Estranged, Chapter 2: Logic vs. Instinct

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Rowan and Loki descended the stairway and elevator down to the lobby of the building. As they walked toward the exit, the security guard, Joe, arose from his desk and walked over to meet them at the large glass doors. He was an overweight man in his middle years, yet he moved well enough for his hired position. He nodded respectfully to the both of them with a smile.

“So I see your friend caught up with you, Miss Rowan. Have a good weekend, now, and stay warm. It’s supposed to get colder tomorrow.” Joe smiled again and opened the door for them.

“Thank you, Mister Joe. I’ll see you next week.” Rowan smiled kindly at the man and exited the building. Loki followed, and Joe locked the door behind them. He always knew when the last person was gone from the building. And he always told Rowan the weather. If she had an uncle, she’d want it to be Mister Joe.

Together Rowan and Loki walked three blocks to a cozy little restaurant—Etta’s. A plaque at the front of the establishment claimed the restaurant was named after the family’s matriarch, Henrietta Ackerman, who opened the diner in 1962. It had 8 tables and a cramped kitchen area. The place was family-run with a simple menu of sandwiches and Southern American staples, but the service was high quality even if the food leaned toward the unhealthy side.

They took a small table next to the front window. Rowan began to glance at a menu, but food was far from important to her even though she knew she needed to eat something. Rather than narrow her meal choices, she instead watched Loki meticulously remove his gloves. He tugged at each finger deftly before pulling them off completely and tucking them away inside his coat. Rowan admired his quick, slender hands over the top of her menu and wondered what skills they were meant to perform. She could easily picture him confusing others with sleights of hand or wielding sorcery and daggers with equal adeptness. But she dared not ask him about it directly—what would he think of a grown woman’s daydreams?

Neither one of them spoke until they had ordered their late dinner. Loki chose the soup of the day and a hot cup of coffee while Rowan’s lack of physical hunger caused her to pick the first item she looked at, which happened to be a basket of chicken tenders. Any other day she would have worried herself over eating so greasy a dinner as fried chicken and french fries, but fretting over the nutritional content of her dinner seemed ridiculous now that she knew mythological gods were real.

"So how long have you been here on—what did you call here? Midgard?" Rowan watched the passers-by and smoothed the napkin in her lap unnecessarily to avoid Loki’s gaze between sentences. She wanted to keep her composure, and his eyes were unsettling if she had no words to focus on.

"Yes, Midgard. It is what Asgardians call your realm of Earth. I arrived only a few hours ago. I have been here many times before, but never like this. I've never been so unprepared with so few resources available to me." He peered into his coffee mug, possibly wishing for a stronger drink.

Rowan was captivated with this man—well, this god who was now a man, assuming his story was true. He looked so broken, and she wanted to help fix him. But how can I help someone like him?

"So...do you have any plans?" Rowan poked at the lemon wedge in her water with her straw—another excuse to avoid meeting Loki’s direct attention.

He again had that searching look on his face. She could see it from the corner of her eye. He spoke thoughtfully, carefully picking his words, "Perhaps...but I am still making considerations."

Despite her sincere wish to help Loki, Rowan realized she didn't really know what she was trying to get herself into. She was assuming he wanted to repent and learn compassion to appease his father, Odin. But this man had been the god of lies for a very long time. Why would his tune change just because he was stripped of his powers? Who would know if the god of lies was telling the truth? Had her intuition been correct with him or could it be thrown off? A seed of doubt took root, causing her to second-guess her dinner decision. She felt a pang of worry deep in her stomach. We may be having two different conversations if I'm not observant enough.

She went out on a limb and asked him to clarify, if he would dare. The worst he could do was get up and leave, right? "Are you going to satisfy your father’s wishes or defy him further?" She did not avoid his eyes this time, and he gave her a sharp look that chilled the pit in her stomach. “I was only curious,” she stammered defensively.

Loki's stare softened, and he glanced down at his coffee mug again. The proper words seemed to come to him slowly, his frustration minor but plain, "Neither. I am...on hiatus. You have my apology should I sound vague or abrupt. I am not accustomed to discussing my true desires with others." He stared out the window and sighed. His eyes looked toward the passing cars and pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he was a million miles away. She almost missed his anger compared to the near dejected look he wore now. Had she really caught him off guard? It seemed improbable to her that a former god could stumble over his words while talking to a human, yet there he was, reaching for the right words to express himself. This truly is a man out of his element...unless he's playing me. Damnit, why did he have to be the god of deception? Her intuition felt fuzzy and uncertain, like events were still up in the air. Perhaps they were.

