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Space, Thor decided, was still beautiful.
Though it had to be admitted, he found the beauty in different places, now. Once he had admired space for what it contained. The planets both inhabited and barren – some with shining rings of ice and rock, others wreathed in moons like beads on a necklace. The nebulas exploding with dust and light, in every shade of color ever found in the Bifrost. The asteroid belts and comets, the star clusters and satellites. Each unique, each alone, each beautiful in their own way. He had always loved that, always loved seeing the worlds and systems and galaxies, large and small.
But now he found the beauty not in what filled the emptiness of space, but rather in the emptiness itself. In these days after the Snap, there was no peace to be found in any planet or realm – no solace, no consolation. No true company that could soothe the ache of loss.
So if comfort was out of his reach, he could only hope for numbness. And space – the blank, hollow, vacant nothingness that stretched out for light years, with no rock or dust or sign of life to fill it with – space was where to find it.
It was why he kept volunteering to go on the retrieval missions. He knew he shouldn’t, knew his people struggling to build lives for themselves on Earth looked to him for what little guidance and succor there was to be found. And, for the most part, when they received word of another distress signal with an Asgardian signature, Thor stepped back and let others fly off into the expanse to retrieve them.
But every so often, he answered the call. Because every so often, he needed to.
He was sitting in the captain’s quarters – a berth so tiny, it contained no more than a bunk, a fold-out chair, and a small compartment to stow one’s meager belongings – when the door chime sounded.
“Come in,” said Thor, not bothering to look away from the small porthole window he’d fixed his gaze on. In a ship currently occupied by two, there was no sense in checking to see whom one’s visitor might be.
“We’re coming up on the next one,” said the Valkyrie, after the door had slid open. “You still wanted me to tell you whenever we’re passing within visual range, right?”
“Yeah.” With effort, Thor made himself turn and offer her a smile. He could feel how weary the expression was, though the warmth was no less genuine for it. “Thank you.”
She nodded, leaning against the door frame, one boot propped up on its toe. “We’re still ahead of schedule. Want me to come out of lightspeed for the approach?”
“Please,” said Thor, then added, “I’d invite you in, but –”
He gestured at the room, too small to stand in. The ghost of a grin flashed on the Valkyrie’s face.
“No worries, Your Majesty.” She still insisted on calling him by his title rather than his name, although it had finally occurred to Thor that it was meant as an endearment rather than a formality. “I’ll notify you when we’re close enough for sight-seeing.”
He smiled in thanks, and she left, the door to his quarters sliding shut behind her. Thor turned back to the window, staring out. At these speeds, there was nothing to see outside but a faint glow from the background radiation of space.
It was perfect.
Thor closed his eyes, and imagined the emptiness surrounding their ship on all sides. He could feel the vastness of it, the hollow void stretching around them – big enough to hold his pain, to absorb it and consume it, leaving his heart as empty as space itself.
The numbness would not last – especially not with their next destination. But for now, for now, it was enough.
Or so he told himself.
* * * * *
Trying to describe those last few minutes aboard the Statesman would've proved difficult, had Thor had anyone to tell. Or, more accurately, had he been willing to tell it. He was hardly unique, after all; everyone had lost. Those around him were already carrying sufficient pain of their own without his adding to it.
But if someone had asked him to describe those final moments on the Statesman, he would have been hard-pressed to know what to say. His memories of the initial attack – their frantic attempts to fight back, to get as many of their people on escape pods as they could, to help the wounded and comfort the dying as everything was crashing down around them – those memories were lost to the haze of battle.
As for what came after …
It was a curious mixture, those memories. He’d already been nearly unconscious from the fight, even before Thanos had drilled the Power Stone into his head. Some things were but a blur of sensation or a flash of an image – the drone of Ebony Maw’s voice, the sharp edges of the broken bulkhead metal cutting into his flesh, the lurch of dizziness as Loki had spun him away from the rushing Hulk. Thor was not always certain what order these things had occurred in, or even if they had truly occurred at all.
Other memories were ingrained into him, seared into his brain no matter how much he might wish them to be otherwise. Heimdall’s agonized face as Thanos drove the blade through his chest. The Mad Titan standing proud in the center of strewn bodies, the Tesseract’s Stone pulling into that hated gauntlet. Thor's brother, gasping and choking and struggling. “You will never be a god.” And then that crack, that sound of Loki’s neck crushed in Thanos’s grasp. His brother’s body dropped to the deck of the ship as if he were nothing, as if Loki were no longer of interest to Thanos or to anyone else.
The sound of that cracking bone haunted him more than anything else. It was a mirror to the snap of the Gauntlet on the battlefield of Wakanda. And after it …
These were the memories he could not escape, that worried at his mind during his waking hours and filled his dreams when he tried to find reprieve in sleep. But it was true that there was one other memory, one that stood out sharply amongst the rest, and it haunted him in quite a different way.
