Unforgotten

Chapter 6

I dreamt of him as I slept that night.  He was alone, fighting, always fighting.  His handsome face skewed into a painful scowl.  He was not in his Asgardian uniform that I had seen him in before, but in plain clothes, with a huge, angry purple cloud following.  He turned and screamed something, but the cloud overtook him – and he screamed my name. I woke with a start, covered in sweat.  Looking at the clock, I saw it was nearly three in the morning.  I tried to shake the sound of his voice, but couldn't get it out of my head.  Pulling back the covers, I got up and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. Taking my glass back to the bedroom with me, I gazed out the window for a moment until the loud ringing of my phone startled me.  I didn't recognize the number but answered anyway.

"Hello?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Are you alright?" His voice was quick and smooth, but my heart did a flip at the sound.

"Loki?  Wh . . ."

"Are you alright?" He reiterated, more sternly this time. I could imagine his jaw clenched, eyes flashing, and I shook my head, sitting down on my bed.

"Yes, I'm fine.  For it being this late."  I frowned.  "Or early."  How the hell did he know? I thought, but brushed it aside.

"I'm sorry.  I should have thought, I just . . . Never mind." He said quickly.  "May I see you today?" He asked cautiously. 

"Yeah," I answered quickly, quicker than I realized.  "Maybe tonight?"

"I look forward to it."

"Me too." I paused.  "Thank you for calling, Loki.  Good night."

"Go back to sleep, darling," He said quietly, and I heard the line click. My mouth hung open for a moment as I put the phone back down on the table next to my bed.  Would I ever figure that man out? I was really beginning to wonder.

"How did he get your number, though?" Natasha asked, leaning back in the chair by my front desk as I checked a camera lens. 

"That's what I don't get!" I said.  "I never gave it to him, and I can't imagine anyone else would." She shrugged.

"Never came from me."

"I know."

"But you said you'd go out with him," Natasha said.  I nodded.

"Tonight.  I don't know what we're doing.  What do you do when you go on a date with. . . . Well, with a god from Asgard?" I laughed a little in spite of myself.  Natasha chuckled. 

"Not nervous are you?" I glared at her, and she held her hands up in defense.  "Sorry, sorry.  Let's change the subject – what are you wearing?"  I looked down at my jeans and chiffon blouse, then looked back up at her.  She narrowed her eyes at me.

"Well, I think we may need to head back to the Tower.  I have a couple things you should try on."  She turned to go around the front desk and twisted the OPEN sign to CLOSED.  I sghed - there was no arguing with Natasha.

Several shirts were spread across Natasha's bed by the time we were done late that afternoon, and she had finally chosen a wine-red shirt with gold buttons going up the back, with a pair of black leather pants and low-heel boots.  I hardly recognized myself, but even I was impressed. 

"You look hot." Natasha said happily.  I smiled half-heartedly, not sure what to think.  She walked to the closet, then turned back to me with a bottle of French perfume.  I held my hands up.

"Oh, no.  I think I'm dolled up enough without smelling like a French poodle," I laughed.

"I never smell like a French poodle with this." Natasha pretended to pout, but then grinned at me as she set the perfume bottle back.  "Oh well, let's go." She linked her arm with mine, and we headed for the main room.