In the Balance

by C. Gockel

  “Amy who?” shouts the maybe-Steve.

  “Lewis! Amy Lewis!”

  “Liar!” he shouts. “What are you doing with Loki’s sword!”

  “You asked me to come into the office to identify it,” Amy says, her voice becoming frantic.

  “Shut up and put it down!”

  Shaking, Amy says, “Okay...” She slowly lowers it to the ground. It falls to the stones with a clang.

  The beam of light drops to the ground. With the spotlight out of her eyes she can see her interrogator for the first time. It is Steve, but he’s exchanged his suit for combat gear. His face is framed by stubble. In sharp relief against his nearly black skin is a grimy white surgical patch covering one eye. A really big gun of some sort is strapped over his shoulder. It’s still pointed in her direction.

  Steve edges towards her slowly, body angled sideways, gun upraised; his one good eye looking at her through the sight.

  “Who are you really?” he says when he’s only a few steps away.

  Sputtering, Amy says, “It’s me, Amy. We were in the conference room together, with Bohdi...Bohdi Patel? He’d brought you coffee I think and I was lifting the sword and—”

  “Shut up!” says Steve, and the gun is suddenly inches from her nose.

  Steve’s lips are curled in a snarl, and his one eye is wide. It strikes her that he’s breathing hard. Almost like he’s afraid.

  Shifting awkwardly, gun still aimed at her, Steve reaches a hand out towards her face. Amy draws back a little with a gasp. Steve does not touch her. Ever. For a moment he hesitates, but then he puts his fingers on her cheek; his fingers are cool, verging on cold. He taps her once, twice. And then he brings his hand up to touch her hair. Her own breathing has become as loud as his, and her heartbeat is deafening in her ears. “Ummm....” she says.

  “Amy?” he whispers, his voice awestruck, the white of his one eye wide. Tapping her cheek again, he says, “It’s really you?”

  “Errr...yes,” she says. “What happened? Where is Bohdi?”

  Steve drops the gun to his side. Shaking his head, brows hitching to his hairline he says, “Dead. Just like you.”

  “What?” says Amy, a shudder sweeping through her body.

  “I saw you,” Steve says. Bringing his other hand up, he cradles her face and turns her head to the side to look at her neck. “The bullet hit your carotid artery—there was nothing we could do, not even Thor,” he whispers. His lips part, and his eyes stay riveted on Amy’s throat as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He looks awestruck, bewildered, and frightened...Like he’s seeing a ghost.

  Clasping his wrists, Amy says, “No, it just missed. You got to me in time. Thor took me to the trauma center.” She’s alive, and Steve has to believe it, because this is so weird she might actually start to doubt it herself.

  Hands falling away, Steve stares at her, face blank. And then Amy’s thoughts snag on another one of Loki’s memories.

  Loki was a little boy, sitting by Frigga, queen of Asgard, as the queen spun wool into thread.

  “Do the threads tell the future?” Loki asked. He’d heard the maidens whisper the queen had the gift.

  “There is no future, Loki,” said Frigga. “Only possibilities that become more and more likely probabilities, and probabilities that become realities.” The queen smiled down at him. “Although some people say that with each choice we make a new thread is spun, and from all our choices a new universe is born. Our fate is not one single strand of thread, but an infinite spider web.”

  Amy groans, even as she feels Loki’s childlike wonder at the possibility of infinite versions of himself. So the quantum mechanics’ Many-worlds interpretation has validity. Spiffy. It would be an appropriate time to cry, but what comes out of her mouth is a joke. “I think Schrödinger’s cat just bit me on the butt.”

  Steve’s eye narrows slightly, and Amy remembers that Steve isn’t into the sciency stuff. She starts to explain, “The Many-worlds interpretation is true. That’s when...”

  He cuts her off with a curt nod. “All possible histories and futures are real.” Tilting his head, he says, “Are you sure you’re completely human?” Taken off guard by the question, she stammers. “Yes. Why?”

  His mouth opens but no sound comes out. He just looks her up and down, and then, not meeting her eyes, he says, “Nothing...just a weird feeling.”

  Shivering, Amy says, “Steve, what happened here?”

  Lifting his gaze, Steve says, “Loki has the World Seed.” His smile tightens. “Or the World Seed has him. The Nine Realms went to shit.”

