Blind

Freyja stood outside Kennedy’s room in the infirmary, her blue eyes watching her sister sleep. No matter what, Kennedy was still her sister. And Freyja loved her, regardless. She wanted to believe that Kennedy wasn’t doing this, wasn’t working for Loki because she wanted to. It just couldn’t be possible.

Kennedy wasn’t that type of person. That’s what Freyja told herself, what she told anyone who asked how she hadn’t known. Sure, she hadn’t spent much time with Kennedy over the past few years but she would have known. She would have known that Kennedy had gone off the deep end.

The more rational part of her brain mocked her for lying to herself. There was no way in hell that she would have known that Kennedy had gone off the deep end. She would probably be sitting oblivious in Los Angeles if Thor hadn’t come to her. Hell, she’d probably still be sitting obliviously in New York while Kennedy did what she was doing with Loki.

For awhile, Freyja had always thought that she was the better liar of the two. It was Kennedy though. It had always been Kennedy. Her lies were so subtle; not extravagant, not too much information that it was hard not to believe her. Who knew how long Kennedy had been lying to her?

“Freyja,” Thor murmured, his voice still rumbling deeply, from behind her.

She turned, glancing over her shoulder before returning to staring through the window into Kennedy’s room.

“Something wrong, Thor?” she asked, watching still.

Kennedy was asleep, not of her own volition though. After her brief fight with Steve, she’d go along with her imprisonment willingly. She’d sat quietly in the Quinjet, even upon the return of Stark, Steve, Thor and Loki. Even as everyone began eyeing her, wondering what Loki had done to get her to go along with him so willingly, she had remained silent.

Aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier, Kennedy and Loki had been separated. Loki had been taken to a cell somewhere onboard, Kennedy to the infirmary. She hadn’t asked to be taken there but had been ordered there by Rogers. Freyja was glad that he hadn’t been around when Kennedy snarled something that involved inserting Loki’s staff somewhere in an incredibly inhumane way about him.

And she had thought that Kennedy’s foul temper would be the worst thing they had to deal with. Everything had been going fine until someone had prodded Kennedy’s ribs. Most likely innocent enough, Kennedy had lashed out with a fist in reprimand. The next thing Freyja knew was that there were two doctors lying on the floor and she had pinned Kennedy on her stomach while a third stabbed Kennedy’s arm with a needle.

After that, the examination had continued quickly while they kept Kennedy unconscious for the duration. Four of her ribs had been broken on the left side, a result of the only kick of Steve’s that had connected. The right side of her ribcage was bruised, but not as darkly and painfully as the left. The doctors had foregone the chest restraints and used only arm and leg restraints to keep her sister pinned.

“How does she fare?” Thor asked, moving to stand at Freyja’s side.

“She has four broken ribs, some bad bruising and a few minor cuts and scrapes. The doctor said she should wake up soon,” Freyja replied.

“I feel responsible for your situation,” the blonde Asgardian sighed, “for, had I not warned you, your presence here on Midgard would not be known to my brother. And she might not have encountered my ally.”

“You were doing your job, Thor,” she shrugged. “Besides, I went after her. It’s just as much my fault.”

“You also have revealed to Loki that you live here.”

“Slight snag in the plans, couldn’t be helped. I would do anything for Kennedy, Thor, just as you would for Loki. She’s my sister, blood relation or not.”

“I would do anything for my brother,” Thor admitted, “I do, however, find it most peculiar that one of the mortals Loki chose to employ in his bid for power was your sister.”

“I find it just as strange as you do. And I don’t like it.”

They fell into silence then, quietly watching Kennedy sleep. Every so often, one of her fingers would twitch or her eyes would move beneath her closed eyelids. But she didn’t wake. Freyja was beginning to think that Kennedy was remaining asleep because she knew that Freyja was there. She was being an ass because she wanted to.

“They’re so similar,” she said, glancing up at Thor, “Loki and Kennedy.”

“I would hope that your sister is not quite so similar to Loki,” Thor replied. “For if she is, the Director of Furies will not treat her so kindly.”

Freyja heard the unspoken words loud and clear. Though she’d yet to meet the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., she could figure out enough. And anyone who worked with Loki, especially willingly, wasn’t going to be given a lollipop and a band-aid to make it okay. She’d spent enough time in both Asgard and Midgard to know that Kennedy had chosen the short end of the stick.

“I don’t think she’s so far…gone…like Loki. But if something isn’t done, it’s a straight shot to hell for her.”

“There is the possibility that when she awakens she will see the error of her ways,” Thor pointed out helpfully for Freyja’s sake.

The blonde just snorted and shook her head. “That’s about the same as Loki turning over a new leaf and ending this…this…this madness, Thor.”

“Have faith that she is still the sister you remember her to be and that she remembers this as well,” Thor replied.

Nodding a little, Freyja continued to stare at Kennedy’s sleeping form in silence. She remained there, watching Kennedy, until Thor had left. Hesitantly, she left though to go in search of Loki. Her blue eyes continuously glanced over her shoulder though, afraid that a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would appear to begin torturing Kennedy.

She managed to leave the infirmary though without wasting too much time. Freyja wanted to find Loki before he was taken off for the same treatment. Like most others aboard the helicarrier, she had seen the video of Loki and Fury’s discussion. And she, after finding Coulson, was given direction to Loki’s temporary new residence. Though it was only given after she’d made a million and one promises not to somehow slaughter him.

