No God is an Island

by starhawk2005

Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. Unfortunately, SHIELD aren't the only ones who know Loki is on Earth.

3. Chapter 3

No God is An Island (3/4)

Author: starhawk2005

Fandom: Marvel's Avengers

Date: Dec 2013

Pairing: Loki/ Jane (Lokane)

Rating: Adult (18+).

Summary: Part Five of the Light in the Dark series. Loki and Jane must deal with their respective demons.

Beta: Much appreciation as always to the fabulous canyr12.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor pwn these characters…except for the OMC, I suppose.

Author's Note: Still set in the Movie!verse.

Jane shoves the tears away at last. It gives her a kind of brittle satisfaction to be able to do that. She's never been one for crying, it has never served any purpose except to turn her eyes and nose red and make her nose run and her head ache.

There has to be a better way to deal with this. To solve this newest…equation. That's the safest way to think about it.

It hurts less.

She doesn't know how long she's been sitting there, but with no lights on, it's getting pretty dark in the living room. Her head aches from the crying and from exhaustion and right at this precise moment she wants nothing more than to sleep.

To just to close her eyes and forget everything. Not just The Other's torture, not just Loki dumping her, but everything – Asgard, SHIELD, Stark, even Thor. Right now, she thinks she would give anything to go back to that night when Thor had fallen to Earth…and somehow, erase it. To not be the one who had found him. That's what had set off this whole sorry chain of events.

She longs for the days when her emotional ups and downs had consisted of either where her next grant was going to come from, or of trying to convince the rest of the academic community that she wasn't a total lunatic for her wormhole theories. Those days seem like a luxury right now.

Sleep. Yes. she thinks wearily. With any luck, maybe somehow she'll manage to have a good sleep. Her life has become a waking nightmare, so how much worse can her usual nightmares be?

Holding onto that thought, Jane wobbles to her feet, holding onto the couch until she's sure she won't fall. Later, she promises herself. She'll try to figure all this out later-

Jane is halfway to her bedroom when she remembers the necklace yet again. No, she decides impulsively, it belongs to him, and she wants it off of her. Right now.

She changes course and heads into the bathroom, wincing as the fluorescent light over the bathroom mirror sears into her eyes and head. A glance at her own tear-swollen face earns another wince, before she leans close to the mirror, clamping down more strongly on her emotions as the sight of the necklace stirs more unpleasant feelings.

Jane remembers when he gave it to her, but all the happiness of that memory has been poisoned. Not by any hallucination of The Other's, but by Loki's own actions.

No. Later. She carefully studies the part where the snake's head is biting down into its own tail, but there's no obvious clasp there.

The Other's voice, amused and unwelcome, swirls through her mind as she tugs on the necklace, turning it on her neck as she searches along the length of the snake for some kind of fastening: That collar you wear reeks of the Asgardian's magic. It tells me exactly to whom you belong. Who owns you.

Nobody owns me, least of all some asshole of a Norse God, Jane sneers back at the voice, icy rage rising inside her and driving her headache up another notch as she continues to turn the necklace…until she is back at the snake's head.

No clasp. No hinges. Just smooth interlocking scales, unbroken.

Her spine stiffens in sheer indignation. How do I get this fucking thing off?

No, she can't wear this, she won't. She weaves her fingers around the snake as much as she can without strangling herself (which isn't much; it's more-or-less a choker) and tugs.

There's no give, and she pulls harder, but she only winds up cutting off her own air and making the necklace dig painfully into the back of her neck.

She releases it, her breath whistling in her throat, and she realizes she's on the edge of panic. She wants this thing off of her, right now, and it won't come off, she's trapped-

She glances up into the mirror again, and Loki is standing right behind her.

He's in full armour, with a knife in his hand, his teeth bared at her in a smiling snarl which is heart-stoppingly familiar to Jane.

She shrieks, the noise echoing loudly in the small room, and whirls to face him, bringing her hands up defensively even though she knows she has no chance. He's bigger, stronger, faster, and if he hates her enough to come back here just to kill her-

She's alone. There's no one in here with her.

Another hallucination, or an echo of one, but it doesn't matter. The dam has broken once more, and Jane collapses to the floor, sobbing all over again, overwhelmed.

Kidnapped, tortured, dumped…how is she supposed to get past this?

She can't do this alone, she realizes. She's used to being strong – has had to be, for a very long time – but this is beyond her strength.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, half-blinded by tears. Jane realizes she has no idea where her backpack and cell phone are. She had them last when she was yanked into the sky-

That sets off another wave of tears, and Jane struggles to see through them as she makes for her landline. The phone is sitting on an upside-down, empty moving box, but its esthetics hardly matter right now. It's plugged in and it works, and that's all that's relevant to Jane right now. She dials, squinting through the shimmer of tears.

"D-Darcy?" she says when the other woman answers the phone. "Please, I, I need…" Her attempt at a sentence ends in a sob.

"Jane, are you alr- No, never mind, totally dumb question," Darcy corrects herself, her voice quickly turning crisp. "I'll be right over."

About ten minutes later Jane's doorbell rings, and she drags herself up off the floor next to the door of the apartment to buzz Darcy in. Darcy takes in the scene in one sweeping glance – Jane's reddened eyes and tear-streaked face, and the complete absence of a certain god – and sinks down next to Jane. She wraps her arms around her and asks flatly: "What did that bastard do?"

"He…" The words stick like razors in Jane's throat. "He said…he said it was better to end things. Then he blipped off before I could even talk to him about it." Jane manages to say. The rest just leaves her with such a deep sense of shame that she knows if she tries to explain it, she'll just start crying all over again.

"And I'm…s-still seeing things. After he left, I hallucinated that he was behind me in the bathroom, ready to c-carve me into pieces-"

Darcy's brow scrunches in confusion as she passes Jane a crumpled-up Kleenex from her pocket. "What the hell?" Darcy asks the air, her tone disbelieving. "He came and fucking kneeled to me, Jane. He begged me to take care of things with SHIELD so he could concentrate on running to Asgard to recruit some help to save you…" Darcy lets the sentence trail off, shaking her head. "Men are so stupid," she adds.

Jane blinks. "Huh?"

Darcy gives Jane an assessing look. "Later, OK? One problem at a time, and the first one is: Why the fuck did Fury let you go home like this? No counseling, no support. You're still hallucinating, for Chrissakes-"

"He offered," Jane interrupts, "I said no. I guess I figured…" she shrugs weakly.

"-that your boyfriend would help you through it, especially since he's been around that block before." Darcy almost violently shakes her head again and reaches for her cell. "That asshole," she mutters.

"Who are you calling?"

"Fury, of course. You've been tortured and now you're seeing things. You obviously need rest, and I doubt you're going to get any here. Maybe you'll even need sedatives or something, but I'm no doctor. Either way Fury will know what to do, or who to contact who will know what to do."

"You have a direct line to Fury?" Jane asks, surprised.

"I do now. One of the useful things your stupid dumbass of a god did for me. Fury was calling me almost hourly for updates between the time he debriefed me on Loki and the time you and Loki and Thor materialized right under the Director's nose. I guess Fury figured you might return here first-" she breaks off and punches several numbers on her phone.

She turns to meet Jane's eyes as she sets the phone back to her ear. "You're going to get through this, Jane," she says firmly, as if she expects Jane to argue about it. "We're going to deal with things the same way we do with things in the lab – one problem at a time, OK? Hallucinations first, and asshole Norse God boyfriends second. Deal?"

Despite everything, Jane has to smile at that. It even sounds like excellent advice. "Deal."

Darcy nods firmly. "And remember, I got you covered for the first pints of the post-breakup ice cream binge. D'you prefer something with chocolate, or caramel?"

---

He has lost everything.

His identity as Asgardian, his place as prince, his family, his old life, and now even his only meager source of affection, the mortal.

Loki has lost the desire even to fight. He feels numbed, distant from himself and all else around him.

When Loki magicks himself back to Thor after releasing Jane from their 'arrangement', Thor appears to assume that all is well. Good, Loki has no strength or desire to argue the point.

Thor raises no protest when Loki wordlessly begins the spell-casting to create a portal for him to return to Asgard. Perhaps Thor assumes his 'brother' is angry at him again. Some infinitesimal part of Loki wonders why Thor is not trying to make further overtures of friendship. Perhaps it is because Thor has finally seen Loki's true form.

Loki indifferently brushes these notions off.

It is only when the two of them materialize on the Asbru bridge and Thor realizes Loki is still beside him, only then does his former brother realize something is amiss.

"Loki? Are you not returning to Midgard?"

Loki does not react, merely looks out over the side of the Bridge, eyes on the rolling waves all around them. A landscape at once so familiar and yet so hated to him.

Though he cannot see Thor's face, he can picture the latter's brows drawing together as he queries: "What of Jane-"

"I am not returning to Midgard," Loki replies harshly, his voice thick and slow. He holds out his wrists to his former brother, though his gaze is now locked, if unfocused, on the palace far away. A short time ago, his pride would not have allowed him to fall so far, but of what use have such things proven to him?

"Take me to my cell. I am certain Odin has one already prepared."

Thor grasps Loki's arms, but loosely, seeking to draw his attention. "Loki, speak. What has happened?"

It is none of his affair, but perhaps once Loki satisfies his curiosity, the oaf will leave him in blessed silence. "It is finished between us," Loki explains flatly.

Thor releases him then, an accustomed tension rising in his voice. "What? What nonsense is-?"

"That is between the mortal and myself, and thus none of your concern," Loki cuts him off, his voice a dry rasp. Distantly, he is aware of a tall shape which can only be Heimdall, as well as a small contingent of the palace Guard, approaching.

Good, they will take him into custody and away from his not-brother's pointless questions.

He lowers his gaze, staring down at the shifting kaleidoscope of the Asbru bridge's surface, listlessly awaiting his fate. Indeed, why fight? All his attempts to do so have yielded little fruit.

When two of the Guards reach to take Loki's arms, however, Thor's meaty bicep crosses into his field of vision, intercepting them. "No," Thor says vehemently. "He goes not to prison."

Loki says nothing. Sentiment, he thinks, though there is little energy behind it.

"Inform the servants that they are to prepare my brother's old rooms. Go, now." Heimdall, standing nearby, grips his weapon but keeps his own counsel, though such does not truly surprise Loki.

The majority of the Guards scatter, racing off to do Thor's bidding, and the old jealousy curls through Loki's belly despite his apathy. Thor still has everything whereas Loki has nothing. Little has changed, despite Loki's best efforts in that direction.

He brushes this aside and starts the long walk. Thor follows, as do the two Guards who remain to escort them to the palace. Heimdall remains on the Bridge, as is his wont.

At the palace entrance a familiar female voice calls his name, but Loki does not acknowledge his former mother. His face remains blank, his eyes on the golden knot-work patterning the stairway rising before him.

He allows Thor to guide him up the stairs, listening indifferently as Thor informs Frigga of his intentions to install Loki in the palace.

Despite Loki's indifference, out of sheer habit he almost raises his eyes to glare his loathing when the most hated voice of all intrudes into his ears – The All-Father.

Loki decides even that is not worth the effort.

An argument ensues. Odin raps Gungnir on the floor and commands that Loki be taken back to his prior cell, while Thor refuses, calmly at first but quickly escalating to angry shouts. Frigga, as ever the peacemaker, tries to cool their ire, and despite himself Loki finds mild enjoyment in the chaos his presence has caused. No other pleasures remain to him, after all.

Eventually Frigga manages to direct her husband and son to a more private place to debate the matter, leaving Loki alone in the company of the Guards. For a moment Loki considers cloaking himself and stirring an even greater uproar, but his meager amusement is already subsiding. His old tricks, like everything else, have lost much of their luster. He is exhausted, too tired of all of this.

After an eternity the palace doors open again and Thor returns, beckoning Loki forward.

"Back to my prison?" Loki asks, though he finds he cannot bring himself to truly care. What is another prison? All of Yggdrasil is no different than a prison to him now.

Thor shakes his head, his voice curt. "No. Your old rooms. Mother and I were able to reason with Father."

Thor looks displeased despite this outcome, but Loki again cannot raise much glee at the sight.

As they walk to his old rooms, Loki becomes aware that he is feeling a mixture of anger, nostalgia and homesickness familiar from his last visit here. When he had come to beg Thor to help him save-

He arrests that line of thinking.

They leave him alone in his rooms, though two palace Guards are posted outside. He supposes before this point he might have taken some pleasure in the fact that somehow Thor and Frigga had triumphed over Odin, but now…he shrugs. Even if it is a victory of sorts, it is infinitesimal and hollow.

He raises his eyes reluctantly and looks around. He remembers this room all too well. That massive bed, inlaid with gold and jade accents. The tall mirror in the corner of the room. The bookcase piled high and deep with all his old spell and lore books, and the marble-topped desk at which he used to spend long hours poring over them. Or coming up with new pranks…

Jane would recognize these rooms from the dream he'd conjured for her, though it seems like eons ago to him now. He remembers when her dream-self had paused to look in the mirror, examining the costume he'd created for her-

Again, he presses the thoughts of her aside.

His eye alights on a small chest against the far wall, below the graceful arch of the tall windows. In a fit of inspiration he realizes he needs alcohol. Now.

