Doesn't Play Well With Tricksters

15 - Meeting His Mother

Roughly an hour later, they met back up in the lounge. Rachael eyed his silky, green pajama pants and bare chest. "That's what you sleep in? Seriously."

He smiled, "I like to be comfortable."

She rolled her eyes and handed him a tall glass full of neon orange liquid. "Apparently, your idea of comfort and mine are completely different." She motioned toward her warm, fuzzy, pajama set, complete with matching fuzzy socks.

He shrugged. "There is a difference between comfortable and cozy."

She picked up a second glass of the foul looking liquid and motioned for him to sit down. "My Aunt and I used to do this all the time. We called it sharing dreams, others call it dream walking, they both mean the same. The liquid gives us the ability to meet in the dream world." She took a long, slow drink of her glass. "It's not exactly the best tasting stuff, but it helps to keep the connection going. The more you can stomach, the better."

He downed the concoction in a single, swift, gulp and set the glass down, shaking off the flavor. "Is that all it takes, just-"

Rachael grunted with the effort of catching him and easing him to rest on the sofa. She yawned, sitting close to him and finishing her glass.

She barely had enough time to ensure her head fell against his bare chest before her eyes closed on their own.

---

Rachael gazed around the large, ornate dining room, casually wondering if Loki's dream was exaggerating the extravagance of the dining hall on Asgard. Or maybe, she thought, this is exactly how it is. He does seem to be used to the finer things.

"Rachael?" Loki asked, drawing her attention toward the table. She slowly moved toward him. As usual, being in someone else's dream world made her feel sluggish.

"I'm here."

"As am I." A woman, dressed in elegant, flowing, Grecian robes spoke out from the head of the table.

Rachael nodded her head in a silent show of respect.

"Loki, darling. She is every bit as beautiful as Bridgette was, maybe even more."

"Bridgette? Mother, we haven't spoken of her in -"

"Nearly four hundred years, I know." Frigga reached forward to pat his hand. "Your father shouldn't have kept you from going back, but there's no changing the past, now is there?"

Rachael eyed the woman with a fair amount of suspicion, not liking how she'd brought up Loki's imagined guilt. "You don't have the feeling of a dream illusion."

"That's because I'm not, dear. When I was whisked away to Valhalla, I was allowed to keep some of my gifts. One of them is being able to create a psychic link between two minds. In this case, between me and my son."

"Why are you haunting him? Can't you see how guilty he feels? Your visits only remind him how he feels he failed you."

"I would never torment him that way." Frigga gasped. "I wish only to council him. I visit to help him remember his promise."

"What promise?"

"I promised I would make ammends for the things I've done to Midgard. That I would not return home unless I could do so a hero." Loki interupted. "But you haven't answered my question, mother. Why bring up Bridgette?"

"Is it not obvious this girl is her descendent?" Frigga answered, motioning toward Rachael. "Though, I must admit, I like her better than Bridgette. Bridgette was meerly obsessed with your youth and convinced you could make her immortal. This one cares enough to follow you into battle."

Loki turned toward Rachael, an oddly calculating look in his eyes. "Where does your family's magic come from?"

Rachael sighed, wishing she could storm out of the room and sever the connection. "Bridgette had two daughters and a son. Her first daughter, my aunt Nicolette's ancestor, was yours. Bridgette's son, my ancestor, made his children swear they would watch over the 'weaker branch' of the family tree. That promise, passed down over the past four hundred years, was why my grandmother raised Nicolette as her daughter."

"So when you say she killed herself when she found out where her magic came from, you mean she killed herself because she found out about me."

"It's not your fault." Rachael answered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She didn't even know you."

"Everywhere I go, there is destruction and loss." His shoulders slumped.

"No, Loki." Rachael answered. "You've done so much good these last few months on Earth."

"I've done nothing but clean up my own mess. I haven't even begun to make amends for everything I've done."

"It takes time. You're going to get there."

"How do you have so much faith in me all the sudden when I have none."

"Sudden outbreak of optimism?" She answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Frigga's laugh drew their attention. "I like her. She's smart. She suits you."

"Thank you. I think." Rachael made a face, still not sure if she should trust this ghost of a woman was who she claimed to be.

Frigga smiled knowingly. "The first time I met Jane, Thor was telling her he would save her, his father doesn't know everything. And I told him not to let his father hear him saying it." She stood, watching the walls around them begin to fade. "If you doubt me, ask Thor or Ms. Foster if I'm telling the truth. The only others who would know are on Asgard."

"I miss you terribly." Loki whispered in way of a goodbye.

"I miss you too, my son."