood Fandral’s depression, his self-loathing, but part of him was just annoyed. How many times did he have to repeat the same thing over and over? Not that Loki had any right to complain. He was guilty of that as well. But he was Loki. He was the villain in their story. Fandral was supposed to bounce back, not lead them on an endless merry-go-round. Round and round and round again.
He should have been more compassionate. More sympathetic. And maybe if Julia hadn’t stabbed him in the chest after a rendezvous of passionate lovemaking, he would have been. But Loki was just so sick and tired of everyone and everything. And he was all out of compassion. For everyone.
Loki stood up from the bed and paced in front of the dresser. Then he made his way over to the window and peeked outside. No sign of any creatures. Perhaps people were finally beginning to realize the importance of staying inside. The world didn’t need anymore heroes, after all.
He placed his hands on his hips and glanced back at Fandral. This time he spoke aloud. It was a whisper but an urgent one. “I sympathize with your plight, Fandral. I really do. But if you’re going to continue with this self-deprecating behavior then I’m going to leave. It’s not personal. I just can’t deal with that right now. I’d rather not speak a word for the rest of the week than hear another I-should-have-this or I-should-have-that.”
An eye roll from Loki wasn’t an uncommon thing to witness, but when he finally turned to more or less chide him for his current mood and mental state, a wounded look crossed his features. He’d been brought back from death and the one person he wanted to be around was threatening to leave because of his behavior.
He should have realized that perhaps now had not been a good time for Loki, either, and he did not verbally respond, at least not yet.
They had both been through more than either of them deserved in the last handful of days — first Loki had been killed by someone whose identity remained unknown and now Fandral was having to deal with the consequences of his own actions. “I am sorry,” he replied finally, his voice a whisper. “I will say nothing further if it will keep you here with me.” Perhaps that seemed a pathetic offer, especially coming from Fandral, but he would rather have Loki’s company than not and if that meant remaining silent the rest of the day, so be it.
Loki should have added apologies to his list of things he didn’t want to hear anymore, but it was probably a waste of breath. Breath and sound. Fandral was apparently made of apologies. Perhaps that was just part of his makeup and moral compass. Or maybe it was just Loki, always doing something that forced Fandral into another apology. He was chastising a man who’d just come back to life, after all. That wasn’t exactly the most affectionate and understanding response from a friend. Let alone a lover. Which Loki was even if he refused to admit it.
A weary but silent sigh fell from his lips. Loki wrapped his arms around his own torso. He didn’t know what to do. If Fandral hadn’t seen his dead body the previous week then he could have pretended that he was fine. He could have put up an illusion, one made to display his strength and confidence. A facade to hide his fears, grief, and vulnerability. But Fandral had seen him. Loki wasn’t able to keep the secret of his death from his two friends and as such he couldn’t hide how affected he was by it. And he was affected. Perhaps more than he had been by his true death.
He wanted to change. He wanted to move forward. Derleth offered an opportunity for Loki to be the version of himself that he never could be while under the shadow of his father and Thor. It was a chance to start over. And yet he continued to make the same mistakes over and over.
He continued to hurt himself and the people he cared about.
Loki stepped closer to the bed so Fandral could better hear him when he whispered. “I understand the pain of a violent death. It takes something from you. From us especially because we’re so accustomed to being the strongest. But you gave your life to protect someone, Fandral. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t have even thought to risk their lives for the sake of a stranger. What you did…”
Loki shook his head. “It hurts me to hear you belittle yourself for being a hero. There are those of us who have spent our lives wishing we could have those altruistic instincts. You dishonor yourself and your legacy. And you dishonor the life you saved by behaving this way. How do you think Dan would feel to hear you say you shouldn’t have gone out there? I’m a villain and even I know that’s hurtful.”
Loki dropped his arms to his side. “I’ll stay, but only if you stop and think about what you did and not what happened. Reflect on the goodness of your actions. A man is alive because of you. That means something.”
He knew how he sounded talking the way he was regarding his actions. He had saved Dan, certainly -- the other man would never have to know the trauma of being ripped apart by one of those alien beasts. That was a very good thing, certainly, but still Fandral struggled to balance that with what had happened, ultimately.
