Chapter 16
I must’ve called Michael another five or six times before he finally answered, and agreed to meet with me late the following afternoon. No doubt he was swayed by the increased franticness of my voicemails. I was just about ready to give up—after all, if there’s one thing I really do hate, it’s being ignored.
Granted, it took me a while to get back to him too, but I actually had a reason for it. He owed it to me to hear me out at least, and I couldn’t help the scintilla of annoyance with his persistently poor conflict management skills…
Still, that faded to the back of my mind as we talked.
For four hours.
Four agonizing, tearful (on my end) hours, brimming with total honesty.
And by the end of it, Michael had stormed out of the dark lobby of Stark Tower, leaving me crying silently on one of the leather couches… And I could hardly blame him for his ire, for all the things he found out about tonight. Until now, I hadn’t told him about the night that Loki kissed me. I hadn’t told him about my history with him. Given that alone, Michael was angry that I’d continued spending time with him as well, despite my insistence that none of it was recreational—I only saw him occasionally, when I was on… professional business.
The was another strike to the record of things that were kept secret, and I hadn’t divulged it tonight.
Michael had immediately noticed the lightness of my eyes, within the first minute of walking into the lobby. He commented on the golden hue they’d taken on, despite my effort to mask it by keeping the lights off, and leaving the space illuminated only by the outside. At the end of it all, I still couldn’t tell him anything without compromising his safety. The more he knew about S.H.I.E.L.D business, the more he saw of it, the closer he’d get—the more danger he’d be in. And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized just how foolish I had been to think that I could keep it from him.
He would’ve found out eventually, if we’d stayed together…
About an hour after his departure, an hour into my independent crying, I finally pick myself up and go back up to the penthouse. Everyone’s asleep, so I don’t disturb anyone, and no one disturbs me. I grab the blanket strewn over the back of one of the couches and throw it over my shoulders, settling into one of the corners with my laptop. With the TV on at a low volume, I spend the entirety of the night crying—and looking at apartment listings.
…I can’t stay here, after all. Nor can I go back to the loft. That place isn’t home anymore, and this never was. So I cry, and cry, and cry some more, until my eyeballs are burning from just keeping open. Somehow I’d managed to focus enough to save a couple of listings before passing out, and am woken again in the morning by a knock at the door.
Ordinarily, I would’ve been woken by my alarm to get ready for work. I’d missed the past two days, and given them the same excuse that I gave Michael—I had a terrible fall, was knocked unconscious, and have a doctor’s note to show for it. A S.H.I.E.L.D physician, granted—being on the organization’s payroll comes with that sort of perk.
I trudge slowly off the couch, feeling the crust crumbling out of the corners of my eyes as I rub them absently and head toward the door. A quick glance at the digital clock on the wall tells me it’s 10 AM, which means I must’ve somehow slept through everyone getting ready and leaving the apartment. Save for Thor and Loki, who could very well be at home, locked up in their rooms.
At least, that’s the impression until Thor comes shuffling down the hallway in plaid pants and a bro tank.
“Morning,” I mumble, pausing to wait for him to catch up with me—momentarily noting just how motherfucking swole the man is.
“Good morning,” he answers brightly, as though he’s been awake for some time. “How are you?”
“Swell.” I hold up a thumb as I turn back to the door. “Do you know who that is?”
Thor sighs enthusiastically. “I believe so, yes.”
He saunters along ahead of me as he takes the doorknob and opens it.
“Hi!” An overly cheerful delivery boy appears on the other side—holding up a mass of green pine needles with the help of two other guys. “Package for mister Stark?”
“Sure, I’ve got it,” Thor reaches out to sign the little screen.
Meanwhile, I arch a brow at the Christmas tree shedding slightly all over the floor, watching as they carry it over to the far side of the couches. I’d almost forgotten that Christmas was just around the corner, and the realization of having to return Michael’s present draws tears to my eyes as the delivery guys leave.
They worsen as I turn back to the couch, due in no small part to the demo reel of memories starting up again—which I’d spent hours last night trying to sever myself from. I’d gotten maybe 2% of the way through that metaphorical cord, and it’ll obviously take a while to get through the rest.
Guilt weighs me down doubly, at everything Michael must be feeling…
I’d gone over it so many times in my head, about everything I told him—all my reasoning—last night. How I hadn’t told him about what Loki did immediately because it didn’t mean anything, and didn’t change anything. I was going to, but two weeks flew by quicker than I could’ve imagined, and then he sprung living together on me… There wasn’t a single ‘right’ moment to do it, and I only realized later that there never would’ve been a good moment for that conversation. And that I made it more important by concealing it.
