1.19 I'm Still Myself

Is it time yet?!

NAH. There are so many experiments to keep up with it's not even funny! 

Having no baby books to read this time around and having all the subjects already in her lab, Meghan gets more biological experimentation done than ever. Hope this kid doesn't come out glowing! He should be fiiiine.

“My wife!” The somewhat-now-respected local Magician pauses in his conjuration.

She marches up to him, toddler in arms and shakes her head. “What is that? There's no birthdays today, you're just out here handing out cakes to people? I thought you were working. Where did it come from?”

He smiles patiently. “Think I'm going to tell that to you?” He gestures to the tip jar. “Maybe for the right price...”

She rolls her eyes and sets the child down gingerly. “Sorry we missed the show. Somebody thought it would be a great idea to wrestle momma with every little thing instead of getting her shoes on and letting her hair be brushed out.”

“That's adorable.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Hey there's only a few years we get to see her like this. We should be committing it to memory.” He points out, and is happy to see Meghan visibly relax a bit. She's been more stressed out this pregnancy than when she was carrying Jyoti, for at least one very obvious reason. He beams at her. “I'm glad you made it out of the house though.”

Meghan smiles in return and lets him get back to his work. Jyoti's been pulling herself to her feet and toddling around for a while now without actually taking the meaningful steps that would prove she's gone mobile. Meghan thought since the little bundle of crazed energy loved being outside so much she could practice at the park after the show. It's a clear night, and it's warm outside, so why not?

But she's frustrated. Meghan is the one that needs time to herself. She was counting on the baby to nap today so that she could nap too, which of course never happened and now she barely has the energy to deal with the constant pick up-set down- hold toddler movements that Jyoti needs from her in order to learn. She is. Fed. Up.

And she has to go, like now.

She stomps off to the restrooms on the other side of the park and mutters to Dustin that he's got to take over. He should have known 'hang out with daddy at work' was a ruse so he could help her with the baby. Not that he minds, it's kind of cute how Meghan tries to do everything on her own all the time and he's glad to be relied on a little. She doesn't need to trick him into hanging out with Jyoti.

His daughter for her part just sits there cooing, playing with her feet and watching him.

“You look like you need something better to do.” He puts the tip jar away and ignores the fact that there's something like twelve simoleans in it. He had just gotten started for the night, after all.

“You ready little lady?” He talks in a soft yet commanding voice. “Come at get me!”

Dadda is totally better at this game than momma is.

Plus she feels like the most important person in the world for even the tiniest of accomplishments with him.

“You gonna be famous like me baby, or smart like your momma?”

The little girl giggles and had no coherent reply to that.

“Or are you gonna be an astronaut, and go streaking across the sky to chase all the stars!?” And he hauls her into a game of airplane, spinning her around wildly. “Fast'r Fas'r!!” She screams in delight.

“Right the fastest astronaut!” He laughs.

They run all over the park after that. Dustin forgets he was going to keep working, and Jyoti has no idea she was supposed to figure out the whole walking thing. They just enjoy spending time together and are already impossibly close.

Meghan's never-ending shift is momentarily paused, so she goes home to nap, too tired to feel any relief yet.

Jyo gets all her energy out for once too.

After that Dustin cuts back on his street show time a lot. He doesn't want to be the reason Meghan has more to do, and he has a few shows throughout the week now, so as long as he does well with those he knows they're going to be fine financially. He focuses on bettering himself and helping around the house and sometimes in the garden. But who are we kidding, the garden is lucky it gets sprinkled on.

“Winning. It's what we do. We're fearless, okay Jyoti? Say it with me. Sparrows are Win-ners”

“Rows. Wos. Ners. Win. Ners. Winn... NORS.”

“Close enough.”

“Also the best thing you can be to other people is kind. This is called the benefit of the doubt. You can doubt someone and still be their friend. So what is that? Friendship.”

“Ship. Fr'n'shp.”

“FRIENDship.” He corrects.

“FRENshp.” She muddles it.

“Heh. That's right. Friends are kind to each other okay?”

“Kay.”

“If you fall asleep during your lesson I'm taking a picture of it for the family album,” He warns her as she nods off.

She nods off anyways.

This one's got to be a boy. Meghan is HUGE. And irritable and exhausted and annoyed and not always herself. She'd be more thankful to Dustin for watching the toddler if there wasn't so much around this place to clean all the time. If she wasn't so exhausted all of the time.

She flits in and out of herself, and sometimes hours are lost for which she has no memory.

It's been a whirlwind of a year. A second baby is close to being delivered, Dustin's career went through a blender of a rocky start and is finally rising, wobbly, into the air. Meghan has made some breakthroughs but nothing that she can write home about (if she had a home to write back to), but they've been happy despite the many challenges they've faced together. Their relationship is strong. Unassailable.

So when the figure of a familiar person appears on their doorstep a week after Meghan was due to give birth, it's unclear if this will become another blessing for the new family or another stumbling block.

It's too late to go back now. Not that he would intentionally hesitate here after coming so far, but the fact that Loki has a very limited time to have this meeting before he changes irrevocably is not lost on him. There is no better moment to clear his future of any regrets than now. Circe had agreed with Moira that this was an important step in his therapy, also it was supposed to be some kind of evidence that he was going to survive the upcoming ordeal which until he was facing directly, didn't bear thinking about.

Right now he had something to focus on: saying goodbye to Andrea for good.

It hadn't been difficult to find her as she publishes scientific articles on a regular basis through the local hospital. According to the phone directory, Dustin and she still still live together.

Still now Loki, sporting a pair of contacts that weren't quite the correct color, the lines on his face covered in make up, and a thin scarf wrapped closely around the wounds on his neck, having traveled hundreds of miles to be here, hesitates.

Nervously his fingers twitch away from the doorbell and he clears his throat before simply stabbing the button once. Man up. He can hear Circe's words in the back of his mind. Such a lazy thing for her to tell a patient. Somehow though he's amused by the memory. If nobody else would tell him something he needed to hear, at least she would. He hoped what he felt with her was real, but who knew? They'd known each other for the better part of four days, and been engaged for two of them. A potentially dying man was allowed to have a little hope though.

