In the Balance

by C. Gockel

  “Let’s go out and get a bite,” says Loki.

  Brow furrowing, she says, “I need clothes.”

  Wincing, Loki says, “In a fit of anxiety over possible nuclear contamination, I sent all of yours into the In-Between.”

  Amy’s mouth falls open. “My wallet...” Her phone.

  Hopping from the bed, Loki waves a hand. “Don’t worry about money, Odin gives me plenty...as for clothes.” He opens a closet and disappears. “I’m sure I’ve had one guest or another leave a few things that might fit...”

  He comes out bearing a black dress in a stretchy fabric that actually looks like it might accommodate her curves.

  Amy just stares at it. It’s not that her Loki didn’t have partners when she knew him; it’s just that he never brought them home. She looks up at this Loki, smiling down at her. He doesn’t have to worry about drifting off to sleep and having his partner report him to the FBI—not only does he not turn blue—which startled women in her own universe into reporting him, he isn’t being hunted by the FBI either.

  Grateful as she is to the latter, she’s not sure about the former. She likes him blue. She thinks of Loki being blue when he is more quintessentially himself. He was blue when he destroyed Cera. Both times.

  Of course, he says he doesn’t hear Cera talking to him in this universe, either. He hasn’t broken off into rough monologues in Russian so she thinks he’s telling the truth.

  She looks down at the dress again. He has other women in his home in this universe.

  As if reading her mind, he sits down on the bed beside her and takes her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he says, “Don’t worry. This dress is from a passing someone...a dalliance...”

  Amy looks down at it. “But if I’m in the way of—” Dalliances. Flings. Whatever. She’s not judging, she’s just not sure she has the strength to be one. Her next breath is shallow and short.

  “Amy, look at me.”

  She lifts her eyes. His face is deadly serious. “I need to take care of you. I need to keep you close.” He raises an eyebrow and gives her a smirk. “I’m not ready to propose marriage...”

  “I might run screaming through the door if you did,” Amy says, startling herself. It was a passing thought that she didn’t mean to say out loud. But it is the truth. As much as she loved her Loki, this isn’t quite him.

  Loki chuckles. “We are in agreement then. Let’s see where things go, shall we?”

  Amy stares at him. It’s not as though she has much of a choice. Still, the way he’s smiling, the good humor, his attentiveness...the amazing sex they had earlier. She winces inwardly...what a shallow thought. Biting her lip she meets his eyes. His lips are quirked. For only having one choice, she sure got a good one.

  “Alright,” she says, reaching for the dress and pulling it over her head.

  “Excellent,” he says.

  As her head emerges from the fabric, his brows go up. “So you like Star Trek?”

  Amy blinks at the non sequitur. “Yes.”

  He grins. “Fantastic. All Thor wants to watch is Survivor reruns.”

  He holds out his hand to help Amy off the bed. She doesn’t need it. She takes it anyway. And even smiles a little.

  x x x x

  Except for the light from Cera shining like a beacon in Chicago’s night sky, her dinner with Loki could have taken place in her own Chicago. They catch a cab; they eat and talk about Star Trek and the intersection of quantum mechanics and magic. The only thing that seems a little off is that Loki doesn’t imbibe. When Amy asks about it Loki just rolls his eyes and says, “Part of a deal I made with Odin. He’s noticed I tend to be a bit self-destructive when I drink.”

  On the one hand, Amy can see the wisdom in that. In her own universe, Amy had known Loki to get fall-down, blackout drunk. On the other hand, she’d seen him be funny and insightful while mildly intoxicated. It was while slightly tipsy that Loki had first observed that he wasn’t a “god” of chaos, so much as a figment of the universe’s consciousness, grappling with the concept of chaos, trying to understand itself. Which was probably as close to the truth as any human, or frost-giant would get.

  ...but this Loki didn’t believe Amy when she’d told him that. He thinks if anything, he might be the “cosmic incarnation of lie detection and misdirection”, which Amy thinks is a bit of a step down. Still, it is kind of nice that Odin seems to be looking out for him.

  After dinner the similarities to her universe break down again. He doesn’t take her to her crumbling little garden studio in Little Italy. He takes her to his apartment in a historic building on the Gold Coast with marble floors, gilt edges, and a doorman who wears a red uniform with gold trim.

