I CAN HAS REVIEWS! thank you most wonderful peeps. A Texan Shewolf, a Stolen Muse, and a Dark Angel. you all rock.

Stolen Muse had a fantastic idea of this going all AU and Loki winning muhaha. Unfortunately I am a) not cool enough to have thought of that and b) already written up quite far ahead (posting when i can) so ... thats not what's happening.

also re-reading it has come to my attention that my charming OC swears like a wee sailor child, so apologies for that if that sort of thing offends you.

Here's a shortie. quickie. whatever. muchos loves! xx

xXx

When I opened my eyes I immediately knew that I had moved. I had no idea how, or why, or what, or – Ow. I tried to move my head. Baaaaaaad idea. I touched my face with my invisible hand, feeling the dried blood on my face, my tangled hair, the tender bump on the back of my head. Probably from where the crazy magician had dropped me.

Carefully, I sat up, and uttered a silent scream at the pain in my ribs. I was at the top of a very tall building; I could see the Chrysler building out to my right. The place was completely smashed up, even the floor was in pieces. My be-horned friend from earlier was lying in a dip in the floor that seemed suspiciously shaped to his body. Almost as if a great force had used him to make it. He was making a high-pitched whining noise. I had reached the limits of my movement, and simply sat watching him. He lay with his eyes shut.

Some time went by, and I watched little ripples move over his body, almost like the heat haze you get above a candle. At one point, as one moved down his arm, there was a loud crack! noise, and he moaned, then flexed the arm awkwardly. Its motor function appeared to be fine.

He's probably healing himself, I thought, and then laughed inwardly. Oh, god…. Healing himself…. Am I losing it? I guess since I woke up somewhere different than I passed out, and I can't speak or see my feet, that I need to get over the apparent unbelievableness of things pretty quickly…. After all, who spent the afternoon flying an alien transport?

- Youuuu did!

Yes, thankyou brain. Thankyou for your input. I'm just going to try and keep breathing, and focus on that for a bit.

He sat up eventually, and his eyes fell on me where I sat leaning against the steps.

"Oh, good," he said, "my binding spell worked."

I said nothing (obviously), just stared at him.

"Keep your filthy gaze off me, or I'll take your eyes as well," he spat. I dropped them quickly to my lap, then realised – he could see me! Maybe I wasn't completely invisible?

Oh, god, I was invisible. Magically turned unseen. Despite living in a world where we could explain everything except if the universe was stringy or loopy. What were the chances. I heaved a sigh, then winced in pain at my broken ribs.

He began to drag himself towards the steps. I immediately forgot his warning, and lifted my eyes again, keeping them on him as he drew near. As he reached me, he paused, and turned. I had been so intent on him, I didn't notice anyone entering the room. I looked up, and gulped silently.

A group of menacing, tired and bloodied people stood over us. A tough-looking man in black had an arrow pointed at Mr Magician's throat, a beautiful woman in a catsuit with a smear of blood at her temple had a gun ready, and in the background – was that Iron Man? And Captain America? I clocked a simply huge blonde man in a red cloak, holding a hammer, and my mouth opened a little wider. Then I shrank away, catching sight of…. The Hulk.

Well. This was clearly the super team the government had assembled to deal with the alien attack.

Good job, guys. I assume we won.

Beside me, he shimmered, and his armour disappeared. He held his hands up in surrender.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll take that drink now?" he said politely.

As proof of my madness, I actually smiled. I appreciated someone else who made bad jokes when the shit was down.

"It's over, Loki," the giant blonde man said in a voice like thunder. So mystery horned man had a name! Loki…. That rang a bell.

Blondie reached down with a ham-like hand and hoisted Loki up, holding him by the shoulder. To my surprise, my body followed, as though I were a marionette. Due to my injuries, it was intensely uncomfortable, although I was hanging in mid-air. Loki's eyes met mine, and I immediately dropped them, although I'm sure my pain was evident on my face. Blondie set Loki down in front of him and pushed him roughly in the back; the others flanked us. I was close by Loki's side, and though they all looked through me, they unconsciously allowed me room to limp alongside him. I couldn't stop; some invisible force pulled me along.

We made our way towards the elevator, which dinged open at our approach, and if I could speak, I would have been screaming. The pain was unbelievable.

To my surprise, Loki reached out and took my hand as we stepped into the lift. He wouldn't look at me, instead staring straight ahead as we endured a long, awkward ride down to the bottom of Stark Tower.

"What is this elevator music, Tony?" the redheaded woman demanded, about halfway down. It sounded like the Beegees.

"JARVIS, kill the tunes," Stark commanded. His mask was up, and he looked beyond tired.