Idly and morbidly, he wonders whose name will be on his lips in his final moments.

His musing is interrupted by the approaching figure of a woman from on the other side of the door. Mutely she stands there for what seems a lifetime, frowning as if she doesn't know who he is or if she knows, and it's not enough to make her want to open the door.

Was I that bad to you? He thinks, annoyed. This was a horrible idea. If Moira hadn't plucked Andrea's name from his mind when she'd asked him about his regrets, he never would have had to confront her like this.

There's a part of him that hopes she won't open the door, but she does. He steps forward, ready to move on.

“Andrea?” He tries to take her in, the way she looks now. It's different from what he'd expected. He'd often wondered if she'd settled down with someone, had a child. And the child, well actually the little she girl she's holding, has her eyes. Is it hers? And her cousin's hair coloring. It must run in the family.

She looks him over tiredly, as if she's bored or has no time for whatever this is. Her expression is guarded as if he's going to try to sell her something. Her lovely amber hair curls on one side over her chest and her head is shaved on the other. It's not girly but it's not boyish either. Something about it is very much her. She's heavily pregnant. He clears his throat, well aware they were both merely staring at each other now. “How, have you been?” He asks, barely trusting his voice. It sounds hollow even to him.

Her face regards him with a tired recognition. “Loki.” His name sounds distant, as if it hasn't come up a lot. Of course it hasn't. He's probably not on her mind much anymore.

“Hi. Um, how have you been?” He repeats, trying to find out what's different from the Andrea he knows. Aside from the many, many things that are obvious.

“You mean, how has Meghan been.” She states, and again her voice is unusually cold.

He frowns, finally shaking his head. “No, what-”

But she's already backing through the doorway and turning away from him. “Dustin! Your friend is here!” She calls while the toddler in her arm begins to fuss.

Loki waves at her, absolutely confused. “Wait, what did I say?” And then Dustin is at the door. Loki doesn't realize right away, but his arm is still suspended in the air. “Hey...”

“Loki.” Dustin says with solemn recognition. “We should talk outside.” Because Meghan isn't here right now, he thinks.

And Loki, inexplicably, feels the thought. It's not clear, other than the name that Andrea just used and the feeling of frustration, of she's not here. He doesn't hear a lot from other people's minds, he doesn't know if he will once the virus that's ravaging his body has taken over him, will it be passive like this, amplified, or is Dustin yelling it in his mind? Loki shakes his head slightly in an attempt to clear it, then self-consciously snugs the scarf tighter around his neck. I'm already not like them, he thinks.

They walk down the steps together, and Dustin frowns, trying to figure out how to say the important things to Loki that he had never been told. Trying to decide if he should tell him now, when Meghan couldn't really speak for herself. He inwardly curses. Of all times, Loki had to visit when she wasn't herself! She had been herself more than ever but with the stress she'd been under towards the end of this pregnancy with a toddler in the house and unable to take the medication that had been so helpful to her, there was nothing he could do for her lately. It scared and worried him.

Now on top of all of that, this.

Loki, who was gaining more awareness in each passing hour, saw a few things in whisper as they passed over the forefront of his friend's mind that he couldn't explain. Dustin was clearly concerned about Meghan, and only Meghan. That name, again. Everything else must be less important.

“Who is Meghan?” Loki asks when they've stopped walking, trying to get to the bottom of one of the many things that weren't making immediate sense.

“Meghan is...” How could he tell his friend, who even though they'd had a falling out, Dustin could no longer really feel any vitriol towards? Loki had never been in on their secret in the first place, but there wasn't a concentrated effort to leave him out of it either. “My wife.” He says, heavily.

Loki doesn't understand why it sounds like such a burden. Doesn't that deserve congratulations? But there is a guilt on Dustin's face despite the way his mouth is set in determination. “And you should probably know the truth about her.”

“Why didn't Andrea seem to recognize me at the door?” Loki can't keep the hurt from his voice, it was too unexpected, too surprising. “She said my name, but-”

Dustin decided to be as honest as possible without getting into any gritty details. “I don't know. I'm guessing it's because she was Andrea that she didn't... well there's no easy way to say it Loki. Andrea is Meghan and Meghan is Andrea. In a way.” Dustin shakes his head, continuing, not sure when he had actually realized it himself. “You really never noticed that anything was strange about her back then, did you?”

Loki is quiet, deathly so, but not with anger. Mostly there is shock, and disbelief. “What do you mean, who is Meghan? What do you mean they are the same, and one of them is your-”

“We never were cousins, Loki. If that's what you're stuck on. We couldn't tell you that because we couldn't be found by the people we'd... run away from. Eugene is my actual cousin, he sort of, adopted Meghan for my sake.”

Loki stared without moving, his eyes raking the house behind his former friend. His blue gaze was piercing in a way that Dustin forgot it could be. He wasn't always perceptive, but when his attention was set to something he was kind of like a bulldog who wouldn't let go of it. It was one of the things Dustin had admired about him, so long ago. His dogged ambition.

The young father took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, gathering his thoughts to say the next part right. “Meghan, chose the name Andrea when we started school together in Aurora Skies. I found out later, but she chose it because... sometimes she IS Andrea.”

Loki keeps staring for a second, straining his eyes which couldn't see her anymore as if he could view everything that was happening in the house if he merely tried hard enough. “You mean... ”

Dustin shifted his weight. “It was to protect her in case she lost sight of herself. Because she has other personalities. Not in the creative or conventional way, like how I play a part on stage as a magician. She has no choice in the matter, and just becomes them against her will. She could have shifted to Andrea at any time so-” He falters here, changing topics. “I had often wondered if you knew about it.” Dustin admits, quietly. “I didn't really know much about it, until college, when Andrea came out often. She was under a lot of stress then, and a lot of our conversations gave me like a whiplash. I couldn't keep up with it sometimes.'

“She's under a lot of stress now, so I think that's why...” His voice trails off. He has no idea what to say next.

Loki's gaze shifts to Dustin and he takes a step back, narrowing his eyes. It didn't take him long to start piecing things together verbally. “Okay. So number one, you aren't related to her?”