Loki, holding forth the Tesseract for the last time, the light of its stone shining on his face as if he cradled the heart of a star in his palm. His eyes and voice filled with anxiety – but with something more than that shining through the surface of his fear. Reassurance.
Hope.
I assure you, Brother –
Loki had meant to help him. Offer him some solace or consolation.
Ironic, then, that this was the memory that hurt the most.
* * * * *
The chirp of the comms system woke him. Thor startled, pulling himself upright from where he’d slumped down in his seat. “I’m here.”
“We’re coming up on it now,” came the Valkyrie’s voice over the comms. “You still want to make a pass?”
Thor ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t realized he’d dropped off to sleep. “Are we to schedule?”
“Ahead, actually. We’re scheduled to dock in 40 hours, but we’re going to make it in 35. Even with a pit stop.”
“Then, yes. Let’s make the pass.”
“Understood.” There was a momentary hesitation. “We’ll be making approach in about ten minutes, Majesty. If you want to get to the observation deck.”
“Thank you, Valkyrie.” The comms chirruped again, then went silent. Thor sighed heavily, closing his eyes, then leaned forward and tilted his head back, trying to ease the strain in the muscles of his neck.
The Valkyrie had told him ten minutes. Yet he found himself pressing his face close up against the port window, peering out into the soft glow from their light speed drive. They hadn’t yet slowed down enough to make out anything else.
But he was – impatient? No. Impatient was not the right word.
Hopeful.
“Why am I doing this?” he wondered aloud, as he pulled back from the porthole. “What am I looking for?”
I assure you, Brother –
With effort, Thor forced the memory away. Swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat, he turned and made his way towards the observation deck.
* * * * *
The observation deck had originally served as the captain’s ready room, back when the ship had belonged to the freighter crew they’d purchased it from; it was a place for the captain to meet with customers and broker trade deals. The Asgardians had converted the room to store supplies, seeing as they needed the ship’s original cargo space to hold the passengers they picked up on each rescue mission. But in addition to holding their food and medical supplies, the room contained the largest viewport on the ship.
Thor was standing in front of the viewport when the ship dropped out of warp. At first, there was nothing to see but the black inkiness of space, pinpricked by a hundred thousand tiny gems of glittering starlight. As the ship maneuvered into position, Thor moved his gaze from star to star, each one gleaming steadily against the cold emptiness of space.
Then the ship finished its turn, and the sun burst into view.
The star of this system was a yellow dwarf, shining out a halo of golden-white rays. They were close enough that the stars behind it were swallowed up in the force of its light – close enough for Thor to stand before it, eyes closed, and imagine he could feel its warmth even through the protective glass.
“What did you mean, Brother?” Thor said softly. “When you spoke of the sun. There is a universe full of them, you know. Which one were you hoping for us to find?”
He stayed that way, standing silently in the sunlight, and wondered at how Loki would answer.
* * * * *
Eventually, the Valkyrie came to join him. She didn’t speak, at first – just stared out with him at the golden-white star.
“I checked the database,” she said at last. “51 Pegasi, about fifteen and a half parsecs from Earth. It’s got a neat planet, if you’d like to take a drive-by.”
“Only if you want to.” He smiled, albeit without taking his gaze from the viewport. “I’m content with this for sightseeing.”
“I thought so. Just wanted to be sure.” The Valkyrie reached down to pluck one of the bottles of mead from the small stash she’d taken aboard. There wasn’t much room for extras, so she’d only been able to bring half a dozen on each rescue mission, and she tried to save them for what she deemed special occasions. She popped the bottle top, took a swig, then glanced at him carefully. “I’ve never asked you before, you know,” she said after a moment.
Thor made a mock grimace. “And here I was, just starting to think that you were right when you said I should let you come along with me on rescue missions.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “‘Let,’ nothing. I would’ve liked to see you try and stop me.”
He grinned. “You know one of us should stay behind in New Asgard. The people trust you.”
“Yeah. Trust me to keep your ass from getting killed. What kind of bodyguard would I be if I let you wander around in space all on your own?” She smiled at him, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “And if this change of a subject is a hint, that’s quite all right. I didn’t mean to pry. I just wondered if maybe …”
“It’s okay,” he told her. Then he hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain – only to see that she was standing beside him with a second bottle in her hand. She held it out to him. Thor raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you sure? It’s not like we can restock on the next trip to the market.”
“Go on, Majesty.” She gave the bottle a little shake. “Have one on me.”
He smiled, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. Then he folded his arms across his chest – bottle still in hand – and said softly, “‘The sun will shine on us again.’”
The Valkyrie blinked at him. “What?”
