[OP Marvel] Ch: 10 [Time] (Patreon)

“Yes,” I said.

The word left my mouth without hesitation. Once it was out, I realized I’d already accepted it long before saying it aloud. Sif stared at me as if she was trying to decide whether I was serious or joking. I didn’t look away. There was no point softening it.

“Yes,” I repeated, softer this time. “I am.”

I leaned my back against the stone wall again and looked past her for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

“Asgard’s amazing,” I continued. “It really is. It’s peaceful. It’s alive. I have a house now, food whenever I want, gold I’ll never finish spending, and people who don’t look at me like I’m a walking disaster.”

I let out a slow breath.

“And I should be happy. I know that.”

I looked back at her. Her grip on her shield was tight, knuckles pale.

“But I’m not,” I said. “Not fully.”

She didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“For thirty years, my goal was simple,” I went on. “Survive today. Kill whatever tries to kill me. Wake up tomorrow. That was it. I forgot what it meant to dream or think about the future. Just another sunrise I wasn’t sure I’d see.”

I tapped my fingers against my arm, restless.

“Now I have peace. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself.”

Her expression softened, confusion giving way to something quieter.

“You,” I said, meeting her eyes, “have a goal. You want to grow stronger. You push yourself every day for it. Every swing of your sword has meaning behind it. Every bruise pushes you forward.”

I smiled faintly. “I respect that. I envy it.”

Sif swallowed.

“I don’t have that,” I said. “No direction. No mountain I’m trying to climb. I wake up, I eat, I train, I nap, I exist. And that emptiness just sits there, waiting for me every night. Teaching you gave me something to focus on.”

I paused.

“And then you started avoiding me.”

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to become next.”

She took a step closer without realizing it.

“So Earth?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s where my life was supposed to be before everything went wrong. Maybe I’ll find something there. Or someone. Or maybe I’ll find nothing at all. But at least I’ll be moving again.”

Her eyes searched my face as if looking for cracks in my resolve.

“How long?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The concept of time’s different for us humans. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

That was when Sif finally looked away.

Her jaw tightened. Her shoulders stiffened. For a heartbeat, she looked like she was bracing for a blow.

“I’m used to being alone, and spending time with you made me happy. I wasn’t lonely anymore. I don’t want to leave Asgard carrying that. That’s why I need you to tell me,” I said. “Why have you been avoiding me? If I did something wrong, I need to know. If you decided I’m someone you don’t want near you, I need to hear that from you. I don’t want to leave any regrets behind.”

Sif closed her eyes.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she laughed once, softly, without humor.

“You did nothing wrong,” she said. “That’s the cruel part.”

She opened her eyes and looked at me fully now.

“I avoided you because if I didn’t, I would’ve stayed,” she continued. “And if I stayed, I would’ve wanted more. And if I wanted more…” Her voice faltered, just slightly. “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

I frowned. “Stop yourself from what?”

“From caring,” Sif said.

Ah. I see what’s going on.

I love her, and she loves me. That’s the problem.

Time.

The slow, merciless kind that kills everything eventually.

I’d stopped aging years ago, frozen at twenty-five by a stupid gamble with an unknown potion in a dead world. I could live longer than any normal human. But Asgardians lived far longer than that. They lived for thousands of years. Five thousand, sometimes more. To them, centuries were chapters, not lifetimes.

I could probably stretch my existence far longer than any normal human. Five hundred years felt realistic. A thousand if I was careful and nothing catastrophic happened. Beyond that, it became a gamble even I couldn’t calculate.

And then what?

Sif standing tall and unchanged while my hair turned silver. My strength fading. My steps slowing. Her watching it happen, unable to stop it, carrying the weight of every shared memory while my time slipped away piece by piece…

…then gone.

I imagined it without wanting to. Sif standing alone centuries from now, remembering a human who laughed in her garden, trained her until her arms shook, and loved her like there was no tomorrow. Remembering me as a story that hurt to tell. The image twisted something in my chest.