Dustin mirrors Loki's stance without realizing it. “No. No we're not.”

“So that's your daughter, yours and... hers?”

Dustin nods. “That's our daughter.”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking again. “And number two. She has some kind of condition. That neither of you thought I needed to know about.”

Dustin nods, making note of the way the other's voice is getting lower ever so slightly with each passing moment.

Loki's fingers flex. “Is this your way of telling me that the two of you... were together, the whole time?” It all finally bubbles up in a disbelieving anger, he'd always thought of Dustin as a bit weird, but direct enough and generally an honest guy. He hadn't expected something like this from him.

Dustin for his part had expected this reaction much earlier in the conversation. He shakes his head, not breaking eye contact. “No. But you really never knew about it, about her? Did she ever tell you anything?”

“You told her that night the two of you went out to study.” Loki's words comes out hoarse as he realizes it, all the small things, the moments in time that had seemed odd that he only now is able to piece together. “That was when she changed in her attitude towards me.”

“Oh please, how does it matter now, when I told her?” Dustin finally grumbles. “She was different all along, you just never saw it.” The ferocity in his voice fades as he looks at the expression on Loki's face. “I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But, you had so many opportunities to get to know her!” This time Dustin begins to lose his temper a bit, and points.

“Besides, you got over it pretty quickly, correct me if I'm remembering it wrong, but you brought another girl to our house the day after Meghan broke things off with you! You were selfish, you never saw the things she went through, and that's why she left you, Loki! I trusted you with her, but you didn't take care of her. Do you think it was easy for me, to leave it alone, to give you a chance when you had no idea what she had gone through, and didn't care enough to find out?!”

Images flashed through Dustin's mind now; Andrea, no, Meghan as a child, as a young woman, missing, found, running, her hand in his. Loki blanches at the clarity of them. His ability comes and goes, but theses memories are being shouted by Dustin and they are clear, as if they'd even helped form who he is. They probably had. It certainly explains some of the overprotective behavior he had exhibited when they were younger. She was someone they both had cared for deeply. This is more of a profound realization than anything else had been. Andrea... or no, Meghan? Well it was clear that something had been going on with her because she had mood swings that were sometimes nearly impossible to navigate, so finding out that she has a disorder of any kind isn't really a surprise. Loki had always assumed she would talk about things with him when she needed to.

He had been blind.

“Listen, you're not wrong about any of that.” Loki says in an effort to diffuse Dustin's anger.

His former friend folds his arms over his chest. “I know I'm not. So why are you here?”

Loki looks to his feet, laughs a short, humorless laugh. He's on a fool's errand. “For closure. I needed to know what I had done wrong... I've regretted how things ended and I want to tell her... goodbye. If what you're saying is true, and it sounds,” He stops to find the right words, “real enough, it seems like there was a lot I wasn't aware of.”

“They weren't my secrets to share.” Dustin says cautiously, relaxing a little bit. “You can meet her, if she wants to, but you have to promise not to force any topic she doesn't want to discuss. I can't always call her back, when she is Andrea like now.”

“I understand,” Loki says numbly, and follows Dustin to the front door.

Dustin just hopes that everything will be okay. He'd kind of forgotten about Loki, having been lost in his own happiness for so long. Meghan and he had a life together now, and the last things she needs is instability. Why now? Is all he keeps thinking. Why did this have to happen now? Should he ask Loki to come back instead, after the baby is born? But she'd already met him at the door and as Andrea, and didn't seem to care one way or the other.

Loki follows, too lost in his own thoughts to worry about what he'd seen in someone else's. This paints their entire relationship in a new color. He wonders if it was doomed from the start. Why hadn't she told him about anything? Why hadn't he asked? He has the sneaking suspicion that she would have relied on him had she and her 'cousin' not already been so close to begin with.

Dustin and Andrea- no, Meghan are together, as in, an item, and they have a baby on the way. Unreal.

He stops at the door to look annoyingly cute. STOP THAT, these are serious moments!

And why is there a cucumber on the ground when they don't have any cats?

(Answer: Meghan was analyzing it to get samples)

That doesn't keep him from sauntering in like he owns the place though. He looks over everything, is it good enough for her? Are they happy? It's painful, seeing the life that he could have lived but now at least he knows how far away that dream really was for him. With Andrea, at least. He wonders if all women harbor secrets like this that they keep from the men they profess to care about, or if it was just something about him that brought out their duplicitous sides.

“If you'd like to sit down for a minute, I'll go get her.” Dustin says over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Is Loki's all-too-casual response. Inside he feels anything but calm, but he's too surprised to act on his feelings. Maybe his feelings... are dying with the rest of his body, being reset, remade.

Dustin returns. “Sorry about the dishwasher, it's a piece of junk. I've been tinkering with it but we should probably let it go soon. Anyways, I let her know, I don't know if you'll get to see Meghan honestly, she's been like this for the better part of the day.”

Loki nods, absently. He's still feeling an overwhelming sense of I shouldn't be here.

But life is weird, and so here he sits. Surrounded by somebody else's baby stuff and waiting for his ex girlfriend to come and tell him off again. He must be a glutton for punishment.

Dustin sits next to his friend, begins to ask him mundane questions. “So what did you do, after college? Did you go back? I don't listen to the radio all that much so I'm a bit behind and I don't know if you broke into the industry.”

Dustin is still trying to build bridges. How odd is that, when Loki's here to tear them down? “You don't have to pretend you wanted to see me.” He says frankly, “I thought I was done with you too. I understand why you took her side, but we were friends first before I ever met her. You could have explained this. You should have had my back.”

I'll have you back outside my house, Dustin thinks but doesn't voice it.“Just play along and pretend we're still friends so we don't scare her off you freaking idiot.” Dustin replies in annoyance. “I don't hate you or I wouldn't have let you in. Meghan can decide for herself if she wants to see you or not anyways.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

Before Loki gets a response Andrea walks back into the room. Her expression is unreadable and solemn. He stamps back the urge to rise and meet her halfway, help her to a chair, or something.