  “Oh...” says Amy.

  “That did not happen where you’re from?” Steve says.

  “He saved us,” Amy whispers, voice catching as she remembers Loki’s final moments and begging him not to do it.

  “Lucky,” says Steve. Squatting down, he picks up Loki’s sword. It pulses in his hands for a moment so brightly that the blue light makes Steve’s own skin look a vivid shade of ultramarine, but his single eye, normally dark brown, goes impossibly black. “Next to Cera, this is the most powerful magical instrument I’ve seen.”

  Amy’s body stiffens. “Steve, you don’t have a magic detector on you. How do you know that?”

  Standing beside her, Laevateinn tight in his grip, he says, “Just a good guess.”

  In the distance Amy hears a roar that sounds suspiciously like a troll. Steve’s eyes flick in the direction of the sound.

  Putting his arm around her shoulders, he says, “You shouldn’t be out here. Besides the trolls, there’s the fallout. Limited exposure won’t hurt you, but you should get to the tunnels.”

  Amy’s body goes cold. “Fallout?”

  “World went to shit,” Steve says, pushing her towards the gap in the wall. “Right now, I’d really like to know how you came by Loki’s sword.”

  The air ahead of them starts to shimmer, and a silky voice rises through the air. “As would we.”

  “Loki,” Amy says. Beside her Steve goes rigid.

  The shimmering stops, and Loki stands before them. His hair is ginger, and his face pale, though the dark circles under his eyes give his face a blue cast. His own Laevateinn is sheathed at his side; he’s in full armor, horned helmet included—except for his left arm. In Amy’s world, Loki had patched together some awkward magical plating to cover his left arm, almost as though he’d wanted to leave himself vulnerable—and in the end it hadn’t been enough to protect him from a stray bullet. The resulting pain had split Cera from Loki’s mind just long enough for him to scheme against her. In this world, a form fitting magical glow encases his armor and the exposed skin on his arm and face.

  “It’s Amy,” says Steve. His voice is very calm, but Amy feels his hand tightening on her shoulder. “You don’t want to hurt her, Loki.”

  Loki tilts his head, and one side of his mouth ticks up. “It’s a trick. We don’t like it! We will make you pay!”

  Amy lets out a breath.

  Stepping around her, Steve raises the sword. “No, Loki.”

  Loki snarls. “We are not in the mood for games, Steven!”

  Seeing shadows writhe at Steve’s feet, Amy yells, “Steve, look out below!”

  Steve looks down. Gravel and rocks are sliding up from the ground over his feet. Steve takes a step forward with a grunt, sending rocks skidding, but pieces of twisted metal snake up around his legs. Leaning forward, Steve snarls and takes a few more steps before the jumble of debris has crawled its way up to his waist. As the rock and metal continues to climb, Steve gives a cry of rage and hurls Laevateinn in Loki’s direction. Amy gasps. The point strikes Loki squarely in the forehead. There is a flash of light and Loki growls, but the blade falls harmlessly away. “Nice try. Because you’re so brave, maybe I’ll let you watch.”

  “Leave her alone!” Steve snarls, as the debris coils its way around his arms. “Leave her alone, you...” Another black bar snakes up around Steve’s mouth, and his voice becomes muffled an
d indistinct.

  Loki turns back to Amy. “Where were we...Ms....”

  Amy’s hands ball into fists at her sides. Maybe it’s because she knows that running and fighting aren’t options, or maybe being exposed to magic and violence has altered Amy in some fundamental way, but instead of being frightened, she is just extremely pissed. “You’re not my Loki,” she spits out.

  Stepping forward, Loki tilts his head. “You’re right, we don’t belong to you.” His eyes narrow. “Agent Hill, is it? Is that some fancy reconstructive surgery they’ve given you?”

  “I’m Amy,” Amy says stepping around the statue of rubble that covers Steve. She looks up at him. His single eye meet hers, his eyebrows are high. The muzzle of stone and metal debris covers the bottom of his face. Biting her lip she gives him a tight nod, and then turns her attention back to Loki, stalking towards her with a snarl on his lips.

  “You have to know I’m not lying,” Amy says. Loki can sense lies.

  Loki’s head tilts to the side like he has a mosquito in his ear.

