Considering what was done to his character in Ragnarok, I would not be surprised if Marvel deliberately killed him before the title card and made him look completely weak and incompetent in the process because they’re mad that this morally ambiguous queer-coded nerd gets more female admiration than the standard male power fantasies they’re marketing.
Like seriously!!!! It makes me so angry. He’s a fucking sorcerer! And they treat him like the comic relief. Bugs me so much. Like as funny as it was, I was annoyed that Dr. Strange made a joke out of him so easily. Ugh. Whatever.
Summary: After escaping their unenviable captivity, Loki and Naomi parted ways with a promise: this isn't goodbye. Loki will do anything to keep it. Naomi is just trying to hold things together in a world gone mad. But Asgard's dungeons breed demons not easily shaken and life, as it were, is pulling apart at the seams. Freedom isn't all that they hoped it would be.
***Please note that this fanfiction is a sequel to Cellmates which can be read on Ao3 here or fanfiction.net here.***
Chapter 1
"Tell me again."
"I've already told you everything. What exactly do you think I've left out?" Naomi felt like she was wasting air even asking.
Not even two days since coming home and S.H.I.E.L.D. had come knocking on her door looking for answers. Their debriefing felt more like an interrogation and they spared no expense with this perfectly square, perfectly gray, empty room that contained one metal table, one overly bright light, and one very unsympathetic man in a tailored suit. Their concern was not the state of her health; they were purely invested in national security. And enforcement and logistics or whatever the hell the acronym stood for. So naturally, her sappy sob story wasn't what they wanted to hear. Her tale of woe was mostly white noise to them, but she might have noticed a visible reaction when she mentioned her God of Mischief.
From what she recalled of the attack on New York, Loki surely ranked high on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list. She almost saw her interrogator's eyes roll behind his sunglasses as she briefly indulged him in their whirlwind romance. This guy, agent something-or-other had her pegged, the moment she was escorted in, as some sort of damsel in distress. By the end of the story, he'd probably relabeled her as one of those crazed women who intentionally marry serial killers. Whatever. She'd rather that than a damsel in distress.
"Forgive me if I find your story a bit backward," he continued with no remorse whatsoever. "You keep telling me that Thor, one of our Avengers, kidnapped you. And Loki, a mass murderer, is the one who saved you."
Oh yes. Wasn't that shocking? "Would you rather I lie?"
"Tell me again."
Naomi grumbled. "Thor kidnapped me. I was locked up and left to starve in a dungeon for months. Loki is the only reason I am alive. He nearly gave his life to save me. And if that's not definitive enough for you, then I don't think there's anything else worth saying."
"So Loki has been freed."
"He's no longer locked in a cell if that's what you're asking."
"Should we be expecting to see him anytime soon?"
Naomi sat back in her chair. This isn't goodbye. Loki's cool tone rushed over her, standing her hair on end. I'm going to miss you so much. But not for long. It was hard to smother a telling grin. See you soon. "He's no threat to you if ever he does. But I'll never convince you of that." Not that it mattered. Loki would return for her and they would be together. And nothing else mattered. Naomi unfolded her arms and stood. "If your favorite thunder god meanders through anytime soon, ask him about what happened in that dungeon and he'll fold real easy."
"That will be all, Miss Scott."
The stiff abruptly stood, tucking the pile of paperwork beneath his arm. "Naomi," she gruffly corrected as the tamper-proof door to the outside finally opened, flooding the room with fluorescent light from the hall.
"We'll be in touch."
Naomi offered a half-assed nod in reply before he disappeared. "Yeah. I bet you will."
Six months later and nothing had changed.
She could remember oh so distinctly, locked in a dungeon, more than certain she would die there, wishing things could be normal again. And by normal she had envisioned home as it was years before her abduction. Normalcy as she had always known it. But she'd realized months ago she had only reached a new sad state of normalcy. Some things never change. But other things always do.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
"Have I ever wanted to talk about it?" she returned, her focus on the doodle-covered notepad in her hand.
The old woman cleared her throat and Naomi took the hint. "The reason you are here," the wretched psychologist rasped, "is to address these issues so that you can move on and feel better and have a normal life again."
Naomi set down her pen with as much civility as she could manage. "I was raped by aliens," she spitefully alluded. "My potential for a normal life is waning, to say the least."
Try as she might to get under this lady's skin, she was as stoic as a rock. Her calm exterior might have been helpful to her other patients, but to Naomi it was simply a weekly irritation she could have lived without.
"Naomi," she began, in so concerned a tone she almost sounded sincere. "You would not have come here if you didn't want to be helped." She raised a hand when Naomi would have interjected that this was all her mother's idea. "You have suffered an unbelievable trauma and you are plenty smart enough to know that things like that don't just disappear. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a serious condition."