He is relieved to find that his small stash of precious mead has apparently remained untouched all these months. He yanks the cork out of one bottle with his teeth, swallowing nearly half the bottle in one reckless gulp.

He seizes an armful of bottles and huddles against the side of his bed, emptying the first one and then pushing it away, watching dully as it rolls across the floor.

But soon enough he is aware of anger festering in his guts. He glares at the walls, seething at the thought of how low he has sunk. And much of it because of her.

Yes, developing feelings for her, that mortal, has made him weak. He is truly surprised that none of his former 'friends' had laughed at him when he had come running to them for aid. For a warrior of Asgard to show such weakness, such sentiment. Truly, he has made the right choice, resolving to keep as much distance between himself and her as possible. Yes.

He has allowed himself to develop a soft spot, a hole in his armour through which his enemies can strike at him. Through which others can laugh at him: the Asgardian god, brought low by the love of a mortal woman. By the need of the love of a mortal woman. Pathetic!

Loki cannot allow that to ever happen again.

He uncorks a second bottle and takes a deep swig as his ruminations race on.

Bad enough he has allowed her to soften him as she had Thor, but his foolish feelings have made Jane a target. Utterly unforgivable; fragile little mortals have no place in the business of gods, or of those who court Death.

Yes, how half-witted he has been. Doubtless even his brainless not-brother would have realized the danger to Jane before the enemy had discovered her existence. Or how dangerous she could be to him, diminishing him as she had.

At least now he has taken the appropriate path, for once in his accursed life.

He drains the rest of the potent Asgardian mead and finally begins to feel the effects, his thoughts beginning to slow. By Yggdrasil, it is about time.

But his thoughts, while their pace is eased, do not cease their focus on her.

And besides, why should I care for her? he argues with himself. Has he not noticed on countless occasions how she doubts him? Observed the evidence of her lack of faith in him? Perhaps allowing her to reduce him the way she had might have been forgivable if she had given him complete and utter faith and devotion in return, but such had not been that case.

Oh, he had convinced himself otherwise before rescuing her, but now…now that the costs have proven so high, the effect on him so deleterious, his memories soon turn to focus on every instance of her doubt, her questions.

How could he possibly have brought himself to love someone who doubted him so?

I called your name yesterday at least once. Probably 'summoned' you in my head at least fifty times. But I didn't see you for hours-

How could I not have doubts, Loki? You've never tried to explain to me what happened, why you attacked us. Never mind the fact that, as everyone has reminded me over and over lately- you're the God of Lies! I thought you'd abandoned me-

Soon one in particular stands out to him: What would you have done if you had won the Battle of Manhattan? He can still remember the quaver in her voice as she'd asked the question.

No doubt she thinks he would have hunted her down and tortured her, perhaps forced her into his bed. What sort of monster does she think I-

Get away from me, you monster!

Her shriek rings in his head, and he reaches for a third bottle, opening it in one vicious movement that almost shatters its neck.

Half of him knows, argues that she had surely not meant it. It was The Other's spell, twisting her mind and her memories.

But had her faith in him been stronger, surely she would not have fallen to the spell's influence so quickly, counters the other half of his mind.

Yes, but had he not quailed in the desert for a shamefully long time before coming to her rescue? Surely he cannot fault her for her misgivings, and her lack of faith, comes the rejoinder.

He is unworthy of her. She had trusted him, as much as she was able, and he had betrayed her, leaving her at a time when surely she needed him most-

"It matters not," he says sharply, out loud, into the silence. Her feelings for him – such as they were- are entirely irrelevant and no longer his concern. Even if they had cared for each other, why give his enemies another way to hurt him? Why provide them with a conveniently weak, mortal target for them to set their claws into?

No, it will not do. He cannot allow his 'arrangement' with her to make him soft, for her feelings to change him the way they had Thor. He is a god, above such pettiness, and right now he must gird himself against his enemies. 'Relationships' – and in his mind he sneers the word- do not factor into that. Weakness is not permitted.

Is it not a weakness, to love?

Yes.

Besides, he reminds himself yet again, she will be safer in my absence. Loki nods to himself and raises the bottle to his lips again. The edges of his pain are finally dulling, just a little, but he craves more relief. Another deep drought from the bottle is warranted, most definitely.

No, he had not wanted nor needed a 'relationship'. If Jane had thought otherwise, well…that was her error. Not his. He had never claimed otherwise, had he?

After all that he has suffered, he does not trust any 'relationship' to bring him any measure of reward. An 'arrangement', on the other hand, that had suited his purpose at the time. The more fool he, not to realize the effect that even an 'arrangement' would have on him. That had been bad enough. But a relationship?

No, every person he has ever trusted, from his so-called comrades in arms, to Thor, Frigga, Odin…Loki shakes his head and drains the third bottle. No, no accursed relationships, by Yggdrasil.

Allowing someone to get close, to soften him…surely that will only lead to pain and to betrayal, as it always has.

Betrayal. Yes, surely Jane eventually would have sided with her mortal friends and allies. All and sundry hate him, despite his efforts and schemes to save as many of their ungrateful lives as he could. Their loathing is the sole payment he has accrued for all the amends he has tried to make.

No, this ending is far better for Jane and himself in all possible ways. She need not fear attack from Thanos or his agents now, nor will the other mortals look on her as a turncoat. And Loki need not abase himself before such childlike creatures and beg their petty forgiveness, and make of himself a thing of ridicule before all Asgardians.

"Yes," he says aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. "Better for her, and better for me." He celebrates this with a fourth bottle of mead.

By the time he has imbibed half the contents of that vessel, his thoughts are hazy, almost pleasantly so. Relieved, he climbs up onto his bed, sprawling across the coverlet in full armour and boots, and stares at the ceiling, not fighting as familiar images swirl behind his half-closed eyes-

Brown eyes. Brown hair touched with gold. The creamy pallor of her skin, the slenderness of her limbs. The curve of her smile.

Yes, as a general rule he enjoys bringing women pleasure – it is one of the few things that has remained a source of pride for Loki, from when he was the less-than-favoured younger son right up until the present moment - but still, it had been different with her. He'd felt like he could somehow actually make someone in Yggdrasil happy.

Pleasing her had been easy and enjoyable. He had come to be able to recognize the precise moment he'd driven her utterly mindless with sensation, and he remembers well the way her cries of pleasure had always become incoherent, nearly animalistic.

He remembers lying between her hot, damp thighs, lingering to savour her fragrance, coaxing her body with lips and tongue and fingers to produce more sweetness for him.

And then, burying himself to the brim in her- His hands clench and he feels the blood start up in his loins at these mental images.

But then the mead-induced haze clears enough for him to remember that such is over, and he throws an arm over his eyes with a low, pained groan.

Loki does not understand why she of all women should haunt him so. He's coupled with far more beautiful women, more sexually-skilled women, more deliciously brazen and wanton women. Still, few among them had dared to ever bind and dominate him the way she had, rare as that had been even with her-

He struggles to push these maddening thoughts away.

You could return to her.

No. He cannot afford to weaken his resolve. To weaken himself yet further, and for what?

He curses and pushes the bottle away from him. It rolls to the floor, landing on the mess of silken bedclothes he ripped off the mattress earlier, sloshing golden mead across both them and smooth stone flooring. He struggles to remind himself of all that he had found objectionable about Jane mere moments ago.

Yes, she may have been unique among women in her own particular way, but she had also dared to name him monster, unlike any of those prior women-

But the mead has not yet quelled the other, argumentative voice in his head, the one which seems determined to undo all that he has wrought thus far: Have you not done similar? it whispers.

That is true, and even he must reluctantly acknowledge it. He had experienced exactly the same spell at the hands of The Other – Thanos' last attempt to get him to yield, before thrusting him under the snakes and their acid, that is – and Loki's already bitter memories had twisted and rotted into new, horrible shapes.

The effects of that spell had remained with Loki for a long time afterwards. Even as he had been preparing to lead 'his' Chitauri army against Midgard, occasional hallucinations and false memories would assail him.

Even in his current daze he can clearly recollect his argument with Thor, on the mountain while the ravens – Odin's? Loki has wondered oftentimes since then – had flown squawking by. He knows he accused Thor of tossing him into an abyss.

Yet he also knows such was only true in the poisoned, inserted memory. No, in reality it was himself who chose to let go, to fall. He had known this even while confronting Thor, but so great had his pain been in that moment, that the false echo had risen into his mind and he had blurted it out before thinking.

And now, alone and imprisoned here, the unwelcome truth rushes up to meet him – it was that choice, his choice, which had led him to this moment. He had let go, had chosen to fall from the Asbru Bridge rather than face Odin, Thor, Asgard. Which had led him to encounter Thanos. And then to carry out the attack on Midgard. And then to Jane.

And to losing her. Even if the latter was for the best, it still carries its pain.

Much as he would prefer to blame falling from the Bridge (and all that came after), on another, he has only himself to hold accountable.

That one misguided decision has cost him everything. He has lost everything.

You lost her. You lost Jane.

No, he argues, still resistant. I pushed her away. For both our sakes.

She was right to doubt me, he reminds the side of himself that would apparently have him return to her. I very nearly gave in to cowardice, left her to suffer and die agonizingly slowly in The Other's prison. Surely she deserves better than one who would even for a moment think of allowing that to happen.

He does not wish her to pay for his poor choices. He does not believe she chose to soften him, and she truly had not deserved to be tortured for it.

Yes, he has caused her significant pain, he is sure, abandoning her the way he has, but Loki tells himself that he is being cruel to be kind. Surely, given time, she will understand and accept why he has done this. Even if the thought of her with another man causes an ache to flare through his chest, the sting enough to drive him to retrieve the bottle from the floor and swallow the paltry dregs that remain, before opening yet another bottle. Pathetic, he snarls at himself again. Has he not already decided she is a danger to him?

But the mead continues to do nothing to silence the accusing voices in his head that are so ready to fly to the mortal's defense. Was it really necessary to abandon her? Surely she would be better defended if you were there to watch over her-

Too tempting, he counters, grimacing at the thought. Not only would his presence, even cloaked, likely lead Thanos' agents directly to Jane again, but to be in such close proximity, yet unable to go to her…surely such would lessen his resolve to stay away from her. Like a man addicted to drink, trying to wean himself from the bottle- Loki grimaces again, looking at the empty one in his own hand. The irony of the comparison is not lost on him.

No, ending things between them is for the best. He has done what he can to see to her safety, and now it is best to keep away. Far away. With luck, Thanos will believe that Loki no longer cares for Jane – otherwise, why would Loki leave her apparently defenseless? – and Jane will no longer be used as a weapon or bait. No longer will Thanos have a way to manipulate Loki into stealing the Tesseract back for him, as The Other's words had suggested.

Not only is this the only way Loki's plan will work, but it is best for all concerned.

And Loki need no longer live with the guilt of Jane suffering on his behalf. Nor have to worry about what other unwanted effects she might have on him.

As he finishes the current bottle, the mead finally clouds his thoughts still further, rendering all into a daze. At first it is a relief. But soon enough his mood darkens again, images and thoughts of Jane still flitting unbidden through his mind.

I picked you, you moron. Don't make me regret it.

He shies away from that memory of her voice, but where he ends up in his thoughts is no better: The way her brows came together when she was thinking deeply, or frowning. Her habit of covering her mouth with her hand whenever she laughed loudly.

Another unwelcome twist of his thoughts, and now he remembers the curve of her breast. The slim column of her throat. The soft rise of her belly. The sweet perfume of her lust.

The way every muscle in her body had tightened when she climaxed-

His traitorous body responds to those images, and he curses himself viciously.

Is this to be his true punishment? Imprisoned here, among the things and people he knows he no longer belongs to, that is bad enough. But even worse, to spend every waking moment (and no doubt many sleeping moments as well) thinking of her, wanting her, needing her warmth…and yet knowing that if he returns to her, she may die because of him. Knowing that she and her love are his weakness.

Depression settles over him, a stifling grey blanket that entangles him from thought to limb.

Yes, he has lost everything, even the one thing he had finally managed to win from Thor – Jane Foster of Midgard. Won it, and yet the consequences had been dire.

Loki is without friends, without family, without a lover (even if he wanted one, which right now seems a foolish notion indeed)…in all the vast entirety of Yggdrasil, he has nothing and no-one, and he is nothing more than a pawn to powerful, cruel entities like Odin and Thanos.

All of whom wish him to suffer.

The weight of this realization drags on him, pulling him down into misery without foreseeable end.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing left for him except his false family, assuming he even dares try to reconcile with them…no, the mere thought of capitulating to Odin makes Loki nauseous.

Truly, allowing himself to care for Jane has softened him, if he is even entertaining the idea of giving up his rightful anger, and allowing himself to forgive those who have lied to him all his life.

A tear burns its slow meandering way down his cheek, and he hurls the bottle away with a curse to smash against the far wall.

Yes, he is well and truly alone.

---

As far as Jane can tell from listening to Darcy's side of the conversation, Fury wants her to come in tomorrow morning. That they'll be flying in someone to help her, but he won't be able to be there tonight.

"Fine," Darcy agrees. "Yes, I'll stay with her. Yes, you can reach us again at this number. Yeah, OK." She hangs up. "Fury'll send someone to get us tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I'm staying over, and you're going to try to sleep, Jane. No arguments."