  As soon as they enter his apartment door his hands are on her. Without bothering to turn on the lights, he spins her around and traps her against the wall. His lips are on hers a moment later and he’s hoisting her up. Back still against the wall, dress rucking up, Amy wraps her legs around him and pulls him tighter.

  “Welcome home,” he mumbles against her lips, and Amy digs her nails into his back. He feels like her Loki, he talks almost like her Loki, and he treats her as well if not better.

  He begins worrying her bottom lip between his teeth and she sucks in a breath, wondering if they’ll make it to the bedroom this time.

  And then in the darkness a muffled, tinny Darth Vader theme starts play. It takes Amy a moment to realize it’s a phone. Loki pulls back with a muttered, “Damn. I have to get that.”

  Releasing her legs, Amy slides down as Loki fumbles in his pocket in the dark. Amy hits the lights. Snapping open his phone he says, “Hey, Big Daddy.” Smirking, he meets her eyes. “It’s just Odin. He hates it when I call him that.”

  Amy’s eyes widen. There is the sound of someone talking on the other end of the line, and Loki says in Asgardian, “No, I didn’t fulfill the original objective. But I found the source of the anomalous reading. Yes. Yes. No, she’s standing right here.”

  Even from where she stands a few feet away, Amy can hear the boom of, “What!?” that comes over the line.

  Winking at her, Loki says, “Relax. She is as gentle as a lamb, and wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He turns to Amy, “You wouldn’t hurt a fly would you?”

  Amy’s shoulders fall. “Actually, the last fly that came into my apartment I caught in a glass and took outside.” She fiddles nervously with a fingernail. That had been a bit on the bleeding heart side even for her.

  Chuckling, Loki speaks into the phone. “Did you hear that?”

  And then his face goes serious. “A gate opened up in Wicker Park? And Thor caught a troll?” He tilts his head. “That shouldn’t be happening, I can go there right away and...”

  There is a gruff comment on the other end of the line. Face grave, Loki nods. “Understood.”

  There is more muffled speech from Odin. Loki smiles at Amy and says, “But I like her! We’re having so much fun, she likes Star Trek.” He snickers a little and although she can’t see or hear any response, Amy swears she can feel Odin rolling his single eye.

  Loki’s face becomes somber. A moment later he sighs. “Very well. I’ll write up a report and email it to you before your morning.” There is a pause and then Loki groans and smacks his forehead. “Yes, I had forgotten that the Svartálfaheimr morning is only three hours from now.” He nods. “You’ll still have it. Yes, yes, yes, believe me, I know the conditions of our arrangement.”

  Amy’s jaw drops.

  Snapping the phone shut, Loki says, “So long, Big Daddy.”

  “Were you just talking to Odin in Svartálfaheimr...on your cell phone?” she gasps.

  Loki smirks. “Yes. It’s a wonder what can be done with magic and human technology together. I’m surprised it took Odin so long to get involved here.”

  Amy’s goes completely still. “How involved is Odin.”

  Loki shrugs. “Oh, he’s not one to micromanage. Don’t worry, Earth is still under regional control for the most part.”
/>
  “For the most part?” says Amy.

  Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking into the living room, Amy at his heels. “Well, there was the North Korea problem we had to solve, and the situation with Beijing, and Odin is not at all pleased with the Mujahideen’s attitude towards us...” He waves a hand and shrugs. “But I try not to get distracted by the details. I hate politics.” His jaw hardens. “If Sigyn hadn’t convinced our sons to become involved with politics, Nari would never have been murdered.”

  Amy straightens. “Sigyn...where is she?”

  Loki rubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know and I don’t care.” He stops and turns, chin tilted, eyes narrowed he says, “Didn’t you just hear me? She got Nari killed.”

  Amy draws back. “You love Sigyn,” she says, images of Sigyn filling her mind. Sigyn had been Loki’s lover and confidant, his caretaker in the cave, mother of Nari and Valli, adoptive mother of Helen. Amy sees Sigyn, eyes flashing, shouting at Loki, sees Loki shouting right back—and feels Loki’s admiration for her strength in the memory. She also sees Sigyn, sword upraised, training with the Valkyries after the boys had grown. Loki had been standing at the sidelines, grinning with pride and lust, mulling happily over how her martial skills could be utilized in other pursuits...

