"What are you laughing at woman?" He snarled. Brooke continued her hysterics along with her answer.

"Now it all comes together. Finally," She got out of her bed and walked to the window wall, arms raised, laughing all the while. "I know of my true parentage." She turned and faced him. "I have Asgardian blood. I should have known. I could-"

"You're crying again, Brooke." Loki interrupted. His comment stopped her dead in her tracks. She no longer laughed, or smiled, but dropped to her knees. Loki moved forward little by little. Her eyes were shut tightly, but she was not sobbing. He looked like a curious and innocent child who didn't understand what was happening. How quickly his demeanor could change. He reached his hand down and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Brooke's head slowly rose to look him in the eyes. What he saw in them was swirling blends of rage, confusion, betrayal, grief and above all, pain. They were mirrors of his own eyes. He knelt down to her eye level, and acted on impulse and from learning from stories in his past. He closed his eyes and embraced her lips with his own.

What is this new feeling? Each of them wondered. Neither had been able to truly discern this particular emotion before, neither had experienced a kiss before, and neither felt it was necessarily a bad experience.

Suddenly, but as though each had expected it to happen, there was a small chain of green light streaming from each of their chests, connecting them as the light met.

Brooke gasped as she stood before three people she had never seen before. One was playing with her. He had long blond hair for a boy, sparkling cyan oceans for eyes and a glimmering pearl smile.

A man and a woman called the boy away from her. The man, tall and burly had a beard that was cotton white and matched his hair in color and length. He only had a single eye, the other was covered by a metal patch. He carried a large scepter-like spear that was made of gold. He wore a form of armor-similar to Loki's-and a cape that shone scarlet.

The woman held an air of elegant beauty. Her golden hair was curled and reached below her back. Her eyes were a brilliant, kind and motherly aquamarine. Te color matched her flowing gown that showed off more of her grandeur. Her face was warm and showed years of compassion. She kept her hands folded in front of her prominently.

They called for the boy. He looked at Brooke, smiled, and shrugged, then ran to join them. Brooke waved after but just as immediately dropped her hand and felt that she would cry. She looked down at her feet which were swaddled in black boots. A hand was placed caringly on her shoulder. Brooke looked back into the face of the woman.

Then, the scene changed. Brooke was standing at a tall window. It was brilliantly light outside as she watched the boy, who had grown into his teens, spar and play with other boys and a few girls. She moved her vision to the left and saw the man and woman smiling and beaming with pride at all but herself. She felt hot tears stream down her face but quickly wiped them away with a leather sleeve when one of the children spotted her.

Brooke glanced behind her into a mirror. But she saw someone that certainly was not her. She saw Loki, staring back from his bedroom mirror. Tears were streaming down his face. She noticed that the mirror was cracked extensively and Loki's clenched fist was covered in bright blood.

She then realized, she was watching the pain that had unfolded in Loki's past.

She felt the confusion and deception when Loki killed Laufey and was proven wrong by the man with the eye patch-whom she determined to be his adoptive father. She felt the betrayal, loss and hopelessness when Loki dropped into the abyss of space.

When Loki kissed her, he was taken aback with surprise when he woke up in a dark and wet alleyway in Midgard. Footsteps approached.

Three people stood at the end of the alley. The first-a man-was tall, muscular, and had buzzed hair. He had his arm around the other two people and the other in his pocket. His eyes were black, and showed care and love for the two next to him. But, when he looked at Loki, his eyes were filled with extreme disgust.

The second-a woman-was thin, but horse-like. Her eyes were a muddy brown that gazed at Loki with a venomous spite. Her brown hair was curled and fell to her shoulders. Her lips were painted an artificial bloody red, her dress as far too short for anyone's liking but the man at her hip. She looked like a whore off of the street corner.

The last, a boy about ten, was different than the two adults. His short brown hair was spiked with gel. He gazed at Loki with curiosity and sympathy. He smiled at Loki, but Loki backed away the boy continued towards him, still smiling and held out his hand. Loki slowly reached his hand out, which was small, pale, thin and fragile, like a girl's.

The scene changed.

Loki was pinned to the floor, on his stomach, his throat sore and bleeding from screaming for mercy at the top of his lungs. The whore-woman sat on his back with the intricately carved dagger that Brooke tried to use before. It was dripping blood in front of Loki's face, his own blood. He felt such betrayal towards these people. Looking at his small and delicate shaking hands, he realized he was reliving Brooke's memories.

They came out of the stupor and back to their own minds, in the present. But they didn't break the kiss for another few moments. When they did, they gawked at each other as though the other was the only person they had ever laid eyes on.

However, re-living each other's memories took a greater toll on the both of them than either thought possible. Brooke fell forward against Loki's chest, deep in a pit of unconsciousness. Loki, too tired to move her, leaned back against her bed and passed out himself.