Amy’s eyes are wide open when she tumbles out of the In-Between into a dark room. She lands upon a wooden floor...that cracks under her weight and gives way. Amy falls a few more feet and jolts to a stop. Catching her breath, Amy’s eyes slide to the side. She’s crouched between the leaves of a shattered table in a room that looks familiar.
Behind her she hears a shout.
Spinning, Amy finds herself staring at a wide-eyed Bohdi. He’s clutching an open laptop in his hands and peering over the screen. She’s in the conference room where she first saw Laevateinn.
She doesn’t feel relief or happiness. She just feels incredibly tired. Closing her eyes, she touches her bump. She is still nauseous.
Above her, Bohdi whispers, “Ouryay ackbay.”
Cold fear washes through Amy at the strange, unfamiliar language. Maybe this isn’t her ADUO conference room?
Bowing her head and biting her lip she makes a plea to the universe at large. “Please tell me you speak English.”
“Oh. Yes, I speak English,” says Bohdi quickly.
Lifting her head, Amy finds Bohdi staring at her. He shrugs and his head does that little tilty thing. “That was just Pig Latin. For a project I’m working on.”
Amy blinks at him. In another universe Bohdi had outwitted Loki...not just once...twice. In this universe Bohdi had his memory wiped by Loki. She’s beginning to suspect Loki might have jiggled Bohdi’s marbles a bit, too.
Snapping the laptop shut he says, “You’re back.”
Before answering, Amy looks carefully around the room. Her body freezes, and her heart stops. “Maybe,” she whispers, trying to stay calm. “This doesn’t look exactly like the room I left.” The walls to her left and right lack Promethean wire, though it covers the walls behind and in front of her, and the ceiling and floor as well.
Putting the laptop down on the chair, Bohdi jumps forward and holds out a hand. “Oh, the guys in the physics department theorize that Promethean wire works pretty good at containing magic up to a point...but for magical objects that are too strong it acts like a circuit and opens up passageways to the In-Between, especially if containment isn’t complete…”
Amy can only stare blankly at him. Licking his lip nervously, Bohdi adds, “Unless you’re at a point in the World Tree that is a branch, then they thought it might just lead to another realm which I guess it did because you’re back and not a spacecicle...also they thought if we made it a loop instead of a sphere it might be more likely to open up on this end if we could get another object and then we’d follow you...not that we have an object...but Steve’s trying to get Gerðr the frost giantess at Guantanamo relocated back here...” He tilts his head. “Your clothes are different, but not very different—where did you go?”
Amy’s left so breathless by that breathless explanation that she can’t even answer. But her mind catches on his words. Gerðr might be coming back. She stays crouched on the floor a few moments longer before she realizes Bohdi’s still holding out his hand. Amy takes it. “It’s a long story,” she says at last as Bohdi pulls her to her feet. As soon as she’s standing, he drops her hand, backs up and slips his hands into his pockets looking a little uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” Amy says. He nods. Amy feels like she should say more, after he tried to save her life in the library. She puts a hand to her temple. The Loki in that universe wasn’t her Loki, and this Bohdi isn’t that Bohdi. Instead she says, “I need to see my grandmother.”
Bohdi nods. “She’s here…” he waves a hand. “I mean, she was. She took Fenrir out.”
At that moment Amy hears yapping from the hallway. Turning from Bohdi, she goes to the conference room door and throws it open. From down the hallway comes the sound of four tiny paws racing towards her at great speed. She looks down the aisle and a little gray blur bolts around the corner. A moment later, Fenrir is at her feet, the dog’s whole body wiggling and bouncing in glee. Amy catches her when Fenrir makes a particularly mighty bounce and a long, pink tongue slinks towards her nose. Grateful for Fenrir’s weight and warmth, Amy squeezes the little animal tight, trying not to gag. Fenrir’s mouth has apparently been recently acquainted with something dead—her normally tolerable breath is as attractive as her ragged ears or her long rat-like muzzle. Still, Fenrir is the most beautiful thing Amy’s seen since falling through the In-Between. She rubs her hand through the animal’s mottled chihuahua-meets-poodle coat, and presses her cheek to her back.