Jane just nods. She's too tired to argue. And who knows, maybe having Darcy around will help.

In the end, it doesn't really. They watch a little TV though Jane finds her attention is wandering so much she's not sure why she's bothering.

Then she changes into a worn tee-shirt and some old jogging pants, brushes her teeth, and climbs into bed.

She manages to fall asleep – she is, after all, exhausted – but the nightmares soon crowd into her mind. Loki, in his dark suit, doing unspeakable things to her with one of his small knives. Loki in his golden armour, firing at her from some kind of flying device as she runs panicked through the streets of New York.

Loki, telling her what they had was worthless, that she is worthless, and that they are better off ending things-

That's when she jerks awake, and she soon resolves not to sleep any longer. Of course Darcy tries to convince her otherwise, so Jane promises to lie down and close her eyes, but that's it. Sleeping is done for tonight.

The next morning finds them sitting Jane's kitchen drinking lukewarm coffee and eating Eggo waffles. Actually, Darcy is eating, Jane is just picking at hers. Finally at around 9:30am, Darcy's phone rings again. She answers, nods, and says "OK, we're coming." She hangs up. "OK, there's a SHIELD car waiting downstairs for us."

Jane nods and takes a deep breath, wrapping a scarf around her neck to hide the damned necklace. It reminds her for a moment of how she once used a scarf to hide a certain bite-mark- No. As Darcy had said earlier, one problem at a time.

As they walk down the stairs, Jane hopes that this isn't a really bad idea. She doesn't exactly count SHIELD among her friends, among the people she trusts. And yet now she's leaning on them, of all people, for support?

On the other hand…who's left? Erik is angry with her, Darcy by her own admission doesn't really have the tools to help, there's no point even considering her family, and of course Loki-

No. Don't go there.

When they walk out the door Jane almost expects to see a fleet of black vans, just like the time they took her in to interrogate her about Loki, but this time there's only a single car (though it's also black), and leaning against the passenger door with his arms folded is a familiar figure.

Agent Phil Coulson.

Jane stops in her tracks, trying not to gape at him, but it's difficult. Even after hearing Loki say Coulson was alive (and Fury not denying it, to Jane's memory), he's still the last person Jane expected to see.

"Doctor Foster, Miss Lewis," he greets them with his usual gravity, though the side of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. "Which one of you would like to ride shotgun?"

Jane shrugs, suddenly very uncomfortable. She is – had been – sexually involved with the person who stabbed Coulson and very nearly killed him, hadn't she?

Darcy is uncharacteristically quiet for once, so when Coulson opens the passenger door, Jane shrugs again and slides into the seat. She waits, gaze bent on her hands as Coulson closes the door gently. Then there's the sounds of a door in back and the door next to her on the driver's side opening and closing, and the car starts. Jane still doesn't raise her eyes though.

"Doctor Foster," Coulson adds, his voice so kind it nearly undoes Jane all over again, "I heard about what happened to you. I'm so very sorry."

Jane nods slowly. "And I'm sorry that I was…involved with the entity that hurt you." she answers, finally daring to look over at him.

Coulson smirks slightly. "No apology needed, Doctor. At least not from you. Besides, I'm still here. So in my book, no harm, no foul."

Jane, cheered a bit by his expression, shakes her head. "I still can't believe Fury told the Avengers that you died-"

Coulson shakes his own head and gets the car moving. "Actually, to be fair, that was all my idea. So we can't really pin it on the Director. Blame me."

Jane blinks. "Your idea?" Darcy asks behind them, before Jane does.

"Yes," Coulson explains, "The Avengers needed something to rally around, something to bring them together as a team. I'm probably the one person they all knew at least a little – well, with the exception of Dr. Banner."

He smiles a little ruefully. "I'm not proud of it, of course, but I'm fairly convinced New York would not be standing now if we hadn't done what it took to get them to wake up and work together. Maybe the entire planet would've fallen, or at least been in jeopardy before they decided to put their differences aside and stand together."

"The ends justify the means?" Jane asks. Looked at that way, she supposes she can't blame him much at all. No more, she supposes, than she can blame Loki for doing what he thought necessary to save the universe-

No. No Loki. Enough of that.

Coulson shrugs, looking faintly apologetic. "Sometimes, Doctor. This time, yes."

He takes the road leading out of Puente Antiguo. "And I have one other thing to apologize for – I'm taking you back to Base 10-594, the one you were originally…questioned at."

Jane definitely has mixed feelings about that – not only was she interrogated there, but she also met with Tony Stark there. It feels like that conversation with Tony happened centuries ago, in another life. One that doesn't belong to her anymore.

The Einstein-Rosen bridge. But she doesn't want to think about that right now, either. The promise of other worlds, other peoples, hasn't exactly panned out, now has it?

"Not the Helicarrier?" she asks.

"No, it's off on a mission. In general, it's not really considered a place for civilians," Coulson explains. He glances in the rearview mirror at Darcy, looking apologetic still. "In any case, the Director thought we'd be better off bringing help to the base nearest to you, and it is the closest one."

"OK," Jane agrees with another shrug. Does it really matter?

"I think you'll like Doc Allen," Coulson continues. "A lot of agents have been put through the wringer over the years, and he's been invaluable in helping them get their heads straight again. I saw him too, after…after Loki tried to put me down. It's S.O.P.," he clarifies.

"OK," Jane says again. Not like she has much choice, right? She can't go on like this, seeing hallucinations of Loki every time she turns around. The thought makes her shudder and wrap her arms around herself.

Once they finally arrive at the base, Coulson takes them into the main building again and leads them to an elevator in a new area Jane hasn't been to before. "Sorry, Miss Lewis, but I have to take it from here," Coulson says firmly, turning to her. "You don't have clearance to be upstairs." He pauses. "Yet."

Darcy sighs and rolls her eyes. "I figured," she says sourly. "I brought my iPod." She plucks it from her pocket and holds it up. "Unless you plan to 'borrow' it again," she snarks, eyes narrowing at him. Jane wonders if Darcy will ever forgive Coulson for that.

Coulson smirks ever-so-slightly again. "Not at the moment, Miss Lewis. You can wait in the lounge. The coffee machine is actually working this time."

"Sweet!" Darcy enthuses, turning and leaving them both.

Coulson presses the button for the elevator. In response to Jane's questioning look, he reveals: "The Director had us bring Miss Lewis here after she led us to the Chitauri attack site in the desert – the one Loki asked her to tell us about. Coffee machine was broken."

Jane nods. "Yeah, Darcy's kind of addicted to the stuff."

"Not just her," Coulson says, giving Jane an actual smile this time. The elevator doors swish open and they get in, and the agent presses the button for the top floor.

Every mention of Loki sends a dull ache through her, but she supposes she'll have to get used to that. She doubts that people are going to stop talking about him, not as long as Thanos is still out there and still a threat.

"You must think I am the biggest idiot," she finds herself blurting out to Coulson as the elevator slowly rises.

He blinks at her, clearly waiting for her to explain.

"Being involved with someone like Loki. Someone who so obviously is bad news." Her face feels red, but there's no point ignoring the elephant in the room anymore.

Coulson turns to face the doors, shrugging. "In my rather limited experience, Doctor, everybody's an idiot when it comes to relationships. If you didn't go into each one naïve, ready to trust, well…I don't know if anyone would ever get together."

Jane smiles and chuckles despite herself. "It doesn't sound so bad when you put it that way."

Coulson gives her another lopsided smile. "Always happy to help, Doc."

When the elevator doors swish open, the two of them emerge into a large atrium. The ceiling is made up entirely of glass panels, filling the area with bright sunlight that makes Jane's eyes prickle for a few seconds. She rubs at them, then spots two figures on the far side of the atrium engaged in conversation – Fury and Erik.

As Coulson and Jane walk towards them, she can hear them all too clearly: "I don't understand why you didn't offer her help right after-" Erik is saying.

"I did," Fury interrupts. "She refused. I was planning to have her come in later this week for a debrief, so I figured I'd ask again then. I certainly didn't expect her punk-ass god of a boyfriend to take off-"

"Well, I did," grouses Erik.

As they get nearer, Coulson clears his throat theatrically and both men fall silent, turning towards them.

"Doctor Foster," Fury says. "Doc Allen will be with you in a few minutes."

"It's OK," Jane replies, her voice sounding small to her ears. "It's not like I have anywhere else to be." She tries not to sound too bitter.

"I can take her to his office," Erik offers.

Fury nods. "Fine. Agent Coulson? We have some strategy to discuss."

Coulson nods. "If you'll excuse me, Doctors," he nods again to Jane and Erik, and the two SHIELD agents head back to the elevator, leaving her alone with him.

Jane bites her lip and looks at the floor.

"Come on Jane, it's this way." He leads her down a side hallway, stopping in front of a door. There are a couple chairs beside it, and he lowers himself into one.

Jane sits next to him, but she still can't look at him. She feels so many things – shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness – that she feels she can't process them all.

A heavy silence hangs between them. It's so quiet that Jane can almost hear the blood rushing through her own veins, but finally Erik speaks. "Jane, you don't always have to be so strong, you know. You were kidnapped and tortured by aliens, never mind being tricked by an evil god. It's not a weakness to need help after something like that."

Just like that, the floodgates open once again. A moment later Jane is a little surprised to find Erik has put his arms around her. She just manages not to sob, but the tears keep flowing down her cheeks, wetting his shirt.

It reminds her vividly also of him holding her this way after Dad died.

"Jane," Erik soothes, "Jane, Jane. I can imagine how badly you're hurting now, but-"

"Please, do not say 'I told you so', Erik," Jane grumbles, her anger crowding out her sadness for the moment as she pushes herself away from Erik. She does not need or want his pity. She scrabbles in the pocket of her jeans for a Kleenex, though Erik produces one from somewhere and hands it to her first.

"I wasn't going to say that," he contradicts, though his tone is gentle. "But you're so much better off without him. Surely you can see tha-"

"I really don't want to talk about Loki right now, OK? I get that you're trying to help, but-" Jane shakes her head and dabs at the tear tracks on her face. "I need to work through all the crap The Other put in my head before I try to deal with…anything else. Which includes a certain asshole of a Norse god."

Erik sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "No, you're right Jane, I'm sorry. It was bad enough being Loki's slave; I just can't imagine what it was like to date him." He's obviously going for humour, trying to lighten the mood, but Jane is only able to manage a small smile, though it feels hesitant and false on her lips.

He takes her hand gently and squeezes it. "And now I'll stop talking about him, I promise." He smiles and Jane smiles back, a little more sincerely this time. At least they seem to be friends again.

The door next to them opens and a man steps out. He looks a lot younger than Jane expected, this person who Coulson credited as piecing so many SHIELD agents together. But then again, Jane's never been good at guessing people's ages. He has brown hair, small gold wire-rimmed glasses, and blue eyes. "You must be Dr. Foster. And hello Erik, good to see you. How are things?"

"I'm good, Doc," Erik answers, rising to his feet and shaking hands with the…actually, Jane doesn't know what 'Doc Allen' even is. A psychologist? Psychiatrist? He could be an astrologer, for all she knows.

"Glad to hear it," says Allen. "Shall we begin, Dr. Foster?"

Jane nods and gets to her feet, shaking his extended hand, which is large and warm. The office isn't what she expected, either. There's a desk on the far wall, African art on the walls, and two plush chairs facing each other.

"Do you have any questions for me before we begin?" he asks after closing the door behind her and settling himself in one of the chairs. He motions her to the other chair.

"Um, yes," Jane says, abruptly nervous. She's never been to a therapist before. Let alone one working for a shadowy government organization.

"First, I guess I want to know how much Fury will hear about…what we discuss."

The doctor nods. "An excellent question. As you probably know, normally all doctor-client conversations are confidential. However, as the Director, Fury obviously needs to know if his agents are psychologically healthy enough to go back on duty. So that is essentially all I tell him. The exact details of the things discussed here never leave this room; all I tell him in my reports is whether the person undergoing treatment is, in my opinion, ready to return to active duty or not. As you are a civilian, though, I expect he will probably not even require that." He smiles kindly at her.

"Sounds reasonable," Jane agrees. "How often will I be seeing you? Or does Fury decide that?"

He shakes his head. "That is entirely up to what you and I decide. Perhaps you'll want to see me more often in the next few weeks or more, and then as you feel more in control, we'll meet less often. There's no prescribed way to do this. Whatever you need, I will find the time to see you. And SHIELD is footing the bill, in case you were wondering."

She hadn't actually thought that far ahead, but she's fine with that. They practically gave her a complex just interrogating her about Loki and throwing her in that damned cell.

She nods. "Did you help Erik?" she asks, curious.

The doctor smiles. "Sorry, but I'm afraid that's confidential."

Jane nods again, twisting the Kleenex in her hands. "Of course, right." She furrows her brow, but can't really think of anything else to ask. "I've never been to therapy before. Where do we begin?"

Doctor Allen folds his hands in front of him. "Tell me about Jane Foster."

---

It is three full days – as far as he can tell, given how much mead he has imbibed over that period - before anyone comes to see him.

Three days. As he had expected, it is the small things that stalk him, pouncing upon him just when he begins to think that he has managed to escape his memories of her, of Jane. Though it is not as though he has much else to think about, does he?

