Cookies and Confessions

Big Team Base, April 15, 2022 
This might be the last time she’s in the base. The thought hit Brenna as she passed by the kitchen, memories of failed cookies and abominable smoothies dancing through her mind. Although she knew there were multiple people who would fight her about the “failed” part. Brenna was here to search for a jacket she was pretty sure she’d left here a few weeks ago, but indulging in a bit of nostalgia couldn’t hurt. And maybe her jacket was inside. Stranger things had happened. 
Misty was perched in one of the kitchen chairs, phone in one hand displaying the hours until sunset, most of a pack of cookies laid out in front of her. She’d gotten them, stashed them in the base just in case she ended up there and didn’t have any other food and needed cookies. It was one of a handful of similar food stashes--in Angy’s lair-dimension, at home, in a few other places. It was on the list of practical things she did that she hadn’t really told her dad about, because she had the decided feeling he’d be weird about it. 
Anyway, she’d done all that and then, startled, remembered that it was almost Passover. Specifically--she glanced at her clock--it was three hours until sunset, and thus Passover, and she was trying to figure out the best way to savor the cookies before she couldn’t eat unleavened wheat--and thus most cookies. She could probably finish them all before--
--a familiar head of red hair was passing in her peripheral vision, and she looked up to see that Brenna was passing by, a melancholy look on her face. 
A few moments later, Brenna passed back by and started to enter, but stopped short when she saw Misty. Would things ever not be weird with her? Brenna glanced back, considering just leaving, but realized that would be rude and also she really ought to clear things up with Misty before she left. What she was doing involved her, too. Brenna rubbed the scars on her left arm – a habit she’d picked up since she couldn’t fiddle with the Mjolnir bracelet anymore. 
“Um. Hi, Misty. Sorry if this is a bother or a bad time or something. I can see you’re…in the middle of something.” 
Brenna fully took in all of the cookies, and her plans melted from her mind and was replaced with confusion. 
Misty had not expected Brenna to actually come in, assuming that the other girl was passing by, and she squashed her first instinct, which was to try to hide the cookies. And then her second instinct, which was to protest that she hadn’t done anything (true, but one-hundred-percent the kind of thing someone who had done something wrong would say). This was Brenna; Misty might not be entirely comfortable with her, but she’d had ample proof that Brenna wasn’t going to get on her case for anything she didn’t deserve it for. 
“Uh, hi,” she said, instead of either of her bad instincts. “It’s…not really anything important, I’ve got time. I just gotta either eat these before sunset or wait ‘til next weekend. Which would suck. Um.” She could feel the impulse to ramble, and stifled it with a bite of cookie. The crumbs stuck to her glove, and she made a face. “Can I…help you with something?” 
Brenna shook her head a bit to refocus. The cookies were none of her business. “Um. Kind of. Well, more like, I wanna tell you something.” 
Gods, why was this so difficult? Way harder than telling Bea had been, and their opinion mattered more than Misty’s, really. But this wasn’t about love and the future, this was about duty. And the future. Brenna sat down across from Misty. 
“Um, okay. I’m leaving Big Team. To do more of my Thor duties. And I want to try and break the cycles. Or, remake them. I don’t know if that’s even remotely possible, but it feels like the right thing to do…” Brenna trailed off, brow furrowed, as she was again hit by the monumental task in front of her, and the fact that she didn’t have any idea about where to start. 
Misty frowned, puzzled, at the news that Brenna was leaving Big Team--and then the rest of the explanation happened, and she stared at the other girl for a long moment. Without her fully registering it, her hand moved to cover her right wrist, the tattoo that linked her and her family together. 
Break the cycles. Or, remake them. Was that…possible? Misty had been trying not to think about it, honestly, since the encounter with Jormungandr; if she thinks about it, about Ragnarok, too hard it feels like it will creep up behind her and steal her away, like some monster that can only see her when she, in turn, sees it.