“Amy!” she hears her grandmother say. She looks up to see Beatrice down the hall, walking briskly beside Steve.
Fenrir’s tongue sneaks out to kiss her chin. Amy briefly glances down...and is seized by another one of Loki’s memories.
...Loki’s hand was blue against the white skin of Amy’s hip. She was looking up at him with sleepy eyes, smiling softly, completely unfazed by his blue appearance. He thinks he looks diseased, but she said he looks beautiful and he detected no lie...and there’d been no lie when their bodies had joined. He watches her as her eyes drift closed, then holds his blue hand up to his eyes. How could she not be disgusted by this? He stifled a bitter laugh remembering her little rat dog. Of course. She loves unlovable things and can’t turn away from pitiful creatures…
“Amy!” Beatrice’s second cry snaps Amy back from the memory. Beatrice and Steve are just steps away. Beatrice puts a hand a hand on Steve’s arm for a moment, and then runs towards Amy. Wiggling with renewed vigor, Fenrir spills out of Amy’s arms and Amy wraps her arms around her grandmother, trying not to cry.
“You’re back! You’re back! I thought I’d lost you again!” Beatrice cries. At their feet Fenrir does a little dance of happiness, wiggling between Beatrice, Amy, and Bohdi, but giving Steve a wide berth.
As Amy buries her head in the space between her grandmother’s neck and shoulder she feels relief, sadness, and disorientation at the shift from memory to reality.
From beyond Beatrice, Steve clears his throat. “Amy, I need to debrief you.”
Amy closes her eyes. Mr. Stickler for paperwork. She bites her lip. And possibly enemy to Odin. She does need to talk to him...but... “Steve,” Amy says, “I need to talk to my grandmother first.”
Steve exhales slowly. “Alright,” he says. Turning to Bohdi, he says, “Have you seen my laptop?”
“Umm...I think it is in the conference room?” says Bohdi.
Amy is barely listening. Without any words, Amy and Beatrice begin to walk down the hallway together, arms looped, Fenrir trotting beside them. “Grandma,” Amy says. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Something she’s suddenly sure she doesn’t want the government to know.
Beatrice’s eyes dart down to where Amy has instinctively cradled her barely there bump, and then up to a corner in the wall where a camera stares down at them. She says nothing, just meets Amy’s eyes and nods. The warning, and the sharpness of her gaze, it reminds Amy that whomever healed Beatrice did more than just erase the effects of her stroke. Whoever did it healed the ravages of age in Beatrice’s mind, the daze and confusion of mild senility have been swept aside like so many cobwebs.
They leave the office, Fenrir still at their heels. It is late afternoon in this reality, cold and overcast. The streets and sidewalks are clear, but ice is beginning to creep over the puddles.
Sliding her arm from Amy’s, Beatrice takes her hand. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”
Amy takes a deep breath. And begins to tell her everything.
By the time she’s done they’ve made their way to a bench in the courtyard of the Board of Trade Building. Fenrir is curled in Amy’s lap, along with Mr. Squeakers. Light snowflakes are beginning to fall. Beatrice is patting Amy’s hand.
Amy sighs. “I had to leave, Grandma, even though...” She clutches her middle. Amy swallows.
“Of course you did,” says Beatrice. “And it may turn out alright. Steve will get Gerðr back—the man is very good at handling these things.”
Amy turns towards her grandmother. It strikes her that Beatrice has never once questioned Steve’s abilities based on his race. Was Beatrice’s unconscious racism before her stroke just another cobweb of an elderly mind swept clean?
Amy swallows. Beatrice is right, Steve will get Gerðr back—but in time?
Beatrice shakes her head. “I’m just glad to have you home.” Dropping her hand, Beatrice puts her arm around Amy’s back and squeezes her tight.
