Work Text:
Dagur ran.
Everything around him became a blur as he sped through the markets, feet hitting the ground faster than he’d ever thought he was capable of. The merchant he’d been talking to called after him, waving around the shield he’d been trying to talk him into buying. Dagur hardly heard him.
A strange sound escaped his mouth as he barreled towards his target. Part laughter, made up of a mix of shock, joy, and the most intense sense of relief he’d ever felt in his life. Part cry, because he hadn’t realized until this very moment just how deeply his grief had gone. And maybe a little anger too, because clearly this man was alive and well, so why in the name of Thor had he stayed away for so long?
But he’d unpack that later. Right now, he just wanted to get to him. What happened after that, he didn’t care. He just needed to get to him. Be in his presence again. Hear his voice.
He and Heather had been searching for so long. Months had gone by, and every lead they’d thought they had only ever turned up empty. She’d stayed hopeful. He’d stayed realistic. He hadn’t seen his father in five years. If Oswald hadn’t returned by now, then it wasn’t a stretch to think that he never would.
But that didn’t stop Dagur from running.
It might have defied all logic, but who cared? The moment he saw him passing by in the distance, all his doubt was forgotten. He sped up, scared of losing him again. The man was still walking.
Strangled yelps of Dad! and Chief! and Oswald! caught in his throat, his brain unable to settle on which title was most appropriate to use. There was a nagging fear in the back of his head. If his father had disliked him enough to leave in the first place, there was a strong chance that he’d be less than happy to see him again. Dagur pushed that thought away. He was still his son, wasn’t he? That had to count for something. No matter how strenuous that relationship had been.
The mixed emotions swirled around him, throwing his world off balance. His body felt the change, and in his haste, became clumsy. His feet slid out from under him, and he tumbled forward. Hitting the ground face first, landing inches behind the very man he’d been chasing.
Dagur blinked, dazed. He watched as the man’s boots stopped, then turned around. He saw him start to kneel to the ground, hand extended. Then he heard him speak.
“Are you alright?”
Dagur’s heart dropped.
He didn’t want to look up. It was like someone had shocked the life out of him, and his whirlwind of complex feelings came to a screeching halt. His spinning word went still.
That was not his father’s voice. And when he could finally find it in him to tear his eyes away from the ground, he saw that it was not his father’s face either. Similar, but still not him.
Not him.
Dagur tensed, feeling stupid. Looking at the man now, he could see the obvious differences. The hair color wasn’t quite right. Nor was his height. But in his desperation, he’d deluded himself into thinking otherwise. Dagur cursed himself for being so gullible.
The man was not his father, but he still looked concerned. Pulling Dagur to his feet, he repeated his question. “Are you alright?”
Dagur gritted his teeth, not wanting to get emotional. He felt foolish enough as is.
“I’m fine,” he grunted, turning away.
The man still seemed worried. “Are you sure? That was a pretty hard fall.” He put his hand on Dagur’s shoulder.
Dagur’s stomach lurched. His father wouldn’t have done that. Oswald was not a touchy person. And though the gesture was nice, it only served to make reality cut deeper. This man was not his dad.
“I’m okay,” Dagur repeated, barely getting the words out. “Sorry.”
His vision blurred. Dagur swallowed hard.
“I just thought you were someone else.”