Beneath A Moonless Sky: A Thor Fanfic

The Show Must Go On

In the wake of the destruction as the smoke settled in around them, Loki could feel a dampness beneath his body. He didn't have to ask, he knew his wife's water had broken, and they didn't have much time before this baby arrived. Lanie was panting beneath him, tears rolling down her face as she clung to his armor. She was overheating from the fire, and Edith's head had dropped to sit on her pelvis with an unbearably painful pressure.

"L-Loki...it hurts. Something is wrong." She whimpered quietly, being shushed as Loki struggled to his feet. He bent down to scoop her up with ease and cradle her tightly against his chest.

"I know, you're hot, Kitten. I've got you." Loki had become more than accustomed to the mandatory temperature his daughters growing body seemed to require and on instinct he ran for the bedroom on the far end of the hallway, furthest from the fire. He kicked down the bathroom door and turned the water on cold, sitting Lanie delicately on her feet and taking her face into his hands. "Now, listen to me very carefully. You are to sit in this bathtub with the door locked and labor as naturally and smoothly as you can. Do not open this door for anyone but me, is that understood? I will be back for you, I promise."

Lanie burst into frantic tears and shook her head no. "Please don't go. I can't have this baby without you."

Loki smoothed her hair soothingly with one hand and kissed the top of her head, using his free hand to tilt her chin and force her to meet his gaze. "You won't have to. I won't be gone long, but I must check on the others and make sure the twins are safe. You are so strong, my love. Do not forget that. Now you stay in here and do whatever you must for our daughter until I come for you. Can you do that?" She nodded, and he ebbed a tear from her cheek with his thumb as he pressed one final kiss to the tip of her nose. "Lock this door." He repeated as he slammed it shut behind him, leaving her to her own devices.

Lanie stared at the door for several minutes before she found herself numbly obeying her husbands demands. She slid out of her yellow sundress and stepped into the ice-cold water. Her aching body could have sighed in relief as she sat, and she closed her eyes as she lay back and attempted to relax. Her hands rubbed her abdomen delicately, missing Loki's loving touch as he paid attention to their little girl. "Edith, baby, I know it's time for you to come out now, but I need you to work with mommy a little bit, okay? Please wait for daddy, please." She whispered, caressing the side where she knew her daughter liked to lay. She was so frightened. She had no idea who this "Hydra" was or what they had done, but if Fury was behind this, she knew her baby was in very real danger.

Loki had grabbed his now screaming nephews on his way down to check on the others, and Emily and Thor both bolted to his side. Emily grabbed both of her children up into her arms and cradled them against her bosom, tears falling into their small tufts of ginger hair. "You need to get them out of here, take them to Asgard, take them anywhere, but they need to leave."

Emily wiped a tear from her cheek and rose an incredulous eyebrow at her brother-in-law. "What about Lanie? She needs to be safe as much as—" Loki's somber expression cut her off, and the way he locked his jaw and refused to meet her eyes made an eerie shiver creep up her spine. Loki's eyes were shiny, as if he wanted to cry, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He sighed.

"She's very nearly in active labor, it would not be safe to move her. I must get back to her, so I need this done quickly. Give the boys to Phil, have Heimdall take care of transporting them safely home. Phil can afford to be spared, neither one of you, I'm afraid, can. It's going to take all of us to end this madness."

Active labor? No, no, no, there was no way she was leaving her best friend to go through that alone. Emily darted toward the stairs, not quite making it as a sleeper agent tore through the gaping hole left in the bombs wake. He walked his gun to the center of her forehead, mashing the barrel into her skin. She hissed at the sensation, though her steely grey eyes never once left the beady black expression of the man before her. In a thick, German accent, he spoke. "Where is the whore?"