Perpetuity (A Loki FanFiction)

Chapter Two: Promotions and Commotion

He finally decided he would try to sleep. Given the circumstances, he could use some shut eye.

"Good night!" Rory said from the comforts of her bed.

"Good night," Loki replied sleepily.

Just as he was about to fall into a deep slumber, he heard a voice.

Loki...

It was a hissing. A voice without a body. There was no one. But the voice was still there.

Loki, you know what you have to do.

He did. But he refused, "I can't. I can't hurt her; I won't."

Yes you will. You will.

Suddenly, a wave of calm shook Loki to the bone. He could do this. He had to do this. He stood up and walked over to Rory, who was in a deep slumber. He had a knife in his hand, and without hesitation, he brought it down hard and fast. Rory's eyes shot open and looked right at him; her pained, crying eyes looked to him. She gasped for air and held on to Loki as if he would save her, but he just stood there and watched her die slowly and painfully. Finally, her breathing stopped with her heart, and she fell back into the bloody mess of a bed. Realising what had happened, he immediately jumped back from the lifeless body that was his friend not a few minutes ago. What had he done? He had killed Rory. He killed her without a second thought, and that hurt him more than anything could. His back hit the wall and the voice came back.

Good, Loki. You have done well.

"NO!" Loki shouted between sobs, "This is not what I want.."

You have done nothing wrong. She is a mortal, they don't matter.

"No. No. No. No. No! Of course she matters! I am a monster... I'M A MONSTER!"

He woke up in a cold sweat, shouting at the voice in his dreams. Rory was right next to him holding him in her arms, comforting the young man shouting at the invisible voice of his imagination.

"You're not a monster." She said, "You're my friend and I know that for a fact."

Loki, embarrassed and apologetic for waking her, composed himself and stood up. Rory followed him out of the room and continued into the kitchen. She came back out with a glass of water with a lemon floating in it.

Loki looked at it curiously, "What is this?"

She held it out to him.  "It's lemon water. I always have a glass when I have a bad dream. Don't drink the lemon. I learned that the hard way."

Her subtle joke broke the tension in the room and he took a sip. It was not what he would have had back in Asgard, but it was tolerable, nonetheless.

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem."

"No," he continued, "I really, really, want to thank you. You have taken me in in my time of need, and, right now, nothing is more precious to me than your companionship."

"Well, I.." Her attempts to speak were futile.

Loki understood, "You can go back to sleep. I think I'll be out here for the rest of the night."

"You sure?" She didn't want her guest to lose sleep so easily.

"Yes. I'll be fine. I promise you."

She simply nodded and retreated to her room, leaving Loki in his train of thought. He was tired, but he refused to let himself fall asleep in fear of the voice coming back and taking him under its spell. But despite his attempts to keep his eyes open, he fell into a dreamless slumber.

In the morning, it was actually about noon that he woke up, he couldn't find Rory. In a panic, he searched everywhere for her. It was only then he remembered she was at work. A wave of relief crept through his body and he relaxed on the sofa.

He tried to keep his mind occupied for the next few hours. No matter how hard he tried to think about how he could seek revenge on Thor and return to Asgard, his mind kept wandering back to Rory. Her gentle touch. Her soft voice calming his horrid thoughts. She was permanently embedded in his wandering thoughts. But he constantly dismissed them. He attempted to concentrate on battle tactics and ways of winning his father's favor. But his attempts were met only with the voice of Rory echoing in his mind. Every inch of his thoughts was crowded with the thought of a mortal he had known for merely a day, distracting him from his plans of mass complexity. But he knew he could not, could never, love her. The risk and humiliation would be too great. But yet, some small and untouched part of his brain begged him to love her.

~•~

"Hello, Rory, darling!" Dominique greeted Rory as she traipsed into her office. Her blonde bangs were stick straight and her almond-shaped eyes were bright with excitement. "Guess what?" Her toothy smile revealed her happiness.  

"What could possibly get you so excited?" Rory asked facetiously.

"Well," Nicki began, "igotapromotiontoworkdownstairsasamodel!" Her words slurred together in a whirr of enthusiasm.

Rory was confused and utterly lost, "What did you say? You were talking awfully fast."

Nicki took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried again, "I got a promotion. I'm moving downstairs to work as a model!"

Rory's heart fluttered then dropped. Her best friend got a promotion, great. But she may never see or talk to her again if she moves down to the models and photography floor below them.

"That's great, Nicki!" She half-lied through her teeth, "when do you move downstairs?"

"Tomorrow. But Georgia is having a black tie Gala Saturday night for all of us in the agency. I'll be there. And you better bring a date!"

Rory stiffened, "Why should I?"

Dominique, still her normal self, replied, "Honey, it's obvious you have a guy on your mind. You're smiling more, your eyes twinkle more than usual. You're a thousand times funnier-"

"So I wasn't funny before?" Rory interrupted sarcastically.

Dominique laughed, "Yes, see!" She paused to take a breath and compose herself, "It's tomorrow night. Be there or be square, honey!" She snapped her fingers and strutted out of Rory's glass executive office leaving her awkwardly standing there with words she had yet to say.

"Oh well," she mumbled to herself. She would make new friends right? But that meant she's have to make an effort to go up to people and talk to them, not appealing. Dominique had walked up to her and asked her to show her around. Or she could just be the corporate workaholic who actually gets stuff done and done well. The odds seemed against her.

At least for now she opened up a blank word document and started typing. Not even words that made sense. Just things that came to her mind. An hour or so passed and she was still buried in her own words. She was happily buried though, like a librarian would love being buried in a thousand books. Her joy must have been very openly so because Georgia knocked on the glass door separating her from the rest of the office.

"Enjoying yourself, Rory?" She asked suspiciously.

Rory quickly opened up the Christmas issue of Elle she was working on. "Mhmm... I'm just enjoying the new red carpet looks from this week. Emma's dress is so pretty!"

Georgia eyes her, "Just checking. Keep on." She smiled and left. Rory let out a deep breath once Georgia was out of sight. But just in case she came back, she continued to edit the magazine until her alarm beeped 5:00. She ran out of her office and raced out of the lobby door.

She was just about to hail a cab when she spotted a faint glow out of the corner of her eye. She tried to resist, but she sprinted to the door.