california 02 // loki's romanoff prelude

five // odin's interlude

He knew he had to sprint like there would be no tomorrow, sprint like there were demons after him. He would have to keep it up for five miles, but he could do it. He was scrawny and looked thin and pale, and he could almost hear their gasps of surprise that he wasn't failing for once . . . but he would show them.

He could win this. He could. He had never been more alive, felt more alive . . . he could win, because he was a runner . . . he had the blisters to prove it. He was going to prove it, right here, right now.
Most people weren't going full throttle. Not like he was. The sun was blazing, and it must be killing them, but it was not going to kill him. He ran and he ran. Thor was just ahead of him, as was Sif, her ponytail flapping furiously as she sprinted after his brother. Thor was impossibly fast - but this was only the first lap ...

His breath was hot and heavy in his chest, his legs were on fire. He was unstoppable. He was flying, this time with wings - wings that would hold him, never let him down. They dragged him on, they had a life of their own.

Just another lap around the grounds ...

In the dark ...

With the stars winking from above ...

This is where it comes down to endurance, not strength, he told himself. Actually, a different kind of strength. A kind of strength that makes you hold on, even though your thighs burn and your calves scream. A kind of strength that Thor lacked - of a sort.

The first kilometre-long lap flew by in a blur of heat and dust, and he was not tired. At all. He could run forever and ever and never get tired. He was unstoppable. He started the second and behind him there was a mass of people - people he had ran past, people he had triumphed against. More than half the runners. The poorer runners, but a triumph nonetheless. And it was such a good feeling that he had to laugh, he just had to.

His head flicked towards the stands. He couldn't help it. He had to look.

Odin was sitting there, in his robes of gold and white, staring out at the track. Probably looking at Thor. Loki tried to concentrate on the race, but he couldn't -

Why won't you notice me?

(concentrate)

Why?

(keep running, don't stop running)

Am I still not good enough?

(keep running)

(stay focused)

Odin's head flicked towards him. It was such a tiny movement, but his one blue eye met Loki's, and his entire world was thrown off balance.

He fell.

Knocked sideways, as if by an invisible force.

He was going too fast. His wings abandoned him. He rolled on the hard earth.

The ground punched him in the back, then the stomach, then his thighs.

(no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no)

How many people had overtaken him? Twelve? More?

He had lost sight of Sif, of Thor.

He could almost hear the audience's laughter.

He thought he could win, but he couldn't!

He pushed himself up. Just another push up. Just another push up on his bedroom floor.