Fic: Exeunt (Loki crossover with Mister Rogers' Neighborhood)

[bookishwench]

This world was quiet. It felt forgotten, like a dream that faded upon waking until almost nothing remained but a few disconnected images. A giant grandfather clock. A tree with two birdhouses. A merry-go-round that had no horses. An Eiffel tower in black and white and red. A plaster castle of pale blue. A sky that never changed, and a ground made of unyielding, speckled concrete.

This wasn’t one of his worlds, but he had been here many times. This time was different. It felt like an ending. He stopped walking and stood still beneath the wooden leaves of the tree, not quite sure if he wanted to stay or leave unobserved.

“Too late, toots. I see you,” rasped a familiar voice, but in a tone less hearty than usual.

“Elaine,” he greeted her quietly. “It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” she agreed, coming into view by the merry-go-round. She seemed uncharacteristically subdued, peering from side to side with a sense of melancholy. “I think… I think I’m the only one left.”

It was impossible for him to leave unseen now, so he joined her, leaning against the stone wall with plastic vines draped over it. It seemed fragile, like plywood that was beginning to chip with age. He said nothing for a moment, just regarding the witch. No one had called her that, of course. Not to her face. She could be acidic, cruel even, and in a world filled with soft edges and gentle voices, hers was the sole one that was loud and boisterous. It hadn’t made her very popular, but then she hadn’t been sent here for that. She was mischief. That made her one of his concerns.

As a young child, Loki had found his way to the paths between worlds, and this had been one of the first he had visited. In truth, it was a favorite of his. When he was weary of his brother’s boasting and the disappointed look on his father’s face, he would come here, invisible, hovering near the clock as a frightened little tame tiger took comfort in the kindness and affection of his friends. It soothed his heart to know such tenderness existed.

It wasn’t until Elaine had called out to him one day that he realized he wasn’t the only one here who knew magic. She had pierced his veil, childish as it was, and had called him into her home for a snack and a chat. They had laughed a lot. He had liked that. After that, every time he visited, he stopped at her merry-go-round.

He had silently watched the king (a hot-headed semi-moron, but well intentioned) and the queen (sweet and kind) and the prince (whom he occasionally wanted to whack upside the head), and drew his own parallels. He noticed there was no other prince. Nor a princess. It had made him feel omitted in some way, as though he had been edited out. But they were all gone now, and a pang gripped his heart.

“What happened, Elaine?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly bittersweet.

“The trolley stopped first,” she said uncertainly, looking towards the track that was hung in shadows. “One day, it just didn’t come anymore. Friday blamed Cornflake, and Anna and Daniel thought they’d done something wrong, but it wasn’t any of them. Then everyone thought it was me. It wasn’t. I wished it was, because then maybe I could undo it. I couldn’t.”

He nodded, then asked, “And the others?”

“Grand Pere was gone first. The lights went off in the tower and never came back on,” Elaine said, gesturing towards it.

“And the owl and the pussycat?”

“Maybe they finally went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat,” she said, regarding the tree thoughtfully. “They aren’t here. Friday and Sarah, Tuesday, Cornie, the Platypus family. Even Daniel. Gone.”

Loki looked at the grandfather clock, the home of the little tiger. There had never been any hands on the clock, but now their absence spoke of something else, of time stopped.

“When did this start?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Really, I don’t. The sun and moon aren’t here. I’m not sure why there’s any light left at all. Maybe a year ago? Maybe yesterday? Maybe an hour?”

Loki had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if he was right.

“Do you think it’s possible that whoever made this world might be dying?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Elaine said, tipping her head to one side and considering. “Maybe?”

He moved just a little closer to her, knowing he could offer her no protection but wanting to be near.

“I tried using my boomerang,” she said. “Nothing happened. I guess the world’s already upside down.”

“Perhaps it is.”

Time passed in silence. It was getting darker.

“Do you think it will all be okay, Lokes?” she asked, a tremble in her voice.

His mind went to the teachings of his childhood: a death in battle meant the glory of Valhalla, anything else an eternity in Helheim. But in this place, he had believed in happier things, kinder things, and in spite of the deepening shadows, he felt that this place and those who had been in it could never be anywhere but surrounded by good. Perhaps that’s where the sorcerer who had made it was going, for if they made this place, Loki had no doubt that they too were good.

“I do, Elaine,” he said, grasping her small hand gently between his thumb and finger. “What is remembered is never lost.”

She turned to look at him, and a smile was on her painted lips.

“Time to go,” she whispered. “T.T.F.N., toots.”

Then there was darkness.

The silence was absolute, except perhaps for the sound of a small boy from long ago crying, and the distant bell of a trolley.