There was also a sense of irony to be found in Loki being the one trying to talk sense into him. Or at least he thought there was.
Still, his lower lip trembled a little at his words and he lowered his head, looking down at his lap and picking almost nervously at the hem of the t-shirt he wore. He felt almost pitiful sitting there like that. Trying not to let himself cry in front of him again. Fandral had always been a more vulnerable sort, but even he knew this was starting to become too routine.
Perhaps it was simply because he was never being given the chance to cope with the things that happen, week after week. It was exhausting, emotionally and physically. Without a sense of normalcy, things just always seemed to fall apart eventually. He liked adventure, but he also liked routine and nothing about Derleth allowed for that, to say the least.
Fandral swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked a few times, shoving the flood of anger and hurt down as best he could, though his eyes were still glistening when he finally glanced back up toward Loki. “I appreciate your words,” he replied quietly, his eyes redirecting away from him a moment later and back down toward the floor. “It means more to me that you think that than you would know, even though you do not speak highly of the heroic type very often.”
Loki pursed his lips. He really wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle this conversation. He still hadn’t processed his own issues. Truthfully he didn’t know if he ever would. But Loki knew his physical and mental strengths very well. He was aware of what he was capable of withstanding. And if he could handle the years long torture of being under Thanos’s control and the eventual death which ended his true life, then he could handle what Julia had done to him. Hel, he could probably handle anything. Which meant that, at the very least, he could push aside his own problems and give Fandral the focus he needed. Because maybe Fandral didn’t have that same strength. Maybe he wasn’t capable of setting his emotions aside, building a barrier around his heart, and focusing on the task at hand. The mission.
Loki was capable of that. He could do it. He’d done it before and he would no doubt do it again. And even though it chipped away a bit of his resolve every time he refused to acknowledge his own hurt, he did it anyway. He’d hoped, of course, that this week would be different. That he might actually have time to work through his feelings and reflect on his relationships. But then Natasha and Fandral admitted to knowing someone had murdered him. Then the creatures came. Then he crossed paths with Sylvie. Then Fandral died. Then Fandral came back to life. And now Fandral needed someone to be strong for him. And Loki was the best option, it seemed. In the end there simply wasn’t enough time for Loki to reflect on anything.
Maybe next week would be better.
Maybe never.
“It is precisely because I know how infrequently I praise those people that I know how much it means to you,” Loki said, practically beneath his breath. He glanced to the nightstand where the peanut butter sandwich sat untouched. Loki could guess who’d brought him that. He’d recently been on the receiving end of Natasha’s peanut butter sandwich story. “You should eat that. And you should rest.”
Fandral had the ability to set his emotions aside when absolutely necessary, usually in the midst of a battle, or at least channeling those emotions into something more useful in situations such as that -- like anger. But more often than not, he was someone who was very in tune with what he was feeling and in moments like this, he hated that. He wondered to himself sometimes how Loki was able to shut it off, act as if he didn’t care, or merely hide his feelings. Was it all an illusion?
He acknowledged Loki’s words with another glance, first up at him, his eyebrows knit together slightly and then over to the container with the sandwich in it. “I do not have an appetite.” Which was true. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could eat, but somehow he felt as though he didn’t need to eat. He simply wasn’t hungry. At all.
Nor was he tired, even if he could use the rest. After all, his body had been through something deeply traumatic and mental and emotional recovery needed the rest as much as his body might have. Except he was fully healed; there weren’t even any scars on his chest.
“So I will save it in hopes that I am hungry later, I suppose. It was nice of her to bring me something to eat, at least.” Fandral frowned a little at the container and then shifted on the bed, moving to lay back against the mattress, his hands folded loosely together over his stomach. He laid there quietly for a few long beats before sliding one hand up over his chest, over where his heart would be, and his face twisted into something resembling confusion. “I cannot tell if my heart is actually beating or not… how odd.”
Illusions were all Loki had. They were his protection. His savior. His greatest gift and his most infuriating hurt. The illusions were as much deceptions and falsehoods with Loki as they were truths. Sometimes, most of the time, they were a crutch. But they weren’t something he was ready to get rid of. He’d probably never get rid of them. Because they’d become a part of him, body and soul as much identity.