Her smile. Her eyes. Her intense focus when trying to work out something to do with her Bifröst-to-be-

He shakes his head, as if that will somehow dash the thoughts of her from his brain.

He had run out of mead on the second day, at which point he'd resorted to casting an illusion of himself in his rooms, in case of visitors, and then teleporting himself, cloaked of course, to the palace's huge spirits storage room. For whatever reason – perhaps Thor and Frigga's influence - Odin had not attempted to contain Loki's magic this time. Loki had allowed himself to feel some tiny measure of gratitude for this as he uncorked the first of his ill-gotten goods.

The alcohol did not really make things easier, did not cloud his thoughts as much as he would like, but it was something else to do besides flip disinterestedly through old books or to think of her.

Three days. Three accursed days of fighting himself, when he was not trying and failing at drinking himself into a stupor. Of vacillating between anger at Jane for what she has done to him (intentionally or not), guilt at what he has put her through, and a seemingly bottomless, aching desire to return to her.

In fact, at this precise moment, he is feeling about two parts guilt and one part ache, and his silent tears won't stop, though he tries his utmost to curtail them. He has nothing and no one, there's nothing in all the universe that is right, and no one he can trust-

The door to his chambers now opens with only a soft warning knock. Loki curls over on his side on the bed, barely having the time to swipe the telltale moisture from his face before his visitor enters.

He curses and then braces himself, mentally and physically. It could be Thor, or worse, Odin.

In fact, it is his mother. Former mother, rather.

"My son," Frigga says gently, closing the door behind her.

Loki scoffs and rolls up, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to her, still trying to dry the wetness from his cheeks. Shameful, to be caught doing something so unmanly. How the other warriors would ridicule him if they knew! Truly, accepting comfort and affection from Jane has brought him low.

"I am not your son, woman," he rasps. It's nearly a reflex by now, his hate.

Frigga glides into his field of vision, sitting on the bed beside him though her expression does not change when Loki shifts himself away, putting distance between them on the bed. "Not by blood," she acquiesces quietly, "that is true. But in every other way, you are. I had the raising of you. And I never loved you any less, even knowing your true heritage."

"You lied to me," Loki snarls at her, his agitation finally getting the better of him, driving him to rise to his feet and pace. He kicks spent bottles of mead and wine out of his way as he goes.

Frigga sighs, sadness weighing her next words. "I did, it is true. I will not deny it. I did not think it important," she admits.

He turns and stares at her, his mouth drawn tight.

"Your father thought it best to raise you as Asgardian. And I agreed…at the time." She shrugs, though her brow creases. "You are my son, no matter the circumstances of your birth. They are entirely irrelevant to me, and thus I did not see the need to-"

"Not relevant?" Loki snarls disbelievingly, "You stood by while Odin kidnapped me, while he raised me as a prince, yet without telling me I was being groomed to rule that race of monsters. You and Odin allowed me to grow up as an outcast, without ever telling me there was a reason for it!" His voice rises to a shout on the last words.

Frigga holds her hand out to him, her expression still despondent. "Yes," she agrees once more. "I did stand by. But only because, even once I started to believe it was better that you knew, I was not certain when or how to tell you. And as you got older, the more complicated things became-"

Loki's teeth grate at her words. Anything would have been better than what he has experienced. Anything. "I should have been told. I should have known. Things would have been better."

"Perhaps you are right, Loki. Perhaps I should not have allowed your father to convince me otherwise. Perhaps it was foolish of me to wait for the 'perfect' time to inform you. But it is done, it cannot be changed, and you must believe that I only ever had the best and most loving of intentions towards you-"

"My father," Loki sneers the word. He smiles now, but it's cruel and malicious. "He sets the lie in motion and forces you to maintain it. And then when the terrible secret is finally discovered by me, he finds a way to escape into the Odin-Sleep, leaving you to deal with the aftermath. Truly, Odin is as fine a husband as he is a father." He laughs sarcastically, mirthlessly, before his expression hardens again. "But that does not mean I forgive you."

Frigga shakes her head, sighing once more. "I did not come here to beg your forgiveness, Loki. I can only hope that such will come with time."

"No?"

"No, I came because I wished to learn more about this mortal woman who first Thor, and now you, have become so enamoured with."

Loki's shoulders tighten as he turns away again. "That is over. There is nothing to speak about, even if it was any concern of yours. Which it is not. Mother," he adds caustically.

Jane Foster of Midgard is the last thing he wants to discuss with anyone. Besides the pain and guilt that will stir up, there is a distinct possibility that Thanos' spies could be anywhere, even in this vaunted palace, and if he dares to admit to anyone how she has affected him, how her kidnapping and torture weighs on him…no.

Much as he blames her for how she has changed him, she has suffered enough for that already. And if Thanos' spies come to believe Loki is grieving for lack of her, surely they will try to exploit that, to the detriment of all.

But Frigga is speaking again. "You came back to Asgard to beg your brother for help saving her. You raced to take on an enemy which, as I recall from your own tales, subjected you to many horrors. Clearly, this mortal is important to you. I do not then understand why you have left her alone and undefended back on Midgard."

"She's nothing to me," Loki contradicts his un-mother, though he does not meet her questioning gaze.

"Liesmith many call you, but I am your mother, and you cannot lie about such matters to me," Frigga counters, a note of command Loki remembers well from his childhood now entering her voice. She rises to her feet but does not approach where he stands, and Loki looks out the windows and onto the room's terrace rather than at her, lest he betray any unwanted emotion.

"I know the mortal was given a choice between you and Thor. And she chose you-"

It echoes once more in his head: I picked you, you moron. Don't make me regret it.

-"and also that you urged Thor to keep your association with her a secret. That you did not wish your enemies, or even other mortals, to know of it. You wanted to protect her. Your most recent actions have also been in that vein." Frigga takes a few steps towards Loki. "So again, tell me, why have you left her now unprotected?"

He says nothing, and Frigga takes another step in his direction. "Are you going to continue to pretend that you care not for her?"

Loki bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, and finally turns to face her, eyes narrowed and glittering. "Tell me, lady, why you are even here bothering to speak with me? Not only am I not your son by blood, but I tried to kill your true son. I sent the Destroyer after him, and I later dropped him in a Midgardian cage from a great height in the sky, seeking to end him. Does such not anger you?"

Frigga's voice gentles again as she reaches towards him once more. "You have done evil, there is no disputing that," she agrees softly. "But I do not believe you are evil. You were confused and in deep pain." She pauses. "And you still are."

Loki laughs at that, loud, long and bitterly. Of course he is. He will ever be. And it does not make him any more likely to forgive those who forced his feet onto this path.

"If I was so confused," he hisses at her, stepping closer this time to tower over her, "why then did you offer me the throne of Asgard? Why tease me with something I would never be able to possess? The best of intentions, indeed, Mother."

"Loki," she protests softly. "Must you see everything and everyone around you as meaning you harm? You had just found out you were not ours by blood. I had thought only to show how much I – our family – valued you, by giving you an opportunity to lead. To care for our people. I did it to show our trust in you, because your heritage is not relevant. You are my son." She stops, her hand grasping at his elbow. "And given the choice, I would do such again."

"Yes, I am a true son of Asgard," Loki agrees spitefully, twisting his arm away and moving out of her reach once more. "According to Odin, such means I must allow myself to be banished from Asgard, to become ruler over those animals. No," he shakes his head," I will tell you what a true son of Asgard does. Destroy the Jotuns. Kill their leader – my true father – and wipe out their entire race so they will never again threaten us, monsters that they are."

His voice drops to a growl. "But no, that was not sufficient. Yes, he loves me well, does the All-Father. Perhaps it burned him, that I had been on the verge of accomplishing something which he and his favoured son could not?"

Frigga exhales slowly. "My son, always so clever at leading others astray with words. The mortal, Loki. Jane Foster. Do you not fear for her safety, now that you are so far distant from her?"

Loki squeezes his hands into fists so tight his nails nearly breach his own skin, almost goaded into the unthinkable – striking Frigga – but he takes a deep breath and reaches for the wellspring of calm inside him. The same one he tapped into to help himself extricate Jane from The Other's foul clutches, much as he would prefer to recall anything else right now.

Frigga can pester him all she wishes, but she will hear no truth from his lips on this topic. "Her safety is no longer my burden. But even if it was, distance between her and me is best for all concerned." He keeps his tone indifferent and aloof.

But Frigga's voice when she replies is flatly unimpressed. "Not only are you lying to both yourself and to me, my son, but you are shirking your responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?" he laughs but there's no hiding the bitter edge, as he whirls to face her.

He cannot intimidate her, however; she is the one with the hard gaze now. "You know, Loki." Then her face and tone soften once more. She has ever found it difficult to stay angry at him, even after the worst of his childhood pranks. "If it is Thanos that you fear, that is leading you to do this, rest assured there are those among your family who stand ready to help you. Help protect you and Jane Foster both."

He shakes his head. Lies. He can recognize one when he hears one. They may help, but only, he is sure, after he admits the error of his ways and goes crawling on his knees to beg Odin and Thor for forgiveness, in front of all of Asgard.

No. Not even to guarantee Jane's safety. The spells he left behind him on Midgard will serve.

Frigga, unaware of his resolve, is still speaking: "You could bring her to Asgard for the duration. Until this Thanos is defeated. Surely that would be best for both-"

The utter heresy of the idea of bringing Jane to the place where his disgrace began is enough to make him nauseous. He turns back to glare out the window, his boots scraping harshly on the stone floor. "Get out," he snarls. There are limits to what evils he will commit – forcing unwilling women to lie with him is one, and striking women who are not warriors is another – but he fears he will come close to doing the latter if Frigga stays.

"Loki-" she tries.

"GET OUT!" he roars loudly enough to strain his vocal chords. His magic, seething to the surface, snatches several objects from his desk and bookshelves, hurling them to smash against walls.

Frigga, to her credit, does not even flinch, though some of the books and objects pass close enough to blow back stray strands of her hair. "Very well, Loki," she agrees quietly. Without another word, she turns and leaves the room.

The echo of the door closing seems to go on forever, and Loki puts both hands to his face, as if he can somehow blot out everything merely by covering his eyes. If only his problems were so easily dealt with.

Because he wants to forgive Frigga, in truth. He is so tired of being alone, of being the outsider. Even when he was a child, she had always been the one to show him the most acceptance and support. Even during those times when he surely did not deserve such from her.

But he knows that he cannot. Forgive one, and all the others will no doubt expect him to relinquish his resentment and anger. His legitimate resentment and anger.

No, until Thor and Odin come to beg him for forgiveness, Frigga must also be counted among his enemies.

He collapses back onto the bed, feeling suffocated by the weight of everything that has and is happening to him.

---

After her initial hesitation at answering such a broad opening question, it had all spilled out of her. Her relationship with Loki, her doubts, what had happened to her at the hands of The Other, Loki rescuing and then dumping her, and finally her current nightmares and hallucinations.

She figures she's probably gone through enough Kleenex to keep the company in business for a year during that whole recitation.

Once Jane finishes her tale, she takes a deep breath and asks "So what do I do now?"

The doctor reaches for a pad on his desk. "I think getting a decent rest is an important first step," he says as he scribbles something on the pad.

"So you're a psychiatrist," Jane says. One mystery solved.

But he shakes his head. "No, I'm a psychologist. Normally we can't prescribe, but I took a two-year course at the D.O.D. – Department of Defense, that is – so that I could." He rips off the sheet and hands it to her. "I'm going to start you on a low dose of Trazodone. Besides helping you sleep, it's a drug that increases serotonin levels in the brain, which studies have shown helps people suffering from non-combat-related trauma. Which I'd say applies to your case."

"OK," Jane agrees. At this point she'll do anything to stop what's happening to her.

"And I'd like you to start keeping a diary of sorts. Think of it as a homework assignment. I'd like you to record when the hallucinations happen, and what you were thinking just before, during, and after."

Jane furrows her brow. "Um, OK?"

He smiles at her encouragingly. "Sometimes we are our own worst triggers. Trust me, even if it doesn't make sense now, it may help quite a bit later."

It's not like Jane has much else to do, so she agrees once more. "When do I see you again?" she asks. Talking to a neutral third party, one that doesn't have an official position on Loki, does make her feel better, she's realizing. And it definitely feels nice to have someone in her corner for a change, someone who has no agenda other than helping her. Yes, there's Darcy, but she's also technically an employee, so that complicates things.

"How about tomorrow?" he suggests. "And here's a number where you can reach me, any time day or night. At least for the immediate future."

Jane takes that slip of paper too, shakes hands with him, and then walks slowly out of the office.

Once in the hallway, she's a little surprised to find Fury waiting for her, but she's also glad. One problem is potentially solved, but she has several others to deal with, including one that's currently wrapped around her neck.

"Well, Doctor?" Fury asks. "Did you find that helpful at all?"

Jane nods, for once not hackling even slightly at Fury's presence. "Yes, I think so. Thank you. I do have another favour to ask of you, though."

Fury nods and waits, arms folded behind his back, and Jane pulls her scarf away to expose the necklace. "This is –was - a gift from Loki. I don't want it anymore, needless to say, but I can't get it off. And believe me, I tried."

