All The Little Pieces

I Miss You

Elizabeth lounged on the bed, idly tracing the pattern on the comforter with her finger. She had not seen Loki for the past four days, not since he returned from his trip with Thor.

The four days had been hellish. She had managed to stay calm while Loki told her about the Bifrost. His message had been clear. He certainly didn't want her around any longer.

Elizabeth had gone over and over their last time together in her mind, but she couldn't figure out what had changed. They had woken in his rooms, he had gotten up, dressed, kissed her goodbye, told her how he hated to leave, kissed her again, and finally only left when Thor showed up and practically dragged him out.

Nothing made her think he wanted her to leave then. In fact, he seemed eager to get back to her. Then he came back and yanked the rug from under her. What had happened in a single day? She forced back the tears that rose unbidden to her eyes again. She was tired of crying over him. Why was she so stupid to think that this relationship was different from any other one she'd had? She had somehow convinced herself that this would work. He was exactly like every other man, just more intelligent, and kinder, and better looking, and-she forced her brain to stop.

After he had left, she had lain down on the bed and cried for the rest of the morning. Finally, she rose and decided to get herself cleaned up, but when she went in the bathroom, all she could think of was the two of them in the tub together a few mornings before, and the tears started all over again. She didn't go to dinner, and finally cried herself to sleep, exhausted.

The next day was more of the same, but by evening, her sadness was turning to anger. She had screamed into her pillow and beat her fists against the table in rage, but the angry brokenness never left, and the only thing she had to show for it was a large and very sore dark purple bruise on the side of her hand.

On the third day, she had dared go to dinner, steeling herself to see Loki, but he never came. She was somehow flooded with both relief and disappointment. Thor told her Loki had not been out of his rooms since they returned. He asked politely if she was all right and looked at her with puzzlement and concern, but said nothing else about Loki. She stayed in her room since then, alternating between tears and hollow emptiness.

Now she was waiting for a seamstress to show up and finish fitting her for a new dress. Thor had told her yesterday that Heimdall was making great progress, but that he was calling together all the dignitaries, advisors, and others in the palace to announce that the Bifrost could be repaired. It would be a lavish feast and celebration.

A knock sounded on the upper bedroom door. "Come in," called Elizabeth, slowly swinging her legs off the bed. She stretched. It was amazing how exhausted she was from crying for days. She turned to the door, trying to sound pleasant. "Thor told me-" she cut off abruptly at the sight of Loki standing inside the door. "What? Why...?"

Loki appeared as completely exhausted as she felt. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face seemed thinner than before. "Good morning." He spoke softly, but at the sound of his voice, Elizabeth's heart began pounding.

She swallowed and tried to seem calm. "Loki. I wasn't expecting you. You look...tired."

He shook his head. "No, I don't suppose you were. And I am. I haven't slept well the last few nights." He stared at her face hungrily. "Has my brother told you he is hosting a feast tomorrow evening?"

Elizabeth nodded. She was suddenly aware that her eyes were burning and her throat felt tight. She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him not to leave the room. She forced the thought away. If he didn't want her, she would never beg.

"He's informed me that as a Prince of Asgard, I will attend, regardless of my thoughts on the matter. I wanted to know if I may take you with me as my guest..." his voice faltered slightly. "One last time?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

The ghost of his beautiful smile flitted across Loki's tired face, disappearing almost as quickly as it had come.

She noticed a bandage around his arm, showing from beneath his sleeve. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Loki shook his head dismissively. "It's fine. I scratched myself. Nothing for you to worry about." He lifted his chin. "What about you. How, uh, how have you been?"

The lump in Elizabeth's throat disappeared in a rush of frustration. Her voice came out even sharper than she'd intended. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Why are you even asking?"

He seemed taken aback at her question. "I'm asking because I care about you, because I keep thinking about how you are, and I haven't seen you or talked to you for days, and-"

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up. "You care? I don't even know what to say. I can't do this, not with you. It hurts too much. Just...why? Do you enjoy seeing me upset?"

Loki squinted in confusion. "What? Why would-you think I actually enjoy this? This overwhelming need to see you, to know you're all right? In a thousand years, no one has ever been able to hurt me the way you have!"

"I hurt you?" Elizabeth's voice rose. "Then you know what, just stop! Stop caring about me, since it's such an awful thing for you! It's doing neither of us any good, so just stop it."

"I CAN'T!" Loki shouted. Tears stood on his cheeks. He stopped and seemed to be fighting to control his voice. "I can't, and it's absolutely tearing me apart...and the fact that you even think I can just shows that you don't have any idea how much I-"

Another knock sounded. Loki swiped a hand across his cheeks, then turned and jerked the door open. A woman stood at the door, arms full of fabric. She looked from one to the other worriedly. "Would you like me to come back?"

"No," said Loki quickly. "I'm just leaving." He held Elizabeth with his gaze for a moment.

"I miss you." The thought was out of her mouth with a small sob before she could stop it.

Loki turned and opened his mouth as if to speak, then instead simply stared at her with eyes full of confusion and sadness before he turned and closed the door behind him.