But shutting off his feelings wasn’t easy. It was simply necessary. If there had been one aspect of his childhood that Frigga had failed in, it was that. Giving Loki a means for barricading himself away from his emotions. Providing him with a way to hide from others. To pretend a part of himself didn’t exist or couldn’t be hurt. She should have taught him to embrace those aspects of himself instead. Alas, that was in the past. There was nothing to be done about that now.
When Fandral dismissed the peanut butter sandwich, Loki’s expression drew into a dispassionate frown. He wasn’t good at this. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He could be good at this. He could be friendly and affectionate. He could even be almost loving at times. He wasn’t void of compassion, after all. But lately he didn’t feel like he was capable of those responses. And not just to Fandral, but to everyone. He just felt empty.
Broken.
The god who was always stitched together from shattered pieces of himself.
Loki moved closer to the bed and placed his palm on Fandral’s chest, just above the heart. He stood there still and immobile. Then he closed his eyes and listened. It took a long time before he felt a beat. He kept his hand there longer, waiting. Again another beat. The pauses in between weren’t normal for an Asgardian. It was too slow. But it was steady. And it was there. It was just very faint.
“You have a heartbeat,” Loki said, pulling his hand away. “Perhaps it’s a side effect of—”
Being pink.
“—whatever brought you back from the dead.”
It had been more of a random observation than anything else, perhaps a small way to redirect the conversation, but when Loki’s palm pressed to his chest he felt what little breath he apparently needed now catch in his throat. Normally he would have taken the opportunity to cover Loki’s hand with his own, to draw idle patterns over his skin, along his arm or something. Just to touch him. But he still remembered how the other man had reacted to his touch only a few days before and he resisted, instead lowering his own hand back down to his stomach to keep himself from even accidentally brushing skin to skin.
He did look up at Loki though, quiet as his dark haired counterpart focused, listening, feeling for something in his chest that he himself couldn’t tell was there just a moment before. The silence in the room was almost deafening in a way; he couldn’t even hear his heart beating in his ears. No pulsing of blood. Nothing.
Not even admiring him made his heart race. It used to, as much as Fandral didn’t want to admit it, but now it stayed still and quiet.
“Likely a side effect, yes.” He frowned a little to himself as Loki’s hand moved away, but he said nothing about it, made no move to reach for him despite how badly he wanted to. “I am speaking in confidence; I do not know her name, but she is smaller… young. Perhaps only fifteen or so? Mousey colored hair. I do not know the full breadth of her abilities or how exactly she managed to… revive me, but there are things she is capable of that genuinely took me by surprise.”
Fandral swallowed then and furrowed his brows a little, still looking up at Loki. “She was not only able to lift me, but managed to carry me back to this building in one leap without making a sound.”
Fandral may not have been tired, but Loki was. Not physically tired. He’d spent at least half of the week lying on the floor, napping in between the bouts of death and destruction that were happening outside of Butler’s walls. But he was emotionally tired. Part of him still wanted to go back out there and do something even though he knew it was foolish and fruitless. But he didn’t. Or, better, he wouldn’t. Not unless it was necessary. Not unless he was needed. And the last thing Loki felt at the moment was needed. Or useful.
Loki listened carefully as Fandral explained what had happened to him. He tried to keep his expression blank, but there was a lingering hint of something sad — or defeatist — in his gaze. Not quite a pout, but not a frown either. Something in between. Uncertainty. Maybe regret.
He tried to think of the younger people at Derleth. Admittedly Loki didn’t remember most of their names. Nor did he really take the time to tell them apart. He knew Tandy and Ty because they were always pestering him. He knew Billy — was that his name? — because of the situation with the food during the previous week. He recognized Ned now because of recent events. And he supposed he could pick the Spiderkid out in a crowd. But none of them matched Fandral’s description. Perhaps he needed to pay better attention to the young people. Especially if one of them was able to bring people back from the dead.
“It’s fortunate that she was able to get to you safely. Although I hope for her sake she doesn’t try it again. No one should be going outside. Let alone a child.” Loki paused. “Even a child with incredible strength.”