As for the feelings that had slowly resurfaced… I imagine that hurt him the most. I hadn’t truly cheated on him in the most traditional sense, but it was awful for me to have failed to squander what I felt. “I would’ve rather you fucked him,” Michael had said in a rage, at some point during those four hours. That sliced through me like a knife. He would’ve rather I slept with Loki, than had any kind of emotional connection with him…
I wipe the tears away briskly as Thor comes back around the couch, pausing as he gives me a double take. “Wh—are you alright?”
I look up at him, but I barely feel the movement in my devastated state. “Yeah—I mean… Yeah, Michael and I broke up.” I swallow thickly, concealing the rising sob.
“Oh,” Thor goes silent for a moment, and then saunters over, sinking onto the couch beside me slowly. “Do you, uh… Do you want to talk about it?”
Not here. I know better by now than to talk openly with Loki anywhere in the immediate vicinity—he can hear through walls. So I shake my head, “Not now.” I grin weakly. “But thanks.”
Thor nods, arching a brow and gesturing over his shoulder. “No one else is home, so…” He gives me a knowing look. “If that changes anything.”
I look back down at my knees, wondering if it really does change anything. Finally, I shrug. “Just wasn’t the right time for us to be together, I guess…” my voice trails off as my heart suddenly thunders, pounding at my chest—adding to the sickening, emotional malaise already dominating my body.
My leaps seal themselves pointedly, as though shutting me up before I accidentally confess something I’ll regret later. Sensing my reluctance after a few moments of silence, Thor casts his eyes back to the tree. “Well… If we’re not going to talk, I suppose we ought to put that up?”
I sniffle, swiping my fingers underneath my eyes. “Maybe.”
“I can do it myself, but… I may need help lifting the tree,” he says, amusement ghosting his tone.
My nostrils flare just a bit, as the hint of a smile tugs on my lip. “Uh huh.”
A hand appears on my shoulder as he pats me lightly. “I’m going to get started,” he says, before standing and approaching the tree. “Perhaps there’s a film you could put on, something holiday related?”
I glance at the TV, and reach for the remote. “Well, I mean… I could literally put on the Holiday,” I murmur.
“What’s that about?” he asks, glancing up at me in between tearing the little ropes apart.
I press my lips together, trying to word it in a way that won’t make me start bawling again. “This lady in L.A. swaps houses with another lady in England for Christmas, and then they both go and… make some new friends.” Lies. They go and meet their true loves.
But whatever, this movie’s never let me down in the middle of a bad mood.
***
I was wrong.
I was so very, very wrong in thinking that I wouldn’t start bawling in the middle of the movie. Thor was having a hard enough time managing the Christmas tree setup and organizing a few of the boxes with decorations, without having to deal with my weepiness in the mean time. I’d tearfully shooed him back to whatever he was doing a number of times, and in retrospect, both my snot-filled state and his awkward uneasiness would probably have been pretty comical to witness from the side.
With reruns of Big Bang Theory now playing on the TV, my mood settles by the time everyone else comes home. Thor has long since put up the tree, without decorating it, and it’s good to go for family fun time by the afternoon.
Pepper has always loved decorating Christmas trees, but hates putting them up. Especially since they’d switched to real trees, which are doubly heavy and doubly annoying. So it was a blessing to have Thor around this year.
“Wow, this one’s… taller than I thought it’d be,” Pepper says as she steps around the couch.
I decidedly avoid looking back at the other two pairs of footsteps moving around behind me—knowing one of them belongs to Loki. Clearly, he was off with the two of them on consultation business again.
I had texted Pepper about what happened earlier in the day, and we planned to talk about it later on, but as of now, she’s doing a pretty good job at hiding what she knows. Only a flicker of a reaction in her face reveals her thoughts as she glances down at me.
“Spiked Eggnog, anyone?” Tony called out from the kitchen.
“Me,” I raise a finger in the air, and hop over the back of the couch.
In the corner of my eye, I see Loki leaning against the table, and feel his eyes on me as I pass by—sporting as much of a casual expression as I possibly can as I saunter toward the kitchen. Trying to ignore how I notice just how goddamn tall he is—like I haven’t noticed it before.
