A Tale of Mischief and Mutants part 2

Home Again

—-Loki—-

If I wasn't keenly aware of what was actually bothering Sam her eerie silence would cause me to assume I'd angered her in some way. She makes not a sound as she moves into the bedroom and wraps herself up in the weighted blanket on the bed. I sit next to her in equal silence.

She's so quiet that I hadn't noticed her crying until I'd gotten this close to her. Neither of us had turned on the light in the bedroom and were relying on the light from the hallway. I keep my voice at a volume no louder than a whisper.

"Sam, mortal please, what happened?"

She turns slightly away realizing I've noticed her tears. Her voice sounds broken as she responds.

"Well... I found the right dress..."

I place my hand gingerly on her back I won't press for her to tell me what she knows I'm asking. ...I hope what happened was not what I'm assuming based on the condition Peter found her in. Instead I let her know something that I know she'd be hesitant to ask me about.

"Love, I... I would understand if you wanted to postpone the wedding."

She answers quickly without hesitation.

"No, like Hel I'll let them ruin that too..."

I gently guide her face so she's looking at me.

"It's not about letting them do anything, it's about what you want."

She takes my hand holding it close to her heart reassuringly.

"I want this."

She leans on me and is silent for a few moments. Finally she breaks her silence.

"...they... they took my clothes."

At the admission of this statement she's crying fully. I put my hand gently to her neck and look to her seriously.

"Did they-"

She interjects before I can even finish my question.

"No. I-I really thought they were going to... bu- but they just looked at me."

The way she says this isn't dismissive of their actions at all, its said more in a light of disbelief that they could look at another human being struggling the way she'd surely been and not feel any sense of humanity towards her. I'm filled with anger they took her clothes knowing that her past trauma would kick in and take the remaining fight out of her.

They exploited her PTSD just to make her easier to control. Along with anger I'm also overcome by a protective and boarder-line territorial instinct they hurt her and she's mine. I find myself suddenly smothering her in a hug.

"I'll kill the bastards I swear to you."

She nods into my chest. I know she knows full well this isn't an empty promise. She mumbles into the jacket I'm wearing.

"I love you."

"And I you mortal."

We stay like this for some time eventually falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.