RUSTY BRONZE NUMBERS (!)
OLIVIA’S EYES BLINK OPEN. She sits up, her mind not fully caught up, and rubs her face, trying to re-orient herself to sobriety.
“Wow, okay,” she sighs, “I was drunk when I fell asleep. God, this is gonna give me whiplash.” Loki is frowning at her, clearly unimpressed.
“Did you think you would dream of being drunk?” he wonders sarcastically. She rolls her eyes, pushing to her feet.
“I was drunk,” she reminds him. “I wasn’t really thinking much of anything.” Her eyes scan the surroundings; New York, completely wrecked. Alien bodies are littering the ground, but all is completely still.
“Your doing, I presume?” he prompts, raising an eyebrow. She nods distractedly, her expression dropping into a sour frown.
“You can thank Stark for this,” she replies bitterly, gesturing to the landscape. Loki’s eyebrows raise.
“You don’t sound exceptionally pleased about that,” he remarks. Her eyebrows jump once, and she starts forward through the rubble.
“Well, the corpses aren’t exactly welcoming,” she reminds him, tone flat. He follows her further into the city, recognizing that while she is right, she also said ‘Stark’ with more contempt than an Avenger should have.
“You don’t like him,” Loki surmises, suddenly interested. He climbs over a fallen chunk of concrete to follow the woman. She turns into an alley, jumping up to grab the fire escape ladder like she did during the actual battle.
To Olivia’s surprise, it comes down, allowing her access to the random fire escape. She starts climbing the ladder, never the one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“What did he do to offend you, hm? Perhaps it was one of his ridiculous nicknames,” Loki theorizes, climbing the ladder after her. She rolls her eyes as she pulls open the apartment’s window. Everything is unlocked, for whatever reason.
“You’re guessing,” she accuses. “He didn’t offend me.” Loki grins, clambering in after her.
“Ah, but you don’t deny that you dislike him,” he points out, as if he wins. She opens the apartment door, but pauses to hold it open for him.
He hesitates, but walks through, with her following and shutting the door behind.
“I don’t have a problem with Tony,” she contradicts, hanging a left to head up a flight of stairs.
“That’s a terrible lie,” Loki points out. “You’re a terrible liar.” She shakes her head, turning to walk down the hall on the next floor up.
“I don’t,” she insists, “I’m just pissy at him because he dragged me to a tea party with his little boy band.” Loki’s eyebrows fly up, and he follows her with even keener interest.
“What, the ‘Avengers’? You say that like you’re not one of them,” he notes. She glances at him like he’s insane.
“Of course I’m not,” she replies, as though that should be plainly obvious. “The only reason they even keep me hanging around is to keep my brother under control.” Loki scoffs.
“Well, do they know that?” he wonders. “I know Thor, at least, speaks of you as a trusted ally.” She waves him off, stopping in front of her apartment.
“This is it,” she states. Loki looks at the door; it’s very unassuming. It just has a rusty bronze ’38’ nailed to it, and no other distinguishing features.
“Right,” he agrees skeptically. “It being… what, exactly?” She shrugs, opening the door.
“Well, it’s supposed to be my apartment,” she informs him, her eyes fixed on the living room in front of her. “As it turns out, it’s apparently now my childhood home.” The furniture is cozy, and the windows show an open field on the other side.
Olivia walks in, noticing that the heater is on and there’s a steaming mug of hot chocolate sitting on the table. Even so, she doesn’t immediately see anyone inside.
The door shuts, and she turns to see Loki looking just as surprised as her; any trace of New York is gone, leaving only the crisp sights of rural Ohio. The wind chimes are sounding from the porch, just the way she remembers.
“You grew up here?” Loki asks, rhetorically. His eyes are wandering, taking in the sights. The whole place is in complete black-and-white, sadly, since Olivia has no idea how it should look in color.
“Yeah,” she confirms. “The nearest town is three miles away.” He takes in the information and the sights. He finds the homey, comfortable space…
A bit underwhelming.
“It’s a bit cramped,” is all he says. The door swings open and shut behind him, and a younger Olivia walks in, glaring at her phone. She looks around 19; that would put this at about seven years ago.
An older woman who looks like her steps in, not paying Olivia and Loki any mind. Instead, her gaze fixes on the younger Olivia.
“Anything?” she prompts worriedly, the stress in her tone palpable. Younger-Olivia shakes her head, still glaring like she wants to throw her phone into the nearest wall.
“Absolutely fucking nothing,” she denies angrily. “I cannot believe him.” The older woman glances back towards the hall with concern, but gives Younger-Olivia a sympathetic look.
“Hey,” she sighs, “you know how Bruce gets when he’s in the zone. I’m sure he’s not ignoring our calls on purpose.” Younger-Olivia scoffs.
“What, is that supposed to be better? Yeah, I’m sure he’s been real deep in the zone; must be if he’s been stuck in it for ten fucking years,” she snaps. “This is an emergency, and he can’t even bother to look at his goddamn voicemails for ten seconds? I—!” She stops dead.
The older woman’s face is contorted in stress and she looks very nearly about to cry. Younger-Olivia melts instantly, stepping forward to hug her.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she reassures the woman softly. “I’m sorry, Mom. I— I got frustrated, I didn’t mean that. I’m sure you’re right; I mean, he’s always been so… busy. Know what? I bet his phone isn’t even charged.” Her mother laughs as they pull away, smiling.
“You’re right,” she agrees. “I bet he hasn’t touched it in four days. That— that’s… so Bruce.” Younger-Olivia smiles stiffly.
A cough sounds from the hallway, and the two women instantly turn to rush back there. Loki steps forward to follow them, and Olivia reaches out to stop him. A few inches from his arm, her hand hits some kind of invisible force, and she pulls it back.
“Don’t,” she says instead. “I… please?” He looks between her and the hall, but another cough attracts his attention. Olivia doesn’t seem like she’s going to put up a fight about it, so he moves to investigate.
He reaches the only room with an open door, and finds a bedridden man with the younger Olivia and her mom at his bedside.
“Come on, Dad,” Younger-Olivia pleads, holding her mother’s hand tightly. “Just let us take you to the hospital.” He shakes his head.
“No,” he denies, “you heard what they said. They can’t do anything but delay the inevitable, and I’m not spending my last moments in some stuffy hospital room, hooked up to a bunch of machines.”
“Brian, please,” Olivia’s mother begs. Brian, however, shakes his head.
“No,” he repeats. “If I’m dying, I’m doing it in my own bed. I’d like to do it with my family around me.” He hesitates. “Did… did Bruce pick up?” He starts to cough, his whole body shaking. It goes on for a minute, and then he finally regains control of his lungs, trying to breathe.
“I… yeah,” Younger-Olivia lies quietly, looking stricken. “Yeah, he’s— he’s coming right now. He’ll be here in time for dinner.” Brian looks very satisfied by this, a smile gracing his face.
“Good,” he whispers. “That’s so good. It’ll be so… so great to finally have dinner again, all of us together. As a family.” His wife nods tearfully.
“As a family,” she agrees. Brian nods again, squeezing his eyes shut.
“So great,” he reflects quietly. Then, he goes still. His chest doesn’t rise again. Younger-Olivia’s whole body shakes, clinging desperately to her mother.