“How strong, on a scale of one to death?” he asks.
“Surprise me,” I say as I come around the kitchen island. Tony reaches for one cup, and then pauses, opting for the slightly darker one instead.
“Here,” he hands it to me. “Probably need it more than I do.”
He gives me a meaningful look, immediately making clear that the rumor mill has reached him. “Damn straight,” I raise it up to clink glasses with him before he takes a sip, and continues on working on two other drinks.
I glance at Loki as I raise the cup to my lips, noting his watchful eyes observing Pepper and Thor setting up the Christmas tree. A sharp, burning sensation suddenly has me doubling over the counter, and bits of red droplets fly out of my mouth as I hover over the sink—spitting the eggnog back out onto the metal.
Everyone’s heads snap toward me as Tony takes two large strides toward me, looking between my bloody lip and the sink. “What the hell? What just happened!?”
I continue coughing it out, feeling my eyes tearing up as blood continues pouring from my mouth. I grab the removable nozzle and turn on the water, pouring it into my mouth out and gargling—trying not to barf as I get all of the eggnog out of my mouth.
“What did you put in this!?” I choke out.
“Just eggnog and rum!” Tony throws a glance at the cups. “I—I just drank it, there’s nothing wrong with it!” He looks toward Pepper as she rushes over to the kitchen, with Thor and Loki remaining where they are—standing straight and alert.
“What the hell,” I whisper, looking at the blood in the sink, and wincing as bits of my arm start burning.
I drop the nozzle, and it reclines back as I look at my right arm—seeing the skin burning where the eggnog had splattered on it, like some toxic chemical. I run the raw skin under the water, eyes widening as it quickly heals itself when I pull it back out. “What the hell…” I breathe out.
Silence thickens around me as I look over at the eggnog and spiced rum that Tony had put in the drink. “Give me that,” I hiss as I grab both the bottles. “Don’t fucking tell me…”
I pour a little of both into the sink as I dab my finger over them. It burns after touching the rum, and I cry out a little at the sliver of skin that burns from it—who knew one tiny finger could cause so much pain?
“What the hell is this!?” I look between Pepper and Tony. “Am I allergic to alcohol now!?”
Before either of them get the chance to answer, I turn sharply and lunge for the wine rack, grabbing the cheapest, opened bottle I can find and performing the same test—sparing just a little bit of the zinfandel to do so.
When nothing happens, I hardly know whether I should be relieved or pissed—relieved that there was no reaction to wine, or pissed that there’re foods that I can’t even touch now. With the rum, I suppose this is one fucking way to curb those alcoholic tendencies at least—which had the potential to get worse, given my emotional state of things. Now I’ll be terrified to touch any of it.
“This has to be part of the mutuations,” Pepper nods her head briskly. “You can’t touch this anymore,” she says, grabbing the spiced rum. “What about food? Have you had any reactions to food? Or anything else?”
I’ve barely eaten today, but yesterday’s meals were fine. “Everything’s the same,” I say, still swallowing down the rawness of what little rum I’d swallowed. “I just… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?”
I shake my head, swallowing hard as I feel the tears rising in my throat again. “I don’t know,” I growl as I set the bottle down on the couch—and shatter it on contact.
I jump back from the sudden noise, as streams of red pour over the edge. I look between the shattered glass and my arm, not seeing any difference to my muscle tone. Tony grabs a mound of paper towels and starts pulling them apart, and I grab them immediately, feeling the panicked tears taking over as I bend over and help him clean up the mess.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to breathe out without sobbing, leaving the pink wad of moist towels on the counter before stalking around the edge of the counter.
“Cerys!” Pepper calls out to me.
I stop momentarily, staring across the space—across Loki’s widened eyes burning holes into me—and offer her a weak, trembling gesture of reassurance. “I—I just need a minute…”
It comes out in a single, shaking breath, but I don’t wait for anyone to respond before stalking back to the guest bedroom and shutting the door behind me. Some amount of time goes by that I spend pacing back and forth across the room, trying not to let my head spin into insanity, and it takes a while just for me to regain my composure.
I am a fucking adult. I will not fall into hysteria.
I will not.
A soft knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts, and without thinking, I stride straight toward the distraction and throw it open. Loki’s face meets me on the other side, stoney and unfeeling as always.