Fury's eyes narrow, but Jane's not offended by the suspicion in his gaze. She has wondered the same thing – what spells Loki could have left on it. Spells to watch her, to control her, to hurt her? She doesn't want to think about it, she just wants it off. It's a reminder of him, and the thought of it against her skin makes her feel a little ill if she spends too much time dwelling on it.

In the end, she spends all of the rest of the morning and afternoon at the base, but nothing they do is able to get the necklace off. It's a challenge from the start, given they have to protect her neck of course, but even once they figure that out (which takes at least two hours), that's their only victory. There's no apparent clasp or joint to pry into, trying to cut it only dulls every sharp edge they try, and even very careful application of acid leaves not a trace of damage on the surface.

Frustrated as much as Jane, Fury declares defeat at last. "Just our luck, he made this out of the same apparently indestructible crap as his damned armour," Fury mutters, his expression more sour than Jane has ever seen it. He wipes sweat from his forehead. "Give us some time to come up with some other approaches, alright? We'll get his collar off your neck, I promise, Doctor."

Jane nods uncomfortably, wrapping the scarf around herself again. His collar indeed. For a pet he no longer wishes to keep.

Stop, she orders herself.

Coulson drives her and Darcy back to her apartment, but once the car pulls away, Jane just stands there, looking up at the building. She doesn't really want to stay here anymore. It's not just the memory of Loki dumping her in the living room, or the terrifying apparition she'd seen in the bathroom. No, it's the knowledge that she bought this place for the purpose of being with Loki.

No, she argues half-heartedly with herself. Didn't I buy this place because I got tired of living in the trailer? It was past time, anyway. I was only supposed to be in that damned tin can for a month at most. So it was high time I got an apartment, right?

The argument, even if true, is utterly unconvincing.

Jane turns to Darcy. "What say we go hang out on the roof of the lab?"

"If you want," Darcy says amiably. "Oh, wait a sec – forgot something. Can I meet you there?"

"Sure," Jane agrees. It's only a few minutes' walk, though she can't help tensing up as she gets closer to the lab. She remembers all too clearly being snapped up into the air, helplessly watching everything fall away beneath her. Maybe she should've waited for Darcy-

"There you are!" says Darcy from behind her, startling Jane. Speak of the devil. "And here you are!" Darcy announces, handing Jane her backpack and cell phone.

Jane blinks, then remembers that she'd had both on her when she'd been kidnapped. She must've dropped them. She thanks Darcy and opens the backpack. Everything in there seems OK; it's mostly notes anyway. The cell phone hasn't fared so well; its screen is cracked and there's a dent in the back.

Jane wonders how far it fell, then decides that's not a line of thinking she wants to follow right now. Instead, she follows Darcy to the lab.

The lab is just as they left it, but Jane doesn't give the glass-walled room more than a cursory glance as she heads directly to the stairs leading up to the roof.

The two of them settle in, coaxing a small blaze into existence in their firepot as the sun sets and the night gets cooler. "Want to head to Izzy's in a bit?" Darcy asks. "I'm starving. The SHIELD cafeteria sucks."

Jane nods, reaching for her phone, figuring she may as well see if it works.

That's when her vision darkens for a second and a moment later Loki appears on the roof, standing across the fire from them, the light flickering across his snarling grin.

Jane takes a deep breath and turns to Darcy. "He's not standing there, is he?" Jane gestures at Loki.

It's something she and Doc Allen discussed. Another coping strategy, called reality testing (though he admitted this isn't usually how it goes). Before freaking out, if someone else is around, check to see if they can see it, too.

Darcy looks and shakes her head. "No, Tall, Dark, and Has-His-Head-Up-His-Assgardian is not there." She looks sympathetically at Jane. "Another one?"

By the time Jane glances back, Loki is gone. Which is good, because he'd been advancing on them menacingly. She shivers and wraps her arms around herself. "Yeah, but at least they're happening less often."

Darcy nods, and Jane goes back to checking her phone. It does turn on, much to her surprise, and she scrolls, astonished at the number of messages. From Erik, from Darcy…and from Tony Stark.

"Yeah, sorry," Darcy says, watching what Jane is doing. "I must've left you at least twenty messages. I didn't know where you were, and I was panicking because I didn't know what you wanted me to do, what you wanted to take with us to Stark Tower."

"I totally understand," Jane answers, smiling sympathetically at Darcy and then continuing to scroll. There are lots of messages from Tony Stark, too, but Jane doesn't feel up to dealing with that either right now. She turns the phone off and stashes it in the front pocket of her backpack, leaning closer to the firepot and rubbing her cold hands together.

"Speaking of which," Darcy adds after a short silence, "Stark offered me a place to stay in the Tower while we're doing the research. You, too." But Jane says nothing, staring into the blaze. Darcy hesitates, then goes on: "Did you want to go and look at their living quarters with me sometime this week? Maybe you'd prefer to stay there now-"

Jane shakes her head slowly, still looking into the flames. "I…can't deal with all that right now, Darcy. Later, OK? I just…need to get my head on straight first."

Darcy nods and wraps her sweater tighter around herself. "Sure, OK. Take as much time as you need. Stark was pretty clear on that."

They sit awhile in companionable silence. In the end, Jane and Darcy wind up sleeping on the lab roof, after they fill her prescription and have dinner at Izzy's. It's not the first time Jane's slept out here under the stars, and right now it just feels more comfortable. Even if it also reminds her of when Thor fell to Earth – the event which set everything else ultimately into motion.

Darcy is with her this time, though, which Jane is grateful for when another nightmare of Loki jolts her awake with a sobbing scream.

"Jane! Jane? It's OK, you're here at the lab with me, it's OK-" Darcy says, hands gripping her arms until Jane is fully awake and aware.

Jane wipes cold sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, shivering, but a glance at her watch shows her that it's 4:03am. She managed to sleep nearly five hours straight without dreams. Thank God for the Trazodone.

Still, she's only too happy to see Doc Allen again later that same morning.

The next few days pass in a blur. She's settled into a kind of routine: see Doc Allen in the morning, talk to Fury to see if they have come up with any new ideas for getting the necklace off (short answer: no), and then spend the rest of the day at the lab with Darcy, and sometimes Erik.

Jane only goes back to her apartment to get clean clothes and wash up, but never without Darcy, at least not for the first few days. Lunch and dinner are always elsewhere, at Izzy's or Darcy's, and Jane continues to sleep up on the lab roof, again usually with Darcy or occasionally Erik.

She's also grateful that, except for the damned necklace, Loki has left no other things around for her to run into or to have to deal with (unlike, say, Donald). She continues to wear scarves daily, no matter the weather, so long as his chain remains around her throat.

Her daily therapy sessions have been both helpful and difficult, but also interesting. Allen had raised the dose of Trazodone slightly, but had also taught Jane some relaxation exercises to do when the hallucinations struck her during the day, or after waking from nightmares.

They'd also discovered a few triggers for the hallucinations, thanks to her 'homework' assignment – which is another of the reasons why she's covering up Loki's necklace – and overall, the intensity and frequency of both the hallucinations and nightmares seems to be fading.

But that doesn't bring Jane as much relief as she would have hoped. She's sure it's not really all that healthy for her to be avoiding her apartment like this.

Then there's the other problem she's trying to avoid: The Stark-Foster project.

Not because of Tony. He'd left her countless messages during her imprisonment by The Other, and he's called her at least three or four times a day since then, but each time Jane can't bring herself to pick up.

No, the reason is that the idea of building a portal to other worlds just seems…totally wrong to Jane now. She's always dreamed of discovering and visiting other worlds, for as long as she can remember.

But ever since another world had found her, it had brought her nothing but pain.

Thor and Loki – especially Loki – in the end had turned out to be as screwed up as any human, regardless of whatever advances Asgardian society has made compared to Earth. And it seems like everything else out there is just as evil, if not worse, than anything on Earth.

Thanos and his Chitauri. The Other. Even the frost giants Thor had mentioned had attacked Earth long ago and tried to lay waste to everything, despite no provocation from humans that Jane is aware of.

So why go looking for evil, why invite it down upon them? Hell, there's plenty of evil already down here on Earth.

She'd been so naïve...and paid the price.

Five days after Loki dumped her, Jane decides she'll have to say something to Tony, though. He's tried to help her, and it isn't right to give him the cold shoulder.

But the idea of talking to him just makes her want to break out into a cold sweat, so in the end she calls not him, but Pepper's office. And only once business hours are over and Jane is reasonably certain she won't actually have to talk to a real person.

Jane leaves a message saying that she can't handle working on the portal right now, that it hurts too much after what she's been through. Then she hangs up.

She lied; what she really wanted to say was "I'm done with all that, forever." But with Darcy sitting right next to her while she made the call, Jane can't bring herself to do that.

Darcy is her employee, and no portal means no job for Darcy. Jane can't and won't do that to Darcy. She has few enough friends already, and it doesn't make sense to Jane to stress out and potentially alienate the only person who seems to be the most in Jane's corner these days.

Not that Erik isn't trying, but…it's complicated. He's obviously thrilled that Loki is gone, and just as obviously trying to hide it and be considerate of Jane's feelings, so talking to him now holds a tension that she's never felt towards him before.

It sucks.

To his credit, Erik hasn't said "I told you so" yet. But Jane feels like she's hearing it behind everything he does say. "I'm here to listen," is the thing he says most frequently these days, and listen he has – Jane will grant him that – but it's just not as comfortable as talking to Darcy. Or Doc Allen.

Now Jane is sitting in her usual spot up on the roof, alone while Darcy runs some errands. She sighs and cradles her coffee cup in her hands, staring up at the stars. Everything is upside-down. Not just her love life, but everything. The direction and purpose of her life has been utterly derailed by everything she's been through.

It's like a nightmare, but one she can't wake up from. Actually, no, it's like a constant nightmare – nightmares about Loki when she sleeps, and then when she wakes up, it's not over; there's the ongoing daytime nightmare of what her life has become.

Jane shakes her head and looks up at the stars again, picking out familiar constellations by sheer habit. Something she'd talked about with Doc Allen this morning comes back to her: abandonment. Her father had abandoned her through his death, her mother through estrangement, Erik through his anger and lack of support regarding Loki. And of course, both Thor and then Loki, each had left her in their own particular way.

Jane sighs and rubs her hand tiredly across her forehead. She and Allen had discussed the notion that she had developed the coping strategy of looking to the stars to escape feeling abandoned and alone…

Because the stars couldn't abandon her. Stars are (mostly, barring the occasional supernova) unchanging, constant, always there.

But in the end their constancy hadn't mattered. There had been no solution waiting out there in space for her. Just more of the same. More people for her to care about, who then only turned around and left her.

She'd said as much, tearfully, to Doc Allen, but he hadn't offered any solutions. He never did, and though Jane knew full well why – the solution had to come from her, of course – knowing that didn't make it any easier.

This is one equation she doesn't feel up to solving.

"Hey," Darcy greets her as she climbs up onto the roof. "Knew I'd find you here."

Jane chuckles humorlessly. "Yeah, guess I'm becoming predictable that way."

Darcy settles herself into the other chair, the one Thor had once lain on beside Jane. Again, that memory brings Jane no comfort. That's where this hell all started.

"I've been thinking, Jane," Darcy says, her voice somehow both hesitant and firm as she breaks into Jane's brooding. "You need to get out more. I know you like your routines, but seeing the doc in the morning, and then spending the rest of the day and night here or Izzy's isn't healthy. You need something else in your life. Something fun. Or at least, do something to reward yourself."

"Like what?" Jane asks listlessly, draining the last of her coffee. She's not all that interested in this conversation, but it's not like she has anything better to do.

Darcy gestures vaguely. "I know you like to save money – and I know why, believe me – but now we've got Stark funding us, right?"

Jane nods, unwilling to contradict her. Again, she's not in the mood to defend her decision to abandon her bridge project for the foreseeable future. If not forever.

She scrabbles for a reply. "I don't know, Darcy-"

But the other woman isn't done. "When was the last time you treated yourself to, I don't know, a haircut? Or a manicure? Or if that's too much luxury for you, what about this: you keep talking about going to the gym, but I know for a fact that you've never actually gone."

Jane sighs heavily. "You're right, but…I just don't feel up to any of those things."

Darcy gets up and paces to the edge of the roof, looking down, then turns back to Jane. "I know. But I think that's exactly why you should do them. It's settled; you're going to my dance-aerobics class tomorrow afternoon with me. No arguments."

Jane laughs uncomfortably. "You're kidding, right? Me, with two left feet? Never mind I don't know any of the moves, and I'll stick out like a sore thumb-"

"Jane, I've taken so many different gym classes I've lost count by now, but trust me on one thing – everyone is awkward when they start a new class. Nobody is going to care if you don't get it the first few times. Hell, there's at least one or two older women in that class who can't even keep a beat, and they've been there longer than me. But they still come and do their best! And have fun." Darcy points out.

Jane pushes her hair back from her face, frowning. "I don't know-"

"I said no arguments," Darcy insists firmly, hands now on her hips and wearing a belligerent expression that Jane knows all too well.

Jane sighs again and nods, setting down her coffee cup and curling up under her blanket. She'll go once or twice, she decides, if only to get Darcy off her back. Once Darcy loses interest, Jane can go back to…

Jane doesn't even know how to finish that thought. Back to what? Normal?

She's not sure she ever will.