“That’s the last thing my brother said to me. ‘The sun will shine on us again.’” Thor stared out into the light of the star, drawing another swig from the bottle in his hand.
The Valkyrie looked at him. “When?” she asked at last. “When did he –”
“In the aftermath of the Statesman attack. While the Black Order trained their weapons on him. While Thanos threatened to kill me. While our people were lying dead at our feet.” Thor raised the bottle to his lips, but his stomach was churning, and he lowered it without taking a drink. “While he was holding out the Tesseract to trade for my life. And while he was deciding, I think, that he was going to die.”
She was clearly not entirely certain what to do with this information. “That’s an … odd thing for him to say,” she said at last. Then, with what Thor would almost have sworn was the trace of a wince, she added hastily, “Do you know what he meant, exactly?”
“Not a damn clue.” Thor chuckled, though the sound was hoarse and seemed to stick in his throat. “For starters, I don’t even know which damn star he was referring to. Asgard is gone, after all, so he couldn’t’ve been talking about home. Did he mean Midgard’s sun? Another world’s? Or something else?”
“Maybe …” The Valkyrie spoke hesitantly, almost carefully, as if wary of setting something off in him. “Maybe he was speaking of the eternal light of Valhalla.”
“Yes,” said Thor. “He may’ve been. Though I don’t think so. And I don’t understand it. Damn me, but I don’t understand it.”
“What’s to understand? Don’t you think he was trying to give you some hope?”
“It wasn’t just a bit of optimism. Despite what Thanos would have me believe.” Thor shook his head again. “It was more than that. It was a promise. But,” he added softly, “It’s one that I don’t see how he’ll ever be able to keep.”
The Valkyrie was silent for a moment. “So that’s why you’ve been asking to do these flybys.”
“Oh, it started well before that. Started the day of the Snap, actually. We lost and Thanos won and we were just left standing there, standing in all of that … that dust.” Thor folded his arms over his chest again, trying not to notice that his hands were shaking slightly. “We pulled ourselves up and regrouped with the other survivors, did what we could for the wounded.” He looked at her. “And let ourselves be caught between trying to wrap our minds around what we’d lost – and numb ourselves to the very same thing.”
The Valkyrie’s face was grim. “That sums up that day pretty well.”
Thor hmmed in agreement. “And then, hours later, when I was going back to the battlefield to take another pass looking for survivors – I found myself standing on a rise in the field, just as the sun was about to slide behind the horizon. It was the first time I’d been alone since coming back to Midgard, and I was … I was so tired, and I just stood there for a moment, looking out into the sunlight. It was late, and it was cold – but the sunshine was still warm, still golden.” He looked down. “And I remembered what he’d told me.” He raised his head, looking out at the star before them. “It was the first time I’d thought of it since – since he died.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her watching him, her face sad.
“After that day,” Thor continued, still not looking at her, “I tried to find what moments I could to stand beneath the sun. Not every day, never for very long – but when I could. Just for a minute, just so I could feel the sunshine, and … and try to figure out what he meant. And – I don’t know.” He finally looked over at her. “Out here – we’re in a hurry, and I never want us to go out of our way. But if there’s no danger, and we’re ahead of schedule, and I can take a moment to find the sunlight, even here, from some strange sun … I want to do it. I – I think I need to.”
“‘The sun will shine on us again,’” said the Valkyrie softly.
Thor raised the bottle in toast to her words. “‘I assure you.’”
“… why?” The Valkyrie asked at last. Her voice not accusing, or awkward, but truly curious. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve learned the hard way that numbing yourself to the pain isn’t much of a long-term solution. Or even a short-term solution, really. But I get having an impulse to try to. So – why do this? Isn’t this sort of the opposite? Aren’t you sort of – hurting yourself? Every time?”
“I owe it to him,” Thor began, and she waved a hand impatiently.
“That’s not it.”
“I don’t want to forget –”
“So these sightseeing trips are in tribute? That’s a lovely thought.” She took a swig from her bottle. “But that’s not it, either.”
“How do you know?”
She just looked at him.
“You’re right.” Thor ran a hand over his face. “It’s not.”
“Then what?” she pressed, when he remained silent.
“I suppose,” said Thor at last, “That I’m waiting for him to keep his word.”
“... Oh,” said the Valkyrie softly. Then she quirked a sad half-smile. “Tricksters aren’t very good at that, I’m told. Keeping their word, I mean.”
“No, they are not,” agreed Thor. “But you know something?”
“What’s that?”
"They are marvelous at surprises.”
He expected an argument, or a gentle chastising. But instead, she raised her bottle to him in toast.
“To surprises,” she said.
Smiling, Thor clinked his bottle against hers, and they drank.
Then they turned back to the viewport, and let the sun shine down upon them.
And waited.
* * * * *
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
-- Sarah Williams