Even after Rowan had admitted that she believed Loki's story, a voice in the back of her mind had been skeptical and attentive. It analyzed every word Loki said and every action he made. It was waiting to be convinced. It wanted him to make a mistake so it could announce him for the fraud he was. His story was impossibly absurd, and that little voice wanted to see his charade fail. The only way she ever quieted the nagging voice was with scientific proof.

Yet outwardly it was in Rowan's nature to give others the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe that others always had good intentions. It was a contradictory and disastrous pairing. Her heart was usually burned for it, but it was just the way she was; she couldn’t deny her instincts for long. She hoped Loki wouldn't take advantage of her sincerity, but in the back of her mind she knew it was a possibility if she tried to dig too deeply or trust too freely.

"I’m sorry. Maybe we should talk about something else." What could you possibly have in common with the god of deception? Same favorite color? Perhaps he enjoys knitting? Sigh... She struggled momentarily in the awkward silence, willing herself to speak something, anything that could bring Loki back into conversation without resorting to unnecessary small talk. "Although I hate trying to make idle conversation. It's such a waste of time. If you're going to talk with someone, it should be meaningful, start to finish."

"A respectable belief that I agree with," he stated simply. Her opinion hadn’t been intended as a hint, but it opened another door just the same. Her anxiety was swept away as the flow of conversation fell back into place smoothly. "Rowan," It was the first time he had said her name, and she quite enjoyed how it sounded in his voice. "Please forgive me for my attitude up on the roof. I am out of my element being a human, and I was unsure if I wanted to talk to anyone. It is a new experience for me, being so universally disadvantaged."

"Everyone has their reasons, and I had no reason to take offense. Consider yourself forgiven," she smiled at how easily she could forgive him. She spoke the truth, and it felt good to be on positive terms.

"I don't think I've ever met a human as patient as you are. I cannot understand how we can be here sharing a meal when I tried to run you off. It is against sensibility. As if it was destined to happen...” he trailed off, possibly realizing as Rowan had that the conversation kept pointing back toward an unseen force.

Rowan followed the idea. “I felt an urge to help you, so I stayed. I knew you needed someone to talk to. Intuition can be pretty powerful when you listen to it and follow through.” Again, Rowan’s words spurred him to continue, the unseen force pulling their conversation along to necessary points.

“Could I ask a favor of you, Rowan?" He looked a little perplexed that he had even spoken, but waited for her answer.

Her heart skipped at the sound of her name again, and the skeptical voice immediately chided her. Oh, don’t be a silly girl, Rowan Elizabeth Fields! You don’t really know this man! She kept her voice steady, though. "I'll do what I can. What is it?"

"I need somewhere to stay..." She sensed where this was going, but she waited to hear him ask rather than interrupt, "but I do not know the area, obviously. I would be grateful if you could help me secure living arrangements." It visibly pained him to ask for help. He really was a fish out of water.

The wheel of coincidence continued to turn. "Actually...my roommate and I have a spare room that we've been trying to rent out for the past two months with no luck. You're welcome to stay there if you like.” Already worked into a fury, that little voice screamed at her offering. Are you insane? You are inviting a stranger into your home! But she ignored its protests. Her instincts still said she was on the right path. Although she added in a rush, "If you can't pay, you can help out around the place, and I'll call it even." She hated asking for money or exchange of value when she felt like she was only doing a favor, but in the case of renting a room, she knew that it was only proper to expect compensation. I was just lamenting that useless room earlier today. Maybe this will be one less albatross around my neck to worry about if he can lift a hand more often than James does.

Loki smiled genuinely, his voice relieved. "How oddly fortunate... Thank you very much, Rowan."

She hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision, but it all felt so right. And her intuition rarely failed her.