But the seed of curiosity had been planted in Loki’s mind. The ability to restore life. That was more than useful. That was potentially the most powerful gift of anyone he knew of at Derleth so far.
A loud scratching on the exterior wall of the room drew Loki out of his thoughts. He turned his attention back towards the window and caught the shadow of one of those creatures crawling up the outside of the building. He’d be so glad when this week was over.
There wasn’t any other place to sit in Fandral’s room. He kept it uncommonly sparse, unlike Natasha who at least snatched herself a little sofa from IKEA. So Loki slumped down on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He suddenly caught himself wondering what Sylvie was doing. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was something she’d said to him just before they tumbled through a portal into one of the basement practice rooms. You’re not him. Loki didn’t know who he was exactly, but he kind of wished he were him.
Because he wasn’t happy with who he was right now.
He rolled his head back against the wall. “I’m going to close my eyes, but I promise I’m still listening.”
He knew that Stevie’s abilities were something he hadn’t seen yet amongst anyone else at Derleth -- even Loki. Yennefer was incredibly powerful too, and yet… this girl could bring people back from the dead. That was an incredibly rare gift, indeed. And one he didn’t want taken advantage of, which was why he’d been reluctant to mention who it was to anyone other than Loki. Because he trusted Loki with that information; he didn’t know that he could trust Yennefer. She’d seemed too eager.
“It is. She said something about seeing that you’d moved our bodies -- thank you for that, by the way.” He paused and turned his head to look over at Loki again, his lips pulling into something of a smile. He was trying. “Anyways, she said that she knew she could do something about it, so I suppose that’s when she decided to go find us and… well. Wynonna couldn’t be saved. I suppose her abilities are limited in some aspects.”
Or perhaps they weren’t and Stevie could have resurrected her body sans head.
Chances were high no one wanted to see that.
When the creature scratched at the side of the building and climbed, its shadow passing over the window to Fandral’s room, he shuddered and felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach. His eyes moved to the window, staring, his expression faltering a little in fear. The idea of confronting one of those beasts again did terrify him and he still felt unsafe, even in the confines of his warded room.
Once the scratching sound passed, he relaxed a little and rolled over onto his side, shifting so that he was facing Loki, who had slid down against the wall beside the bed. One of his arms moved to tuck under his pillow, using it to lift his head just slightly, and the other dangled over the edge of the bed. “I hope you know what it means to me that you came to keep me company, even if I am not myself much at the moment.”
“No need to thank me. Anyone would have done the same if they could.” That’s what had happened during the week of the imposter, after all. Everyone banded together and dragged the bodies to the freezer so they wouldn’t be scattered all over the campus. Loki merely thought it was the appropriate thing to do seeing as how Fandral and Wynonna’s bodies were so close to Butler Hall and within view of many of the bedroom windows. It was devastating enough to know what was going on outside. No one needed to see it. And since Loki had the ability to be quick and quiet, he took the responsibility upon himself to move the bodies. He didn’t expect any gratitude for that.
It spared him having to see them as well.
Loki crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were still closed. He could hear better that way. In between Fandral’s whispers he was listening to the scratching on the outside of the building. He could hear the sound travel upward to a higher floor. Once the monster seemed to have moved on to another part of the building, Loki refocused his hearing to the room. Aside from his voice, Fandral wasn’t making much sound. It was odd and unnatural. Loki, on the other hand, could practically hear his own breaths.
“You say that like you expected me to dismiss your request.” Loki opened his eyes and gave Fandral a hard stare. Not angry or disappointed, but intentionally deliberate. “You’re my friend, Fandral. You experienced something traumatic and you asked me to be here with you in the aftermath. Of course, I would keep you company.”
It might not have been easy for Loki, he had a lot going on himself, but he wasn’t completely cold or unforgiving. He understood that people responded to grief and tragedy in different ways. Loki wanted to be left alone after his death. Fandral didn’t. But Loki also recognized that the moments he had with people in Derleth were fleeting. They could disappear at any moment without warning. He needed to be mindful of that lest he was left behind with his own repentance.
Loki sighed. “And I don’t think any of us are much ourselves at the moment. So you can be forgiven that as well.”