  Amy gasps and looks away.

  “Maybe in your universe,” Loki says, the bitterness in his voice sharp enough to make the hairs on the back of Amy’s neck rise.

  He steps closer to Amy. “Why are we talking about my ex-wife?” he says, voice suddenly gentle. Putting a hand on either side of her face he smiles. “I’m just glad you’re nothing like her.”

  Amy looks down, something uncomfortable twisting in her gut.

  Kissing her forehead, Loki says, “I need to write a report for Odin on your appearance. Would you like to watch TV? Read? Do you need to sleep?”

  Amy feels exhausted, but it occurs to her television might offer her a window to the universe she’s found herself in, so she opts for the TV.

  Loki sets her up with tea and toast, and then trundles off to type up his report while Amy curls up on the couch and channel surfs, Mr. Squeakers glides down from the ceiling on a line of silk to watch upside down beside her. The local news is all car crashes and the story of firemen rescuing a kitten. The national and international news isn’t much more informative. Republicans still want lower taxes. Democrats still want more money for health care. Nothing is said about North Korea, Mujahideen, or Beijing. The only things really different are the commercials. One for a new casino that’s opened up in Indiana makes Amy’s eyes bulge. It features a grinning man in Viking gear tossing gold coins in the air. The voice over proclaims, “You don’t have to be an Einherjar to come to Valhalla Casino!” It’s obvious that words like Einherjar and Valhalla have entered the common lexicon...but there’s nothing sinister about that. As she closes her eyes, just for a moment, she wonders why she keeps expecting something to be sinister here.

  She’s not sure when she wakes up. The channel she is watching is playing reruns from the 1980s. It’s still dark outside. Stiff from her position on the couch, Amy decides to relocate to the bedroom.

  As she turns off the TV and stands up, Mr. Squeakers settles on her shoulder. Blearily making her way down the hallway, she notices a door open to what is presumably the office.

  Without thinking, she walks in. Loki’s back is to her, his eyes focused on two browser windows on his screen. In one is a picture of Amy, her head turned, bruised eyes closed, blood at her temples and leaking from her mouth. In the other side is mugshot of her would be killer from her universe, Ed Malson.

  A strangled sound comes from her mouth and the screen goes black. Loki is instantly up and out of his seat coming towards her. A moment later his arms are around her. “You shouldn’t have seen that, Little One,” he says pressing her head to his shoulder.

  Amy swallows. “I died in this universe...didn’t I?”Rubbing her back, Loki whispers. “Yes.”

  Pressing her eyes to his shoulder, Amy cries, “But how did he get me?”

  In her universe Malson almost got her when she was run off the road. She had been momentarily distracted by a short burst of flame Loki had caused, and she nearly ran into a deer. In this universe there wouldn’t have been a flare so how...

  Squeezing her tight, Loki says, “You encountered him at a gas station just past the Illinois border. You fought him, and he became so enraged he shot you. The shots drew the attention of some lorry drivers, and he was apprehended, his crimes discovered. He is now in a maximum security prison.”

  In Loki’s arms Amy quakes. “Don’t worry,” Loki whispers. “I will never let that monster hurt you.”

  Amy sucks in a breath. “What about my grandmother, Beatrice?”

  Loki sighs and squeezes her tight. “I’m sorry. She had a stroke soon after your...accident...she died instantly.”

  Nodding into his shoulder, Amy just lets him hold her for a while. When he directs her back to the bedroom she doesn’t protest.

  She wakes up in the middle of the night, a scream in her throat and a dream of Malson’s knee in her back, and his gun at her head. Loki is right there beside her, ready to comfort her.

  It’s easy to forget the discomfort she’d felt when he’d talked about Sigyn.

  x x x x

  At first light she wakes up alone. Amy experiences a moment of panic and a bout of nausea she barely restrains. She stares up at the ceiling, a horrific thought overtaking her. She is alone in an unfamiliar universe. She has no identification and no money. She’s trapped.