"I know," Naomi interrupted, turning abruptly back to her drawing, but it suffered from her shaking hands. She knew about panic attacks. She knew about that nauseating turn of her stomach when someone so much as grazed her skin uninvited. Paranoia and anxiety was nothing new to her. Fear was nothing new to her. I just need a little more time.
"You're a strong woman, Naomi, but everyone hits their limit. The media, the government, the reappearance of your family, it's a lot for any person to handle. I know it would help if you talked about it. If not to me, then someone."
"Look, I know this is your job to say this stuff, but none of this is going to help me." Her tone sounded far more defeated than she had intended.
"Have you spoken to him recently?"
Loki. She glanced back at the doodle in her lap. Even when the pen seemed to mark the paper of its own volition, his face would appear. Sometimes it was just his hands, other times it was the knotwork pattern of the ugly yellow spell that lingered on the glass between them, but more often than not, one of his grim expressions would emerge from her scribbles. How long had it been since he'd last paid her a visit?
In the beginning, he would appear as often as once a week. And he smiled like a loon every time he managed to startle her into dropping something. Broken dishes aside, she cared about nothing but his smothering embrace as he swept her off her feet. Those days were her favorite. She could smile again as the horrors of her captivity were erased. Every worry faded until she finally felt safe again. She felt his fingers twined into her hair, knotting at the back of her neck. His lips were a soft reminder against hers that everything would be okay. You've missed me, my little mortal. She remembered him grin at her wandering hands. If I had to guess, I'd say you've missed me too. His bright green eyes were a promise of everything she'd ever wanted. No doubt. He loved her. She knew that. But that was a long time ago.
It had been almost a month since Loki's last appearance. But even before that, his visits had grown infrequent. And given that, every day felt a little worse than the one before it.
"No," she finally replied.
"It isn't healthy for you to obsess over someone who might not come back."
"He will," Naomi snapped. "He will come back."
"Who are you trying to convince?"
She glanced down at her half rendered image of him. Her drawings smiled less and less it seemed. "No one." She packed up her things, noting with another sideways glance at the clock that freedom was close enough at hand.
"You should take an art class." Naomi eyed her skeptically. "You're very good and it seems to be a useful outlet for you. Maybe it would help take your mind off things, if you gave it a chance."
Naomi was already on her way out. "Thanks for your help."
It had become a programmed response just like so many others. Though not as transparent as the I'm fine she offered regularly. Fine was a lie in and of itself. But it was a lie she told well. Like a forced laugh or a put-upon smile. Ever since her family had fallen apart, her day-to-day life had been fine. And for a long time, she'd been content to be just fine forever, until a long few months in a cell changed everything. It had been both a prison and a sanctuary and as often as she had horrible flashbacks and nightmares, she missed it.
She missed waking up and knowing Loki was there – knowing that there was nothing in the world more important. She missed spending entire days with him, whiling away the hours with stories and endless conversation about anything and everything. She missed silly things like singing obnoxiously to get on Loki's nerves and assaulting the glass every morning to wake him up. She missed mini food fights and small showings of affection. She missed having the only goal every single day of coping with her attack and learning how to get close to someone again. Loki made it easy. But the outside world was not so kind.
Not by a long shot.
The media had been the most merciless by far. Even as she escaped the office and stepped out onto the mostly desolate street, she was scanning for news trucks. It surprised her how inconspicuous they could be, considering their telling paint jobs. But she'd learned how to spot them almost too well.
When the press got wind of her miraculous return after spending months in captivity on another planet, she was getting calls from TV shows she'd never even heard of asking for appearances and exclusive stories. In the first few weeks, the paparazzi were sitting on her doorstep and curtains did not exist to keep out the constant flashing of cameras. In spite of never speaking to anyone, her picture was everywhere labeled as an alien abductee that had been returned to sender. And they speculated until even she had begun to wonder what actually happened.
Eventually things died down and she assumed S.H.I.E.L.D. finally managed to get the whole thing under wraps. It was the only time their Area 51 way of doing things had ever benefitted anyone. Even still, there were always weird looks aimed in her general direction and people would never stop asking questions, so she kept an eye out to say the least.
Fortunately, the short walk to the bus stop was uneventful and the bus ride home even less so. Small mercies. However, the extra cars in her already crammed driveway were enough to rouse a subtle sigh. Every day it was heavier, like rebuilding the fort walls for impact. She stepped inside, always hopeful to be met with an age-old silence, but the clatter of dishes in the next room was unmistakable.
"Is that you, Naomi?"
"Still my house, mom," she intoned with a telling lack of emotion.
Her mother still came around the corner smiling, soapy pot in hand. "No need to be smart. I thought it might by Evelyn. She's been outside watering your plants that have been a bit neglected of late."