  Amy feels a rush of hope. He’s still in there. He has to be. “My Loki didn’t do this,” she says, gesturing towards the ruins of the city with a tilt of her head.

  Loki’s head ticks to the side again. “What did your Loki do?” he says, taking another step forward until he is just half a body’s length away.

  Amy takes another step around Steve. “He saved us. All of us. The Nine Realms,” she whispers.

  “Liar!” screams Loki. “Loki destroys everything!”

  And then several things happen at once. Snarling, Loki lunges forward, Amy stumbles backwards landing on her butt, and a small gray shape goes hurtling from her pocket through the air towards Loki with a furious squeak. Pausing mid-stride, Loki tears Mr. Squeakers away from his jugular. “We’re impervious to your fangs, you venomous rat!” he hisses. He squeezes his hand and Mr. Squeakers lets out a high-pitched cry.

  “No, you gave him to me!” Amy says.

  Head ticking to the side, Loki relaxes his grip. He looks at Amy and then tosses Mr. Squeakers at the pile of rubble around Steve. A tiny wire whips out and wraps around her mouse, but Mr. Squeakers continues to squeak furiously as Loki takes a step forward.

  Scrambling backwards on her hands, Amy tries to think. Last time it was pain that jolted Loki back into control, but this time around, Loki seems to have no vulnerabilities in his armor. Licking her lips, she says, “I know you’re in there, Loki. You have to fight it.”

  Shaking his head, Loki rips the glove from his right hand. “I will strangle you with my bare hands!” With a feral snarl he lunges down towards her. She tries to kick him, but her feet catch under her, instead propelling her backwards. But not fast enough. Loki’s hands wrap around the waist of her jeans. Gritting her teeth, she lifts her head. Loki’s lips are frozen in a sneer. One hand shoots to her neck as he pulls her towards him. Closing her eyes, Amy tries to scramble backwards with all her might. Gravel goes skidding, but an instant later both Loki’s hands are around her throat. Wrapping her hands around his forearms, Amy gasps for air and tries to wiggle out of his grasp. For a moment he squeezes. Hard. Eyes still closed, Amy gags, chokes, kicks and scrambles.

  And then his grip relaxes just slightly.

  Amy opens her eyes, gasping for breath. Mr. Squeakers is still chittering madly. She can hear pebbles falling as Steve struggles against his bonds. The troll roars in the distance.

  She has to reason with Loki, she—

  All words die in her throat. Loki is no longer sneering. His eyes are wide and horrified. Releasing her, he falls back onto his haunches and clutches his hands to his head. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he lets out a strangled scream. “If it hurts you so much, get out! Get out! Leave me alone!” He lifts his head and lets out another scream. The anguish in his cry is so palpable, Amy feels her eyes prickle, and a weight settle on her chest like the pain is her own.

  Dropping his hands, Loki bangs his fists against the ground. Rocking on his heels, voice cracking, he shouts. “Stop....Get out...Stop....Stop...everything!”

  The sound of the wind stops. So does Mr. Squeakers’ furious tirade. Amy glances at Steve. His eyes are closed, as though he’s been caught mid-blink. Even the clouds of black ash wafting in the sky have stilled. In front of her, Loki is bent over so far his head is on the ground; his body and armor no longer have Cera’s eerie glow. With a cry he wrenches his helmet from his head and tosses it aside. It catches in midair and stays suspended.

  Face to the ground he whispers, “Amy?”

  She hesitates only a moment before scooting closer to him. Lifting his head, Loki meets her eyes for an instant. His ginger hair is soaked with sweat, and flattened against his skull. Averting his eyes quickly he whispers, “I hurt...make it stop.”

  “Where?” says Amy.

  A bitter smile touches the side of his mouth. Loki chuckles—the pitch too high, bordering on hysterical. “Here,” he says, touching his chest.

  Oh.

  “I destroy everything beautiful,” he whispers. “I killed Nari, Valli, and Sigyn. It...everything...hurts...” Clutching his head again, he looks down.

  The real loves of his life. Amy releases a breath.

  Looking up, he says, “And almost the two of you.” He lifts a hand to her cheek but pulls away at the last moment, as though he is afraid to touch her. Through the grime and soot on his face, there are the tracks of tears. He tilts his head. “I didn’t know, Amy. I didn’t know...”

