Cellmates

8

When Loki awoke the next day, his entire body was one unified ache. His back was sore from falling asleep on the floor and his head was throbbing from such a heavy overexertion. He sat up and his body produced a symphony of cracks and groans. He deeply massaged his tired face, pressing his back against the glass.

He glanced up with a start, having remembered the cause of all this pain. Naomi. He half turned to look over his shoulder. She was still sound asleep right where he'd set her down the night before. That was a relief. Facing forward again, he took note of the fresh tray of food that had already been set out for him. How long had he been asleep? While his internal clock was good, even he had trouble determining the time down here occasionally. He'd know for sure by lunchtime.

After a moment, he stood, stretching the sleep from his legs and carefully eyeing the food set out for him. He momentarily debated which would be simpler – or easier on his already aching body – conjuring meals out of thin air or teleporting what already existed from here to there. He frowned, not being able to decide one way or another. He would know for sure within a few hours, after he had some renewal in strength. For now, he returned to his perch, retrieving one of his books before taking a seat. Every few pages, he would glance up to ensure she was all right. Still breathing. Still peacefully sleeping. Still living. She stirred only once when the guards were particularly noisy with the delivery of his lunch. Other than that, she was at last content.

Loki waited until after his dinner before attempting to breach the barrier again. He was fearful that should someone discover this newfound blessing, they'd find someway to take it away. As the lights finally dimmed, the process began again. The second time was easier, as if the hole had already been worn through and only needed to be broken open again. This time he did it in half the time and thankfully with half the strain. His clone reappeared, accompanied by more solid food: some fruits and breads. He was only hopeful she could eat it.

Leaning over her, he brushed her hair away from her face. Her complexion looked considerably better, though her cheekbones were still more prominent than before. "Naomi?" he asked quietly. She stirred briefly. "I brought you something to eat." She didn't verbally respond, but her eyes flickered and she further adjusted. "Can you sit up?" She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. Slowly, methodically, she pulled herself up one painstaking inch at a time until she was slumped against the tiny headboard.

Looking her over again, he quickly decided solid food was still going to be a challenge. He wasn't even sure she was aware of him – or the fact that it was him anyway. Had she known, he assumed she wouldn't have been quite so receptive. As her eyes finally opened, for the first time in days, he was greeted with a very obvious fog. Their brown color was dulled and they weren't focused on anything in particular. It amazed him that she was even conscious. She smiled weakly as she stared in his general direction. He sat down opposite her, poking through the fruit assortment. Pears, he decided. They were the softest and by far the easiest to swallow. He pushed a few pieces past her lips and she mindlessly chewed and swallowed without much difficulty.

He fed her three whole pears before she finally seemed full. She curled slightly into the corner, but the discomfort showed in her face. With a small space opened up, he squished in beside her, allowing her to rest against him instead of the rigid and most likely uncomfortable headboard. "Thank you," she breathed quietly against his sleeve. The sound of her voice had almost startled him, having not heard it at full strength for such a long time. Though this time it was still quiet and hoarse from disuse. "Thank you, Loki." Perhaps she was aware of him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she moaned softly. "Tired."

"Hungry?" he inquired, half joking.