“Um,” she said, unsure of where to even begin, of how much of the complicated knot of emotions in her chest she could, or wanted to, show to Brenna. She was aware she was staring at the other girl, eyes wide. “Uh…good luck?” 
Instantly she realized that was not what she had wanted to say. “Shit, that sounded sarcastic. I didn’t mean it as sarcastic, really, I meant it. And, uh, it’ll be good to have someone doing Thor stuff who, you know, has a brain,” she added, because, well, she’s never really comfortable with Thor but she felt like she’d be a lot more comfortable knowing that behind the name and the thunder was Brenna. 
“And, well…” she trailed off, still not looking at her wrist. “...thank you. Not just for--well, for even wanting to try to stop all this, but also for…everything else.” She wasn’t looking at Brenna, either, eyes stuck to the counter in front of her. 
Brenna started fiddling with her hair, braiding tiny braids into the ends of her hair that didn’t fit into her large braid. “Um. Thanks. And you’re welcome? I don’t know if we -- uh, Asgard -- really deserve the change, but Ragnarok hurts a lot more than just us.” Brenna unraveled a tiny braid. “And I think…your siblings will be important in this. Not that we deserve their forgiveness, and I really don’t think that’s a thing that can be forgiven at all…” 
Brenna trailed off again. Was she capable of making a sentence that makes sense today? She tossed her braid back over her shoulder. “Um. Put in a good word for me, I think is what I want to say. Or even an okay word. Bea’s going to help where she can but…” Brenna rubbed the wrist where Mjolnir used to be, and quietly sighed, “I’m pretty alone on this.” 
“What you’re looking to do…isn’t gonna be easy. But you knew that already,” Misty said, after a long moment. “I’ll--I’ve already put in a good word for you with Jormungandr, after…” she trailed off, rallied, and spoke again. “After the whole thing with Odin. I’ll try to talk to the others, too. But they’re…old, and bitter, and they’ve been old and bitter so long sometimes I think they’ve forgotten how to be anything else.” 
She let out a breath, thinking. “I think--maybe don’t go into it thinking, this will only work if they forgive us. Because you can’t control whether someone forgives you or not.” Which had been a painful lesson to learn, and one Misty had learned from the girl standing across the kitchen from her. “But apologizing…that would help, I think. My dad--not Loki, my other dad--always said that a proper apology has got to be really thinking about what you did wrong and how it happened, honestly regretting it, trying to undo whatever wrong was done, and making sure it doesn’t happen again--and showing that you’ve done that. And--I don’t think, in any of these centuries, anyone from Asgard has ever shown them that they did one of those things, let alone all four.” 
Misty hadn’t always been good at proper apologies, herself. They weren’t easy things; it was a lot easier to just say I’m sorry and try to move on. But that didn’t really fix anything.  
“But I also don’t think any of them, at the end of the day, would really want to destroy the whole world if they had another option that seemed feasible. They--we--care about each other, care about ourselves, and it’s not like they don’t know they’ll die as well. It’s just that, well…if you’re stuck, any way out seems like a good option, just because it’s a way out.” She shook her head, looked up to meet Brenna’s eyes, and dredged up a truth that she’d left to sit in the pit of her stomach for way too long. 
“The rokkr--starting Ragnarok--I wasn’t in that group because I genuinely wanted the world to end. I didn’t, and when everything came down to the wire I realized that. What I wanted was to be able to see my siblings, at least once, and I thought that was the only way. I wasn’t--bloodthirsty, or tough, although I thought I was. I was lonely, and I was scared, and I thought I had nowhere else to go.” She took a breath, pulling herself back to the point that she wanted to make. 
“And--I’d like to think that’s the same with the others, too. That they’re not monsters, they just can’t bear the way things are now, and think burning everything down is the only solution. I think if you really apologize, and if you can think of another solution that doesn’t need anyone to die or anyone to be chained up…then I think you’ve got a shot at this.” 