“Are you alright?” he asks tautly in that stupid, baritone voice that suddenly grips my stupid, panicky chest.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes flicker over me in a quick movement, and he stares me down before sharply turning and striding away—seemingly satisfied with the clipped response. “She’s fine,” I hear him repeat down the hall.
“Sure,” Pepper murmurs before her footsteps appear in the hallway. I leave the door ajar as I step away from it, calming myself in preparation for the conversation currently approaching me.
“Cerys,” she says, surprisingly calm, as she steps through it. “We need to go to the lab.”
“What?”
“We need to test your DNA and see what’s going on.”
“I’m not a lab rat, Pepper,” I snap, a bit more irritably than I’d intended to.
“Then let me get a blood sample—look at me, I’m not playing around with you right now. What happened was dangerous.”
“I know it was dangerous,” I tilt my head. “I just…. Fuck, fine. Okay, just do it. Just get a syringe.”
Flipping on ‘agent’ mode, Pepper turns and walks back out the door. Straightening my back, I strut after her to the living room, waiting for her to fetch a syringe. I hate needles more than anything on the planet, but that’s a small blip in the world of frustration and anger I’m in right now.
Even Loki’s watchful gaze barely fazes me as I stride out into the living room with her, and hold out my arm for her to do what she’s got to do.
“Ready?” she looks up at me, and I nod, looking away. A moment goes by where nothing happens, until I finally hear her murmur. “What the hell?”
I look back at her. “What?”
Pepper lifts the syringe up in front of me, with the metal bit bent in half. My eyes widen as I stare at it, and snatch it from her hand. “Did you… I didn’t even feel it?”
“Uhh,” she sighs. “Okay, let’s try a cheek swab then.”
That takes another moment or so, mostly for her to run to the bathroom and grab a Q-tip. No mishaps there as she swabs the inside of my cheeks, making a bit of a face as she drops it into a zip-lock bag.
“Now what?”
She slams the zip-lock bag on the table, shutting her eyes with a dramatic look of great restraint. “Now…” her voice trembles a bit as she turns toward everything. “There’s nothing to do but wait. We’ll see what comes back, and we’ll deal with it when it does. So we’re going to decorate the Christmas tree now, alright?”
The calm ire in her voice is more disturbing than anything I’ve ever heard in my life, and the entire apartment falls silent. Even my own thoughts fade to the back for a moment, padded by the shrillness of her voice…
“Can we do that!?” she jerks her hand out to the company, when no one responds. “Can we decorate the Christmas tree!?”
Three pairs of widened eyes stare back at her—even Loki’s got the hint of frightfulness haunting his look.
“Yeah,” Tony murmurs from the counter. “Yeah, let’s just… let’s decorate the tree.”
The tension obviously hasn’t left a single person in the room, yet everyone—save Loki and myself—starts going through the motions of decorating the Christmas tree. One by one. Like nails on a chalkboard.
***
The initial shock fades to a dull headache by the time the Christmas tree is finished, and even the bright, flickering lights and pretty toys do little to distract me from my thoughts. Even the TV does little to tear me away from them, for even a moment.
And, who knows—maybe it has something to do with Loki still sauntering around the apartment every twenty minutes or so, like he owns the place. Not once do I dare to follow his movements like I might someone else’s—but what the hell is he even doing?
In the middle of a toothpaste commercial gripping my attention much more intently than it should, a glass of water suddenly appears beside me, held at the rim by a pale hand. I trail up the toned arm to its owner, peering at the TV equally hard with emerald eyes.
“That’s not vodka, right?”
“No, it’s water.”
I look back down, grabbing the water from his hands and sipping it a bit—my only answer to the gesture. I’d half expected him to say something else, or to use it as an excuse to start a conversation. Instead, he turns and stalks straight back down the hallway, disappearing into the darkness as he’s been doing for the past three hours or so.
Something tightens in my chest, but I roll my eyes back toward the screen.
Half prepared to scoff at the sound of footsteps appearing again, Pepper emerges from the hallway instead—looking tired as hell, wrapped up in a blanket.
“Hey,” she mumbles as she comes around the couch, and plops down next to me.
“Hey.” I grin weakly. “You okay?”
Pepper shrugs. “Are you?”
“Wondering where the good times’ll be back, but yeah. I’m okay.”
“…tell me about it,” she says, producing a mug from underneath the protective fabric, filled with that stupid eggnog.
“My mom’d be so happy if she knew that I can’t drink liquor anymore.”
“You might still be able to drink vodka, never know.”