“Hey! How are you feeling?” Dustin interrupts to greet his wife. He never did specify who he thought she was at the moment. Loki realizes they are both equally in the dark on that one.

The woman shrugs.

Loki tries to listen, but there's really not a lot coming from Meghan's mind, as if there's nothing she needs to think about at the moment. He's not getting much from Dustin either, so it's clear he has no idea how this new ability works. He's sure it means he doesn't have long, if parts of his brain are being overtaken by his... current condition.

“Hello Loki.” She says, scooting a chair out and addressing him as if she'd never left him standing outside. She does not look him in the face.

“Uhm, who am I supposed to-”

“It's Meghan. I've always been Meghan.”

Dustin's entire face lights up in relief. “Finally.” He comments.

“I know. I'm sorry.” She tells him. “How long was it...?”

“Since three or four, I'm not sure. I was out working on the car when I heard the baby fussing from her crib.”

“I-” She starts to apologize again, but Dustin shakes his head.

“It's fine, I know. And before you ask, no I didn't miss anything and no I'm not booked for anything this week anyways. I'll be here.”

She nods, accepting what he said without further comment.

Loki speaks up at that point. “Does this sort of thing happen a lot?”

There's enough concern in his voice she finds herself answering him honestly after looking to Dustin for confirmation. “It's been once a week or something, lately. We had it down to once a month a while ago, but in my condition, well I can't take anything that will calm me down and help keep it from happening.”

“I'm sorry.” He replies, quietly. The apology is for so much more than this moment and everyone in the room can tell. “It's not a lot of consolation I know, but I mean it.”

She frowns. “Thank you.”

“You're awfully calm about all of this.” Dustin tells him, a little suspiciously.

Loki surprises even himself, and shrugs. “I've learned that life is never going to be simple. We lose people we care about, our plans are changed before we know we're already heading down an uncertain new course, and all we can do is take it in stride, sometimes.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Loki?” Meghan quips, no humor in her voice.

“I'm still myself.” He protests quickly.

“You never were this relaxed before.” She stares at him hard for a few moments and he shifts in his chair. Andrea, Meghan, whatever she called herself, was proving to still be the brazen girl he fell in love with. She must know his secret for the way she seems to be looking directly into him. He resists the urge to adjust the position of the scarf he's wearing. Would she even know what this wound was?

And then he realized, she probably knew more about the living dead than he did. It could easily be one of her hobbies, like her fascination with the fae. This conversation was going to quickly become very interesting if that was the case.

“What's her name?” She demands, interrupting his thoughts.

“What? I don't follow-” Loki sputters in surprise.

She settles a hand on her hip, eyes continuing to bore into his. “You've changed. I wonder what type of person she is, to make you rethink your whole approach to life.”

His blue eyes widen too innocently. “A guy can't change his mind on his own?”

“Probably. If that guy wasn't you.” Dustin says, a smile slowly spreading over his features. “So you heard the adorable pregnant lady, who is she?”

Loki legitimately begins to sweat. He'd forgotten how close the three of them had been, and there wasn't much to dissuade these two when they shared a curiosity. He hadn't expected them to find out about Circe, or to have to explain his current bout of hopeful idiocy regarding her.

“She's a nurse.” He says, giving up. “We're engaged. We haven't known each other for very long actually, but-”

“But she makes your eyes light up.” Meghan observes.

She is rewarded with a rueful smile. “Maybe.” He shifts his weight again. “So honestly, I'm really here to say goodbye to you, and to apologize for the way I treated you, at the end. You deserved better from me, and I want to be better, for her sake. I don't want to have any regrets.”

“I have all kinds of regrets.” Meghan says. “I didn't always know if what I was experiencing was real, I was scared, there was so much I couldn't tell you because you were there to help me feel normal. I didn't want to lose that feeling, that anchor. For the couple of years we were together, I felt like I had a really normal life. I didn't realize that it was so serious on your end until you started to really focus on us having a future together and then I panicked and pushed you away. I wasn't about to jump into trying to have a family when I didn't even really know how those were supposed to work.”

I wonder how long it took her after breaking things off with me to run into the arms of her 'cousin', Loki muses. It was hard for him to not feel betrayed when he felt their lies had cost him everything. Then again, in that everything he had a chance at a new start, or a different end? It wasn't worth worrying over right now. At the end of the week he would get to find out if he was going to die, or going to succumb to the infection, the virus, whatever it was.

“Just so you know!” Dustin feels the need to elaborate, “She never makes anything easy for me, and it wasn't easy for us not to bring you into this. But there was no way of knowing what was the best thing to do...”

The cautious friends spend the next hours or so reminiscing and talking about their working lives. Loki became an inventor, Dustin a magician, and Meghan a biological researcher under her pen name. Nothing is perfect, but everyone feels they are in a better place than they were when they were younger. Loki's melancholy begins to lift when he realizes that everyone is afraid a little for the future, and holds out a guarded hope for it anyway.

Dustin eventually says goodbye to Loki and heads over to check his daughter. He wants to let Meghan and Loki have a few moments to say goodbye in private, so nothing is left hanging in the air.

(Loki gets charisma points by talking to an unborn baby XP)

“Well you look radiant.” He says, emotion catching up to him for once. He struggles to keep his voice steady with some success. “And for what it's worth, I know I was a jackass about it all. Thank you for telling me everything. I have a chance at a new start right now, and I needed to know how I broke my life last time so it doesn't happen again. If it can't be me, at least I know it's someone like him.”

Loki gets the sense that it really was never about him in the first place. It's hard to accept, and it's impossible to agree with their methods, the way they left him out of it, but what can he do about it now?

Meghan hugs Loki goodbye. “Thank you for visiting. I'm sorry I confused you so much, it wasn't my intention. I was pretty confused myself, at the time. I hope you do get married and have a house full of babies, like you dream about.”

Loki tightly returns the hug. “Thank you. I don't know if it'll ever sound right, calling you Meghan. But if your fake cousin ever does anything to make you upset, you can call me over here and I'll come yell at him for you, okay?”

