Jane, Darcy, and Erik stared, frozen in shock at the impossible appearance of another Asgardian, this one pale, dark haired, and radiating an aura of dangerous intelligence.
Loki returned the hug with a hollow warmth, patting Thor's back.
"I have missed you too, brother," he said. He gently extracted himself from the hug, his eyes scanning the room and the bewildered mortals within it. "Perhaps we should speak outside. In private."
Thor, his mind filled with nothing but the joyous prospect of returning home, nodded eagerly.
He led Loki out of the van, into the beautiful emptiness of the New Mexico desert night.
The sky was a star dusted tapestry, a sight that for the first time made Thor feel a pang of homesickness for the cosmic vistas of Asgard.
"How is Father?" Thor asked, his voice booming with excitement. "Is he very angry? I know my actions were rash, but I have had time to reflect. I see the error of my ways. I am a different man now, Loki."
Loki walked a few paces away, his back to Thor, and looked up at the stars. It was a masterfully crafted performance.
He needed to build the lie, to let the silence and the weight of his posture do the work before he ever spoke a word.
The cool desert wind whipped at his dark hair.
"Loki?" Thor's voice was smaller now, laced with the first hint of uncertainty, the first chill of dread. "What is it? What has happened? Has your jest gone on long enough?"
Loki finally turned, and the expression on his face was a perfect mask of heartbroken grief.
His eyes were shadowed, his lips pressed into a sorrowful line. The trickster was replaced by a son burdened with a terrible message.
"Thor..." he began, his voice a mournful whisper that seemed to be torn from his very soul. "There is no easy way to say this. I am so sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Thor demanded, his voice rising, a cold dread beginning to seep into his veins. "Loki, what has happened at home? Speak!"
"It was the strain of it all," Loki said, his voice cracking with feigned emotion. "The stress of your banishment. The confrontation with the Frost Giants. He had forbidden you from going to Jotunheim, and your defiance... the grief of casting out his own son... it took a toll his heart could not bear."
He took a shaky breath, the perfect picture of a son struggling to deliver the worst possible news.
He looked his brother in the eye. "Father is dead."
The words struck Thor with the force of a physical blow.
The desert, the stars, the very air seemed to vanish. He could hear a roaring in his ears, a sound like a collapsing star. The ground felt unsteady beneath his feet.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head, a desperate smile touching his lips. "No, you lie. You are a trickster. This is your specialty."
He stalked forward and grabbed Loki by the shoulders. "Stop this! Tell me you lie! Swear to me!"
Loki looked up at his brother, and for the first time, Thor saw tears glistening in Loki's eyes… perfect, crystalline tears of a master liar.
"I wish that it were so, brother," Loki whispered, his voice breaking. "I was with him at the end. His last thoughts... were of you."
The last of Thor's strength, his denial, his hope, shattered.
He released Loki, stumbling backward as if he'd been punched in the gut. His father... dead.
And he was not there. He was here, in this dust bowl, playing games, while his father died heartbroken because of his own arrogance. The weight of his failure was absolute.
"Mother..." Thor choked out.
"She is a queen," Loki said, his voice regaining a fraction of its strength, as if pushing through his own grief. "She is strong. But she is in mourning. She has named me King until she has the strength to guide the realm."
"King..." Thor repeated.
"And she... she blames your recklessness for this tragedy," Loki said, twisting the knife with surgical precision. "She has forbidden your return. She believes it would dishonor Father's final judgment. That the sight of you would be too much for her to bear."
Every word was a hammer blow, shattering the foundations of his world.
His father died. His brother, king. His mother, blaming him, forbidding his return. His home, lost to him forever.
"It... it cannot be," he stammered, shaking his head, looking around the empty desert as if searching for an answer. "Loki, you must listen to me... you must make her understand..."
"There is nothing more to say, brother," Loki said, his voice turning distant. "I must return to my duties. Asgard needs its king."
He gave Thor a sorrowful look. "Live out your days in this mortal realm. Find some small measure of peace. That is all that is left for you."
And with that, he turned and dissolved into a shimmer of green light, vanishing as silently as he had arrived, leaving Thor utterly and completely alone.
The games were gone. The anger was gone. The pride was gone. All that remained was a bottomless despair.
It was all true. He was lost. His family had disowned him. He was nothing. A forgotten relic in a backwater world.
He stumbled back towards the lights of the research van.
He walked, a man adrift in a sea of his own making, his broad shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of his failure.
Jane, Darcy, and Erik saw him approaching, a tragic figure illuminated by the headlights.
The boisterous god who had fallen from the sky was gone. In his place was just a man, heartbroken.
He walked past them without a word, his eyes empty and unfocused.
He walked until his legs gave out, finally collapsing in the dust miles from the town.
He lay there, staring up at the distant stars, a silent tear tracing a path through the grime on his face.
In his thousand year life, filled with glorious battles and epic adventures, he had never once felt true despair. He was feeling it now.
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