Estranged, Chapter 6: Scratching an Itch

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The contrived notion that Loki could possess Rowan’s trust like a bauble faded away the night he read her book. It was replaced with an urge to help her succeed, to help her take necessary action. Hence his offering to edit her story so she could increase her odds of securing an agent.

Loki had genuinely enjoyed reading her book which was a pleasant surprise. He remained objective, of course, but he respected her more now that he understood her creativity. Her use of metaphor was exact and appropriate. Her character development was deep and believable, not overwhelming or excessive. And her story was well-paced. He could not understand why she was reluctant to promote the fruits of her labor when they were of a very good quality.

He couldn’t help but see her differently now.

In his eyes she was now a creator in her own right, worthy of his respect and attention. But was her book the only cause for his heightened admiration?

Rowan’s consent for Loki to become her editor had brought about a sudden accountability that she had not known before. Completion of her book became a goal in sight rather than a hobby. By the end of the weekend she had finished the remaining chapters so they could both take on the task of editing and polishing.

Most evenings they met together in the living room to discuss certain passages and points of continuity. Loki usually worked into the night after Rowan retired to her room. In truth he slept little. He didn’t require as much rest as most humans, and he tried to avoid the troubling dreams that his mind conjured. He often fell asleep to find himself back in the void between realms where he had drifted in solitude for an unknown amount of time—the place where his inner demons ran rampant, where his madness was born.

He gave his corrections and suggestions back to Rowan promptly each morning for her approval, and after only two weeks he convinced her to begin her search for an appropriate literary agent.

Loki did all this while still maintaining his “day job” of dropping in on local businesses and observing their inner workings. He particularly enjoyed the shops that went out on a limb to try his theories and suggestions. Usually they entailed anything from off-the-wall advertisement ideas to suggestions for cross-merchandising. Once on a whim he suggested a new slogan to a shopkeeper. The rhyming was cliche and ridiculous, but the owner lit up like a light bulb and ran with it immediately. The man was eternally grateful as all of Loki’s growing fanbase was.

But something was missing.

The hollowness came upon him more intensely lately—the empty, dreamlike feeling of being separated from part of himself. He had found no way to abate or cure it. It weighed upon him heavily.

The challenge of fixing others’ systems wasn’t enough.

They offered only temporary satisfaction. He had no greater goal to work toward, and it made him itch. Helping Rowan out of her stagnation and watching her succeed would surely be fulfilling, but it wasn’t the same as an active personal goal.

He had her trust now, of course, yet it hadn’t yielded the sense of accomplishment he had expected. Instead the advances in their relationship—their friendship—had been much more subtle, comforting, and natural. And overall he felt satisfied with events as they had occurred, odd though they had been.

But his feelings hounded him.

He wanted more than friendship from her, but he was unsure how to broach the subject. He had taken lovers into his bed several times before, yet they had all been strictly physical encounters—playthings and machinations of noble intrigue. Those situations had been easily planned and executed without much effort. Never before had he felt so compelled to be wholly close to a woman much less confess his feelings to her.

He needed to take action before the itch became unbearable.

*************

The rest of Rowan’s month was both dizzying and intense. Loki might not have been a people person per se, but he networked effortlessly. Everywhere he visited he made friends and collected favors. The bookstore, the thrift shop, more than one high-end boutique, the pet groomer, numerous restaurants in the area—every business for several city blocks knew Loki after a few short weeks. And given his repetitive references to Internet usage, Rowan had no clue how much he might have been accomplishing through those means. She was scared to ask.

She found it complicated yet rewarding to work with Loki as her editor. She wasn’t sure what hiring a professional editor would have been like, but she was thankful for Loki’s objective viewpoint. He was adept at tweaking details in passages to more accurately portray the feel of a chapter or section. But she always worried that his objectivism might disrupt areas she otherwise thought were perfect as they were. Several of his edits had done this, and she had to reject almost every correction he offered from one evening’s work. He must have had an off night. She’d thought to herself.

She enjoyed spending her productive hours with him, yet on the other hand she missed the personal talks they used to have. She wanted to finish her book, but she wanted to spend time with Loki as well—just the two of them with no book in between, only conversation.