He doesn't realize that he's already started thinking about his own future for once, not the past, and not his inevitable status as a Vampire. He shudders at the very thought of the word. He hopes she never does call him. He'd probably want to drink her blood the most.

“I probably won't call you, but I won't ever forget you either. Goodbye, Loki.”

“Goodbye, 'Drea'.” He says, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's all pretend that I know the difference between a virus and a bacterial infection, which I do. But I apparently don't care enough to be specific on the details of which one Vampirism is. I'm hoping not to have to figure that out for a while :P

Of course this begins the moment I'm done shooting the scene.

Also I moved the 'Rendall' family into town so I can keep an eye on what they get up to and this was their immediate reactions/ thoughts. Loki's already forgotten the existence of Circe, who is like, staring at him with love in her eyes (or attraction w/e), but no, he's concerned about Andrea. 'Drea' is nowhere near your house, how are you attracted to her-?!? You know, I guess I'm just leading him to water and instead of taking a drink he plans on drowning in it. Whatever, I'll try to be a good overlord-ess? To you.

Magicians should totally be able to play at birthday parties. They conjure up cake, for goodness sake!

1.18 Loki's Aside -E- Games

After he's eaten something small and hours later, Moira is once again in his room, asking questions without preamble. Whatever had passed between them earlier clearly had established a cautious feeling of friendship between the the two. At least, whenever Moira was here Loki no longer had the uneasy feeling of one who was being hunted. “So I'm going to ask you another question and I hope you'll be honest with your answer. If your life ended right now, what is the thing you would regret not having the most?”

The question took Loki aback for a moment. Did she mean, 'did not do/accomplish'? But she said 'did not have'. “Do you mean-”

“No I meant what I said. What is something you regret not having your life that you thought you would have? Think carefully.” She knew his mind was in the right place when his face became wistful, even a bit forlorn. It was easy for her to glean a name from the top of his thoughts, wrestling as they were with it. “Andrea?” She says it aloud, and he looks up sharply, sickly gray eyes meeting her bright iris blue. “So it's a woman.”

“I didn't say that.” He attempts to correct her but Moira has already seen it, the depth of his worthless, one-sided affection. He had carefully crafted a shell around that name in his mind, sequestering it so it could one day be destroyed, to hold no power over him. But she was the first and like other things in his life he had been far, far too serious about her.

She shakes her head to the side. “You didn't have to. Listen to me Loki. Regrets are very serious things for my kind, especially as we do not age quickly and can spend our time on anything, there is virtually no limit on how many years and decades can be invested, even if there are things that we cannot control such as the flow of time itself.”

“And the hearts of others.” He added sardonically. “I've read fairy tales too Moira so can you get to the point?” He didn't know when the manner of their conversations changed to include him as being of the sister's 'kind'.

She blinks at the way his patience evaporated. He does not like this topic. “I never said we couldn't control the hearts of others actually. Some things ...take more time than others and each one of us can use our abilities in different ways, but- well there's no easy way to say this- you have to get past the things you do not have, and learn to be grateful for the good things in your life, before it's too late and your heart becomes set on a certain course.”

He scoffs at this and works his jaw, irritated. Women. Always trying to 'fix' men. “I'll be fine.” He says quickly. “I've managed in the last seven years...”

“To avoid the issue.” Moira interjects, stopping his assertion in it's tracks. Then, before he can try to figure out where she's going with this, she says, “You'd have to ask her of course, but I bet Lyra wouldn't mind.”

He inclines her head the way he does when he's studying something he doesn't understand. Or in this case, someone. “Moira I don't follow-”

“She may be willing to have a child with you. Probably not many, but she's been considering it off an on for the last few decades and-”

Loki's eyes widen and he waves his hands through the air as if he can clear it of the topic. “N-no I am not interested in that.” Appalling idea. He finishes the thought in his head.

“Appalling?” She repeats, catching his thought as it was loudly stated in his mind.

He wants to be polite but Moira doesn't, seeing how she's reading his mind and all. “Look. Your sister is... well I don't want to have anything to do with her. She's said many times my life doesn't matter, what would make you think she'd be a great mother to my-” he stops himself, feeling actually queasy. Gross. “Or anyone's-”

Moira seems genuinely confused by his refusal. “I'm merely suggesting what could be a solution to your problem. She probably wouldn't care that much honestly. And if it's after you've turned, assuming you survive the transition- it would be like us. She loves the idea of creating more vampires, she's actually somewhat upset that she let me have you, I think. So, if not with Andrea, then-”

“Like us.” He says, his voice low. “I'm not sure I want to be 'like us'. Why would I want to do that to a child?”

But Moira is somehow hurt by this statement, and falls silent after saying, “I was born into this, it's only the natural way to me.”

“Oh. I- uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.” He rushes to explain. Moira is quickly becoming someone he's fond of and despite the pain, the weariness, and this damnable building headache he doesn't want her to feel badly. “Look. I've made a lot of mistakes since... Andrea and there's nothing that's going to convince me to rush headlong into another relationship that's going nowhere, or to have children for the sake of having them when it's my greatest aspiration to raise them, in a loving family. I hope you can understand that.”

“I.. I have family too that is precious, so I think I know what you're saying.” She doesn't look him in the eye again, and finally turns to leave. “When you have a moment, can you come out to the dining hall? There are some documents we'd like you to look over and you probably want to wash up a bit. Also, we're going to trust you not to leave the courtyard outside, but if you'd like some fresh air, even though it's cold out there...”

He nods once, wondering if he's hurt her feelings. Do these creatures really have feelings, that can be hurt? There are things that the sisters say that just make no sense from a human perspective. Have children with whomever, kill whomever... make more vampires... some of the things he's talked about with Moira were chilling in the right context. But who was he to say? And, no one had told him yet, his chances of survival. These thoughts plagued him as he finally stepped outside the walls of his little room.

The house had the feel of dark and ancient beauty, as if it was built to be enjoyed by people who saw in a different spectrum of colors than he could. Long term, a place like this just seemed too closed in, and he felt confined in every part of it.