Despite the urgency she felt to go find Loki, Freyja still took the time to change from her ruined clothes and to clean herself up. She wasn’t going to go argue with Loki dressed like a ragamuffin peasant from the alleys of New York City. Her vanity and pride came out just a little then.

When she reached Loki’s cell, he was lounging on the bed and looking as if he had expected her to show up. A slight smirking smile stretched his thin lips at her appearance. She didn’t say anything until she was standing within inches of touching the glass cage that he was trapped inside of.

“My, my, it’s been quite a while since you dressed in something resembling armor,” Loki said from the far side of his cage. “Planning to kill the helpless prisoner of war, are you?”

“You’ve never been helpless, Loki,” Freyja replied as she folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m afraid that I find myself a bit on the helpless side at the moment,” he returned, green eyes glimmering like jade. “One wrong move and I fear that I will know what the inside of my own body looks like.”

“I wonder what color a Jötunn bleeds,” she said, blue eyes narrowing in slight curiosity.

“If you wish to know answers like that, simply join me here in the comfort of my captivity. It’s quite an easy process.”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Freyja said in response.

Loki’s smirking smile just remained in place as he rose from his spot on the small cot. The leather he wore creaked as his lean body unfolded. Slowly, he walked to where she stood until they were separated by a wall of glass and several inches of air on either side.

“I don’t have to think about what I already know, my dear Freyja,” Loki smiled, his eyes gleaming brightly as her own flashed in annoyance. “It is relieving to find that your temper has not become quelled in the years you have spent away from Midgard.”

“I’m saving it all for you, sweetheart,” Freyja purred flintily.

The arrogance slipped from his smile for a brief moment but she caught it. And she savored it. Loki just tilted his head slightly, the green of his irises glimmering as he watched her.

“But only until after you have the sufficient answers to your questions,” Loki pointed out.

It didn’t surprise her that he knew why she was here. The reason was obvious enough to anyone. She would have been surprised had he not known why she was here.

“Only until then,” Freyja replied in agreement. “But, between now and then, things happen.”

“Careful, you’re beginning to sound like me,” Loki smiled as he turned to wander his cell. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“In the end, it only matters that I’m not you, Loki. And believe me, I have no intentions of becoming like you.”

“None do.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. They held gazes and neither tried, in that moment, to even restrain the emotions locked behind stony and glimmering gazes. Resentment, hatred, anger and even a bit of betrayal. And then it passed.

“Why her? She never did any-”

“And that’s where you are mistaken, my dear,” Loki cut her off mid-sentence. “Your sister is not quite the honest person you believe her to be.”

Freyja’s eyes narrowed slightly but she said nothing. She just stared at Loki, waiting for him to continue. He realized it but said nothing for several moments, drawing the silence out because the ball was in his court.

“As much as I enjoy staggering you with impossible truths,” he said, returning to his cot, “these aren’t my lies to own up to. Though I do feel regret that I won’t be present to watch as the truth unfolds.”

“I don’t care about what she’s done. I want to know why you chose her, Loki,” Freyja growled, teeth baring briefly.

“Well,” Loki smiled, “the corrupted are more…pleasant…than the innocent. There’s not an overwhelming sense of guilt to deal with in moments of crisis or slaughter.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Me? I have done nothing. She wants to stay alive; it’s a remarkably aggressive personality quirk of hers that I quite admire.”

Freyja just shook her head, blue eyes leaving Loki’s face as he sat on his cot. It wasn’t Kennedy. Kennedy didn’t do things like that. And she was going to Loki for answers; which was beyond idiotic. Loki would lie to her face without batting an eyelash or losing a night of sleep.

When she looked back to his face, he smiled a close-lipped smile. Freyja didn’t return it, didn’t bat an eyelash at the expression on his face. That only sufficed to make his emerald eyes gleam brightly in amusement. Of course he was amused; everything amused Loki at some point or another.

“Care to explain the joke?” Freyja asked, her eyebrows quirking up.

“For all the hatred and ill-will you bear towards me, you still wear that,” Loki replied, gesturing towards her.

She glanced down, assuming for a moment that he was talking about her clothing. But that wouldn’t be it. Loki would have snarled something eloquently crude about her attire. Her hand brushed the sheath strapped to her hip and she realized what he meant.

“I’m not nostalgic for what once was,” Freyja returned coolly. “If it’s of use, it’s of use.”

“Nostalgic enough to not leave it behind in Asgard when you fled here to anonymity on this miserable rock,” he remarked, his expression unreadable.

“You of all people should know that I’m not nostalgic, or remotely sentimental,” she said, head tilting slightly. “So what are you getting at?”

“I find it amusing,” Loki said, standing once more, “that you lie to yourself so readily. To say that you aren’t sentimental would be the equivalent of saying your sister isn’t currently unconscious with four broken ribs and a lacerated tongue from where she bit it.”

Freyja’s eyes narrowed slightly, the blues of her irises staring into his emerald eyes.

“I find it amusing that you know how similar she is to me. And you see this road unfolding more clearly than any of us, save myself. She wants nothing from you. She no longer trusts you,” Loki sneered down at her, looming overhead suddenly. “Thanks to you, our little opportunist is already far from what she was a mere few days ago.”

“But she’s not you,” Freyja murmured, staring at him.

“As I said before, none intend to become me.”