Loki was still holding fast to my hand, and I was warm at the contact. Very warm. Very warm indeed. He was holding my hand very tightly. I turned to look at him, and as I did so I nearly died, feeling something –pop- in my arm, followed by -crack- to the left side of my ribcage, and finally a –twang- in my right knee.

The pain slowly dissipated, and I stared at him in disbelief. He had healed me. He looked at me disdainfully, and dropped my hand as though I burned him. But I was whole, pain-free and healed. And tired. Boy, was I tired. Like post-marathon tired.

"Thankyou," I mouthed at him. His eyes moved to my lips, then back up to meet mine. He gave a short nod, and returned to scrutinizing his spot in space. I was starting to get the feeling he was kinda a complicated fella.

From the elevator we were ushered into a van, and from there into a nondescript office building, where a further lift took us to some sort of government military base – below ground.

It was a wonder there was any room left below New York, what with the subways, underground lairs, and rich people's basement cinemas and swimming pools, I thought, hurrying along beside Loki. They shut him – us - in a brightly lit and monitored cell, with several guards outside, and the group left.

I took the opportunity to sink onto the rough couch they had left. Then I noticed the mirror. I immediately assumed it was one-way; it was in a cell – hello! – but it was reflecting the room back, and I was not in it. I stood, and made my way over, waving my hands in front of my not-face. Then I did a little dance. There was absolutely no sign of my existence.

"Do you doubt my powers?" his harsh, low voice from behind me made me jump. I had forgotten briefly that he could see me.

I turned and shook my head, then waved my hand in front of my own eyes, pointed at the mirror, and shrugged.

He laughed a little, and took up the spot I had vacated, stretching out on the couch (leaving no room for me) and closing his eyes.

"They think I have failed, but we will see."

He seemed to sleep. I went and stood next to him, and examined him more carefully. Loki. Why was that name ringing a bell?

He was long on the sofa, long-limbed and slim, although I remembered the feeling of his body against me and it was hard with muscle. This thought brought heat to my invisible face, and I mentally scolded myself. Nutter, murderer, sorcerer, etc…. who saved you…. but he is actually sort of beautiful.

He had black hair and a pale, wise face, high, sharp cheekbones and big eyes. His long eyelashes curled down his cheek. He wore leather trousers and boots, a soft green shirt and a leather tunic over. He had a silver chain around his neck but whatever was on the end was hidden beneath his clothes. He still bore several cuts and bruises from the fighting earlier.

Now that I knew my enemy, I lay down on the floor next to the sofa, yawning widely, and racked my brains. I had heard that name somewhere before, dammit!

An image of the giant blond man and his hammer popped into my head, and I was suddenly transported back to my childhood, lying in the circle of my father's arms on a Sunday morning as he read a book of Norse myths to me.

Loki, the Trickster God, and his brother Thor, God of Thunder, with his chariot of goats and his giant hammer, whose name I couldn't remember.

Bloody hell.

Well, to entertain the possibility….

Now that I thought about it, they had always had a rivalry in the stories, Loki living in Thor's shadow. Jealous of his brother. And then I thought about what I had seen that day. A race of seven-foot tall part-metal aliens who came down and attacked New York.

I miraculously managed to survive, then became severely injured, had a crazy moment of hari kari I can only assume was a result of adrenaline, was saved by the god who had instigated the attackage, injured further by him, then healed by him, not to mention magically joined at the hip to him.

The crazy man giveth, and the crazy man taketh away.

I had always considered the existence of other life forms in the universe to be a definite possibility, because, well, no one knows everything, but…. Theoretically, the ancient Norse myths cooooould have come from aliens visiting, back in the day…. And the primitive society going, "holy shit! Deities!"

Seems legit….

Well, you are obviously insane, my brain informed me. No wonder you were so good in the crisis earlier!

Thanks.

You're welcome. Now what in the hell are you going to do now?

I glanced up at Loki, who was breathing evenly and appeared to be asleep.

I yawned again, and shrugged. Night.

Night.

xXx

Loki had not meant to fall asleep. He had lain still as the girl looked him over, then listened as she lay down and her breathing became slow and even.

He had looked over to see her head pillowed on her arm, her long dark-blonde hair spilling over the floor. She wore black skinny jeans and a soft navy jumper; her black doc martens were smeared with blood. But at least her body was sound.

His occasional mercy was a sign of his greatness as a leader.

He couldn't stand her stupid big stupid pleading eyes full of her pain over her hilariously silent mouth, so he had healed her. It was probably that which had taken it out of him. The sound of her breathing was like a tide rushing in and out of her lungs, like waves on a beach at home…. Rhythmic…. Like a heartbeat…. He slept.