Unfortunately washing up did not mean 'take a shower and have a change of clothes', but he was grateful to leave the room for a bit and scrub his hands and his face. He's a neat person and this whole ordeal reminds him of why he hates nature, and hates camping, and hates, hates being dirty. Sure he used to become very dirty from digging through piles of scrap, but that was a search for possibilities and ideas, and nothing like the feeling of wearing the same, chafing clothes for the last several days. Moira thought it was a good sign that he had been able to complain about what he was wearing, and he supposed that was true. So where was this horrible transformation that he was so afraid to succumb to?

Not long after he is sitting, sipping on the blood orange juice the sisters have told him is his, which tastes exactly as it sounds, like oranges, like citrus, but also like iron and magnesium. He severely hopes that there is no actual blood in it (or plasma), but he's not in a position to be choosy about anything. It makes him feel better at any rate, and his headache dissipates.

In front of him on the table are some documents prepared by a C. Kirke, a name he doesn't recognize, and detailing names and places he's unfamiliar with. Why is this here? Proposal, it says in print on the tab. Proposal for what? There's no argument presented, no service offered, and no fee to be charged. Underneath the folder he finds a manila envelope that had been bound with string addressed to Moira Rendall, from C. Kirke at the Simsitorium. Wouldn't it be insane if this was actually about him? And it had to be. It looks like a new life, all laid out on the pages of crisp copy paper from some case worker's cold office.

So it seems that whatever was going to happen to him was known to people outside of this house, which puts the future even further outside of Loki's control. Does this sort of thing happen often enough to have a procedure, to have proposals?

Disgusted, he crushes the carton of juice and heads outside to toss it, and to 'breathe fresh air'. But his heart is heavier than ever, and all the cold does is remind him that the nightmare is not over yet. He doesn't have a death wish, not really, but he has no interest in a life like these women live. They could have just let him die. There would have been some... dignity in that at least. The way his life is in shards around him, the way it seems they're trying to scrape it together piece by piece, the way they're all in his freaking head, and making plans for a future he has no interest in is somewhat... horrible.

His heart is cold towards all of it. The statues that flank the house and gather softly fallen snow have the right idea about this place. He'd much rather be a silent observer than actively involved in drama like this. He envies that nobody forces them to move, to do anything. Nobody cares if they are cold, or alive, or have regrets. They are fixtures. Nobody's checking their pulse, sifting their thoughts, and contemplating their future.

Is he supposed to feel grateful, that he's still here? Moira is kind, but that's not enough. His life wasn't ideal or perfect, but it was his life, and the papers in the 'dining hall', if such a cramped space could carry such a lofty name, are evidence that he's not even supposed to be Loki Beaker anymore. He's already told them where his family is, can't he just be sent back to them, in whatever condition he is in?

He's going to be in the company of strangers for the remainder of his human life, that is their plan for him. And if he doesn't like it, well, there's just not enough traffic on this deserted street that somebody kind will come along and run him over.

He heads back inside afterwards to think. That's all he's been doing, and it hasn't gotten him very far. It's moments like this that make him miss her, and are the reason he holds on to memories of Andrea. She would have had something bright to say that would solve his worries so quickly. He could only assume that whatever he had done for her in return, hadn't been enough. He had been so preoccupied with school and the future, he'd let her slip away from him, had he ignored her needs? He must have.

If she were in the room now, she'd probably slap a band-aid over the encrusting wound on his neck and drag him out of the house on some errant and feckless venture. So if that's the sort of thing he needs, why can't he just do it, and leave on his own?

He didn't think he wanted her back, but moments where one's life is in shambles deserve some sort of honesty. He may even need her back, he's just not willing to go do anything about it. But he was better with her than without, and seeing as it's been seven or eight years, he doubts she's letting her own life stagnate while secretly hoping for him to seek her out again.

He's a mopey mess and really, he doesn't think he'd pine for himself if he were in hers, or anyone else's shoes either. She had rejected him, after all.

A few hours later, after trying to read one of the dozens of books he was locked in this room with and watching the words on the pages blend together for the third time, the sounds of a muffled conversation reach his ears from the other side of the wall in the entrance way.

“Why would you let something like that come out of your mouth?” It was Moira, talking angrily in hushed tones. “The walking dead!” She repeats the offense.

“It seems a fair assessment of the situation.” The new voice belongs to a woman who Loki is unfamiliar with, but she seems to have no qualms about stirring up the vampire woman's emotions. The new voice sounds amused that her comment was even an issue. “I'm essentially the only person here with any life in them, isn't that so? You shouldn't pretend like you're the paragon of virtue because if you were then I wouldn't have a need to be here!”

“We-well,” Moira stammers, having a hard time standing her ground, and her sister's voice cuts in impatiently.

“Miss Kirke, we appreciate your timeliness. When I spoke with the Simsatorium yesterday they weren't keen on sending one of their elite nurses out on such a.. routine call. We're grateful.”

There is a pregnant pause wherein Loki can only imagine Moira is giving her sister a dirty look. “Grateful that you've come to see our patient, and so quickly.” She repeats for emphasis, which apparently ends the argument.

“Of course you are.” The woman replies, haughtily, and carries on without preamble. “It's been four days with no changes, he's going to turn by the end of the week at this rate. Shouldn't you have called sooner, or were you unsure if this was an issue for the morgue? If you'd have brought him to the Simsatorium immediately, as I've said, we could have assessed the situation from an earlier point and taken care of any contingency. We also have a morgue onsite. Things are a lot less... messy there.”

“You talk about him as if he were already dead,” Moira complains, clearly surprised at the nurse's attitude.

“Well he's not exactly alive though, is he?” The other voice crows, once again amused. “So as you've mentioned I'm the kind of woman who appreciates punctuality. Where is this charge of yours?”

Moira's voice again, dejected. “I'll show you...”

The door slides open and Moira steps away from it without a word, effectively retreating from the nurse. The door slides smoothly shut, leaving the woman alone with Loki in the tiny room.

He experiences a flash of memory when she walks in and her little slip on shoes come into view. He frowns. The machine has yet to show him anything in such clear detail as he had seen these, but he hasn't seen much that came after. He wonders if he's nearing the end of his visions, they are less clear, but there were some that seemed so utterly far away from where he is now... he stops trying to think about it. The original inventor noted in high detail that most of what could be seen that way was loosely possible in the first place. Something like a 30% accuracy rate to his own experiences.

