In the Balance

by C. Gockel

  Drying herself, she doesn’t look at him. She feels like she’s on a train hurtling towards the inevitable, but she doesn’t want to get off. She has to find a way to go home, she can’t stay, but just once more...

  Stepping out of the shower, she looks up to find Loki is holding his robe out for her. Turning her back to him, she lets him slip it over her arms. When the fabric drops onto her shoulders, he gently spins her back in his direction.

  As she stares into his chest, just inches away, afraid to meet his eyes, he says, “Are you here for me, or am I here for you?” It’s such a strangely serious thing to say. His hands are still on her shoulders, she wants to lean into him. She wants.

  “It’s good to see you again,” she whispers, for the first time daring to look up.

  His face is thoughtful. “It’s good to see you at all,” he says, his voice thick. He raises a hand to gently caress the side of her face. Leaning into it, she closes her eyes and feels tears behind her lids.

  “Amy,” he whispers. She opens her eyes and he drops his forehead onto hers. It’s not a sexual gesture, but it is as erotic as anything she’s ever felt. Wrapping her arms around his back, she pulls her body flush to his.

  Loki pulls his face away for the moment. There is something unmistakably tender in his expression. A tenderness she is sure she never saw from her own Loki, and that is the only thing about the moment that makes it feel unreal. But she wants it to be real, desperately.

  A moment later his lips are on hers, and that feels very real.

  Chapter 3

  Amy is lying on Loki’s couch, clutching a burgundy throw blanket to her chin. They never even made it to the bedroom. Her body feels deliciously warm and languid. Some things about Loki don’t change in any universe. She feels her lips pull into a Cheshire cat grin...and then for the second time in the past five minutes, her tummy gives a rumble. Loudly. She scowls down at herself, her cheeks flaming.

  From behind the couch comes Loki’s voice. “Here you go, madame.” He’s bowing down with a smirk, a glass of water and a plate of toast in his hands. She lifts an eyebrow at his impression of a waiter, and runs her eyes from his head to his just where the couch interrupts her view. A naked waiter.

  His smirk widens. Sitting up, she grins back as she takes the plate and glass from his hands. The toast is completely dry, and it smells like heaven. It was Loki’s suggestion after her first tummy rumble.

  Licking her lips she sets the plate on her lap and begins to tuck in. “I don’t know why my stomach is still a little upset,” she says as she swallows the first bite.

  Lips quirked, Loki settles under the throw at the other end of the couch. “Really?” he says.

  Covering her mouth, Amy says, “Maybe I ate something off, or if it’s just all the popping around—” Her stomach flip flops at the memory, and she takes another bite to settle it.

  Loki’s brows rise. “Maybe,” is all he says.

  Amy shakes her head, licks her lips again, and takes another bite. “This toast is amazingly good!” she says. “It’s so...flavorful!” Has this other universe found a magical way to make amazing toast?

  Slinking a hand under the throw to tickle her toes, Loki just gives her a bemused look. As she jerks away with a feigned scowl, his brow constricts slightly. “Amy? What is fallout?”

  Taking a sip of water, Amy says, “Radiation from a human made source, bomb, nuclear reactor, that sort of thing.” Looking towards a window she tries to find the word in Jotunn or Asgardian, but draws a blank. Turning her head back to Loki, she says, “I guess the concept doesn’t translate because—”

  She stops. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Loki is giving her a look of utter horror. “Radiation? Little bits of atoms flying about? Isn’t that deadly to humans?”

  Amy’s lips twitch. “Well, it’s all a matter of dosage, really—”

  “Do you know the dose you were receiving in your world?” he says, sitting up straight, leaning closer to her, muscles in his chest and arms bunching like he’s about to lunge.

  Amy waves a hand, “No, not my world. It never got so bad in my world. It was the world In-Between.”

  “Answer the question!” Loki shouts.

  Startled, Amy pulls back into the cushions. “Not really, but—”

  Loki is already up, running towards the kitchen. “Are you trying to get you both killed?” He picks up Laevateinn and dashes down the hall.

