Peter Lokison (different AU?)

1- The Wicker Basket

A man in a dark suit stepped out of an alleyway, what seemed like a picnic basket carried in deft fingers. He looked to the left of the alley but turned right, quickly blending in with the foot traffic on the New York sidewalk. The man's eyes looked red as though he had been crying, his lower lid eyeliner smudged and smeared, giving him an ominous smoky eye effect.

He turned another corner, into the run down apartment building. The man dismissed the drugged up tenants and headed for the stairwell. He didn't know what he was doing, basket in hand, head fogged over in a daze of pain reducing and relieving drugs. He swayed once he made it to the door he knew by heart, even if indistinguishable from the other levels.

The man swayed on the balls of his feet, a defeated and sad aura surrounded him as he raised his left hand to knock on the door. Once, twice he rapped on the oatmeal brown door.

"Hello?" A female voice answered, worried stained her eyes as she assessed the man, his all-black suit and sunken features, the wicker basket piqued the woman's interest however. "Can I help you?"

The man said nothing as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, distress rolling off of him in waves. His eyes flickered up to the woman, her brown eyes meeting his own, some alien understanding overtook her as he offered the basket to her in a depressing show of hesitation. He looked so defeated and tired, the woman took the wicker basket but nearly dropped it when a noise emitted from inside— a cry.

Mary hesitated in opening the top of the basket, but a glance at the sad man in front of her and she opened it without an issue. Red eyes blinked up at her, a small blue body and a tiny puff of raven dark hair— a baby, wrapped in a shiny green silk blanket with gold embroidery. The small child cried again before looking at Mary again, then a pale complexion overtook his features, a perfect replication of his fathers fair skin. But his big red eyes shifted brown, a stark difference to the green-blue the man's were, and the dark hair was brown instead as well.

Mary looked up to the stranger again, but nobody was there, her door frame empty except for herself and the small boy in her arms.

"Who was at the door Mary?" Richard asked from behind her, he looked over her shoulder. "Is that...?"

"Yes my dear, it is," answered Mary, tears in her voice, a mixture of sadness and newfound joy. She turned to her husband, a sad smile gracing her face. "We will call him..."

"Peter."

The man had shuffled out of the corridor, his heart aching as he turned down the alley again. Loki sniffled, a tear falling from his eyes before he called upon Heimdall to take him back.