I didn’t want that future.

I didn’t want to be the scar she carried.

“I understand,” I said softly.

Her breath caught.

“I figured it out just now,” I continued. “You’re not avoiding me because you don’t care. You’re avoiding me because you care too much.”

She didn’t deny it.

I stepped closer, stopping an arm’s length away. Close enough to feel her warmth, far enough to respect the wall she built.

“You’re thinking long term,” I said. “Centuries… What about after two thousand years? You’re thinking about watching someone you love fade while you stay the same.”

Her eyes got glossy from the tears she was holding back.

“And you’re right,” I added. “That’s exactly what would happen.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Jason…”

“I’m human,” I said gently. “Even with everything that’s happened to me. Even with magic and potions and miracles. I’m still human.”

I let out a humorless breath. “I can probably stretch my life. Five hundred years. Maybe a thousand if I’m lucky and careful. But you’d still be there when I’m gone.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I became a wound you had to carry forever,” I said. “I’ve carried enough of those myself.”

I took away her shield and sword and used telekinesis to place them on the rack beside us. Then I took her hands. She didn’t pull away.

“You did the right thing by stepping away,” I said. “It hurt, but it was honest. I respect that.”

She looked at me like she wanted to argue, like she wanted to shout that she didn’t care about centuries or consequences or logic. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to let myself believe that wanting was enough.

But it wasn’t.

“If there ever comes a day when I can stand beside you without time hanging over us like a blade,” I added softly as I leaned forward and our foreheads touched, “then maybe things would be different. But that’s not today.”

“So this is goodbye?” she asked.

I pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. “No. There’s someone on Earth who’ll give me time… Enough time to live happily without worrying about me dying in a thousand years or so.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yep,” I nodded.

“And you’re telling me this now after all that emotional talk?” Sif gave a very scary look.

I blinked at her.

The truth hit me all at once, so sudden it almost made me laugh.

“…I might’ve forgotten to mention that part earlier,” I said carefully. “Or more accurately, I forgot entirely until just now.”

She stared at me.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah. That thing about time not hanging over us forever. Turns out I already solved that problem a long time ago and my brain decided now was the perfect moment to remember.”

There was a very brief silence.

Then Sif kneed me.

Hard.

Right in the stomach.

I flew back a step and folded over with a sharp grunt, dropping to one knee and clutching my gut like I’d just been mortally wounded.

“Agh,” I groaned dramatically. “Yep. I deserve that.”

She stood over me, breathing hard, eyes blazing, fists clenched at her sides.

“You absolute idiot,” she yelled. “You let me think you were leaving forever. You let me think centuries of regret were inevitable.”

“I know,” I said, still hunched, peeking up at her. “In my defense, I genuinely forgot. Trauma does wonders for memory.”

She hit my shoulder.

Not as hard this time.

Then again.

Then her fists curled into my shirt and she pulled me up, not roughly, but with a sudden force that surprised both of us.

And then she hugged me tightly.

Her arms locked around my back like she was afraid I might vanish if she let go. Her face pressed against my chest, her braid brushing my arm. I stood there, stunned for half a second, before my arms moved on their own and wrapped around her back.

I could feel her heart pounding.

“You’re infuriating,” she said, her voice muffled. “Do you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” I replied quietly. “Usually right before someone tries to kill me.”

She laughed once, breathless, and then pulled back just enough to look up at me. Her eyes were still glossy, but now there was something else there too—relief, and that stubborn fire I’d missed.

Before I could say another word, she leaned up and kissed me.

I froze for exactly half a heartbeat before kissing her back slowly, like this moment mattered enough not to rush.

When we pulled apart, she rested her forehead against mine again.

“You better not forget something like that ever again,” she said.

I chuckled. “I’ll write it down.”

She huffed softly, still holding onto me, and for the first time in weeks, the tight, hollow feeling in my chest finally eased.