“I am nurse Kirke.” The woman introduces herself shortly, interrupting his thoughts. “And you do seem somewhat alive at the moment.” There's the amusement in her voice again. “Which is good, I don't have a wheelbarrow.”

He does not look up from where he sits. He doesn't really care what sort of things amuse her.

She lets the silence of her words hang in the air without saying what she's looking for, or what he's to expect, or why she's been called for in the first place.

Eventually Loki merely sighs, eyes on the floor in front of him. “I'll be waiting.” He says.

The nurse seems confused but waits for him to say something else. When he doesn't, she bites. “Waiting?” She asks him, already impatient if this is a game.

He narrows his eyes, tuning out the cheerful color of her stupidly vibrant shoes from his peripheral vision. He's not really in the mood to play any games either. “For you to go and get one.”

And she laughs, genuinely, not with the twinge of sarcasm he'd heard from her voice in the hall but from actual amusement. He gets the feeling she wasn't expecting to enjoy any part of this visit. She laughs until she's breathless, and finally, curious, he lets his gaze glance up so he can see her face.

He stares at her while she composes herself, and for far too long to be polite afterwards. She regards him curiously in return, hand resting confidently on her hip. He knows that he's intrigued her too.

“Where's your clipboard?” He finally asks because he can't seem to look away. “You are a nurse, aren't you?”

Her response is a smirk. “I don't need a mental crutch. And, this is basically going to be an assessment of your ability to survive.” She says bluntly. “So do me a favor and be compliant. I can't look at you when you're sitting on the ground like that. Sit on the bed. The side of it is fine.”

“Your eyes are originally blue?”

“Yes.” Despite the harsh nature of some of her words, her touch is light. She doesn't force him to move, but she uses her fingertips to ever so lightly push his chin, or his cheek, so that he knows to move his head in that direction.

“The light isn't very good here, but it seems to me that your overall color is actually quite good. We may not need that wheelbarrow after all.”

“Do you get paid extra if people die believing that they were going to survive?” He asks in a conversational tone. Her touches have all been feathery and gentle, so when she pinches the edge of his chin, the pinprick of pain surprises him. “Shh.” She commands. “I don't have patience for these games you're determined to play.”

He glares at her then, and she ignores it, nudging him to tilt his head more away from her. “I hate them too, but worse than games are lies. I don't care to be played around with either, and I don't need to be coddled.” He says with quiet clarity. “You can tell me the truth when you have it.”

“Hmm, is that so?” She asks as if she has no interest in his response. “The marks on your face are actually healing. As for your complexion, well, you are naturally pale. The infection seems to be moving away from your respiratory system already. Your eyes will return to their original color, once the virus has... changed them.”

“Yet I can't have long to live, or be human, and if I have to be like them, I'm not sure I...”

“You're kind of a dramatic person aren't you?” She says simply, and her smile this time is not unkind.

For some reason, his only response to her question is once again a glare.

“Mister Beaker?”

He chooses not to respond. Something in her tone, he doesn't like. It's overly familiar and makes him want to shove her away, physically. He knows what it is that bothers him after a few seconds but it makes the situation no easier to endure. He hates the way her gentle touch is making him aware of her. Little trails of fire follow her fingers on his face and there's something contrarily soothing, and exciting about it and it's making him profoundly uneasy.

That sensation coupled with the proximity of her face, and the depth of her warm brown eyes searching his makes him shiver. He is vulnerable in a way he wasn't expecting. He shifts his weight on the side of the bed, trying to look away, trying not to feel her breath on him.

She finishes the exam and for a second lingers, hovering over him. He clears his throat and she leans away, an eyebrow raised as if she had been testing him in some way. He takes a deep breath now that her eyes aren't on him so much, and starts to relax.

Loki's relief doesn't last long. She picks up his hands from where they're folded neatly in his lap, moves them to his sides and sits, without preamble, on his lap.

Instinctively his hand comes up to the small of her back, to keep her from falling backwards as she leans back to look at him. She is the picture of confident relaxation.

He stops breathing for several seconds, and just stares at her, too shocked to know what to do. Every muscle in his body is suddenly tense.

She doesn't smile, smirk or say anything coy. She gives him a hard stare. “Do you think I'm just going to say nice things to you, and then leave? Letting you undermine my prognosis with wasteful moping and thoughts of suicide? You're going to live, Mister beaker, you should try to be a little bit happy about it."

“Yet you wouldn't take liberties like this if you thought I was a normal, healthy male, am I correct? I'm safe for you to behave however you like with, so I must not be healthy enough to intimidate you.” He claims, using his free hand to gesture over the 'situation' as emphasis.

She rolls her eyes at him and laughs a short laugh. “I know your type well enough. You need things boring, repetitive, and familiar. You hate when anything comes along that may ruin your routine. You won't let me give you advice as a nurse because nurses come and go and keep a safe distance. It's easy to separate yourself from whatever I tell you the moment I leave the room because you think there are things I won't tell you based on my profession or my pride. So. Let's change it up. How about my advice to you, as a woman?'

“Quit being such a damn baby about this. Man up. Because the virus will take it's toll on you and you're going to need conviction to overcome the transformation. Not complex sounding words or pain prescriptions. We don't really have anything for the pain, either. So you need to want to live, not mope around like you're already dead, or like a complete fool. You seem smarter to me, than that.”

He takes a moment to digest this, and for some reason he doesn't find her words, condescending as they could be, offensive.

“So basically -shocking reveal- you have depression. Your body will go through the change, and you will survive it, and you need to stop worrying about it all and just go live your life somehow.”

“I don't believe you.”

She stops talking, and frowns. “I'd wager my medical license on it.” She replies, the haughty tone back in her voice. “Unless you intend to harm yourself, you're going to make it through, healthy as a... well you get the idea.”

“Then I have a wager for you. You're so certain I'm going to survive, that you won't have to wheel me out of here at the end of the week, but you have no way of proving it or of making it convincing.”

