#fixitfixkinda

Loki looked into her blazing emerald eyes again. The hate, the suffering, the pain, the betrayal. His arms shook from the effort needed to hold back her arm and the blade she held. Bloodthirsty and vengeful, she’d honestly never looked more beautiful. And he’d never felt more sorry for her.

-“So do it then. Get your throne. KILL ME!” Sylvie spat in his face, her eyes brimming with tears, anticipating what to her would be the last, most painful betrayal her heart could take. But even as she said it, she could see the resignation in this Loki’s face, where a second ago there had been panicked but palpable affection, and shared pain. He had just wanted her to be free of this pain, and wanted her to find her freedom with him.

But now his jaw was set. He was strong, sure, but she was stronger, wilier. She knew his weaknesses inside and out. Her eyes darted back and forth, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Keep them from making her seem weak.

“Sylvie. I should have told you this ages ago but… I love you. I can heal your pain, I can take it all away. You don’t have to do this.”

His voice was warm and sincere, like liquid honey dripping. He was wily too. He knew what spots to poke. But even as her anger surged at this new attempt to manipulate her emotions, it also quailed from the touch of his hand on her cheek. Maybe…

“I have been where you stand. I know and can say for a fact that you will not find peace here. Trust me. Believe in me, and I can show you. Put down your sword. Come with me.”

His voice shook, and tears slid unabashedly down his own face now. Seeing him so vulnerable and shockingly honest made her pause. Her arm dropped a few millimeters. Her skin burned under his touch. He didn’t pull away. Neither did she.

He Who Remains behind them raised an eyebrow. This was new.

“Tell me. Give me a reason to stop. Because right now I don’t have any.”

Loki kept her gaze and leaned close until their foreheads touched. He could smell her, that familiar scent of sweat and metal and roses…she’d replaced it with some discount store soap and perfume in their current timeline. It had taken some of the ferocity away. But now, like this, at the height of her anger…it smelled like home.

And so strange all at once.

He sent her images. Pictures and snippets of what was to come. The spaghettification of all timelines if she succeeded, the pain and suffering she would cause…

But also the life she could lead if given the chance.

It was still McDonald’s. Still mundane. Almost normal. But now she came home to him. She could summon him whenever she wanted and he would be there waiting. They would spend nights in front of the tv, eating horrible food and laughing, laughing…The pure joy on his face when she brought home a stray puppy, and named him Thor…

Startled by her own moist giggles, Sylvie finally opened her eyes. He stared back, searchingly, hopefully. Like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“You can’t promise me this.” Her hands slowly curled into fists. It was so unfair. She wanted ALL of that so badly, almost more than she wanted to kill He Who Remains. Almost.

“I can. And I am. Please, Sylvie. We can be together. Just walk away.”

Loki didn’t even bat an eye as she reached in to kiss him, just like last time. He pulled her close, held her, felt every inch of her body against his, as closr as he possibly could, nostrils full of that final scent…her hair brushing against his face…

With a deft spin, he was on his back on the floor, and she was across the hall, blade already buried deep into He Who Must Not Remains. A startled gasp, but his face had a sudden twitch of satisfaction before it went slack.

Loki covered his face, wiped the newest cascade of tears from his cheeks. Pushed back his hair and sniffed in defeat. Steeling himself for what came next.

He turned, about to go back and try again, but before he could, he locked eyes with her one last time.

It was always the same. No satisfaction, no triumph. Just emptiness. A sadness. She never forgave him. She never allowed herself to just love him.

In any timeline.

But he couldn’t stop trying. He would keep trying. He had to. There had to be a way.

“You’ve tried violence and you’ve tried love. I wonder how long it will take you to realize the bottleneckedness of the situation.”

He Who Remains quipped, back in a seated position, very much alive in his chair behind his desk. Loki looked at him balefully.

“This isn’t like the fairy tales, champ. Think outside the box.”

Loki smirked, paused time and looked to Sylvie, mid leap.

“Mm. Maybe when I get tired of holding her. I’ll try something else. Until then…just relax and enjoy the show.”

And with a flick, he unpaused time, and went to his beloved once again, arms outstretched.

I’ll never give up on you.