"What would I do without you?"
"Well, clearly you'd have dead plants." Her mother laughed at her own valiant attempt at a joke, while her hands still absently scrubbed. Is that even my pot?
"Oh, not a chance!" Evelyn announced from the back door. "Naomi has the greenest thumb on Earth. The plants are simply depressed that she's barely home anymore."
"Hilarious Evie. You're on spring break already?"
"Nice to see you too, sis." Evelyn slung an arm around her and landed a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek. "And I'm actually a week early. There was some sort of water main break in the dorm rooms."
"Sounds like fun."
"How was therapy, dear?" her mother cut in.
"Nothing worth reporting." Neither was it worth complaining about since it got her out of the house for an hour.
"How many pictures of your madman did you draw this time?" Evelyn was immediately fishing through her bag before she could stop her. And in record time she'd produced her notepad and was already flipping through the doodles. "Handsome as always," she noted with a devilish smirk. "Though a tad grimmer than usual. He really ought to smile more often."
Ain't that the truth.
"You're not still speaking to him are you, Naomi?" Her mother always made it sound like she was accepting interstellar collect calls from an inmate. More likely, she considered him a bad habit to be dropped. "Sometimes I swear you're trying to make matters worse for yourself. You know the media finds out about everything and next thing we know they'll be banging on the front door again, wondering why you're aiding a fugitive."
"Mom, Loki is not a fugitive-"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. left another message for you," she continued. Naomi grumbled. "They'd like to meet with you again. That can't be about nothing, Naomi."
"Of course it's about nothing. All they do is pester me about shit I've already told them."
"Language, sweetheart." She turned and went back into the kitchen, conversation abruptly ended as usual. "I'm going to start dinner in a few minutes, if you girls would like to help."
Naomi stared at the ceiling through her eyelids. She hadn't indulged in so many home-cooked meals since she was a kid. Although, of late she was craving horribly processed microwave meals eaten in the comfort of silence. Or small meals shared through a pane of glass.
She took her notepad back from Evelyn, who offered a purely sympathetic look. "She's just looking out for you." Naomi scoffed. "Come on. We all are. After what happened, not knowing what happened to you, not being able to do anything for months – you can't blame her for being overprotective. For being a mother."
Naomi almost felt guilty. But then she remembered sitting in this very room six months ago, telling her story – explaining in depth how Loki had nursed her back to health, offered his life for her to escape, and ultimately vowed to protect her like it was some God-given directive. While her sister practically swooned and her father couldn't help but respect the man who'd killed her rapist, her mother seemed to sidestep the whole thing on account of the fact Loki was a criminal. There had only been one visit when Loki had crossed paths with her parents and without introductions, they'd known. Tall, dark, and handsome as Evelyn had addressed him, clearly wasn't the alien they'd expected, but she caught her mother's filthy looks regardless.
On the nights when she hated the world most, she was sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. had tipped her mother off to Loki's attempt at galactic conquest just to get on her nerves.
Assholes.
Evelyn still looked sympathetic, no doubt as Naomi's expression fell with her train of thought. "Look, I'll talk to her," Evelyn tried. "I know you could really use your space, now more than ever. I make no promises, though. You know how she is," she added with an eye-roll and half a smile. But Naomi only half heard her peace offering. She remembered the wave of emotion that nearly drowned her when her family had first embraced her after so long. While she was busy surviving, they could do little more than wait. She would never know what it was like for them to feel so helpless in her absence, not knowing if she was alive or dead or if they would ever see her again. She should be happy. She should be extremely grateful that by some miracle a large part of her old life had recollected. It was everything she had wished for. So why am I still unhappy?
The answer was out there. But all she could do was wait and hope that one day soon she would see him again.
A/N: Better late than never lol It’s only been like four years. However, I’ve finally written enough of it that I can safely begin posting it. That being said, I’ve actually been posting this for weeks now and finally thought to post it on here. So if you liked what you read, there’s plenty more chapter waiting for you on either fanfiction.net or Ao3. Thanks so much for reading!!! And stay strong! Through fanfiction we can all pretend Infinity War didn’t happen lol
anyone else notice that everyone who was lost was someone who meant something to someone else. how it LITERALLY split things in half by taking their other half away from them. like how the soul stone took gamora, the thing that meant most to them, as a sacrifice, maybe that played into how people died.
bucky died in front of steve. peter died in front of tony. t'challa died in okoye’s arms. groot died in front of rocket. there has to be a connection to that somehow.
all of that.
anyone have a hypothesis about this ? it split the universe very literally in half. like it broke apart every single pair of people into their two halves? 🤔
ellievsbear
vaporwave
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
