I Think We're Alone Now

Ch. 22: Hug

 She'd been drinking for hours. Dancing and singing, too. And also, poking the bartender with a stick. He didn't appreciate that. Enough to call security which was enough to cause a nexus event.

Actually, alone, it probably wasn't enough to cause a nexus event. There may have been another situation. It was enough to push the glass off the edge. It all started with one jacket. A smooth and soft white leather, that fits snugly in all the right places. It was beautiful. Marilyn's wearing it.

She didn't steal it. It was offered to her, after emotionally bonding with the stranger who wore it. They hugged and cried a bit together, then threw a piña colada back at the bartender, after he skimped out on the rum.

Turns out, the woman was pretty important. That's how she was able to afford such a nice jacket. She was an engineer. She was also on the design team for the The Arc, the nation's only hope, and also the power source they planned to "borrow"

Some hurtful things were said. But it was enough for the TVA to show up. And enough for Marilyn to feel justified in walking off with the women's jacket.

"Variants identified," they say and come closer. Ready for a fight.

"Are you talking about me, 'cause–" She doesn't have to stop and notice anything. It's already burned into her mind. The same thing, again. Wrists bound and through she goes. Through the doorway, to her doom. To a place free from time entirely.

It's like your old favorite song. You hear the lyrics, before the words are let loose. It's all happening. Not a beat it missed. But you don't have to take note of it. You know it's there. First the verse, then the chorus. She's back at the TVA.

*

"Can you remove these again? Just for a quick second? I have an itch, I can't reach..." She's wearing handcuffs, which is kinda annoying. And she's got personal guards. A whole bunch of them. But no prisoners garbs.

"I can scratch it for you."

"No thanks..."

They're on the move, but Marilyn's pretty sure they're heading in the wrong direction. This is the direction that's gonna get her killed.

"Please, just..."

"Go on in."

At least she'll be buried in a cool jacket.

Loki's here too. "You're alive."

"Yeah," Marilyn nods.

"I thought you were dead."

"Do I look dead?"

"They told me you were dead." Meeting his eyes full of concern, she can't bear to say anything else. So, she lets herself get lost in thought, staring down at the floor.

It's all in her head, isn't it? Maybe he isn't broken at all. Maybe it's just Marilyn. Maybe he didn't feel like she does. Alone. Desperate. Sometimes, she wishes for company. She wished that it was him by her side.

And here he was, but maybe she was just delusional. Loki was shut into himself. He could be perfectly happy, smug. And she thought he needed her. She thought he wanted her company. She thought... She thought she was wanted, somewhere, for once.

Phony. Blown up. Exaggerated. She was out of her mind. It didn't matter. She didn't care. It was like it was all fake, all the sudden. The jacket could be torn to shreds and it wouldn't matter. Has she ever even liked it? Does she like it now? Why did she want it in the first place?