[ Explanation time, I think. The reason I have so many drabbles of these two is because I have a rp blog on Tumblr (Maria Hill) and she and Loki have an explosive relationship- please realize that this is AU to the fullest since those two are fire and ice. This idea of a fanfic literally has been sitting in my head for a week, and I've been trying very hard to not write it, since I thought it would be rubbish. I've been informed that it is not. Well. Let me know what you think?]

Is Heaven what you make it?

The rain outside the deceased agent's home poured, leading the god to think of her nervous ticks during a thunderstorm. She hated the loud claps of thunder that would occasionally shake her apartment- and what he would have done to save her from the mission that led to her fear of what could calm him. Actually… no. It made her what she became. The possessive woman who in death, still gripped his heart.

The victorious harbinger of death stood by a tall pane of glass, looming over the busy city below. Despite the battle that had corrupted her streets not a month prior, she was still stunning. The moonlight reflecting off the puddled water, the claps that vibrated through her soil and metal statues.. it all reminded him of the woman.

In the end, he had to kill her. She would have never forgiven him for the death toll he had caused in her agency, and he could see that in her eyes as they said their goodbyes. Most if not all agents were dead, as well as the talented group of mortals, and the not-brother god. Any who were spared, be it they were on a mission or simply hiding in their homes, would return to find their workplace in shambles and their coworkers slaughtered. Their world, torn apart, all by one man.. one god. The wrongdoers had been punished, and with a foolish thought, Loki believed he could sleep in peace now.

He never would have guessed he was wrong.

The woman's death had been swift. She had pleaded with him to stop, 'the idiocy', he remembered, but to no avail. When the deputy director had seen the determination in the god's gaze, she simply nodded… and returned to war. Her death was glorious, having injured the god with that damned gun twice before she had been taken. Absentmindedly, the wronged god flexed his arm and brought a hand to lay over the M-shaped scar that presided over his skin. One day, he would heal the mark with his magic, but today, it would stay.

As a reminder of the woman who played him, stole his heart, then took it to her grave.

The storm raged on and the god stepped into the agent's home office. The desk in the corner of the room had been emptied of any evidence of Shield with a wave of his hand. Out of curiosity, the god had rummaged through the mahogany drawers, and was surprised to find something she had not shared. A small picture of a young woman who favored his lover, but was sporting a very pregnant belly and a smile. Her mother. The god opened a pocket in space and left the photograph there, promising to return it to her grave when he visited for a final time.

The god of chaos listened to the storm for a few silent moments before sitting down on a darkened piano bench. His fingers spread across the ivory keys, matching the weather's mood with his song. It was one she had requested of him before, and now it, just like he, was hers. Loki continued to press long digits along the notes, his eyes closing as pictures of her form crossed the expanse of his mind.

—-

The woman had thought it impossible, improbable, and ridiculous. She was dead- there should be nothing. No moving, no lights- there should be nothing but perpetual darkness. That or a sea of paperwork, she could not be sure. Heaven was what you made it, was it not? It was not. Upon her death she was startling aware of her surroundings.. specifically, who surrounded her. She saw the tear which trailed down the god's cheek; the broken bodies of her agents and.. her own being carried to an area that was not in flames.

Her next moment of awareness was when three beautiful women stood before her, beckoning her forward with their hands. They were clothed in white feathers and battle gear, with fierce bodies that towered over the small mortal. She followed, unafraid.

The next moment was when she stood amongst a sea of dead- Norse warriors who fought in battles who slept in the halls of Valhalla. It made no sense as to why a small mortal woman stood in them, hidden by the gods and goddesses who dwarfed her. The five hundred and forty doors held nothing for her, and she seated herself in a corner to observe. She noticed the wolf to the west and the eagle above it.

As quickly as she arrived, she felt herself pulled to a presence. The Allfather knew her name, knew her face, for Heimdall had been watching. A flicker of thought of her killer flashed in her mind before she stood to address Odin, the guardian of her new home.

"Lady Hill.. please step forward."

The woman in question lifted her head to face Odin and the golden son, who was sent there by the same murderer as she.

"I am she." Her emotions were surprisingly intact in death- she neither feared nor cared to fear. What did it matter now?

"You were the one Loki loved?" The question was expected from Odin, and it caused a murmur through the crowd in the halls.

"You know that I am." The woman's eyes shifted from the Allfather to the Odinson, whose golden sheen echoed in death.

"Do you think my son was wrong in his actions against the group Thor joined, and the battle with your mortal allies?" A curious question which caused the woman's brow to furrow.

"I do." She stepped closer, inspecting the throne upon which he sat and the face of the man beside him. Thor and his father… the not-family of her god.

"Did you still love my son?Even in death?"

The question gave her pause. As it was, the woman wanted to rebuke him for asking such a forward question of a matter that was not his concern, but such would be foolish. "I do."

The Allfather shook his head slowly, holding out his hand at the woman. "Then I, Odin Allfather, return you to him, to speak to him from your death."

The agent's face grew ashen as her eyes bulged forward, and before her, the images of the great hall and its warriors disintegrated. A new picture arose in its place- of a raven haired god playing his soul with ivory and black keys.

The view of her lover so wholly involved was intimate, one she had shared with him so many times before. Countless days had she walked into her home to be serenaded by his song. The woman smiled involuntarily and walked to him. Transparent arms snaked over his shoulders and laid across his chest as she nuzzled her face into the skin of his neck. The touch was missed, and her love so powerful that even in death, she still could not hate him.

—-

Loki inhaled the remaining scent of the woman, seemingly made new by a fresh encounter. The first smile in weeks crossed his face as he leaned into a touch that he could not feel. The name which had not been spoken aloud since that night so pushed on his lips that if it were not released, it would force itself.

"Maria…."