  Amy’s brow wrinkles. Both? At just that moment, Mr. Squeakers drops from the ceiling on a bungee-line of spider silk. Amy looks sideways at the mouse. “I wouldn’t try to get you killed,” she whispers.

  Mr. Squeakers doesn’t comment.

  Wrapping herself in the throw, Amy stands up and the spidermouse drops onto her shoulder. Down the hall where Loki just vanished, there is the sound of air and a whoosh, and then the creak of wood and footsteps.

  Padding softly forward, Amy peers down the hallway. Like the living room, the decor is opulent looking, but a little antique. There is a thick Oriental rug covering parquet floors. The walls are painted a rich brown. A small chandelier is set into a high ceiling with intricate moldings. Despite the luxury, it’s dark. And it’s very different from the bright, modern, open space of Loki’s abode in her world. And bigger. There are four doors set into the sides of the hallway, and another door at the very end, a crack of light emerging from it. Loki’s voice, muffled and angry, drifts through the hall, and then there is silence.

  Gripping the throw tighter, Amy walks towards the light. As she reaches up to knock on the slightly ajar door, she hears Loki’s voice behind her and to the right. She glances briefly in that direction, and then pushes the door in front of her open anyway. Her breath catches in her throat. It’s the bedroom, and it’s empty. Those are details that barely register. She can’t tear her eyes off the southwestern window facing the financial district. She can’t see the Board of Trade for the other buildings in the way, but leaping up into the clouds from the Board of Trade’s location is a beam of blue light, as wide as the building itself.

  Clutching the throw tighter, Amy walks mesmerized towards the window.

  Loki’s voice snaps behind her. “Amy?”

  “What happened to the Board of Trade?” she says.

  “You should sit down,” says Loki, voice near her ear, hand on her back.

  “I’m fine,” she says curtly. “What happened to it?”

  “The building is fine,” Loki says. “Come, sit down, you may be sick.”

  “I’m not sick, and tell me,” she says, swiveling in his direction, Mr. Squeakers giving a sharp cheep from her shoulder.

  Loki has his trousers back on and slung the pink shirt over his shoulders but it’s unbuttoned. He blinks at the mouse, and then meets Amy’s eyes. “The blue light is the...” His jaw tightens. “There is no human word for it. Excess energy transformed to light? We are siphoning the magical energy off of Cera and sending it to Asgard.”

  Amy’s jaw drops. “How?”

  “Sit down, and I will tell you,” Loki says, his voice stern, almost scolding.

  Amy narrows her eyes at him but lets herself be led to the bed.

  When she is seated, Loki sits beside her and takes her hand. “Your people wrapped Cera in a type of magic shielding wire.”

  “We call it Promethean wire,” says Amy.

  Loki’s brows twitch. “...but it doesn’t fully contain Cera, and she was still growing, sucking anything that touched her into the In-Between, threatening to destroy your financial district, and opening World Gates—”

  “Yes, I know,” says Amy. “What did you do?”

  Tilting his head, Loki says, “Odin approached your people and offered to help with the problem.”

  “Offered?” says Amy. She doesn’t remember Odin ever offering to help in her world. In her world all he did was have his obnoxious raven spies trail Steve.

  Loki’s jaw goes hard. “Offered,” he says, meeting her gaze. “When Cera draws anything
into the In-Between, a great deal of magical energy is released. We catch that energy and send it to Asgard, and use a portion for Earth’s benefit as well.”

  Amy’s eyes go to the column of light. It is steady and unwavering. “You must be constantly fueling Cera’s appetite with something,” she says, a sudden sense of foreboding weighing upon her.

  “Yes. We use your nuclear and chemical waste as fuel,” says Loki.

  For a moment she just sits there, uncomprehending. And then her brain catches up with his words. “That sounds...like a good thing...for us....” she stammers. Her face heats. She doesn’t know what she expected to hear. Something vile and evil for some reason.

  “Thank you, it was my idea.” His lips quirk and a brow rises. “What were you expecting we’d be using?”

  Amy’s saved from having to answer by a knock from down the hall. “Ah,” Loki says. “That will be the...” He winces. “The closest translation is witchdoctor, but I have a feeling the connotations of that might be off.”

