HEROES | T. ODINSON 1

38.

It's only the beginning.

If we hold on to hope, we'll have a happy ending.

  When the world was at war before, we just kept dancing. 

Time slowed when I watched Steve get up off the ground. The gleam in his eyes I'd grown accustomed to had vanished when his best friend did and had been replaced by nothing. My brain needed a photograph of this moment, needed to take in what had happened, but the timer seemed to be stuck on an infinite loop.

The smell of cut grass made its way up my nose. I had ripped out clumps of it and was holding it tightly between my fingers without even noticing it. I grimaced and tossed the limp sprouts back onto the ground for them to dry out and die, just like Bucky had done just minutes ago.

My stomach clenched at the thought of his name alone and I choked down a sob while Natasha unknowingly did the same. I glanced over at her and nodded slowly as she bowed her head. The two of us didn't know what to say to each other. We stayed quiet.

I found myself momentarily marveling at the situation at hand, trying to make sense of it, but failing miserably. It all seemed so utterly bizarre to me, how half the people on earth had vanished without a trace in a matter of seconds and how it all felt like it was our fault.

Nothing would ever be the same again, none of us could deny it. Our lives had been changed forever. How badly I wished I could go back to when I was eleven, because killing a boy and dealing with the consequences seemed easier than whatever this was.

Thor offered me his hands, which I slowly took. He hoisted me up off the ground and pulled me to him, pressing me tightly against his body in a tight hug. The broad man wiped crystallizing tears off both my cheeks using his thumb, before placing his hand on the back of my head  and pushing my face into his chest.

"It's okay," he mumbled between shaky breaths, "it's okay."

The sun already started to fade behind a small set of sheep-like clouds, turning the sky above our heads a burnt orange shade to indicate the end of another day.

"Love me," I blurted out, "please. I need it."

"I do," he muttered, "I love you."

The leftover Wakandians sadly offered us sad goodbyes when we finally boarded the Quinjet back to New York City. I didn't want to look back at the place, that had been utterly destroyed - both literally and figuratively - by Thanos and his cult of children, but I couldn't stop my eyes from traveling out of the window and down at the grassy panes even after we had taken off.

With T'Challa now gone, who would keep Wakanda safe?

Thor gently took my hand and slowly dragged me away from the windows towards the back of the plane. He pushed me down on my seat and took the one beside it as the jet engines revved loudly.

I looked up at him as the pressure of acceleration pushed me into my seat while the jet thundered skyward.

"You're mine, understand?" He asked suddenly, grabbing my chin to meet his gaze, "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you. I promised you that." 

"It's not me I'm worried about, Thor," I said quietly, "It's everyone else I'm thinking about. I'm worried about you, too. Especially you." 

"Do not worry," he urged me, "I'm okay. I will be."

He pressed his lips softly to my nose and squeezed my cheek with his hand.

"I'm tired," I muttered, "So tired."

He wished there was something he could do, longed to be anywhere in the universe with me but here, but we were stuck aboard the Quinjet after suffering a tragedy and the world kept spinning with us on it all the same, even though I wanted to leave as bad as him - maybe even more.

Thor sighed, returning his gaze towards the front of the ship while he allowed me to rest my head on his broad shoulder. I longed to feel the skin underneath his armor, to truly feel him instead of the attire designed for the war we had just lost. Every fiber of my being wanted to just jump out of the jet and head back to Sakaar, because even though that place was supposedly loveless, I knew we would find it there.

I tried to look him in the eye again, but opted against it. That usual sparkle with the light of a billion stars I'd grown to adore had vanished back on Wakanda and instead, it had been replaced with hurt. Thor could try to hide his feelings all he wanted, but his eye didn't lie. He might only have one good eye left, but it didn't lie. It never would. 

I turned away instead, watching the ocean below us speed by. The silence between us was deafening. I peeked over the headrest in front of me to see Steve, sitting with his legs slightly spread apart and his hands folded neatly in between them. He had his head down towards the ground, shielding his face from view. Is he praying?

 I leaned back down in my seat, allowing a single tear to escape my right eye. It rolled down my cheek and seeped down my chin and neck, where it landed somewhere in the torn shreds of my designer dress. I didn't want to cry just yet. Not with all of them watching me, but Thor already noticed.

"Rest, fair maiden," he whispered in my ear, "the war is not yet over."