  A timid squeak sounds from the nightstand. Lifting her head, Amy sees Mr. Squeakers sitting there, a cup of tea and some saltines beside him. There is also a folded piece of paper.

  Swallowing her unease, Amy gives the spidermouse a quick scratch and then picks up the note. She recognizes Loki’s oddly neat script immediately.

  Amy,

  I have a bit of administrative work to attend to this morning, something I wrangled Odin’s approval for. The internets say saltines are the food of choice for women in your condition.

  Make yourself at home,

  Loki

  Amy stares at the note for a moment then folds it back and quickly drinks the tea and gobbles down the saltines. Her nausea abates, but she feels a rising tide of panic take its place. Loki’s home is immense, palatial even, but she’s beginning to feel claustrophobic. It occurs to her a home is not a home unless you can leave.

  Still in the dress from the night before, she picks up Mr. Squeakers and goes to stand by the front door. She’s suddenly overtaken by the fear that it might be locked. A shaky breath courses out her lungs as she approaches the doorknob.

  Swallowing, she takes it in her hand. Closing her eyes she tries to turn it.

  It gives without even a click, and she releases a breath. And then she pulls. The door doesn’t budge.

  She yanks the door backwards with all her might, an angry cry on her lips, but it doesn’t move. Reaching up she bangs on the heavy wood with her fists. Of course nothing happens, no one comes to see what the noise is. Amy slides to her knees and staring up at the doorknob.

  And then she sees the sliding bolt lock.

  She bites her lip. Feeling foolish, she smoothes her dress and stands up. Narrowing her eyes, still expecting some trick, she gingerly reaches for the bolt. It slides to the side easily. When she tries the door again, it opens without even a squeak.

  She stares at the dimly lit hallway beyond for a moment. And then, releasing the knob, she lets the door fall closed. A rush of air and a pop of her ears make her turn.

  Loki is standing in the foyer, Laevateinn in his hand.

  Tilting his head, brow furrowed, he says, “Amy? What are you doing?”

  Her mouth falls open. How do you say ‘I thought you were holding me prisoner’ nicely? Swallowing, she stammers the least offensive truth she can manage. “You said you were gone but the sliding bolt lock was shut and you
can’t go out with it locked so I...” she takes a breath. “Was confused.”

  “Oh,” says Loki. He holds up the sword. For just the briefest moment, Amy thinks the blade is stained and brown and thinks she smells something metallic. Loki’s lips purse, and Laevateinn glows in the dim light of morning, its blade pristine.

  Still holding up the blade between them, he says in a slightly wonder struck voice. “I used Laevateinn to walk the In-Between. Much more convenient than a cab. As for the sliding bolt lock...” He winces, and lowers the sword. “It won’t keep Thor from knocking the door in, but it will slow him down enough to give you warning.”

  “Ah...” says Amy. Something nags at her. Trying to pry without sounding like she’s prying, she says, “You had an administrative errand?” From the light she wouldn’t guess it’s later than 6 a.m.

  Fishing in his pocket he pulls out a small card. “Here,” he says, with triumphant grin. “A gift.”

  Taking it from him her brows rise. It’s an Illinois driver’s license. It has the same photo that used to be on her old license; for a moment that startles her but then she realizes it still might have been in the system. What must be Loki’s address is printed on it beneath her name. And...she pulls the license closer to inspect the words. “Universal Health Care ID....?” she says in disbelief. There is a number following the words.

  “Ah, yes, some of the newer treatments aren’t covered, but it does have maternity.” His face gets serious. “Occasionally, I won’t be able to be here and you might not be able to get hold of Miskunn in time. It seemed best to be prepared.”

  “Universal Health Care?” Amy says, still staring at the card.

  Loki chuckles. “Yes, some sort of single-payer deal Odin helped broker between your squabbling politicians.”

  She’d just thought he’d been holding her prisoner, off on some nefarious errand.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  Loki waggles his eyebrows and looks pleased as punch.

  A little overwhelmed, Amy sniffs, “I think I might hug you now.”

  Smile dropping, Loki takes a step back. “I’m holding a weapon that can cut a tomato and a human in half with equal ease. Let me put it away.” Rolling his shoulders he sniffs. “Also, I could use a shower.” Turning on his heels he heads towards the bathroom.