---

It is a further four days – endless days, alternating between inebriation, boredom, and despair, haunted by both the mortal he tells himself he would prefer to forget, and the things that he has done – before Loki receives his next visitor.

This time, it is Thor. Loki counts himself fortunate that he has already imbibed two bottles of wine this morn. Doubtless that will serve to 'lubricate' this meeting to something approaching tolerable.

"Here at last, to mock?" Loki hisses with disdain, stalking over to glare across the terrace as he did with Frigga. It is becoming a familiar post.

"No, brother," Thor contradicts him, shutting the chamber door firmly behind him.

Thor seems to put extra emphasis on the second word, but Loki does not rise to that familiar bait. It grows tiresome. "Indeed? Perhaps you imagine that as I am now your prisoner, that I will beg your forgiveness?" Loki sneers back over his shoulder at Thor.

"It is not my forgiveness that you need to earn, Loki," Thor answers quietly. Loki glances over at him, noting for once that Mjölnir is nowhere to be seen. That could be a costly mistake. For Thor. Loki thinks with rising amusement, envisioning his fist connecting with Thor's face with much relish.

"No, what I wish for the moment is merely to understand," Thor continues. "I desire to know how we arrived at this impasse."

Loki laughs bitterly. "It is far past the hour for that." Such a lack of intelligence. This, the future King of Asgard?

Thor crosses his arms over his chest, his voice becoming stern. Yet, "Nonetheless," is all he says.

Loki turns slowly to face him, fists clenching in his irritation. "Truly, your wisdom is only exceeded by your foolhardiness-" he retorts sarcastically.

Thor sighs. "Why, Loki? Because you are Jotun? I do not understand why that alone-"

Loki's eyes widen and he steps forward, finding himself now shaking with rage. "That, alone? After a lifetime of being told that Jotuns are animals, no, worse than that, monsters. After a lifetime of being raised to believe I was something I am not-" Loki breaks off into a low, acerbic laugh. "But what would the great, golden wonder of Asgard know of any of that? You are not and never were an outcast."

"Loki, you were not an outcast-"

Loki advances slowly on Thor, hissing his denial through a constricted jaw. "Was I not? You are a poor liar, brother. How many times did Sif and the self-named Warriors Three make sport of my abilities with magic? I remind you again of their slander regarding Sleipnir."

Thor opens his mouth but Loki barrels on heedlessly. "Oh, it is evident why Odin favoured you, being a true Asgardian as you are. And he always knew what I was. But everyone else?" Loki practically spits the words. "You warriors, with your foolish penchant for charging blindly into battle and calling it honour. But try to avoid bloodshed with magic, or diplomatically with fast speech…oh no, I am a wielder of woman's magic, a weakling, someone who earns victory with mere trickery rather than honourable blood and sweat and steel. The silver-tongued Liesmith. And that was when they thought me Asgardian." He barely pauses in his heated rant. "Unless, of course, we were in full retreat and then you and they needed my skills. But even then, my efforts were quickly forgotten, or reconstructed and mocked as soon as it was convenient, lest the tales of the battle focus too much on the dishonourable."

He's standing nearly toe-to-toe with Thor now, braced for a fight, but to his faint surprise it is Thor who backs down, turning away. "I am sorry," Thor says, further startling Loki, his voice and face heavy with sorrow, "if you feel we made sport of you. But Loki, do you not remember that we did much the same with each other, amongst ourselves? How many times was Sif in tears in the early days of her training, when the others would ridicule her for her efforts? When they would dismiss her as a mere girl playing at being a man? Even I took insults from our trainers and our peers as I was learning to wield Mjölnir. Do you remember none of that?"

Loki smiles but it's hard and cruel on his lips. "We've covered this ground before." He moves back towards the windows, boots stamping. His body is tense, ready for battle. Perhaps he should indulge in that?

When Loki glances back, Thor looks wistful. "Surely it cannot have been all bad. Did we not have good times together?"

"Built on lies," Loki counters with a hiss.

Thor sighs. "Even if it was, the past cannot be changed. If you feel you were treated like an outcast, that your worth was ignored by everyone, by me, if that is what you perceived, then I can only request your forgiveness for that."

Loki answers only with a snarl. As if his forgiveness will be bought so easily!

"Similarly, I can only request forgiveness for my prior attitudes towards your people. You are right; we were raised that way, and I should have questioned it, instead of merely falling into step with the rest-"

"They are not my people!" Enraged beyond reason, Loki turns and bolts at him, strikes at Thor-

But his former brother only shifts aside just enough for the blow to miss by a mere inch, a moment later taking hold of Loki's wrist.

"I know you wish it were otherwise, Loki," Thor agrees quietly. "But either way, it matters not to me. You are my brother, no matter the circumstances of your birth."

Loki laughs and shies away, wrenching his wrist viciously free even though Thor's grip had been loose. "Brother to this, then?" Deliberately Loki allows the cold into himself, feels the change coming over his skin, the temperature in the chamber around them dropping precipitously. "Come and embrace me as a brother should, then," he hisses, spreading his arms wide.

Thor, to Loki's grudging credit, does not blanch at this abrupt change. "I would, Loki, were it not that your skin in such a state would burn me."

"No," Loki spits at him, icicles beginning to form into long daggerlike projections at the end of each of his fingers. "You will not accept me because you hate me. You hate all Jotuns. You think me a monster, you want me dead-" Never mind the fact that Loki himself wishes that he were dead, rather than endure this cursed existence one moment longer-

"You are not listening to me, Loki," Thor interrupts him with calm, firm words, though they only serve to increase Loki's wrath. "The utterances of hate you have heard up until this point were nothing more than the words of a child, raised a certain way and knowing no better. I set all that aside now. As I once said before to you, we were raised together, played together, fought together. Can you not understand how that could overcome all other considerations?" Thor shakes his head. "You are no monster, except perhaps for the things you have done-"

"Even Jane called me monster," Loki rasps, pointing his cyan arms and icicle daggers towards Thor in open threat.

Thor crosses his arms across his chest, his brow finally starting to furrow with anger, to Loki's satisfaction. "You said yourself, she was confused by The Other's spell at the time. But let us leave the subject of Jane aside for a moment."

Thor makes a visible effort to calm himself. "The things you have done…attacking Midgard makes sense now, in the context of the tale you told Odin and Fury. And now that I have seen The Other with my own eyes. In addition, Heimdall has reported some…disturbing things from the edges of Yggdrasil."

He pauses as if waiting for Loki to request more information, but Loki does not care to think of Thanos now. Nor of what threat he may be to Jane-

Loki turns away, releasing the cold at the same time, shuddering as Odin's illusion enfolds him once more.

"It is harder to accept how you lied to me about Father being dead, when I was banished to Midgard. And how you sent the Destroyer after me and our friends." Thor's voice is soft, sympathetic, but it still only fuels Loki's ire. How dare Thor condescend to him!? "I can only imagine that you must have been in incredible pain, to have done such things-"

"You know nothing of it, Odinson. I did it to protect my throne!" Loki answers in a growl. It's safer to lie, to stay away from the subject of his pain and insanity.

Thor cocks his head. "As I recall, you yourself told me that you did not want the throne. That you wanted merely to be my equal. I know that you are intelligent enough to realize you were only a temporary king, even if my banishment had not ended. Odin would have woken and re-assumed his position. So surely that is not why you acted as you did."

Loki grinds his teeth. His brother has the right of it, yet the need to make Thor angry drives him to reach for new insults. "True, for once. I did not want it. Oh, it was amusing enough while it lasted, but to spend my days dealing with petty people and their petty arguments and complaints – Faugh!" He lets a sly grin cross his face, and across the room Thor shifts uneasily. "No," Loki continues silkily, "I never wanted the throne. I became resigned long ago to being only second best. No, I only wished to ensure that you would never get it, or at least to delay the inevitable."

He can well remember his resentment that day, that someone so unqualified would rise to the throne of Asgard. His outrage at how everyone, far and wide, had adored Thor. How none had seemed to comprehend just how poor a king Thor would have made. How no one noticed or realized just how many of Thor's gaffes or grievous errors Loki had in fact been responsible for repairing. No, he did the work, and Thor reaped the glory and accolades.

Indeed, he loved Thor – or had loved Thor, at one time – but the allure of creating a little chaos and bringing his brother's coronation to ruin had been too seductive to ignore. It had been too good a chance to pass up, to give Odin and the people an opportunity to see the flaws in their golden prince of thunder.

Thor blinks. "Why?"

Loki throws his head back and cackles. "Why? Must I list all your attributes, brother? Arrogant, prideful, oafish, and above all, war-mongering." Thor's expression darkens and Loki edges forward, a vicious glee rising in his chest. Now, surely, they will come to blows-

But Thor turns away once more, rubbing his forehead as if Loki's words have pained him. "Yes," Thor agrees after a moment, and it is now Loki's turn to furrow his brow. "I will grant you, before I fell to Earth, before I was stripped of my powers and believed myself disowned from Asgard, I was all of those things. Perhaps you were even right to act as you did."

Loki shakes his head, refusing to accept Thor's apology, if that is even what it is. "I think you forget, Odinson, I am the Liesmith here." No, Loki cannot believe that Thor would ever accept what Loki had done as having any possible merit; surely that is a jest or a lie. Hot tears threaten to spill over his lower lids, and, mortified, Loki turns aside to hide his weakness. Sentiment, he mocks himself.

For just a fraction of a moment, he admits to himself that to a certain extent he pines for that old life. Not just the companionship of his brother and comrades, of his family, but also for the comfort of that old life, before he learned of his true heritage. Yes, he'd been merely the second in line to the throne, but he'd had his place at court, his place by Thor's side.

Things had been so much simpler then. Cleaner.

But, he reminds himself, it was all a lie. Would it have been better to live on in ignorance, never learning what he was, believing the lie?

Right now, it does seem rather more attractive, considering how all has turned out.

Thor shakes his head in negation, taking several steps towards Loki. "I am not lying, brother. I am trying to rebuild things between us. If you will allow that." The expression of despair on Thor's face fills Loki with a curious mixture of mirth, rage, and sadness. "I would have my brother back."

Loki backs up a few paces, matching Thor's advance, keeping distance between them. "No, you would have me trail after you, always in your shadow, just as before," he snarls. Perhaps Thor is willing to forgive Loki, but that does not mean Loki is willing to forgive him.

Thor had thwarted Loki's single greatest attempt to prove himself. To end that race of monsters, to prove once and for all that Loki is Asgardian. No, he cannot forgive that, ever.

Thor crosses his arms across his chest, irritation once more apparent in his next words: "You are quick to tell me how things will be. Have you gained the gift of foresight, Loki? Things have changed. I have changed, or at least I have attempted to." He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he thinks. "Perhaps you have changed, too? A year ago, I am sure you would not have done what you did, coming to Jane's rescue. And have I not proven myself your ally, helping you in that important task?"

Loki's shoulders tighten and hunch. He should have anticipated that the conversation would eventually return to the subject of that mortal. Will he never be free of her?

When Loki sullenly does not answer Thor's last question, his un-brother tries a new tack. "That is another thing I wish to understand - how you could abandon one who loves you. Even if you hate the rest of us for what has occurred, what has Jane done to earn your enmity?" He pauses, then adds: "Especially in so short a time, mere days after we rescued her? Even if she spoke thoughtlessly to you, surely it was the fault of the terrors she experienced." Thor does not say it, but Loki is sure he is referring to Jane's 'monster' accusation.

Loki still says nothing, turning to stare out at the panoramic view of Asgard once more, but he feels his hackles rise as Thor steps closer. "Did you not love her in return-"

Loki turns back to Thor with a harsh laugh. "Love her? I did not love her. What has love ever gained me? I loved Odin, Frigga, you…"

Thor growls and crosses the room quickly, clasping Loki by the upper arms and shoving him into the wall next to the window, his fingers digging into Loki. "An accomplished liar you are, brother, but in this you cannot. And so I repeat: Even if you loathe all of us, what has Jane done? How could you leave her to deal with the aftermath of her torture alone? Never mind leaving her defenseless, should Thanos or any of his ilk come looking for her." He gives Loki a sharp shake, as if trying to wake him from a deep slumber. "Never would I have left Midgard with you to come here, had I realized you would not be returning to her side."

Loki smirks wickedly. Oh, his brother definitely still cares for the mortal. That much is evident. Oh, this is good. He will use the subject of Jane to goad Thor into a fight, and neatly relieve this boredom. Finally, Loki will have a target for his bottomless anger.

So Loki chooses to laugh mockingly in Thor's face. "Afraid, brother, that our loving Father will hold you accountable for my…misbehaviour? Especially since it was you who chose to leave your precious Jane Foster in my less-than-savoury company?" Thor is always so quick to attribute ill intent to Loki; perhaps for once Loki can use that to further his own ends.

Thor's fingers tighten on Loki even harder, though his voice remains calm. "No, I am fairly convinced that she is your 'precious Jane Foster'. Which begs the question of why you have left her alone to face potential enemies. Your enemies, Loki."

Loki twists away with a gutter curse and a shove. "Still in love with her, Thor?"

Thor's fists clench. "Just because matters ended between her and I, does not mean that I no longer care about her welfare. Especially after what happened to her. Do you truly care not that she was tortured because of what you have done?"