Darkness is falling and snowflakes are beginning to tumble from the sky in earnest. The snow is covering up the garbage littering the gutters. In the highrises around Amy and Beatrice lights start to flicker on in the windows. Another memory sparks in Amy’s mind. “Our Loki thought that at night Chicago looks more like a city built by gods than any city in the Nine Realms. He loved us, Grandma.” Her Loki did love humans, if not her individually. “I don’t understand how the other Loki could be so…” Condescending. Dismissive. Cruel.
Beatrice sighs. Voice sad and faraway, Beatrice says, “Warrior cultures tend to look down on their conquests. It’s easier to kill those you see as lesser beings.”
Amy straightens. Of course, Beatrice would know; she survived the Soviet takeover of the Ukraine. Beatrice lost her family, her life. It’s humbling to realize in comparison, even if the worst happens, Amy has lost very little.
She picks at the sleeve of her ridiculously luxurious coat. It had felt nice to be adored by that other Loki but her Loki had given more. He’d saved her world—even if the ‘saving’ had been painful.
She takes a breath. She’s seen the extremes of Loki now, let loose to destroy, and tied by oath to be a tool to sustain cruel order. A tool just bristling to break free, bitter and angry, ready to wreak havoc.
Maybe her Loki hadn’t loved Amy, but he was right, when he came back she would never turn him, or her, or it, away. Maybe it wasn’t a conscious thought to make her the bearer of his memories...but in a way, that was even more of an honor. He trusted Amy—instinctively.
Beside her, Beatrice stands and holds out her hand for Amy to take...but it’s Mr. Squeakers who hops up first and scampers up Beatrice’s arm. Without letting her eyes leave Amy, Beatrice slips Mr. Squeakers into her pocket with her other hand. “We should go inside—it looks like Steve has sent out the cavalry.”
Bohdi suddenly appears beside her grandmother and Amy knows what her grandmother meant.
Shivering, hands tucked in his pockets, Bohdi says, “Steve sent me out to make sure you’re okay.”
Amy nods at him and then turns to her grandmother, still holding out a hand. Amy’s eyes go to Beatrice’s pocket where Mr. Squeakers’ nose is peeking out, whiskers twitching. Fenrir squirms on her lap. She’s only distantly aware of Bohdi, hopping up and down now, teeth chattering audibly. Her eyes return to Beatrice, silhouetted by the city lights. Everything Amy loves is with her here in this moment.
In another universe, Amy hadn’t met Loki and Beatrice had a stroke anyway. In this universe, Beatrice had a stroke—but she was healed by whomever healed Amy’s wounds after she was shot by the SWAT team. Amy knows Loki couldn’t have done it—healing anyone other than himself wasn’t one of his powers. But she does know, somehow that small personal miracle was connected to her knowing Loki, her Loki, the Loki that transformed Cera and saved the Nine realms.
Amy remembers Loki’s words in those last minutes before he sacrificed himself. “Don’t let me forget.”
Of course Amy won’t turn away from the next incarnation of chaos. She won’t let her, him or it forget they have a choice—to be a destroyer, a mindless tool, or a transformer.
Pulling Fenrir close, she takes Beatrice’s hand and stands, her stomach lurching at the movement just a little.
“Are you okay?” says Bohdi, taking a step closer.
“She’s fine,” says Beatrice briskly. Protectively, Amy realizes.
Amy gives Bohdi a small smile. He’s lost his memory—his whole world. “I will be,” Amy says softly.
Teeth chattering, he nods and looks away.
Amy slips her free arm into Beatrice’s, and together they walk in silence with Bohdi, streetlights glowing warm overhead.
With every step she takes, Amy becomes more certain. She won’t turn the next incarnation of chaos aside just because she is compassionate. Amy won’t turn the next Loki away because the fate of the Nine Realms, and everything Amy loves, hangs in the balance.
Continued in Fates: I Bring the Fire Part V—Available Now!