The Oneshot Collective

"Yeah, they fucking followed you and I haven't had a decent night's sleep since," she said through the high coffee intake and a yawn that rivaled a bear.

"What are you talking about?" That's right, feign ignorance and maybe she won't blame me--his sincere hope at this point. Which is completely in vain might I add.

"I'm talking about how spirits follow you around because you can see them and communicate with them--well a few decided to come with you the last time you visited and now it's a fucking nightmare over here!!"

"Shit... This really is my fault. I am so sorry!"

"Sorry, you're sorry? Why don't you come over here and take them back before they drive me up the wall?"

"What's been happening? They're not hurting you are they?" This time, the concern was genuine.

She was quiet for a while before answering, "They keep giving me nightmares... Things get moved around, they make noises at night so I can't even sleep..." She sounded on the knife's edge of surrender--and it was all his fault.

"Pack some clothes, you need to be out of there for a few days."

"So they can follow me? No thanks--"

"Woman, this is no time to be difficult. Just pack and I'll pick you up."

"When?"

"I'm half way there now, the studio isn't that far from your place."

He could hear something being zipped, or unzipped, drawers opening and shutting, clothing rustling.

"Loki?"

"I'm here, just packing like you said. It feels like they're watching me, like they know something's going on," he could almost feel her shudder, the note of barely contained hysteria obvious in her voice.

"Five minutes, can you hold on five more minutes?" He stepped on the gas.

"I'll wait outside if I have to," he heard keys this time and a door opening.

"It's raining, take a jacket." Feeling either like a concerned lover or a mother (sometimes the two ran together--obviously, not all the time), he turned down her street. The houses weren't that new but that's why she loved this neighborhood. Charm, she said it had despite him thinking she should get an apartment in the newer high rises of the city. His argument being that the view was simply to die for in the evening when the sun reflected off all the glass as it faded from orange to purple.

Okay, so maybe his reasoning wasn't just for the view but he didn't have time to think about it as she came almost running out of her house with a jacket, duffle bag in hand. He looked at her for a moment, she looked so pale, dark circles under her eyes. Were they making her sick?

He parked and got out of the car, not caring if he got wet and hugged her. He knew she needed it, she nearly collapsed into tears and let him hold her. This woman's frailty speaking volumes of the hell she went home to every day. Without a word, he picked her up, stooping only to get her bag and check to make sure the door was locked, and carried her to the warm dryness of his car.

He put her in the backseat, letting her lay down. Almost instantly she was asleep, troubles present in waking seemed to vanish, though she was still pale she looked peaceful. He thought that taking the long way home would be a good idea, disturbing her didn't seem like an option at the moment.

Half an hour later, he was getting close to his own home when he felt rather than saw or hear her move, her small cold fingers laced themselves with his large warm ones.

He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he told her, "We're almost home."