Hearing Misty of all people say they think that Brenna has a chance of success made Brenna almost tear up. She managed not to, but did have to swallow and take a deep breath before answering. “Thanks, Misty. Your non-Loki dad sounds like a good guy. I don’t really have any idea about how I’m going to do this, but I know it’s going to take time. But you have my number if uh, anyone from Asgard is giving you a hard time. If you want my help, that is. Because I know you can take care of yourself, but sometimes having someone with a fancy title on your side helps.” 
Internally, Brenna grimaced at all of that. Misty wouldn’t want her help of all people. She looked at all of the cookies again, desperately wanting to know what was up with those. Maybe this was just a normal thing for Misty? It’s not like she’d know. 
“Oh yeah!” Brenna sat up straight and held out her hand. “Let me see the crossbow.” 
“He is,” Misty said immediately at the compliment to her dad. It was true--there were probably a lot of ways to describe Joshua Hawthorne, but it took a good guy to handle raising a kid like Misty with the grace and good humor that he’d always had.  She noticed Brenna’s glance to the cookies, as well--did she want one? Should Misty offer? “And…I can’t promise that I’m going to use that,” she said, because…well, Brenna is good. A lot better than anyone else from Asgard, certainly. But relying on Asgard to solve her problems with Asgard seems…like it won’t get her anywhere, in the end. “But I really appreciate that you offered it, and--if I’m gonna ask for help with that stuff from anyone, it’s probably going to be you. You live up to the fancy title,” she added. 
At the request for the crossbow, though, she had to hide her wince. Well, what was she expecting? She had taken it, years ago; it was never supposed to be hers. And…she did feel bad about that, honestly. She’d apologized, sure, she’d tried not to hurt Brenna again, but…she’d kept the crossbow. 
She slid it off of her wrist and across the table to Brenna, suddenly feeling more on-edge than if she’d taken her gloves off. “Here. I had a good run with it.” 
Brenna looked a little confused at that response before realizing that Misty thought she was taking it back forever. The fact that she handed it over…well, it meant something. Brenna opened the crossbow so it was functional, and put both hands over it. Lightning crackled around her hands slightly, she couldn’t seem to do any kind of magic without that happening lately. She chanted the familiar spell over the crossbow. When she finished, two runes appeared on the stock: gebo and othala. They glowed faintly with a blue light before it faded, leaving just the subtle impression of the runes. Brenna slid the crossbow back across the table, then leaned back in her chair awkwardly. 
“That’s a maker’s mark. Dad and I put it on our stuff when we sell it or give it away. So uh. No one can say it’s not yours now.”
Misty stared down at the crossbow, then up at Brenna, her eyes overbright. She wiped them on her sleeve, quickly, before she could cry in earnest, and picked up the crossbow with a hand that only shook a little. It shifted, the familiar motion, back into the bracelet form; she turned it over in her hands, staring at it for another long moment. 
“I--” she started, stopped, cleared her throat. “You didn’t have to--” Nope, also not right, also not what she really wanted to say. “...thanks. Thank you, Brenna. It’s the best weapon I’ve ever gotten to use. I’ll take care of it.” 
Brenna nodded, using all of her acting skills to pretend she didn’t notice Misty wipe her eyes (which wasn’t very convincing). “Um. Yeah. I know I can’t make up for the past, but between Bea and, y’know,” Brenna touched the scar on her cheek, “we’re in each other’s lives. So I want it to be better. Maybe we’ll never get to good, but uh…” 
Brenna trailed off, wanting to acknowledge something about how much more complicated it was than that, but she couldn’t think of anything. Unsure of what to do, she stood. “Oh yeah, you don’t have to come to me for help, but you better come to me for haircuts. But uh, I’ll leave you to…all of your cookies?” 