That hits a nerve, and Loki whirls to face Thor again, goaded beyond his plan to act aloof on all matters relating to that mortal: "I left Jane for Jane. As long as she is with me, and as long as Thanos is hunting me, there will be the potential for her to endure more of the same. If she is not killed outright." Loki takes a deep, shuddering breath, rage and guilt vying to rule him. "The farther I am away from her, the safer she will ultimately be. If I am here, they will conclude that I care not, and will not bother to seek her out."

Thor's lip curls in disdain. "What foolishness is that? She needs you, Loki. Not just your comfort at this trying time, but your protection. How can you desert her like this? If it were I, I would be by her side whatever enemy was threatening, defending her-"

Loki snarls, rage driving him to get right into Thor's face. He nearly spits his next words. "No, I am not you, Thor. I did not leave her alone on Midgard as you did, when you raced back here to challenge my rule. I am defending her, though it may not seem obvious to the likes of you. No, I am not like you," he repeats icily, "limited to your meager brawn. While Jane was recovering in the flying fortress, I laid my strongest protective magics on the torc I gave her. Spells to render her invisible to anyone looking for her with ill intent in their hearts, spells to inform me if danger is nearby, spells to track her so I can find her immediately should she somehow still be attacked, or if someone tries to steal her away again."

Thor's expression of anger and contempt does not change. "Does she even know of this? What if she finds a way to get your jewelry off-"

"She can't," Loki snaps. "I have seen to that. What use a tracking spell, if she can slip free of it? You may not value my magic, brother, but I assure you it will be more than sufficient. A far better shield for Jane than you, or even you and our friends combined."

Predictably, Thor remains unimpressed. Fool.

"Deception may have served you well in the past," Thor counters, "but I do not see it working so well here, brother. Even if all is as you say, even if your ability to protect her with magic works as perfectly as you claim…surely you can see that she needs you there, with her, at this difficult time? What spell have you laid to help her with that?"

A fresh rush of guilt assails Loki, and he turns from Thor once more to hide the spasm of emotion on his face. Of course Thor would not value Loki's magic. Has he ever, unless it served him?

Of course, many others at court, and among the ranks of their warriors, had felt much the same. Oh, look at the weedy little Prince, how he stands in the shadows, casting his woman's magics, rather than charging into battle like his brave brother Thor? Well, likely he is not strong enough to wield a sword. Or perhaps he fears for his pretty, pale skin?

Rage coils tightly in him once more, a serpent looking to strike. "If you value her so much, why not go and defend her yourself?" Loki rasps.

"I value her as a friend, Loki," Thor answers firmly. "Nothing more, though as I stated already, this does not mean I no longer care about her well-being. Or that I do not have Heimdall check on her from time to time. He tells me she struggles, Loki. Does that not pain you? I refuse to believe that your heart has grown so like stone in so short a time." He pauses, then adds, a slight note of threat in his tone: "Did you not promise me once that you would not harm any mortals? Well, I include Jane in that promise."

But Loki is barely listening; a new scheme has occurred to him. At once abhorrent, and yet utterly perfect. Protection for Jane, and punishment for himself, for the pain he has brought her.

"You named yourself protector of Midgard. And it's obvious you still care for her. Perhaps you are the one who should return to Midgard and be by her side. I am sure after all that I have done to prove how unworthy I am, she will be happy to receive you back," Loki suggests, though the words attempt to stick and catch in his throat. "Indeed, girded with both my spells and your strength, surely not even Thanos himself could harm her."

The more Loki thinks on it, the more of a twisted kind of sense it makes, painful though it is. He should never have become involved with a mere mortal, never let her inside his heart, and above all he should never have become so complacent about those who were looking to take their revenge on him, and by extension, her.

Therefore, he deserves to suffer. And what could be worse than returning his 'prize' back into Thor's keeping?

Though Thor would be the ideal defender for Jane. The mortals have powerful weapons, but not much knowledge of the Worlds Tree and the evils that reside in it. Thor is far better equipped to deal with such matters, and Mjölnir not a weapon which Thanos can easily dismiss.

Perfection.

But Thor is shaking his head, frowning angrily. "Have you drunk so much mead this morning that it has addled your brain?" Thor accuses, jabbing his finger at the pile of empty bottles spilling out from under Loki's bed. "Jane does not want me. She chose you, Loki. I doubt she would have me back, even if I wanted to come between you. Which I do not."

"No doubt she would reconsider, given the protection you can offer, which I cannot," Loki rasps. "Not without putting her at further risk." And himself at risk, of developing sentiment for her, though Loki leaves that last thing unsaid.

"No, she will not, and I think you know this. Besides, the responsibility is yours, Loki. You began this relationship with her. What cowardice is it that you use what happened to her as this thin excuse to abandon her?"

Thor's voice has become contemptuous, cutting, and Loki answers it with his own snarl of contempt. "Even if I agreed with you – which I do not – what does it even matter whether I wish to return to her or not? Now that I am here, Odin will surely never let me leave." Loki rasps, conscious of the ache building in his throat.

This is gaining him nothing. Better to pursue a new line of verbal attack.

"Which I am sure is exactly as you wish," Loki adds with a dry rasp. "You did not help me rescue Jane out of the goodness of your heart. No, you did it to gain a reward; I am home, a prisoner, an example for Odin to hold up to the people. The favoured son brings the wayward, evil son to justice. Let me presume, that if I do not accede to the All-Father's demands, whatever they be, he will strip me of my Asgardian illusion and cage me in the main courtyard, for all to stare at and make sport of? A punishment worthy of the All-Father."

Thor's brow darkens further, and Loki finally hears a distant rumble of thunder. He smirks, flexing his hand as he begins the spell to conjure a knife. Finally, they will come to blows. He craves it. A distraction at last-

But Thor's next words surprise him. "Contrary to what you believe, I neither agree with nor approve of all that Odin does." There's a pause, during which Thor appears deep in thought, but then the corner of his mouth quirks as he adds: "Well, I suppose that hasn't changed much since before my banishment."

"What nonsense are you spouting now?" Loki growls at him. Gods, he may just attack Thor himself-

"Surely you recall the argument that led to my fall to Midgard." Thor points out. "Indeed, I am not sure where you created this fiction that I am the favoured son; as I recall, Odin and I were often at odds with each other when I was younger. And that, alas, has not changed. Even the way he exiled me to Midgard, though I did gain much from the experience, does not sit well with me."

So, even Thor sees the flaws in Odin. Interesting. Perhaps Loki is not the only one who desires to take up against the All-Father.

Thor continues, fixing Loki with a direct gaze. "And while I think Odin made no error when he took you from your home, given you were wounded and had been left to die, I do not think he did well when he hid the truth of your heritage from you. Perhaps things might have been easier for you, perhaps not. Perhaps we as a people would have been forced to address our prejudices towards Jotunheim and its people, had you been raised as you actually are."

Loki raises a brow, wondering how much Thor actually knows of the matter. "Did he not tell you the real reason why he took me? Because it was not out of compassion or pity," he asserts in bitter tones. Still, he feels some of his tension ease; the only things they have in common to discuss are Jane and their family, and he would rather not address the first topic.

Thor's eyes narrow. "What are you speaking of?"

Loki cannot help but laugh. "No, indeed, why should he tell you? His great plan, which failed so catastrophically." He laughs again, though even he must acknowledge the edge of hysteria in it.

"Loki, tell me."

Loki shakes his head, still laughing almost against his will. "Why should I? What bargain will you make with me, so that you do not need to go and question the mighty and infallible Father of All?"

In an eyeblink Thor is in front of Loki, gripping his shoulders almost hard enough to bruise, even through Loki's armour. His gaze is intense, searing into Loki's. "Tell me."

Something in Thor's scrutiny unsettles him – sympathy? – but Loki decides sharing Odin's folly with Thor cannot bring any further harm. "He wished me to ascend to the throne…of Jotunheim. He seemed to think raising me as full Asgardian, even while denying me the knowledge of my true heritage, would somehow prepare me well for that role. Perhaps make for peace between our Realms."

Loki shakes his head, his laughter finally ceasing. It still pains him, the idea that Odin expected him to embrace his heritage, to leave the only home he has ever known - flawed as many aspects of it may be - to take up the inglorious task of ruling and holding down those…animals.

"But then," Loki continues, his voice turning ugly once more, "Once you took it upon your foolish self to start a war with them, once I discovered on my own what I was, well…Odin could not admit his error. He conveniently fell into the Sleep instead, and left me to try to make sense of the ashes of my former life on my own!" The end of his sentence curls into a snarl, and he shoves at Thor with all his strength.

Thor releases him, mouth agape, his eyes looking upon Loki though not seeing him. Then Thor shuts his mouth with an audible snap. "I did not know-" he begins.

"So," Loki interrupts, feeling as if something has finally come undone within him, "When Mother offered me the throne, I accepted. I thought that perhaps, especially with you out of the way, here was my chance to prove myself a true son of Odin and of Asgard. To prove myself your equal, even if I am not and never will be heir to the throne, by eliminating the threat of Jotunheim once and for all." Also so that he could not be forced to rule them, Loki did not add. The accursed Frost Giants are their ancient enemy; there would be no honour whatsoever in being their ruler, only in conquering them or destroying them. For Odin to even conceive of offering Loki so menial and pointless a task had only confirmed how little Loki meant to his supposed father.

Nor does Loki explain to Thor his role in setting Laufey to attack Odin. That had all been part of the same plan, though he doubted Thor would see any wisdom or beauty in it.

"I did not expect that woman to change you. To make you so enamoured of the Frost Giants." Loki continues, though his passion to tell the tale has abruptly deserted him. "You know the rest," Loki adds after a silence, turning away. He's exhausted, he realizes. Why had he thought coming here would be better than roaming the universe, always keeping one step ahead of Thanos? That seems the lesser of various evils at the present time.

"No, I do not. Why did you send the Destroyer after us?" Thor presses him.

Loki shakes his head. "Our friends-" he sneers the word, "did not trust me, did not wish to acknowledge the legitimacy of my rule. I witnessed them using the Bifröst to come reclaim you, despite my express edict forbidding it. And I could not countenance that my efforts to prove myself to Odin would be sidetracked by you, the banished, disavowed son."

Loki readies himself, waiting for Thor's anger, but again it does not come. When he turns to look, Thor is pacing slowly, brow furrowed as if deep in thought. No doubt having to think so much pains him, Loki crows viciously inside his own mind.

"Our father does not find it easy to admit his mistakes, this I wholly grant you. Though the idea he fell deliberately into the Odin-Sleep to avoid your anger seems...cowardly of him. You and I both know that he had held off the Sleep for some time, and yet…" Thor says, though his voice trails off, and it seems as if he is talking to himself more than to Loki.

"What nonsense are you prattling on about now?" Loki tries to goad him, but Thor looks down at the floor, still pacing and obviously still ruminating.

When he finally stops and turns back to Loki, understanding with a touch of horror is dawning in Thor's gaze, and Loki feels something inside him clench tightly, wondering at Thor's discovery.

"You keep saying that Jane Foster is responsible for the changes in me," Thor starts, his voice quiet and pensive. "But I do not believe that was the reason. Losing my powers, and then believing that Odin was dead and that Asgard was lost to me forever…those were the key reasons, Loki. I valued greatly Jane's kindness towards me during those difficult times, but…ultimately it was what the All-Father did which helped me to finally see the error of my ways."

Loki makes an impatient gesture, but Thor continues undeterred. "But I think I begin to see now, that was not the only lesson he set in motion. Two sides of the same coin."

Loki's teeth grind. "I repeat, what nonsense-" he hisses.

"Do you not see it, brother? Two opposing lessons at the same time. One son banished, all his powers taken away from him, cast out to live among the mortals. And the other brother, given absolute power, made ruler over all of Asgard."

Loki makes an inarticulate sound of negation, half laugh and half snarl. "No, you are wrong, it was Frigga who chose to offer me the throne-"

His words freeze in his throat. And why did she offer me the throne?

Because Odin was in his Sleep.

Odin's Sleep. The way he had escaped Loki's ire and pain. Is Thor right, had it been for not one, but two purposes?

Loki turns and stares blindly out the windows once more, no longer heeding Thor's words.

Frigga would never have given Loki the throne had Odin not been Sleeping.

Loki's brow aches, pain shooting across it, settling into it, and Thor nattering anxiously behind him does not help. "Get out," he snarls back over his shoulder at his un-brother. Loki needs quiet, needs to think.

"Loki, I-"

"GET OUT!" he screams it, even louder than he bellowed those words at Frigga mere days ago. As then, he can feel his magic boiling to the surface, but even as he starts to release it, the door to his chamber closes with a bang.

He is alone.

He savagely wrestles his magic back to a standstill, turning his mind back to the question at hand. He paces a slow circuit around the room, seeing nothing.

The part of his mind in which so many schemes have been hatched, takes this tentative scheme, turning it every which way.

Take everything from the favoured son.

Give everything to the lesser son.

Then sit back and see what comes of it…

Loki's pace slows and then stops, the blood pounding in his ears.

He had thought the lie of his existence had been Odin's greatest scheme, but even as his soul twists at the thought of the betrayal heaped upon betrayal, the trickster part of him admires the twisted elegance of it all.

The balance.