  “Witchdoctor?” Amy squeaks.

  “Person who uses magic for healing?” says Loki.

  “Steve said that short exposure wouldn’t be enough to hurt me,” Amy says.

  Loki’s face loses all expression. “Steve, Steve who?”

  “My boss, Steve Rogers, only he wasn’t my boss, I guess, because it was another universe and...”

  “Steve Rogers the terrorist?” Loki says, voice sharp.

  Amy stares at him a moment. “Steve?” She flicks a hand. “No. Not in this, that, or any other universe.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Loki says, “Not according to Odin.”

  From down the hall there is a pounding on the door.

  Amy’s nose scrunches. “Steve is too boring to be a terrorist. Wyrm and troll killing aside...I’ve caught him humming while filling out paperwork. I think he gets some weird satisfaction from it.” Tapping her chin, she looks away. “Which might be its own sort of evil...”

  Loki stares at her a moment and then says, “It must have been a different human.”

  There is another thump at the door. “I must get that,” he says. Hopping up from the bed, he jogs from the room.

  Amy hears the door unlatch and then a woman’s voice, cracking with age, begins speaking in Jotunn, the language of frost giants. “You call me down on this fool errand of yours and then you make me wait! What you have described is completely impossible!”

  “I know, but it is true!” says Loki, his voice sounding excited.

  “You know, you know,” the woman snaps, her voice drawing closer. “You know nothing about the art of medicine or the science of the body!”

  Loki laughs. “I know!”

  A moment later, a woman with white hair and skin so pale it is nearly translucent enters the room. A scowl is etched on her face. Her eyes are clear but hard and sharp. Though she is bent over, she’s still very tall. Amy tilts her head at the signs of aging. Of course. Odin doesn’t share the apples of immortality with frost giants.

  “Amy, this is Miskunn,” says Loki with a cheery smile. “She handles these matters for us.”

  These matters?

  Approaching the bed, Miskunn grumbles, “Far be it from the lovely Eir to come to this backwater realm and deal with the half-human whelps left behind after Aesir cavorting.”

  Clutching the throw tighter to herself, Amy snaps in Jotunn. “What did you just say?”

  Hissing, Miskunn straightens as though she’s been struck.

  “You understand Jotunn?” says Loki.

  “Yes,” says Amy, eyes still on the old woman.

  Regaining her composure, Miskunn sidles up to her. “I’d say you are clever, but since you are cavorting with Loki, I’ll suspend my judgment. Now put your hands down, girl, so I can examine you.”

  “I wasn’t exposed to the atomic particles long enough for it to be an issue,” Amy says. She’s not really sure, but at this point she’d rather just see a human doctor. A non-judgmental human doctor.

  Miskunn’s hands lift in the vicinity of Amy’s temples. “Well, you’re right about that.”

  Amy’s eyes shoot to Loki. “Then you can leave.”

  The old woman gives a snort.

  “Amy,” says Loki, voice pleading. “Please, let go of the blanket.”

  Amy meets his eyes. He looks so earnest. Against her better judgment she lets the blanket fall, clutching her breasts to cover herself.

  Miskunn lays a cold, dry hand on Amy’s abdomen, and then draws back with a gasp. “You are right, Loki. She is pregnant.”

  Amy’s body goes rigid and cold. Her eyes go to Loki. Beaming, he bounces down on the bed beside her, puts a hand behind her back and kisses her forehead.

  Shaking her head, Miskunn clucks. “But half-humans are never magical—and by the magical signature on this one I’d say she is at least four months along.” She eyes Amy’s midriff. “Though that is obviously impossible.”

  “She?” says Loki. “It’s a she?” He sounds positively delighted, and far away, like he’s in another room.

  “Girl, do you have any idea how far along you are?” Miskunn asks.

  Amy stares at Miskunn blankly. This is impossible—she didn’t miss her period she...Amy closes her eyes. Or had she? Her heart starts beating very fast, and her hands suddenly feel clammy and cold. Her bleeding had been very light...but she’d just attributed it to stress.