“I suppose you’re right, but still…” It felt like a matter of respect, in a way, and he appreciated the gesture. “It was kind of you, even if you were perhaps the only one who could manage it quietly. Besides, I know most cannot move us without a great deal of strength.” Like Stevie.
Fandral allowed himself to go quiet then for a few long moments -- he didn’t want to hear the scratching of the monsters outside, but he also felt as though he were running out of words. Not that he should have been speaking as much as he was, anyways. It put them at risk.
When Loki opened his eyes and looked at him, he looked back with a touch of shame to his expression. “I just know that you have been through a lot yourself recently and I would have understood if you’d declined. You did not seem to want my company at the beginning of the week.” He paused then. “Well, I suppose it was more not really wanting anyone’s company, but I wasn’t sure what your feelings on the matter still were.”
He kept his eyes on him as he spoke. “If you would find it more comfortable to lay with me, you are welcome to, though there is no pressure. I do not wish to make anything uncomfortable for you.” Besides, the last time they’d laid together -- on this same bed -- it had ended very poorly and Fandral wasn’t keen for a repeat of that.
The word ‘friend’ was not something Loki used lightly. In the entirety of his existence he could count on one hand the number of people he considered to be his friends. Sadly, most of them had entered his life after his death. Here, in Derleth, he’d made more friends — both close and casual — than he’d ever had in the entirety of his life. So it meant something to him to refer to someone as such. It was important to him. And he couldn’t help but feel a slight sting at the thought that Fandral might still see him as the man he’d been before. As Thor’s younger, troublesome brother. As a jealous royal who would stop at nothing for the crown of Asgard. And as someone who wouldn’t think to cover the bodies of a dead comrade.
But he shook the thought away. They were all under an enormous amount of stress. This week had not been kind to anyone. And even Loki, with his quickness to judge, knew he needed to give everyone a wide berth this week. People were no doubt posed to behave less like themselves. The current circumstances saw to that.
This was not the week to judge someone based on their behavior.
When Fandral offered him the opportunity to share his bed, Loki looked away. He wasn’t embarrassed. He had nothing to be embarrassed of, after all. And he knew that. But he was a tad ashamed. Not because of how he felt but because of how easily he’d allowed himself to be deceived by Julia. Perhaps he needed to clear that up.
“When you…” Loki took a deep breath, held it in for a count of six, and exhaled softly. “I’m certain there was no question as to the activity I was engaged in when you and Natasha found my body. I have no desire to go into the details. But suffice it to say, I put my trust in someone who could not be trusted. I exposed a part of myself that I do not often share. And for that I paid the ultimate price.”
Loki chewed on his lower lip, his gaze still turned downward. “I don’t believe that you would do the same, but I still find myself reticent towards that kind of closeness. I will sit here with you, if that’s what you wish. But I cannot give you more than that. Not now. Perhaps not for a while. And please don’t ask me to tell you when I’ll feel differently. I truly do not know.”
Too much had happened in a short span of time. It was simply too soon for Loki.
“This is … new ground for me.”
In a way Loki would always be ‘Thor’s younger brother’ to Fandral, but that was just one of the many things he considered him to be and not one that was terribly important anymore. What did it matter? Loki was more to him now. Even in the short time they’d existed in Derleth together, his opinion of the other man had grown and changed. He was able to see a side to Loki he hadn’t before and though he’d never thought poorly of him (though he had his moments of deep disappointment), he saw him in a different way now. As a friend, as a lover, and as a fellow Asgardian.
The offer to lay with him had been just that -- simply sharing something more comfortable than the floor. So when he strayed into discussing how he’d been found, Fandral’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion before relaxing, his expression growing more heartsick at the memory.
Fandral was quiet and finally reached out, cautiously, to brush his fingers against Loki’s face. Just carefully and briefly, before he lowered his own arm back down to dangle freely as it had been before. “I am deeply sorry that happened to you,” he replied solemnly. He couldn’t fathom finding himself in that situation, even though it was something that nearly happened to him once or twice in his younger years. Even Fandral the Dashing managed to charm himself out of a knife to the chest by a jealous lover.
“I assure you, I meant it when I said there was no pressure. I know you do not think I should care for you the way that I do, but I do and I also want you to be okay, no matter how long that takes. I will be here if and when you are ready. In the meantime, I am content with this.”