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His unexpected meeting with Rowan hadn't gone as it should have—at all. She was supposed to be offended by his rudeness and leave him alone. She wasn't supposed to wonder who he was. She wasn't supposed to care. Sensible people left rabid dogs alone; they didn't reach out to pet them and take them home. And that was the problem with her. Her sincere manner was a rarity among humans of her time. She didn't seem to be bothered that his story should mark him a madman and get him picked up by the authorities—she only cared about whether he was being honest or not. She forgave his anger easily like she had known him for years. He found himself speaking to her before his thoughts were finished, and it was unnerving to his sense of logic. She definitely complicates my plans.

On the several block walk to Rowan’s apartment Loki reflected on the evening’s events and observed Rowan silently as she described her perception of the neighborhood to him. She detailed which restaurant sold the healthiest pizza, where to find interesting used books, when to people watch in the nearby park, and the nicknames she mentally used for all the various personalities she encountered daily—the “basket lady” who walked to the Old Market each morning, the “Jazz Man” who played requests on his saxophone for spare change, and “Billy Shakespeare” who recited classical poetry to himself as he wandered the streets.

He understood that her monologue served to put her nerves at ease, but he stopped listening to her actual words after a time. The hollow feeling had reasserted itself in him, and rather than push it away, he tried to let her voice fill it. He took in all the excitement in her voice, the passion and fondness that she felt for living in this place. The exercise failed when he realized the feeling had not passed—he was a bucket with a hole. She speaks as if she has not seen another soul for ages. A girl in her own world. I wonder why she is so lonely if she can read others so well? Would that not be a useful skill?

The downtown residential neighborhood was filled with older homes reminiscent of a more sophisticated time in the city’s history. Palm trees, pineapples, and crescent moons were tastefully-worked decorations seen everywhere from wrought iron fencing to flag pole finials to transoms over doorways. Many alleyways and older streets were paved with cobblestone rather than asphalt. Loki could appreciate this part of town much easier than the tourist-laden area they had just come from—put too many humans together, and they are no better than sheep. He would have admired the opportunity to shepard before, but now he would rather have time to himself. Time to pursue other endeavors.

Rowan only ceased her rambling once they reached the door of her apartment. The small entryway did not leave much space between them. "Oh no, I haven't even thought about what I'll tell James, my roommate. He's a pretty accepting guy, but..." Rowan glanced up at Loki doubtfully. He was at least 8 inches taller than her. "It's your choice if you want him to know who you really are. I can tell him you're a friend who's down on his luck. He'd be fine with that, and he probably wouldn't ask any more questions. Well, not any important questions. What do you think?"

She looked up at him again, her head cocked questioningly. The dim hallway light behind him made it easy to see her face, and for the first time he took a moment to examine her features. He saw she wore no makeup, which he recalled was atypical for a young, human adult female—perhaps she was not yet 30 years of age. She was of average build and average appearance—far from beautiful, but neither was she unappealing to the eye. Her wavy hair was a boring shade of medium brown and fell just past her shoulders, but her eyes were what caught his full attention. Those blue-grey eyes...deep as an ocean...filled with a longing...for what? He cut off the thought when he remembered she was waiting for his reply.

"Whatever you think is best, Rowan." He gave her a small nod and another one of those tiny smiles. He was thankful the light behind him would have overshadowed his awkward staring. Hopefully she thought his pause was for thought.

Rowan opened the door, and Loki followed her into the small second-floor apartment. The common area was modestly decorated with a chair, couch, coffee table, and television. A black laptop computer sat closed on the coffee table along with several books of various sizes and age and a small stack of mail.

"You can hang up your jacket here by the door, if you like. Please, have a look around while I check on James." She walked through the common area and called further into the apartment, "James! Are you home?" There was no response, and she disappeared further into the apartment.

Decoration was sparse, but one of the walls was lined with several bookcases filled to overflowing with books. Loki was thankful of his time spent studying Midgardian Literature. It had been far from extensive, but he knew enough to recognize what he saw on her bookshelf. A quick scan revealed the prevailing themes were classics, cookbooks, psychological studies, and science fiction.

Loki walked into the kitchen as he took in the remaining details of the apartment. If the rest of the apartment was drab and cluttered, the kitchen was immaculate by comparison. The counters were spotless and every item had its place. A peek into the cabinets revealed the same state of organization among the cooking supplies and pantry ingredients. Loki nodded to himself in approval. He appreciated efficiency. A note posted on the fridge caught his eye as he made his round of the kitchen.

"It seems James will be in late tonight," he called to Rowan. "He took Rob to a movie."

