(This short is the end of the arc begun in 'A Clear and Present Loki,' although for all I know it might not be the end of Loki's stories in this little off-the-grid corner of the Marvel universe. There's a lot of strange journeys he can still take, without the weight of Thanos and his own past hovering over him.

But just in case I don't get the chance to write those stories, this is where at least one journey alongside his friend ends.

Chapter 2 holds a lengthy 'actual' postscript after the end of the work. You're welcome to skip that part. The end of the story itself is marked with the usual end quote.)

With Postscript to Follow: The SHIELD Codex Coda

"My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today." ~ Richard Adams, Watership Down

. . .

1. Hello

. . .

Loki put his hand on the cool steel railing of the hospital bed, looking down at the small, old man that was currently asleep in the nestle of white and pastel dotted sheets, and seeing someone much younger laying there instead. Warm morning light dappled the pillow from the window above, giving an illusion of gentler times. There was a low stool set close beside for visitors to use, and he gently tugged it in closer, the long fabric of his fine black cloak slung over his shoulder flung neatly out of his way as he settled in with a soft creak.

Phil Coulson's eyes fluttered open at the noise, muttering to himself before he managed to turn and look at his old friend. "You coulda at least pretended you had a streak of grey coming in, make me feel better," he said, his voice creaking much lower and with so much more effort than Loki remembered. His good hand came up in a waver, patting at Loki's where it still lay on the railing. "Thanks for coming. You're the last one."

"I know. The others are still in the waiting room."

"I remember. I've spoken to everyone else. I remember that." The human coughed a little, struggling himself a few inches upright. "It gets harder, but this is mostly one of the good days."

Loki nodded, discovering he was unable to say anything to that. May had told him in a missive before he arrived; the good days were coming fewer and fewer and during them, Phil knew that fact all too clearly. He was afraid each little gloaming might be the last one, and had made his preparations while he could. If there were any justice, he would have lasted to a greater age yet. No small part of Loki wondered – feared, in truth - if this rapid fall came of his human friend already having survived one death too many. Or perhaps it was simple mortal cruelty; these small, quick lives. Like a running stream.

"You don't look so good." Phil's general observations were still on point, however. He could hear the understatement in the gently needling words.

His smile was faltering as he tried to stay familiarly, gently sardonic. "I already saw you die once, I'm not much for repeats."

Coulson's eyes sharpened on him, seeing the truth plain. "I know." He lifted his head from the stack of pillows and looked him over. "How's Asgard doing? The king and all that."

He couldn't help curling his hand around the railing, feeling new pains bunch and gather inside his heart.

"Shit. I know, don't I?" Frustration burrowed grey eyebrows together as he fought his memories into submission. "Didn't I go to something? I thought-"

"You came to the coronation, Phil." Loki looked away, part of him hating this in a way that burned his chest into tightening like a vise. The absolute unfairness of implacable mortality. All he could see was that younger, forever smartass Phil, who had just simply never been frightened of him. That Phil wasn't gone, he endured too deeply inside Loki's mind, but he was so small now. And only briefly, fleetingly awake. It hurt. He had known all along this would someday come, but it didn't change the pain. Nor the sense that it was forever going to feel too soon.

"Yeah. Yeah... I remember now. You were already mostly gone by then. Just showed up when we really needed you, or I got the good whiskey in. Holidays. Couple weddings. I remember. There were the... the flowers and stuff, still from Odin's wake all over. God, that was... I can't grab it." He deepened the wrinkles in his brow, fingers working against the blanket as if the words might be found there.

Loki's voice was soft. "Over eight years ago. Still too quick."

"Yeah..." Phil's voice trailed off, looking up at the pale prince with the same, regal face high above the tall-collared tunic. His words became concerned, finding something to anchor to and making him a little more there. "Are you happy?"

He managed a faint laugh, real enough through his surge of mixed emotions. "Happier than you might expect. Thor's rule is great and golden and mighty, the warrior-king Asgard deserves. Our enemies have shattered before him, and those older conflicted have become our friends. His speeches are met with ferocious acclaim from our people, and their adoration for him will write his name boldly in all the books to come." Loki laughed again, this one knowing and somewhat stronger in the cool, antiseptic air of the hospice. "But when the people are truly needful they come to me, for they know I will get it done. I find great satisfaction in that."

Phil chuckled at that, a low and dry and happy sound that for a moment threatened to become one of those weakening coughs that attacked too frequently now. He leaned forward a little to avoid it, taking a breath to settle the rattle inside. "You know, I'm pretty sure I remember you saying more than once that satisfaction wasn't in your nature."

The lingering humor faded into that small, sad smile Loki couldn't seem to bury down, couldn't fully mask with his old courtliness. "I come late to the discovery that it is a learned skill." The smile wavered, the cracks appearing, spreading, dragging down the corners of his mouth with it. The emotions took over abruptly, gaining a foothold in his swirling mind. Suddenly the older, wiser prince looked young and horrified with the sheer amount of his own sorrow. "Phil, what am I going to do without my conscience?"

Phil reached out and grabbed his wrist, surprisingly strong for this single moment. He kept his voice even enough, calm. "You just gotta finally grow one of your own." He stayed fixed on Loki's face. "How's the alliance thing? You just said something about that."

Loki swallowed, trying to center himself on the question. As a king's trusted advisor would. The words shook at first as they tumbled from him. "Jotunheim's permitted emissaries freely between the realms. The first in several millennia. I still hold some central ambassadorship on that, atop my other duties at Thor's side when I am there. The embassy holds a knot of paperwork each time the bridge opens, but I come and go as I like. Queen Farbauti finds this all intensely amusing, but I also think to some extent she truly misses the old king. The diplomacy proceeds so quick because she knows at the end that he would have liked that."