Switch the relative positions of favoured and outcast son. Give one everything – power, trust – and leave the other bereft of family, of home, of all his magic…how could such brilliance be anything but one of the All-Father's plans?

It's surely too perfect to be accident, or coincidence.

Had not Frigga said that Odin could still hear, was aware even in the midst of his Sleep? An ideal perch from which to watch his sons meet their respective challenges, was it not?

Anger burns like acid in his belly and throat. Because the game had been rigged, had it not? Loki, half-mad with grief and pain, already seeking a grand gesture to prove himself worthy…and then had come the threat of being unseated by Thor. How could Odin have expected Loki to react any other way?

Your father never does anything without a purpose.

A new and terrible thought occurs to Loki – perhaps it had even been intended that he would fail.

Thor had been given an opportunity to sacrifice himself to save the mortals, to sacrifice the Bifröst to save the Jotuns…neither of which would have occurred if Loki had not been on the throne of Asgard.

Had Loki in fact been used as a tool, to help mould Thor into the hero that Odin wished him to be? To alter him from the arrogant, proud, vainglorious warrior he used to be?

Oh yes, sheer perfection. The chess-master in him must admire it, even as wrath seethes within him.

Betrayed and used by Odin not once, but twice.

It rings in his ears as Loki looks around the room. He realizes he is standing in the corner of his chamber where the tall mirror is. It reflects his visage back at him, horror and rage written across his pale features.

Except, they are not really his features, are they?

Get away from me, you monster! Jane's voice sounds in his head again.

You're a monster. Agent Romanov speaks in his head as well.

Then it is his voice, spoken in grief and aversion to Odin all those months ago: Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?

Jane saw the monster in me, no matter the illusion hiding me. As has everyone else.

Odin had seen to it, hadn't he? The monster had served its purpose well. He may not have been able to rule Jotunheim in the end, but he had been the whetstone to hone Thor into a true king.

No. Odin did not need to see to anything. You think yourself a master strategist, but you were bested, were you not?

Worse, you leaped just so willingly into Odin's trap, didn't you?

Didn't you?

Monster.

No. No. NO. NO!

It is too much. He cannot tolerate it. It must end. Everything must end.

The first item struck is his mirror, shattering into tiny fragments, each one reflecting a tiny portion of his accursed self before Loki wheels to face the middle of the room, ignoring the tiny pieces of glass embedded in his knuckles.

Every muscle in his body goes taut with strain as his magic lashes out of him, mirroring his need to destroy. He will destroy everything. He will lay waste to all of Asgard, Midgard, even Yggdrasil-

The windows shatter one by one, spilling glass shards across the floor with a tinkling noise which is almost musical. Next the empty wine bottles explode, one after the other, and Loki is not surprised to find he is laughing uncontrollably, even as tears run down his face to patter onto the floor beneath him. A floor which is beginning to heave and buckle, groaning under the force of his unending ire.

Loki cannot destroy himself (much as he wishes to), immortal that he is. In the absence of being able to seek that peace, he will end all the rest. Such is his promise to the universe.

His magic screams along the walls, throwing books, hurling pieces of furniture over with splintering crashes, slicing the mattress. Feathers begin to drift lazily through the air… but it is not enough.

No, he wants to ruin it all with his bare hands. His teeth even, if necessary. Let him give in to his basest rage, let him be at last truly the monster that he has denied for so long, even as others so obviously deduced it.

He shreds his magic into useless ribbons and attacks the only piece of furniture still relatively whole – the bed – himself, flipping it over and breaking each leg with a single hard kick. Yes, that is uniquely satisfying. To feel the wood coming undone under his boot- If only he could set upon Thanos this way. Against Odin. Against every last one of them.

Loki savours the memory of crushing The Other into tiny chips of ice under his heel, as he systematically begins to reduce the bed-frame to splinters.

The sound of his chamber door slamming open causes Loki to spin in place. He discovers to his horror that he is still laughing, and crying, and some part of him shrinks in embarrassment to see Thor standing there in the doorway, mouth agape at the wanton destruction. "Loki-" Thor begins as he walks into the room, arms outstretched towards Loki.

The door hurls itself shut behind Thor hard enough to warp door and frame, and Loki roars like an animal and hurls himself at Thor.

He'd prefer Odin, that accursed whoreson, but he'll settle for the golden child, the always-favoured son. The son that he, Loki, can and never will be. His hands close around Thor's neck, fingers and nails digging into skin, throttling.

Thor knocks Loki's hands away, though it takes him several tries, his face purple by the time Loki is forced to release him. Thor is the stronger, he always has been, but this time Loki is fuelled by a murderous hatred.

A wrath that will not be quenched until Thor lies cold and unmoving on the floor.

Loki launches a blow which connects solidly with Thor's jaw, snapping his head around, and Thor grunts but does not retaliate.

Loki strikes him again, in the exact same spot. Distantly he is aware of someone screaming in rage, but it takes Loki several moments to realize it is himself.

He wants Thor to strike him back, wants to draw blood and have his own be drawn, to listen to the droplets falling to the floor like rain. But Thor merely stands there, taking each blow. He flinches but does not fight back, not even when Loki snarls, teeth clenched so tight they must surely crack and crumble to fragments, and conjures a knife, driving it deep into Thor's side.

His former brother gasps and doubles over, but does nothing else. He makes no move to defend himself. There is only that accursed sentiment in his face as he watches Loki, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek.

Feathers from the mattress drift slowly around them, falling like snow on Jotunheim, and Loki can now barely see through a haze of tears, feels deafened by his own roars. There's a high buzzing in his ears, in his mind.

He tries to stab Thor again but his foot catches and slips on one of the flagstones his magic has wrenched free, and he trips and falls to one knee in front of his not-brother, his whole body jarred by the impact.

The shock of it casts the rage out of him, as if he were an overturned goblet. Dazed, Loki halts, dropping the dagger and looking around first at the ruin of his rooms, then at Thor still crouched over in front of him, Thor's expression sad and compassionate even as blood rapidly darkens the side of his mail.

Loki puts both bloodied hands to his face, lost. Adrift in a sea of pain.

You leaped just so willingly into Odin's trap.

Try as he might to blame Odin, even he, the God of Lies, must acknowledge that no one had made him attack Thor with the Destroyer. No one had forced him to try to destroy Jotunheim.

No one had forced him to leave Jane's side for this hell.

His earlier thought reoccurs: That one misguided decision – letting myself fall from the Asbru bridge - has cost me everything. I have lost everything.

"What have I done?" he whispers, his voice so hoarse that the words sound barely intelligible to even his ears.

Coming to him as if from afar, there is the sound of his other dagger hitting the floor – presumably the one he had lodged in Thor's body – and then hands firmly grasp at his upper arms. "Loki," Thor's voice comes to him, the volume rising and falling in Loki's ringing ears like a wave.

"You are in pain, my brother," Thor continues in low tones, "and for my part, it was never my intent to hurt you. If I did that, knowingly or unknowingly, then I can only hope you will forgive me in time."

Loki shakes his head, but for once he cannot speak. His silver tongue has been stilled. The depths of his misery threaten to shatter his tenuous sanity.

The door groans, startling them both, and Frigga shoves her way into the room, Guards struggling to hold the door open for her before she banishes them with a wave of her hand. The door snaps shut once more, leaving them alone in this tableau of Loki's agony.

"My son," she asserts gently, kneeling next to them, and finally Loki can hold the pain at bay no longer.

He weeps.

Time slips, skips, slows and speeds. Loki knows he should be mortified, to be seen this way in front of his enemies, but…the tears refuse to yield to his rule.

Still, every well must eventually run dry, and when Loki's tears are finally spent, Frigga wordlessly hands him a cloth to dry his face.

"Brother-" Thor tries again, but Loki cuts him off.

"I am to blame," Loki says, his voice slow and reluctant, barely recognizable to his own ears. "Odin may have lit the fuse, but I made those decisions. I chose to send the Destroyer to Earth after you, I chose to attempt to raze Jotunheim, and to…" He pauses, his throat clicking as he swallows convulsively. "…let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss. I must own what I have done." He shakes his head, pain pulsing behind his eyes. "But I do not know how-" How can he move forward?

Frigga leans into him and draws him into her arms, and Loki allows it. All his fight is gone, not that fighting has served him well thus far.

"You do," Thor counters, but his tone remains gentle. "You have committed evil, brother, but there is good in you yet. I do not believe Jane would ever have chosen you otherwise. And I saw you race across Yggdrasil to save her with my own eyes, saw you use your Jotun powers – a very useful tool, were they in that moment – to destroy the foul being who had tortured her."

But Loki says nothing, too deep in his misery to see an egress, his blood-smeared hands curling around Frigga's arms as she continues to hold him.

"Yes, you have made some poor choices, but you can begin to make better ones, Loki. It is not too late. You can start with Jane Foster."

Loki laughs bitterly, pushing himself out of Frigga's grasp, though he does it with gentleness. "Even if she would have me back now," he rasps, "which is not assured, Odin will not release me. He will want to use me to set some kind of example, surely-"

"He will release you," Frigga contradicts him firmly. "Thor and I will see to it. It serves little purpose to keep you a prisoner here. How can you make amends otherwise? We are your family, Loki. Even Odin is, though I see you do not believe it yet." She pauses and smiles sadly. "But Thor and I are here to assist you, always. Never doubt that."

As much as Loki aches to believe that, some things are not so easy to release, miserable as they are. "I am not of your blood," he insists listlessly. "Why do you persist in clinging to this fiction that I am-"

"Your home, your people, are wherever and whomever you choose, Loki. You are who and what you decide to be, regardless of whether your flesh is Asgardian or Jotun," his former mother argues quietly.

But Loki still can't believe it will be that easy. Nothing in his life has ever come easily, so why should things be different now?

"Odin is King of Asgard. Am I truly to believe that you will gainsay him?"

Thor shrugs, the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile. "Odin and I are already at odds over my decision to leave you free on Midgard these many weeks past. What further harm can be done? Besides, the majority of the damage you wrought was on Midgard. As protector of Midgard, an argument could be made that it should fall to me to decide your punishment." Both Thor and Frigga are smirking now, and Loki has to wonder if this is something the two of them have plotted together.

Still, it feels too easy. Much as he would like to return to Midgard and resolve matters with Jane, he cannot afford to lose sight of the larger issue. "Even assuming Odin would allow my return, this does not change the fact that so long as Thanos searches for me, Jane could be made a target. I cannot allow that."

Thor shakes his head. "Do you truly believe that leaving her will make her any less a target? Surely there is little cost to Thanos to go after Jane, whether or not it appears that you no longer care for her. Even if your protective magics are powerful, surely they can only be helped by your presence."

But Loki does not know if he can risk it again; the guilt, the pain, the fear of not knowing where Jane is, if she is being irreparably hurt or worse. He rubs at his temples. "I do not know that I can bring myself to risk her safety-"

"This has to stop, Loki," Thor interrupts. "I understand your thinking, but in truth you are utterly miserable, and Heimdall tells me Jane does not appear to be faring much better. She has turned from her stars, barely sets foot in her own home. She suffers."

Frigga adds, her tone gentle despite her hard words: "If this mortal is at risk, it is because of you, Loki. As Thor says, your magic may suffice to keep her safe, or it may not, but what of the damage that has already been done? Return to her. Help her."

"I do not know if I can…if I can bear it if she is ever taken from me again," Loki admits reluctantly, voice thick.

Frigga speaks now in an exasperated tone. "Love has costs, Loki! You can either protect yourself and be alone, or you can take risks and be with others. You cannot have the two at once."

Loki shifts laboriously to his feet, picking his way through debris. He paces, seeing nothing, lost in his internal debate while behind him, Thor and Frigga wait silently to hear his decision.

This is the turning point, he realizes. Just as when he hung over the abyss, before he chose to let go and tumble through space after the remains of the Bifröst. He can deny Thor and Frigga (and Odin) and wallow here, indefinitely. While Jane heals (hopefully) and then moves on, assuming Thanos never finds her.

Or, he can try to change. To make, as Thor has said, better decisions.

Loki shudders. An abyss of a different kind hangs before him now. Dare he jump into this one?

After an eternity of indecision, he decides that he will forgive Thor and Frigga – perhaps, in time – for their roles in this comedy. But not the architect, the puppet master of this entire farce that is his life – not Odin.

He supposes with a small measure of amusement that he must also attempt to forgive himself as well, but he does not know if that is possible.

But a good first start may be to see if Jane Foster of Midgard will forgive him.

Loki sighs at last, his whole frame wanting to slump with exhaustion, and turns to his impromptu audience. "Very well," he states quietly. "I will return to her. You have the right of it; she has never hurt me, and it was cowardly of me to leave her alone." He squares his shoulders, hoping that it is not too late to salvage what he can. Though she deserves better, his mind whispers traitorously.

Frigga's lips curve in a warm smile. "An excellent decision, my son. But first," she says, eyeing first his chambers and then him, critically, "You will clean your room. And then we simply must do something to tame that mane of yours. You can hardly woo your Midgardian while looking like such a vagabond."

Loki rolls his eyes upwards to the ceiling and grimaces, though despite his best efforts, he cannot help but feel the slightest glimmer of affection. How easily they slip back into old roles.

"Yes, Mother."