As Brenna touched the scar still on her cheek, Misty could feel her hands tense without meaning to inside her gloves--a reminder, always, of what going too far looked like, what it resulted in. But...Brenna was right. “Neither of us can make up for the past,” she said, and then shook her head. “But I want it to be better, too. Both…” she waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the bay. “Between us, like, Asgard and the children of Loki, but also between us, because…” she paused, but if Brenna really was going on a quest to try to stop Ragnarok, Misty didn’t want her to leave without coming clean. 
“Because you’re actually kind of cool, and one of the nicer people on the team, and I’m glad Bea has you. I hear a lot about how impressive and honorable the Asgardian gods are supposed to be, but you’re the only one I’ve met who actually is. I don’t know if it’s ever going to be good, either, but…” she trailed off, shrugged a shoulder, looked away again. “But I’m glad that I met you.” 
She glances down, reminded again of the cookies. “And…yeah. Wait, do you want any of these? If I leave them around they’ll just be tempting me all week.” 
Those were words Brenna never expected to hear from Misty. Not even the parts about being a good Thor, but being cool and nice. Brenna smiled as she wiped away tears. She was pretty sure that trying to ruin a cornerstone of Asgardian culture made her a bad Thor, but she’d accepted that. And it was worth it if it made her a good person, and someone who even a child of Loki could call honorable. Not that she thought Loki had an ounce of honor, but Misty did. Unsure of how to express any of that, and feeling like it would ruin the moment if she tried, she just nodded. 
“Thanks, Misty. And sure, I’d like a cookie. Can I ask…why so many? And you can eat them now but not later? Is something happening next week? Oh! Are you doing an allergy test?” 
Misty wasn’t always the best at social cues, but she was ninety percent certain she didn’t just make Brenna cry for a bad reason. At least, she’s pretty sure she didn’t say anything mean, even unintentionally, so…probably not bad crying. Still, Brenna had been good enough to ignore Misty almost crying earlier, so Misty did the same, with about the same level of plausibility. 
At the question about the cookies, though, Misty snorted. 
“Oh, take as many as you’d like, honestly. Uh, the reason that there are so many is…well, I was hungry a few days ago and had ten bucks and was like hey! That can buy me some snacks. And I ate most of them but stashed the cookies here for later--but, uh, there’s not an allergy test or something.” She paused, and then remembered that Brenna hadn’t known much about Thanksgiving or Christmas, either, back when they had to save Thanksgiving. 
“It’s that this upcoming week is Pesach--uh, Passover. It’s a pretty major Jewish holiday and one part of it is that for the week, we don’t eat certain foods and stuff.” She’s not sure how much she wants to get into explaining chametz. “And there’s also the seder--uh, a big ritual dinner--tomorrow, which is always fun. And technically I should be fasting today but, uh, we don’t know how my biology works!” Her little jazz-hands gesture is somewhere in between genuinely amused and sarcastic. 
“But we do know I burn through like, way more calories than normal. So we don’t do that bc we don’t know how much I can fast and nobody really wants to test that one. But the point is technically, Passover starts at sunset, and now I have all these cookies.” She gestures to the half-package in front of her. “So like, really. Take as many as you’d like.”
Brenna hesitated, then decided this was one of those moments where they could work toward “good.” She sat back down and reached for a cookie. “Are all Midgardian holidays about food? Although this one does sound different from the one where you worship turkeys or the one where the clones of the fat man all sit around in malls and then break into your home. What is it about? And why can’t you eat cookies for it?” 
Finding her jacket could wait. 
Misty gave Brenna a long, considering look, as if weighing if the other girl was actually interested--and then smiled, a small and genuine smile that she usually only showed around her dad. 
Why is this night different from all other nights? 
“Well, it’s a celebration, like the other two. Of freedom, and history, and…who we are,” she allowed. “But all the rest of that--what it’s about, why we eat certain stuff--is a longer and older story.” She picked up a cookie of her own, took a bite, and smiled again. “Fortunately, though, it’s a good one.” 
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