She didn't need to prove it, but for some reason she's not offended by him at the moment either.

“I've never been married, I've never had the pleasure of raising my own children. I don't think it's something I'll ever get to do.”

“You'd be wrong in your assumptions, but go on.” She maintains eye contact, watching him in fascination.

“And keep in mind, if I do die, there is no risk to you at all. And if you don't like my wager, you have incentive to help me not become a monster that I don't want to be. You can wheel me out of here instead. Poison my food, I don't care how you do it, I will be grateful to you.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but he raised an eyebrow and mimicked her earlier behavior by silencing her with a pinch on her back. It's her turn to glare at him mutinously.

“If you so believe that I am better off alive, and that I will somehow survive, even though every day I feel like part of me gives in to this and stops working, then give me something to hope for, and give me something to fight for.”

He leans towards her and searches her face, a little smile plays on his lips. “If I survive the transformation, and I am still myself, I want you as my wife.”

She intakes her breath sharply and looks him over, warily. “You must be delirious, and to think I detected no fever...”

He shakes his head minutely from side to side. “I promise you, I'm not insane, but you are driving me in that direction. And if you feel like you dislike me then you should probably get off of my lap and go back to being a cold and calculating nurse. Because for every second I look at your gorgeous eyes I feel myself getting further and further lost in them, and I don't know how far I'll have to go before I can never find my way back.” The confession gives him a heady sense of excitement, maybe he is delirious, but the moment the words come out of his mouth he knows they are the truth. Before she can respond he ads, “But! And only you know the reality of this- if I'm going to die and you're lying to me about my chances, then you have absolutely nothing to lose by saying yes.”

Her eyes narrowed but the little smile that was on them still played about her full lips and it was starting to take serious consideration on his part not to simply lean in and-

“I haven't lied to you,” She breathes, obviously buying time.

He pushes on her back lightly, making it easy for her to get to her feet. And he stands up somehow smoothly after her, without faltering, despite his fatigue.

“I don't want you to lie to me. But I promise that I'm not teasing you. I'm actually serious. If I survive this-”

“I'm dating someone.” She says quickly, defensively, but he can see the apprehension in her eyes. He waits, watching her, and she reaches up idly to flick a strand of hair off of his shoulder.

As if it's too bad.

“You don't have to be.” He says, his voice quietly neutral. Trying to stamp back the erratic spikes of excitement her constant contact is forcing into his heart.

Her hand rests on his shoulder for a moment, her eyes look over his face. This is not at all how she'd expected this visit to go.

But before she gathers the courage to step away, he brushes his hand over her side in a gentle caress, leaving it on her hip. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”

“Of course not.” She denies the thought, but her breathing remains shallow and somehow they've closed the gap between them.

Boldly, Loki slides his hand to the small of her back and presses her hips against him. To his surprise she allows this, and her eyes darken. “I wonder if this is the sort of thing you do with all your patients.” He whispers. "Excite them, tease them, leave them lingering with false hopes..." Her hand is on his chest, and for a few seconds she lets her nails trail circles over it until it comes to the side of his rib cage to rest, carefully positioned so that she can pull him close, or push him away in a moment's notice.

She shrugs, eyes flicking to his mouth. “Most of my patients are dead.”

“So I'll be in good company.” He mutters.

Amusement flashes in her chocolate brown eyes, and a feeling of warmth spreads over him. “You aren't going to die from this.” She repeats.

“But you can't prove that.” He says, leaning in, his lips hovering over hers.

“I don't have to prove it.” She protests faintly, snaking a hand through the waves of his hair.

He lets his lips brush over hers lightly, in a tingling sensation. “I thought you said you didn't like to play games.”

“Hate. Them.” She repeats with emphasis.

Then kisses him full on the mouth.

The kiss is more ardent and passionate than either one expects. She groans, snaking a hand through the waves of his hair and pulls his head down to intensify the kiss.

It takes several long, intimate moments for them to break apart again. And when she instinctively rises onto her tiptoes for another he pulls away, ever so slightly, and murmurs, “Only the one though. There also should be some incentive for you to keep me alive.”

“Huh.” She breathes. “You're smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“So my prognosis is worse than you told me?” He asks, a small smile filled with somewhat bitter irony on his features. He wouldn't be surprised. "You seem sure you won't have to go through with it."

“Maybe.” She says agreeably. And as she slides her fingertips back down the side of his face she lets her nails rake across the barely healing scabs of his wounded neck. He draws in a sharp hiss of a breath and her smile deepens.

“We have another appointment tomorrow afternoon, Mister Beaker. Try not to die before then.”

She releases him and saunters from the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((Calm down Loki, you're starting to sound like young Dustin))

"Circe know 238 different ways to make someone scream, and none of them are nice. She enjoys taxidermy and collecting coat hangers." -Biography of Circe Beaker, Sims 2.

For those who are curious or don't remember her: http://sims.wikia.com/wiki/Circe_Beaker

Also I'm sorry that Loki's dumping on himself so much in this chapter, but he hasn't been very self aware and so he's working through things, developing as a person. He was something like critically unobservant in the past, so the introspection is key to his character development at this point. That, and I like the doof. I want him to have a moment or two of happiness. If I can get him there :/ Thanks by the way Owly for his new inseparable nickname. He's gonna be doof to me for a while now. Or forever. :p

Circe looks the best with male poses, for some reason. But I love how she came out! I painstakingly matched her coloration to the TS2 version of course, and because she's not a premade, I can share her soon, too <3

.............................

By the way Loki escaped for a few minutes and Moira had to chase him back inside. I was actually just curious to see if she could still feed from him when he was in the process of becoming a vampire (having the 'weird bite?' moodlet), and she was able to, which I found somewhat contrary that he didn't get weaker, or die from it or she didn't get a weird taste or anything. I guess the system just isn't that complex.

This image however, I feel explains a lot about Loki's personality. Maybe he's just an M after all?

Oh yeah Moira's irresistible too. :D

Stop being so adam-dorable!! Shee it.

Here. I pulled these out of my ass. They're for you.