At night during the short time before her consciousness drifted to sleep she sometimes imagined Loki in extravagant situations such as ballroom dancing or committing roguish pranks. He was always smiling and laughing, and that is all she ever remembered of the fancies during her waking hours. In reality his genuine smiles were few and short-lived. She could tell when he was only using emotion for politeness or leverage—at least she thought she could. His tumultuous past had laid upon him a large weight that he tried to bear alone. She wanted to help him carry it or rid himself of it, whatever she could do. Their relationship—their friendship—had its grounds in personal matters, and she had tried to approach his issues as a friend or counselor and keep as objective as she could.

She kept telling herself that this was the appropriate course to take, but it wasn’t what she wanted.

*********

One thankfully quiet Friday evening that Rowan did not have to stay late at work, she occupied the sofa alone, the drafts and notes of her story spread out around her and the coffee table like a whirlwind had come through. The only noises were the cars on the street outside and the occasional shuffling of sheets and pen scratchings. James had gone out with Rob, and Loki was out as well. She received a text from Loki after work—of course he had secured himself a phone by now from helping out the local electronics dealer.

His text had read: Out for a pickup. Be back later. She was curious, but she didn't ask him to clarify what he meant.

Rowan was so engrossed in the minutiae of corrections that she barely noticed the front door admitting someone. Her sense of time had vanished within the flow of work. It could have been James coming in late for all she knew.

The time, in fact, was only 8pm. And the figure who entered was Loki. She looked up, papers in hand, to see him dressed in a black tailored suit. A deep green scarf around his neck brought out his green eyes, and his gloved hands held a black cane and hat to complete the look.

For a long moment she only blinked. She had to jog her memory to recognize that the man before her was the same one she knew. Loki took pride in his appearance, and would never be seen in anything less than finely cut clothing, but he had confessed weeks ago that a full suit wasn’t very practical for all of his daily walking. Why was he in one now?

Next, the rest of Rowan’s senses took over, and she actually realized he was standing before her in a well-cut suit. "Whoa...what's the occasion?"

He looks...good. He always looks good, but...tonight he looks really good.

She'd given up asking how he acquired new things a while back since he was always just "being compensated for some help." If she hadn't started checking with the shopkeepers herself, she'd have thought he was a drug dealer. But he was just the poster boy for bartering.

"A special dinner," he grinned broadly as he sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, tossing the hat onto the coffee table. It landed in the one spot devoid of papers.

"Oh..." Rowan's heart sank. I know he's met a lot of people, but... He's going out to dinner? She hadn't considered that he might become interested in someone. He had seemed so focused on keeping himself busy, and he never talked about being interested in anyone beyond doing business with them. "With who? Is it...business-related or—?"

"With you, of course. Who else?” He stated obviously. “Put away your work. Get up, get dressed, let us go." He nodded toward the door.

She gaped. "What? I never eat at fancy places! And I certainly don't have anything nice enough to compare with what you're wearing!” She sank further into the couch, hoping it would swallow her. The papers around her were a barrier she tried to hide behind.

“Nonsense, Rowan. Go get ready.” He motioned toward her room with his cane. A smile hid somewhere in his expression, but Rowan was too worked up to notice it.

“Well, where are we going? The Greek place? The French one?" She crossed her arms, hoping it was all a big joke she could expose.

"Bartoli's," Loki answered casually.

Rowan sat up straight. "The Italian place? The girls in the office say you have to wait weeks to get a table there on a Friday. Believe me, they go on about that kind of stuff all the time."

"The owner says I am to come by whenever I please, and he will always have a table for me."

Before she could stop herself she said, "And what did you do for him?"

"I optimized his stock portfolio and a few other things," he smiled and her heart melted. His eyes, the soft scarf, his sleek gloved hands... Why is everything a man does magnified by a good suit? I won't last the night if he keeps smiling like that. With effort she brought herself back to the discussion at hand.

"I really have nothing to wear, Loki." She left the couch to pace the room, papers tumbling to the floor. The situation made her terribly anxious. "You know that I don't get dressed up. I don't even wear makeup. I don’t feel comfortable with the whole decadence thing. It's just not me."

He peered at her calmly, "Just go take a look in your closet. I shall await you."

“Fine.”

With a small huff Rowan consented and left the living room for her bedroom. She stared at the door to her closet in despair before she opened it. She had a pitiful selection of clothing. T-shirts, slacks, jeans, a few button-up shirts, and the token dress for weddings or funerals were all that she owned. She rarely shopped for clothing or shoes. She hopelessly ruffled through the meager single rack all the way to the end where a black dress and a pair of black boots were tucked away in a dry cleaning bag. Her nerves squirmed in alarm.