Perhaps it sounded saccharine to say such a thing, but as soon as the words had left him, he knew he’d meant them. Was he a fool for it? Perhaps. Did he care? No.
Loki didn’t shy away from the gentle brush of fingers across his face, but he didn’t lean into it either. He used his illusion to hide his own conflicting emotions over how he felt. Not just about Fandral and the events of the last few weeks, but how he felt about himself. Loki had been low before. He’d gone through bouts of depression in the past, particularly when he was a younger man, living in the shadow of his father all the while knowing that Thor was the favorite son. But he’d never felt like this before. He was in more than just a dark place. Loki was helpless. And he struggled with questions he should have asked himself years ago.
Who am I? What kind of person do I want to be? Where do I belong? What is my role in the universe? Why am I like this? How do I change? Can I be better?
Loki withheld a sigh when Fandral spoke. He wasn’t angry at him for his words. In a way Loki understood. But he was still concerned and fearful for how this could all end. While Loki didn’t know the extent of Fandral’s feelings because he’d never asked, he had a general idea. And Loki was worried that it was beyond what he could ever feel towards anyone.
Hel, Loki didn’t even feel that way about himself. And he didn’t think he could ever feel that way.
His heart was still shielded in Jotun ice.
But that wasn’t something he was ready to talk about. Especially not now while he was still reeling over Julia.
Julia, Julia, Julia.
Fandral, Fandral, Fandral.
Natasha.
Sylvie.
Ikol.
Loki?
He nodded. “I have never faulted you for your feelings. I have only ever wished for you to be cautious. And to keep your eyes open.”
Fandral had half-expected to see that flinch again, as he had just a few days before when he’d gone to touch Loki in an affectionate manner, so when there was no harsh reaction, he quietly acknowledged that as something of a win. Small steps. He’d test the waters occasionally, but for the most part he knew he needed to leave it up to Loki; whatever he was comfortable with was what Fandral needed to be okay with.
“I am being cautious. Your words did not fall on deaf ears, as much as I may not have wanted to hear them.” His expression softened a little then, perhaps in a slightly amused way.
“Truthfully, my heart has always done what it wants when it comes to feelings for others. I do not expect whatever it is that I feel for you to be reciprocated, especially not right now, and especially not now that I have a better understanding of the… situation you were in prior to, well…” His voice trailed briefly, not caring much to finish that sentence. The visual of Loki’s corpse flashed through his mind and the smile on his lips wavered. “I realize this is a discussion we should have, that is not lost on me, and I am aware that perhaps I have let my heart misguide me at times. That… is not necessarily something I am concerned about.”
Loki didn’t entirely believe Fandral when he said he was being cautious. He’d known the man long enough to see the patterns. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d given his heart only to receive pennies in reply. Which was not to say that Loki didn’t feel anything, only to say that Loki’s feelings were complicated. He didn’t completely understand them himself. They’d been a centuries’ long problem for him which he’d only recently attempted to address. He wasn’t going to figure them out overnight.
But while Loki had his concerns, he had to give Fandral the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Fandral had already learned that lesson enough times over the course of his existence to finally recognize his own faults in loving others so blindly. Loki hoped so. Because Loki knew he couldn’t be trusted in matters of the heart himself.
Hel, he couldn’t be trusted in a lot of matters.
The final part of Fandral’s confession, however, was more confusing to Loki. He wasn’t certain that he entirely comprehended Fandral’s meaning. He quirked a brow, thoughts puzzling over what Fandral meant. Was he not concerned about them needing to have this conversation? Or about his own misguided heart? Or both? Loki repeated the sentences in his mind and decided it didn’t matter. Either way, now was not the time to be delving deep into the traumas they’d both experienced in the last two weeks.
And, truth be told, with Fandral’s physical appearance, it would have been difficult to take the conversation seriously anyway.
“Some might argue that it is better to be misguided by the heart than by the mind. At least with the heart the feelings are very often honest and true. The mind, on the other hand, is a manipulative beast. And when cornered, it can be a disingenuous trickster, capable of hoodwinking even the most astute of us into believing the most obvious of falsehoods.” Loki paused. “The mind lies to itself more easily than anyone else, after all.”