"How did you—" Rowan walked into the kitchen and saw the note as well. "Oh, well that explains his clean room and the air freshener. He must plan on bringing Rob home afterward. At least your room is next to my bedroom and not his." She suppressed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. A shiver ran through Loki at her touch. Fool, she’s just a girl. Nothing to jump at. He blamed the reaction on his lingering anxiety and shook it off.

Rowan showed Loki the rest of the apartment, ending at his room. "The previous tenant was nice enough to leave the bed and dresser since he was moving out to get married." It was older furniture with a sturdy, but well-worn look. "The bride already owned the furniture she wanted. I think she would have thrown this stuff out if he tried to bring it with him." She laughed a little, and he couldn't help but smile with her. Why does she influence me so? It is as if her mood is contagious.

Rowan walked toward the door to leave as she rambled, "Well, I guess I should turn in. You're probably tired, and I’ve talked your ear off for the last half hour. And I’m sure your day has been weird enough without me. Oh, I think there might be some clothing or other things in the dresser if you don’t mind second-hand stuff. I'll tell James about you in the morning. Help yourself to the kitchen if you're hungry. I do the shopping, so I don't mind. And I’m rambling again, so I’ll stop. Please..." She hesitated once she reached the doorway and cleared her throat. The way she held on to the doorway magnified her reluctance to leave the room, her need to talk with someone. "Please let me know if you need anything. If you want to talk, just knock on my door." She turned to make her exit and close his door, but Loki caught her hand.

"Wait." He felt that shiver again when he touched her. And this time he also felt an uncertainty, a nervousness, but he ignored it, "Thank you for letting me stay here. I shall repay you properly somehow."

She smiled and put her other hand on top of his reassuringly, "I'm just happy that I can help you." For a moment she looked thoughtful as if she would say more, but instead she only said, "Goodnight, Loki," and let go of his hand.

"Goodnight, Rowan." He closed the door behind her, and the hollowness came to his attention yet again as it had numerous times throughout the evening. Its origins evaded him when he tried to search himself for it. It truly felt as if he was not complete. He wondered if it was a byproduct of humanity. Do all humans feel this way?

Sadness crept into him after the hollow feeling. At first he assumed it came from his solitude now that Rowan had left the room. But when she crossed his thoughts, all he could think of was her eyes and how he wanted to study them again. What had he seen in her eyes? What did she long for? Sense spoke out against his feelings. It should not matter. She is only a human. What is wrong with this entire evening?

Loki sat at the end of the bed, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He wasn't tired in the least, and now he had so much more to think about. Rowan was to be an idle diversion, but she was in actuality a serious distraction. He had been looking forward to observing her abilities and testing her limits, but instead he found himself barely able to function past instinct. Logic was difficult to grasp when he spoke with her. It was as if her presence demanded that instinct precede reason. Why would she take a stranger to dinner? And why would she offer to take said stranger into her apartment as a roommate? A stranger with his story at that? And where was his anger and rage? Where was his complete and utter disdain for humanity? The whole situation was senseless.

He entertained several possibilities for his current situation: she was a murderer, she was crazy, he was crazy, she was a trap, she was an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. The suppositions went on late into the night, but nothing he devised seemed to fit the night’s events. After pacing the room a while he finally laid down. Sleep never came, but one piece of understanding arrived shortly before sunrise.

All through dinner he thought he had been fighting to keep his few remaining truths hidden, but what he’d really been struggling with was his logic attempting to override his gut feelings. His instincts said to be honest with her and against his reasons, he wanted to. True honesty had not touched his lips for a very long time. I could not bear to lie to her. I want to trust her. But trust was a two-way street, and that made him hesitant. Actual trust was a weakness, he reminded himself, yet what harm could there be in trusting a human?

Her hidden complexity was practically intoxicating. Despite her unending ramble after dinner, she kept much of herself from the world, and he meant to see it. He wanted to observe more of her perceptive skills. He could teach her how to hone her abilities, how to use them to her advantage, if she would try. She was just too tempting to pass up, and he had to have her, own her somehow. But win her by the rules? Could honesty truly be an advantage? This was quite a challenge indeed. Her trust. Being nice to a stranger is easy, but to trust another with your life... that is so much more gratifying. I will have her in my pocket soon enough. Her sincere trust will be my reward.