I used to play dress up, but this is terrifying. Is this a date? Did Loki just tell me we're going on a date? Or is it just dinner? She hated being uncertain. And surprises were the worst kind of uncertainty. She much preferred having a hand in planning her outings.

She changed into the dress, marveling at the near perfect fit of it. She never found dresses that fit so well off-the-rack, which was part of the reason why she did not buy them often. Her hips had always seemed at odds with her chest and waist. She had an hourglass figure, always needing her waist to be taken in or chest or hips to be let out. She had recently visited an alteration shop to take in a pair of her slacks. She could have done it herself, but she would rather leave sewing to a pro. She smiled wryly at herself in the mirror, realization dawning.

Oh, Loki. Is that where you got my measurements?

She arranged her hair the best she could and searched beneath the bathroom sink for her emergency stash of makeup. She might never wear it, but she did know how to use it tastefully without making herself look like a clown. Her hands shook as she tried to line her eyes, and her heart creeped further into her throat with every detail she finished—powder, lip gloss, necklace, bracelet. She tossed a few essentials into a small black purse she had to remove dust from and returned to the living room.

Please don't let me make a fool of myself.

*********

Rowan returned after fifteen minutes in the little black dress and calf-high black boots he'd put into her closet earlier today. The little old lady who ran the alteration shop had a good eye and a kind heart. When he told her that the dress was intended for Rowan, she nodded in understanding and adjusted the dress with no more than a smile and a wish of “Good luck, young man!.”

Loki stood from the couch and retrieved his hat, then he couldn’t help but admire Rowan for a moment. The dress had a wide boat neck which accentuated her slender neck. The boots had a tall, wide heel to them. Her hair was parted off-center, and her long bangs were twisted and held to the side with a silver clip. She wore a plain silver locket with a matching chain bracelet he’d never seen. Probably some old gift hidden away in a jewelry box. She claimed she only wore jewelry if it held a significance. Perhaps a future purchase was in order.

I knew she could be beautiful on the outside. Quite beautiful indeed. Why does she not like dressing well?

Loki opened his mouth to compliment her, but she spoke over him, "So is there a reason you’re taking me to dinner?" Rowan fidgeted with the small purse she held, but she spoke confidently enough.

“Certainly. But I should think it obvious.”

“What’s obvious?”

“You secured an agent this week. That is an occasion worth celebrating.”

She had been so wrapped up in completing her edits and worrying over details that she had begun to ignore the big picture. He wanted to pull her nose out of her work for one night at least. He wasn’t the type to interrupt earnest efforts toward a future goal, but reflection and rest was necessary to promote creativity—she had been running herself ragged. And there was something more, of course. He had missed her attention the past couple of weeks. Even though they had worked together to complete edits on her book, it was far from the more personal focus their friendship had started with.

Her intensified focus on the book with the intention to finish had been his plan, but it had also backfired—he was jealous of the attention she now gave it instead of him. He found the thought ridiculous, but true none-the-less.

“I suppose so. But that’s already a done deal. Now I’m trying to finish all the rest of the writing and preliminary editing. I don’t really have time to go out for dinner.” As if to reinforce her excuse, she bent to tidy the papers she had knocked to the floor upon her exit.

“I share your sentiment. But you deserve an evening out. You do like Italian, do you not?” He gave her a worried frown, feigning disappointment at her snub.

“Oh, of course I do,” she replied abashedly. She let the papers in her hands drop to the coffee table in a heap.

He felt no sympathy for making her feel guilty for taking his dinner plans for granted. He wanted to see her relax. He wanted her to talk with him. And for that to happen she needed to extract herself from her work for a while. It would still be here upon her return.

They walked the several blocks to Bartoli's, and the pair of them received the occasional comment from passers-by. Loki gave them a smile with no effort, but Rowan was now the one out of her element. She was not used to being scrutinized so much and studied the pavement or fiddled with her bracelet as they walked.

Once they reached the restaurant the pair of them were seated quickly by the owner himself, Leo Bartoli. He was an older, balding man with prominent features and a stocky build. He wore a deep blue suit with a red tie, and shook Loki’s hand vigorously. He seemed an excitable, outgoing man.

He motioned them to take a seat at a small, secluded table lit mainly by candlelight. "Mr. Loki! I'm glad you took me up on my offer. You will always be welcome here after all your help! And who is this lovely lady who accompanies you tonight?” He held Rowan’s seat for her to sit down.