  Putting her hands to her temples she thinks back. How long had it been since her last normal cycle? “About seven weeks,” she whispers.

  “The baby’s magic is much too strong,” Miskunn says. “Too much magic matter...”

  “And she’s magically strong?” says Loki, happiness ringing in his voice. “Did you understand that, Amy? Our child is magical and strong!”

  But Amy can only focus on the woman in front of her, the sudden shock of discovering she’s pregnant giving way to cold fear. “What do you mean the magic matter is too strong? Is it inhibiting other neural development in some way?”

  Miskunn’s eyes lift to hers, and for the first time Amy sees something like respect there. “Yes. If the magic matter is developing too quickly, the white and gray matter won’t have room to develop. It’s possible that the magic matter of your child is just especially powerful, but...” Miskunn tilts her head and stares at Amy’s midriff and mumbles. “In fact, I’m certain it’s partially that...”

  “What can you do?” Amy says.

  Miskunn meets her eyes. “I can try to draw off some of the child’s magic. Magic stimulates the development of more magic matter, which...”

  “Do it,” says Amy.

  “Wait,” says Loki. “Don’t you think we should...”

  Miskunn’s eyes are already closed. A moment later she opens them, pulls her hands away, and nods up at Amy. “It is done.”

  Beside her Loki stills.

  Amy pulls the blanket back up until it is underneath her arms and then tucks her knees up against her chin. She misses her grandmother. She wants to go home.

  Chapter 4

  Brushing a stray bang from Amy’s face, Loki says, “Maybe my other self wanted you to come here? Maybe he knew and pushed you in the direction of this universe so I could help you?”

  They’re still in his room. Both of them are leaning against the headboard of the bed. The light of the sun outside the window is dimming, and the beam of light above the Board of Trade is shining even brighter in the twilight.

  Amy has just finished telling him everything—well, almost everything. She’s left out the part about carrying his memories. Maybe Loki only gave them to her on a whim, but they feel more intimate than sex. Telling this Loki would be a betrayal—of her Loki or herself—she’s not sure.

  Everything else she had to say took hours. He’s been very attentive the entire time. There’s a cup of tea by the bed with the dregs of a ginger smelling concoction in it. Miskunn gave the herbs to Amy to combat morning sickness. Loki brewed them for her and made more to
ast.

  She leans her head on his shoulder. Her eyes are already wet with tears. “But my grandmother, Loki, she’ll be worried about me.”

  Squeezing her hand, he kisses her head. “Amy, I’m not sure I know how to send you home. When I held my other self’s Laevateinn in the In-Between, we did not hop into another universe.” He shakes his head. “And even if I had a suspicion of how to do it, I don’t know if I could get it right. You could wind up in a universe that is much more dangerous than yours or mine. Surely your grandmother, if she knew the circumstances, would rather you go on living here, where you, and the baby, can be safe?”

  And the trouble is, that is true. But it doesn’t mean Amy’s heart doesn’t ache.

  She takes a deep breath. “And the baby,” she says, clutching her midriff. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

  Loki grins. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” It evidently has sunk in for Loki, and he doesn’t have the ambivalence Amy does. She just got her life in order. She was going back to vet school. If she was in her own universe she would stick with that plan, have the baby in the summer, go to school in the fall—she and Beatrice would have worked something out, Amy knows it.

  Here, her whole identity seems to have been suddenly winnowed down to Loki’s lover...or something...and mother of his child. “I have to go back to school,” she says. In this universe or any other.

  Her stomach growls.

  “You need to eat,” says Loki.

  Amy bites her lip and looks at him.

  A slight smile on his lips, he catches her chin and his gray eyes meet hers. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  It’s not the “I love you,” she wanted to hear from the Loki in her own universe, but she wouldn’t expect that, he’s just met her. Still, the words warm her almost as much. She’s had friends who’d gotten pregnant accidentally. Their reception from their boyfriends wasn’t as confident, warm or as loving.

  ...and she also thinks of the last Earth she visited, blackened by soot and bathed in fallout.

  Things could be much worse. She squeezes her midriff and then her stomach grumbles again.