"They had kind one of those weird, crappy friendships building up, didn't they?" Another of those old, creaky chuckles. "Not that I know what it's like to make friends with some asshole you once cheerfully would have seen dead."

"After the giants' civil war, yes. I still think that odd friendship is why Odin lasted as long as he did." Loki took another slow inhale, feeling his steadiness come back in pieces. There had been months, even a few years towards the end where the Sleep overtook what hours the old king could remain awake. The brothers realized he had simply let go not long after Frigga's death and his reinstallation as king, lingering as long as he could bear it for the sake of the realm and its princes. "What they started to build, it will last at least our lifetimes and more as we work to shore it up."

Phil let go of his wrist, looking tired but also content. "That's what I hoped to hear. Listen, I need to ask you a favor. Last request deal, which is a little unfair and it kinda sucks because I can tell this whole conversation is killing you faster than it is me."

"Phil."

He couldn't resist a grin at the sharply wounded note in the prince's voice. "Did she follow you in?"

"There is a black, black joke about the notion of her following me around and right now I've not the least mood for it." Loki found himself staring at the wrinkled hand trembling faintly at the edge of the bed. "Yes. She's just outside. She said... she said she knows when it's time to come in."

"She would. Listen, you keep an eye on the kids for me, alright? Just make Heimdall eyeball 'em once in a while, make sure they don't unleash anymore apocalypses, get in over their head. Don't, you know, you don't ever have to baby them. We made a good team out of 'em all. SHIELD's better than it ever was. They can take care of themselves. But when they can't, just... try and be there?"

Dark eyebrows furrowed at him, still pained. "Phil. I already do this. And I promise, it will endure. For as long as I can."

"Okay." He reached out to squeeze at Loki's wrist again, the strength in his fingers fading. "God damn, I'm tired. That's the really crap part of all this. Just being so tired all the time."

"I know." Loki laid his other hand atop where Phil touched him, not feeling the age spots, or the wrinkles that brought the blue veins so close to the skin. There was only the good and brighter past. "I know a little about that much weariness, if from a different angle. It's a heavy, dreadful weight."

"I just wanna put it down and go have fun again."

"I know." Loki took in a slow, shuddering inhale, fighting to find his voice. "You've a right to an Asgardian funeral, should you wish it. You've already done the human one, I think. No small fault of mine."

"Never do the same..." Phil's voice trailed off. For a moment, the confusion on his face was clear before his eyes sharpened on his friend again. "Is that with the boats and the flaming arrows?"

The world was becoming far too blurry for him. "Yes, it is."

"That would be cool." A grin fought its way onto the aging, dying face. "You sure that's okay? It's a warrior thing. And I'm just old."

Under the threatening tears, real and frozen steel. "I'd like to see someone come to me over it. I would very much like them to try. Regardless, Thor and I have." He cleared his throat, blinking the world back into focus. "Already discussed the matter."

"Okay. Boats. Let everyone come if you can. Big party." Phil's fingers were weakening further. They slid free of Loki's skin, settling back into the blankets. "You should get out of here."

"Phil..."

"You've seen this magic trick before, you know how it works. Come on. Say goodbye and go."

Loki couldn't say the words. He put his long, white hand on the wrinkled brow for a long moment instead as the world began to fade once more, and they both knew what that meant.

As he rose, he saw the shadow come to the doorway. She was still human enough to pass unremarked where she walked on Earth, living a quiet life while also being everywhere. The pretty silk veil over her black hair was a pure and striking white. Salima, who was Death, smiled up at Loki, who could not speak in her presence. Not this time.

. . .

"Hello."

"Hey, Salima. I remember the stars."

"And they remember you, Phil Coulson. They remember you well indeed. They are bright and lasting, and they are all the memories we leave behind. Their energy does not leave this universe. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I understand. Nothing really ends."

"No, nothing does. We are the eternals. Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah. I am."

One hand reached for another, and She smiled gently for him as their fingers intertwined.

. . .

Loki passed into the waiting room, not surprised to see it all but packed tight with those countless friends Phil had made in his strange and busy life. At the corridor that led to the yard he'd used for his arrival, four masked and beautifully armored women knelt, waiting for his word. Valkyries, sent in honor to guide that final passage.

First he looked to those close enough to be family, and there was still more pain for him to be found. May, smaller somehow now but still ferocious and powerful. She'd outlive them all, that much fire still within her. Jemma and Leo, holding hands and watching him. Mack, scalp still bare to hide the salt and pepper that flecked his brows instead. Steve, still almost as young looking as himself. That serum's gift and curse, at least for now. The elder Barton. Cool, distinguished Romanoff. And many he couldn't recognize.

Daisy Johnson's eyes were always going to be young, but there were thin streaks of pale grey in her dark hair now to remind him how relentless time was, and her face crumpled when she saw him. Loki held an arm out to her, curling his friend closer in a tight hug when she lunged in at the opening. Buried in the soft wool of the cloak under his chin, he could hear her crying.

At his glance, the valkyries rose in careful, respectful silence to pass down the hall from which he'd come. Daisy's thick, gurgling voice came filtering up. "That's what he wanted, right?"

"Yes. The bridge will hold open, and all who choose to come will be our honored guests." He stroked her hair, seeing in her still the young woman fighting to find a place of her own. Another one of the first to call him a friend. He looked past her to Leo, ginger hair cropped tight and wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. Leo looked back, hurt by the same loss but also stronger than he used to be. "We might grieve for weeks, Daisy, but he would never care for that. So we will hold vigil this day, and we will grieve the night. And in the morrow, we will celebrate him instead."