“Mr. Bartoli, this is Rowan Fields.”

“It is a pleasure indeed, Ms. Fields. Both of you, please enjoy whatever you like tonight on me." With a broad grin Mr. Bartoli left them with menus and their waiter.

Rowan gaped after the owner and waiter had left them to decide on their entrees. "Anything we want for free? It just doesn't feel right. You must have done more for him than you implied."

"If you must know I looked over his budget, helped him negotiate better prices for some of the ingredients he imports, and a few other things behind the scenes that had been causing him a lot of stress. Simple optimization. Nothing difficult. He is a high-strung man who recently lost his right-hand man, so he was in need of counsel that I graciously provided." The waiter returned, and they ordered their meals.

"But how do you do it? Whenever I go to my boss with improvement suggestions I get shot down. He thinks it's my way of telling him that he's doing a poor job of running the place."

"You do not tell them what to do. You discover what they want to change then show them a way to change it while making them believe it was their idea. I used to take it too far... make them do my own bidding... but now I am content to only challenge my abilities."

"Is everything just a challenge? Don't you care that you're helping others in the process?"

"A byproduct, of course. I understand that, but it is not my focus."

Rowan’s tone became hopeful. "Loki, don't you realize what's happening? You're an inch away from feeling compassionate. If you can feel good about helping others, then your father will let you go home."

"Home," Loki spoke flatly. The word had come out of left field. He wasn’t ready to discuss this, not yet. "I do not ever wish to return to Asgard, Rowan."

Her expression was surprised, confused, "...Why not?"

Loki avoided her eyes, "We shall speak of that later. Our food is here."

The rest of dinner’s conversation was about the food and finery of the restaurant. Rowan kept referring to the waiter as “Mustachio” since she didn’t catch his name when he had first spoken it. Loki encouraged her to address him as “Mustachio” directly, but she turned beet red at the suggestion. He rather enjoyed the lure of innocent fun, but resisted the urge given that this was a complimentary meal.

After dinner Rowan wanted to go for ice cream, cold weather be damned, but she insisted on changing first. After getting into a pair of jeans and out of the makeup, she felt more like herself. She didn't mind skirts or dresses, but fancy clothes plus a fancy restaurant was draining to her. Loki changed as well, but only at Rowan's request. He rather liked looking “sharp” as she had described it. Appearance was important when exuding confidence to others.

"So, what made you decide that you want to stay?" They strolled through the empty park, eating the ice cream they had picked up on the way there. Most everyone downtown was enjoying their Friday evening indoors. Their only company in the chilly evening were the crickets.

Loki sat down on one of the benches, and Rowan took a seat next to him. Loki’s nerves quivered, but he ignored them to summon as much logic as he could. He most certainly did not operate from a place of anxiety even when his reason was shoved aside.

I have to tell her. Even if she rejects me, I have to tell her. I cannot put this off any longer.

"Rowan, I must share my thoughts with you.”

“Sure. I’m listening.”

“At first I tried to ignore what was happening between us. I did not want to accept it, but now I do."

She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth, then put it back in her cup. “Do you mean that you...?” She couldn’t finish the sentence and gave him an expectant look. She wanted to hear him say it.

Before he could complete her thought, a light shone in the sky over the harbor above the clouds. Lightning struck somewhere across the bay followed by a long peal of thunder. Loki groaned, "No! Not now..."

In the wake of the thunder came a man hurtling towards them. He wasn't falling, though, he was was flying. The man landed several paces from them with a loud thud, kneeling to the ground. He rose to approach them—tall, muscular, and blond hair sweeping just below his shoulders. He wore armor, a red cape, and held a hammer in his right hand. Rowan gasped.

The armor-clad man approached the pair of them smiling with a jubilant stride. He extended his arms toward Loki and bellowed happily, "Brother!" Loki’s annoyance melted, though, and he stood to let his brother embrace him.

I try to confess my feelings to Rowan, and somehow Thor shows up to steal the show. Why am I not surprised?

"Thor?" Rowan fumbled with her ice cream and nearly dropped it before she set the cup down on the bench and stood to meet him. "Are you really Thor?"

Loki turned back to Rowan, "Thor, this is my...friend," he smiled at her, "Rowan Fields. Rowan, this is indeed Thor, my brother, the God of Thunder." He said brother with a friendly emphasis rather than contempt as might have been typical of him before. Despite his entrance and timing, it was good to see Thor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rowan Fields." He stepped forward and kissed her hand with a very charming smile. I am overjoyed to see you have made a friend, brother.” He turned his attention back to Loki and adopted a more serious stance. "Father sends his regards, and I bring his glad news. You may come home. He has been watching you, and he is very proud of your actions." Thor grinned widely.