I shrug. “I’m preparing myself for the worst.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “If you stop drinking, it’s only for the better.”
“Couldn’t have happened after my breakup?” I say pointedly, and Pepper gives me a look. That ‘you know who’s home, right?’ look. I nod, returning it with a meaningful one of my own—I know,it’s fine.
“Yeah, it could’ve waited I guess,” she continues. “But why make any of our lives easier, right?”
“Yup, they’re too simple as it is.” I roll my eyes. “Clearly got to get out more, get some more excitement.”
Pepper pauses, looking a little doubtful. “Speaking of going out… What’re you going to do about work?”
I look back at her. “Hm?”
“Michael’s gonna be there tomorrow, isn’t he?”
Something heavy sinks in my chest. “Well… yeah, it’s not like I can do anything about it though.”
She arches a brow. “Well sure, but… I’m just wondering if you’re planning on leaving the Academy or something. Or, if you think he might.”
“Pep, come on. Would you leave Stark industries if you and Tony broke up?”
“I mean,” she scoffs lightly. “It’s not like I’d have trouble finding another job, but… I don’t know.”
I shake my head. “I can’t leave now. I’ve worked way too hard to get to where I am. I mean, yeah, it’s not much… but it’s still something, and I don’t know where I’d go anyway. I’ll just be professional and cry in the bathroom, if anything. If he wants to leave, he can leave.”
Pepper stares for a moment, before bobbing her head. “And what about….” she cocks her head toward the hallway. “Are you going to… you know?”
“No,” I respond immediately in a murmur. “Michael… made it pretty clear that he thinks I cheated on him. And, I don’t know—I don’t really feel like I did. But what he feels is what matters… and I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have.”
“Hurt him how?”
A ball rises in my throat, along with tears on the bottom rim of my eyes. “You didn’t see him, Pep,” my voice drops, trembling a bit at the memory of his expression. “He looked so hurt when I told him everything. Imagine how he’d feel if I went ahead and… you know.”
Pepper knits her brows together sadly as she looks away. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I guess.”
“I’ve got to do something right, you know?” I sip the water that Loki gave me, seeing his bright green eyes flashing in my mind. I swallow the tearful ball, and the warm tension spilling through my chest. “Gotta try to do something right, end up in the right place… After everything I’ve done.”
“Come on, it’s not like you could’ve helped a lot of it.”
“No, I could have. I could’ve done more,” A tear trails down my cheek as I swallow thickly. “It was my job to protect my relationship, and I didn’t do it. Least I can do now is not cause any more damage.”
“Cer, it’s not your job to protect him anymore… it’s done. Over with.”
“You think you wouldn’t do the same in my place?” I shake my head. “It’s all easier said than done.”
“I don’t know what I’d do in your situation,” she mumbles. “But… this is life, Cer. There’s not always a… clean way out, where no one gets hurt.”
“I know…”
“I just want you to try and do what makes you happy.”
A grin tugs on the corner of my lip. “Yeah, I know.”
The pitying look grows in her expression, and she sighs frustratedly. After a moment or so, she chuckles softly. "Don’t know if your mom’ll say the same though, when you tell her kids aren’t in the near future. 'Do what makes her happy.’”
I snort quietly. “Yeah, totally looking forward to the ‘ticking clock’ conversation.”
“Love that one,” she holds up her mug, and I lean forward to clink it with mine, before she settles against the back of the couch, and rolls her head back toward the TV.
“I’ll just tell her the truth, things didn’t work out,” I lean back, casting my eyes up toward the screen with her, blinking away the image of Loki the other night.
I still remember it so clearly—the panic that suddenly bloomed when I thought he was leaving. The awful, disgustingly transparent clarity that coursed through me when he gave me that ultimatum.
It was the moment that my relationship ended.
As much of an ass that Loki has been, it wasn’t until I thought he was going to disappear again, that I realized that that love had never really gone anywhere. Only shoved deep into a crevice of my heart, and not enough time had gone by for it to disappear entirely. He was the greatest relationship I’d ever had in my life, and neither of us wanted it to end—that made closure a pipe dream.
Those drunken nights in Switzerland… How we danced at the gala for the first time… How we laughed and danced and paraded around together at the Asgardian festival… how, with every touch and smile, he made me feel so deeply engraved in his heart.
I fucking hated myself for letting the floodgates open.
“…and the clock’s always ticking, nothing I can do about that.”