Had the confusion been brought to light, Fandral would have been glad to clarify -- he wasn’t concerned (not really, anyway) about having his heart misguided again. Or being misguided, as it were. Even if that ended up being exactly what happened, he would rather have loved and lost than never have loved at all. That was how the Midgardian saying went, right?
It was perhaps a saying Fandral unknowingly lived by in certain aspects of his life, as it were.
Listening to what Loki said, he knew that what he said was true. The mind was a devious thing sometimes. The heart, less so. It was why they tended to battle one another so often when it came to matters that meant something. “I would always rather be misguided by my heart than my mind, even if I find myself hurt in the aftermath of it. Should my heart misguide me, it was with good intention; I find myself wanting to love and be loved. What is purer than that? If my mind does it, however, it is simply to make a fool of myself in an undoubtedly cruel way. I wish I understood why our minds do that to us.”
Fandral paused for a moment and then asked, curious yet with a hint of seriousness to the question: “what is it that your mind lies to you about?” He wondered if this was something Loki would be willing to discuss, and didn’t intend to hold out hope, but it was at least worth a try. Fandral knew how high Loki’s walls went most of the time; he just wanted to slowly bring them down, if he could.
“Protection,” Loki whispered without hesitation. That was his answer to why the mind behaved the way it did. At least, that’s what he’d learned from his own experience. His mind was more rational and logical than his heart. It also responded more quickly because it knew how delicate Loki’s perception of himself was. His mind lied to protect him. His mind fabricated facades and falsehoods to spare him the difficulty of exploring the painful regions of the heart. His mind knew that Loki wasn’t ready for that yet and so it responded accordingly. And Loki wasn’t oblivious to this. He was consciously aware of what his brain was doing. He fed into it. Allowed it to provide those fake foundations in order to avoid future tragedy, knowing full well that it wouldn’t serve him in the long run.
The only problem was when he started to believe his own lies. And that was more common than he liked to admit. Not so much now. Derleth had a way of forcing Loki to see beyond his own untruths. He raged against that internally because it was a lot all at once. But there were some lies he wasn’t ready to get rid of. Not yet.
He turned his gaze to Fandral when he asked his final question. Loki wasn’t certain if Fandral expected him to answer the question or if it was simply spoken rhetorically. When he saw the other man’s expression, however, Loki had his answer. But whether he was prepared to offer insight into that side of himself was uncertain.
It would be impossible to give an honest response without revealing too much about how the gears of his mind turned.
He was quiet for a long time as he searched for an answer that said enough but not too much. Loki needed to keep some of his secrets, after all.
“Worth.” Loki scratched the side of his nose. “My mind sometimes skews the importance of things. Things, people, desires, feelings. It’s not uncommon for me to fool myself into perceiving a greater or lesser worth of something.”
Which, of course, went hand in hand with Loki trying to avoid confronting certain aspects of himself. He knew that too.
Loki’s hushed ‘protection’ made sense to Fandral. The brain was the body’s natural defense against things a lot of the time when it came to matters that didn’t involve the physical. Even he had issues with his own mind throwing up barriers to protect him from the words and thoughts of others -- but sometimes his mind would also cause him to believe things about himself that simply weren’t true.
Would anyone ever really know that about him? It wasn’t likely. Centuries of practice and letting his charm do all the talking tended to shield that part of himself from the view of others.
Fandral was finding that his willingness to be more vulnerable about things like that was growing, though. He had no reputation here to uphold; Fandral the Dashing meant next to nothing in Derleth. To most he was probably just an Asgardian playboy, friend of Thor’s and someone far less known to most than Loki. At least Midgardians knew Loki’s name -- it was good to know their stories surpassed just those of their world. But Fandral was a no one to most of them, as far as he was aware.
He laid there for a moment, quiet as he listened to Loki explain his meaning behind the answer of worth, and then finally gave a small nod in response against the pillow he had his head resting on. “That is something that I struggle with at times, too.” Perhaps what they fooled themselves about were not the same, but at least on some level Fandral felt that maybe he understood a bit of what Loki meant.