Ave Maria

Nineteen

Chapter 19

Maria thudded the side of her head against the wall, dully eyes staring from the window. Well, it wasn't a window exactly. She'd found a small, secluded spot on the Helicarrier, a tiny little corridor too small to house any rooms even, but it had a number of groves in its walls (perfect for hiding if someone would walk past) and a tall wall of clear glass at the end. The 'window' rose all the way from the floor to the ceiling, and Maria sat with her knees hugged to her chest, staring out at the dark night longingly.

She hadn't been awake long. About three hours ago, maybe four, she'd blinked herself back to consciousness in an unfamiliar room, her body placed delicately on a bed with the sheets tucked in neatly.

That alone had tipped her off about who had done it: Thor. It hadn't been the only sign of his presence though. A chair had been abandoned by the side of her bed, with Thor's unmistakable red cape draped over the back of it. Maria could just imagine him sitting there, holding her hand as he waited for her to wake up.

She'd waited for him too.

She'd hoped he'd come back to see her again, waiting patiently in the bed for his return. She needed to see him again. But after an hour of waiting and staring longingly at the caped chair, she'd finally conceded defeat and had changed for bed.

The shorts and tee were nowhere near as comfortable as one of her oversized night shirt back home – nor Thor's black shirt, which she had grown quite attached to since her hangover – but she didn't have much else to choose from out of the limited chest of drawers S.H.I.E.L.D had supplied her with. The clothes weren't even her size, the tee ridiculously baggy, revealing a generous amount of bra beneath it as it hung from her figure. Or maybe she'd just lost weight. That wasn't all that unfeasible. Having her brother go on a shooting spree, getting shot twice, having the most important person in her life find out she'd tried to kill herself, and finding out that a god essentially wanted her dead to complete his scheme …yeah, pretty stressful stuff. She could be excused for dropping a few pounds.

She must have been out for a long time for night to have swung round again, but the hours of unconsciousness hadn't given her much rest; she'd felt exhausted. Perhaps that was where Thor had gone, she wondered, to get some sleep of his own. She wasn't sure how long she'd lain there in the dark room, tossing and turning and praying for sleep, but not getting any respite.

It was torture.

It didn't feel like long before she'd finally slipped from the bed and left, feeling alone and awkward. She'd never sleep in that room, she decided. She wanted to feel like home again. And home wasn't in a cold, fake room like that. It made her feel like a mental patient or something.

Sitting in the corridor now, she didn't want to go back. Thor's cape would be waiting for her, reminding her ever more of the god's absence. She screwed her sleepy eyes shut. She really needed him. Just to hold her and tell her it was okay. Just to be there. His presence alone made her feel untouchable, like he was a wall of muscle that could guard her from anything.

She felt empty. Everything was just wrong. She couldn't help but think the only way people would remember her now, thanks to Starks little betrayal, was as the suicidal girl who the God of Thunder Thor had a fling with. Her arms hugged tighter around her knees and she tried to control her thoughts. Getting depressed would only make things worse, no matter how tempting it was. She'd promised Thor, hadn't she? That she wouldn't do anything stupid again, and getting depressed was a serious step towards that dangerous direction.

She ran a hand through her hair and breathed deeply. She'd made a promise. She'd promised Thor that she wouldn't try again. She had to cling on for his sake, no matter how much it hurt.