  She’s never seen Loki cry. Her Loki faced death with a wink and a smirk.

  Amy brings a hand to his arm, not knowing what to say. When he doesn’t react she edges closer, drops her head to his shoulder and wraps her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she squeezes him tight. She swears she can feel his heart beating beneath his armor. But maybe it is her own.

  His body jerks away from her. Taking a long breath, Loki lets loose a whine, and begins to rock back and forth again on his heels. “Cera’s coming back...How do I make her go away? How did I defeat her?”

  “With a big bang,” says Amy, laying a hand on his shoulder. The moment has become surreal. Maybe this is all a weird dream? Taking a breath, she says, “You took her into the In-Between and—”

  “That...that might work,” Loki says, his eyes darting side to side as though waiting for something to lunge at them from out of the gloom.

  “You killed yourself in the process,” Amy says. “Maybe this time—”

  Loki grabs her arm. “I have to get you both out of here,” he says.

  “I came through the In-Between...” Eyes widening, Amy says, “Maybe you can just drop Cera off in the In-Between and come with me back to my universe?” She likes the feeling of solidity beneath her hand. And if it is a dream, it doesn’t hurt to ask?

  Loki looks at her, his eyes unfocused. He nods once, and then staggers to his feet, pulling her up by her arm. “Must be your sword that made you cross...not much time.”

  “What about Steve and Mr. Squeakers?” says Amy.

  Dropping her arm, Loki spins awkwardly and nearly falls over. Pulling out his own sword, he strikes the metal and stone crawling up Steve’s body. The heavy bonds crumble but Steve remains suspended in midair, eyes still closed. Dropping his sword, Loki darts a hand into the rubble and pulls out Mr. Squeakers. The little mouse gives a squeak and Loki tosses him in Amy’s direction.

  As Amy catches her mouse, Loki glances in Steve’s direction. “He’ll be alright...when time starts again...better even, with me gone...”

  Amy looks up worriedly, but Loki has his head bent focused on the sword from her universe.

  “Not much time,” Loki says. Scrambling to pick up Amy’s sword, Loki mutters. “The sword in my universe doesn’t cross universes. Has to be something in yours...has to be...”

  As he picks up her sword, Loki’s body seizes. His eyes go wide, and his whole body shudders. With a grunt he shakes himself. Head ducked down, not meeting Amy’s ga
ze, he catches her around the waist. Pressing Laevateinn into her hands, he whispers into her hair. “I would take care of you.”

  “Loki—” she starts to say.

  “But this is the best I can do,” he says.

  The air shimmers and they are weightless, suspended in the vacuum of the In-Between. The glow of Laevateinn is the only light in the darkness. Amy tries to press herself closer to Loki, but even as she does, he gives her a violent shove that sends her floating off into the darkness. Drifting alone, Laevateinn in her grip, Amy turns her head. Loki is floating away from her in the nothing. The eerie light of Cera is rushing up his arms towards his face. Where Cera’s light hasn’t touched him he’s completely blue.

  Eyes on her, he opens his mouth in a silent scream. Only one word crosses his lips and even Amy can read it. Go!

  She tries to call out to him in the silence but his eyes have left hers and light is surging through his body. She thinks she sees him smile.

  She gives a silent cry of despair. There has to be a universe where Loki doesn’t have to die.

  Gravity catches her and she falls, her scream of “No!” ringing in her ears.

  Chapter 2

  Amy lands with a loud thunk of metal. Something gives slightly beneath her backside, her head falls backwards, there is a crack of plastic, and dull pain where her head connected with...whatever. Jumping beans are having a fiesta in her tummy again, and Amy has to work to keep from retching. Screwing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath, she concentrates and wills away the nausea. She notes the air smells like exhaust and wet snow, and she hears the sounds of traffic. Her eyes bolt open. She’s facing the back end of an alley. It takes a moment, but she recognizes it—It’s the alley outside the new headquarters.

  She laughs aloud, for a moment the horror of the last few minutes vanishing. She made it back!

  With a heavy breath of relief, she looks down. She’s landed on top of a minivan. Checking behind her she sees she’s shattered a light on the minivan’s roof. It’s a minivan cab.

  The front door of the cab opens and a familiar face emerges. “Miss?” says Bohdi, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Hadn’t Steve said he’d quit smoking?