Autumn Leaves

Danger

But she doesn't.

Sleep, that is.

Her body is aching, and sore. Her neck is stiff, and there's a strange weight on her chest, as if gravity has suddenly declared war on her torso. Her eyes are heavy, but she can't sleep. Actually, she can, but she won't. Because whatever happens to her after her mind loses its grip on consciousness can hardly be classified as sleeping. And she doesn't want the flashbacks. The reminders of a past that she has- that she had tried so hard to put behind her. But the past can be awfully persistent, and she knows that sleep brings little comfort to herself. Not any more.

So she lies there, stiff, and unmoving, concentrating hard on keeping her breathing slow and steady. She's obviously failed though, or she's too stiff, because Loki moves closer to her, gently rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing sort of way. Except it's not soothing, at all. She is uncomfortably reminded of dark alleyways, and unwanted caresses, and she stiffens further, as if that's possible. Then Loki grips her shoulders unexpectedly, and she is flipped over, and face to face with the God of Mischief. Quite literally. She's breathing in his air, directly on top of him, and she pushes him away, the momentum nearly sending her off of the side of the bed, but he reaches out, and catches her before she hits the floor.

'Savannah,' Loki begins, in his firm, authoritative voice, 'You will tell me what is wrong, and you will tell me now.'

'No. I don't want to.'

'Yes, you will. Or else I won't let you sleep.'

'Like I'd be able to sleep anyway,' she mumbles.

'Just tell me, Savannah. I want to help, I really do. But I can't do anything unless you tell me, short of reading your mind.'

'If you read my mind, I will hurt you.'

'I know. Which is why I am not. But, please, you need to tell me.'

'I don't need to tell you anything.'

'No. You don't. But you should.'

'Why? Why do you even care? What does my happiness mean to you?'

'Everything,' he mutters, far too quietly for even Savannah's keen ears to hear.

'What?' she says, 'I don't speak mumble-mutter.'

'You are impossible.'

'Of course. How could anything this perfect be possible?'

She expected a witty retort, but instead he gazes at her in wonderment, as if she has just disproved 'The Big Bang Theory' in less than twelve syllables.

'You remember.'

'Well, duh. You restored my memory, or don't you remember?'

'Yes, I did, but not little details. Just- battles, arguments, and things I thought you should know.'

'So the magical-voodoo-ash-stuff is working already?'

'It appears so. But you should stop changing the subject.'

'And you should stop asking me questions I don't want to answer.'

'Savannah Alyssa Jane Winters, you will tell me, this very instant.'

'Nope. I don't feel like it- maybe tomorrow.'

'It is tomorrow,' Loki growled, already exasperated.

'No. It's today. Tomorrow never comes.'

'Stop evading my question. I am trying to help you.'

'I don't want help. There's nothing wrong with me.'

'Fine,' Loki snapped, 'But we shall talk about this later. Now, you need to sleep.'

But that had been the problem in the first place.

She couldn't sleep.

Because the dreams- the nightmares, really, were plaguing her. They were so vivid, and she just ... couldn't. But she didn't want Loki to know this, didn't want anyone to know the true extent of her vulnerability, so she feigned sleep. Either she was shit at fake sleeping, or Loki could tell that she wasn't genuinely asleep, because, less than five minutes later, she felt her back being rubbed again. The motion in itself was soothing, she realised, but somewhere along the way her nerve-cells had interpreted it as DANGER, DANGER. Which is why she pretended to fall off of the bed, to escape Loki's touch without hurting his feelings. Yet, once again, he caught her, pulling her close to his chest, and she suddenly felt sick. Her heart pounded furiously in her ears, though she could barely hear it over the loud whooshing of blood rushing through her veins.

'Loki, get off of me,' she said, weakly, 'You're invading my personal space.'

But he only held her tighter, and she resorted to less... polite ways of telling people to respect her personal space. However, after telling him to 'back the fuck off!', at least three times, she gave up, and transformed into Ravennha, who burnt him with her acidic skin.

Desperate times, and all that.