“Home...” Loki repeated the word in the same flat tone as he had during dinner. He stepped away from Thor to stand next to Rowan. "Tell Father..." He took Rowan by the hand, speaking deliberately, "that I do not want to come home. I have found a new one." Loki looked to Rowan next to him, "If she will have me."

Rowan squeezed his hand and smiled up at him in response. Relief, security, understanding, and dozens of other positive responses he had never experienced before flooded over him at the sight of her smile. His existence was validated. She had accepted him.

"Father warned me that you would be different, but Loki, I had no idea that—" Thor smiled again and laughed. "Brother, this is wonderful! You shall tell Father yourself, in person, so that he may grant you both his blessings."

Loki was embarrassed by his brother’s misunderstanding, and he cleared his throat uneasily. "Thor, I want to remain mortal. I no longer wish to reclaim my status in Asgard as Prince. Please understand. I am needed here. I am...happy here," he squeezed her hand again, "and my efforts are very much appreciated."

Thor's enthusiasm faded quickly. "So this is goodbye, Loki?"

"I am certain I shall see you again, Thor. You always manage to show up at the most inopportune time." He raised an eyebrow emphasizing their current situation.

"Oh, I am sorry that I interrupted your evening together,” Thor smiled again. He always managed to smooth everything over with such carefree smiles. “Father bid me to come straight away."

Loki’s brow creased thoughtfully. "Thor, I am sorry I have been such a jealous brother to you. I have never given you proper credit."

"Nor I you, Loki. We have our differences, but you are my brother, and I will never forsake you. We each have our strengths. I am glad you found how yours could benefit others." The brothers embraced again. "Take good care of her and yourself, brother. If you need me, call, and I will come without delay." Thor smiled at the both of them and flew off toward the direction he had come from with nothing but a low rumble in the clouds to show for his passage.

Rowan was still stunned from the encounter, but she wore a smile. "What just happened?" She laughed nervously as her blue-grey eyes searched Loki's face for an answer.

Loki pulled her close to him, again ignoring his nervousness. Her waist felt comfortable, felt right, between his hands. The longer he held her, the more he relaxed. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck, but did not protest his advances.

He leaned into her so their foreheads touched. He spoke quietly with warmth and relief, a soft smile on his lips, "I am yours. That is what just happened." He pulled her closer to whisper in her ear, "You are my world now, Rowan. I love you. With all my heart I love you."

**********

She hugged his neck tightly, taking in the moment. He loves me. It’s not just a dream anymore.

“Loki...” she breathed, “My Loki...this was my dream. I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“I will stay with you always should you wish it.”

Words poured excitedly from Rowan like a waterfall, "You’ve meant so much to me since you came into my life." Rowan hugged him even closer before breaking away from him to look into his eyes. “I told myself that if I was going to help you I should be here for you as a friend, but...” Her brow furrowed in helpless acceptance.

“But what?”
“But you’re everything I want, everything I love. Your intelligence, your confidence, your will to improve yourself. I was smitten your second day here.”

“Making breakfast had nothing to do with it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of course it helped that you made breakfast,” she grinned and hugged him around his chest.

Her lonely days were at an end.

The little voice in her head, the voice that doubted Loki’s origins, was finally silent. Thor’s visit had put her fears at ease.

They walked home slowly, hand in hand. All was right in their world.

“I tried to shield my feelings for you because it hurt to know that you’d leave one day to go home to Asgard. I told myself not to get my hopes up. But I couldn’t stop daydreaming that you would decide to stay or take me with you or any of the other unlikely scenarios I kept inventing. I thought you loving me was just a dream. My silly dreams are usually so far from reality.”

“I admit my original intentions were not to hold affection for you. I found your qualities intriguing, but now that I reflect, I believe I have admired you for longer than I thought.”

They continued to compare notes and muse on their feelings well into the early morning.

After that night it seemed Rowan would have a spare room to rent once again.

**********


Author's Note: That's not all, folks! A time jump will take place after this chapter so we can see what happens to these two about a year from this point. I'll fill you in on relevant information in the next chapter.

Can Loki continue to lay low or will someone take notice of him?

As always, thanks for reading!