The Sacrifice: Fallen | Loki | Book 2

Chapter 29: Survival

Her circulation had to be maintained at all cost. Loki went for the device, it was as good as useless - but Tom's hand shot at his. "No! A moment longer. " 

"For vain."

"You don't know that." 

"The evidence is low, it hardly ever works. Resuming cardiac massage is far more important." 

Loki grew restless, there was no time for this. He attempted to disengaged his hands, Tom's grip only tightened. Loki's eyes shot at him inflamed with rage, wanting nothing more but to break those hands of his. "Back off!"

"It's not enough, she needs more than that!" 

Instead of Loki, the monitor answered. An intermittent sound and a red flashing number, accompanying the incessant bleep of the heart line. 

Their gazes met again. "Damn you!" Loki yanked his hand free. "Blood pressure is down." 

There was no stopping Loki without doing harm. Something had to be done, whatever it was. Loki pulled the device off and turned to prepare another shot. He'd been right, their precious seconds of arguing had cost Caroline vital blood pressure. For this once, Tom was grateful Loki had attempted to immortalize her - a mistake like theirs would have been fatal for a mortal. His hands were back on her chest, compressing.

Loki re-evaluated. She had received four shots of xenoraline and an antiarrythmic one. Her heart did not respond to the external pacer. She was slipping into dangerous hypotension. A jab somewhere in his ribcage knocked the air out of his lungs, his trembling hands and breath - this was the full force of a panic attack. 

He had had to save her before, but this felt so different. 

There was only one more thing they could do for her. The large cannula suddenly weighed heavy in his right hand. With all that had happened, Loki had more practice than Tom - if anyone could do it, it was him. He pressed two fingers against her neck - her skin wasn't much warmer than his. A faint pulse, synchronous to Tom's incessant compressions. 

He took a deep, shaky breath - - - 

This was a nightmare, a sickening nightmare. The God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard, what good were his titles now? Gods, thrones, power - so worthless against the ultimacy of death.

The monitor reappeared, now with numerous parameters flashing red. It hurt to look at, blinded, Loki wanted to press his eyes shut and never open them again, if it only helped to forget this gruesome sight. This couldn't, shouldn't have happened. He had never missed. He had aimed for the vein, the vein!

Silvery drops accumulated ruthlessly to their feet. Quickly.

No, no, she couldn't bleed, not again, no more - 

Once again the gates of Hel opened, the heat engulfing him, dragging him down. The room spun all around, blurring the image of ultimate failure. Air turned to blood, blocking his lungs, suffocating. He raised his gaze warily, dissociated from what tormented him so. 

A dark haired beauty, pale as death, shedding more and more of life to the ground from her exposed neck. He had been wrong, he couldn't do it. He would've moved heaven and earth if it meant a chance - and now, heaven was crumbling and crashing down upon him. He had severed her carotid artery, severely so. He couldn't cry.

His soul twin had always been the exact opposite. He, too, knew this was final. But he wouldn't stop. Tom pressed down harder, faster, desperate like a cornered animal. He shouted Loki's name, begged both of them not to leave him alone. He couldn't cry either. Blood accumulated in his mouth. He went on and on, wanting nothing more than to rip his own heart out and replace hers. 

What was left of Caroline Irene Hiddleston stared blankly up to the never ending ceiling, her gaze lost in space between planets and stars. There was no fighting, she wasn't given a choice. Completely unaware of what transpired around her, she had gone somewhere else, somewhere quieter and warmer.

---

Loki's life had always been the cruelest joke. Every time he thought, this is it now, this is the end, it wasn't. There wasn't much he had valued over the millennia, and what he did value was all taken away sooner or later. Dignity, Thor, Frigga - and now, the woman he had fought so hard to keep. He would have rejected a thousand thrones and titles if it only kept her safely in his arms. Whatever he loved, touched, it was bound to die. 

He had thought that with loving someone so dearly, his life finally found its sense. Now that sense was gone - lying cold and stiff on a bloodstained bed. 

Her husband hadn't stopped. Second, minutes, an hour had passed. His labouring had left his hands numb. It wasn't long until his own shock had yielded to desperation, and his chest shook with sobs. Most ribs had broken underneath his hands, the disgusting new sensation of his wife's maltreated torso had broken him at last. Tom cried without holding back, his mouth letting only her name and a few incomprehensible sounds escape. 

With one grief-stricken cry, he came to a halt. He stroked over her face, closing those glazed eyes he thought were accusing him. Loki barely noticed, but he felt this cry in his bones, understood it too well. 

Tom came rushing to his side, shaking him violently. "You- You have to draw my blood, she needs blood, Loki, she needs blood now. Loki please, I need your help, she needs blood - " His voice failed him. "I beg you, Loki. Please do something, please, please..." 

Loki's voice was grotesquely calm and low. "She is gone." He couldn't meet Tom's eyes. His gaze was focussed somewhere entirely else, somewhere far away from this world he wished to have never set foot on. "I killed her, too." 

Tom grabbed him tighter for a hold, his knees slowly giving away under the crushing weight of their failure. "I beg you, just - just do something, anything, you have magic, you can do it! Don't let her die, Loki, please don't let her d - "

A baby's cry tore through his breakdown. This child, the only legacy left, it had been completely forgotten. Caroline's son lied downstairs in his crib, abandoned. It gave Tom the rest. He broke down in Loki's arms, shedding all the tears Loki couldn't. Tom seemed so much like a frightened child, seeking comfort and consolation. Loki looked at him and saw himself. A frightened boy, having to grow up too soon. 

"It should've been me, it should've been me - "

Something ripped Loki out of this numbness. He inhaled sharply, blinking over and over again in an attempt to focus his thoughts. 

He gripped his shoulders, making Tom face him. Something new, almost dangerous, radiated from his blazed eyes. "Not at all." 

Tom looked at him through a veil of tears. "What?" It was barely audible.

"It should not be you. But it could be me."

Blood flushed into his limbs. Loki walked closer to the bed. One hand, palm of a blueish glow, floated above her stomach, moving purposefully up to her front. He closed his eyes for an instant, then raised his head. An unfamiliar emotion occupied his features as he stared back at Tom. "Our time is limited, but there might still be one possibility." 

Tom approached with caution, reaching out with a shaky hand. "Loki?"

Loki snapped around, catching his hand before it could touch him. "Get the child."