Chapter 9:

The next morning, Loki is gone.

Jane doesn't know how she knows. She just does.

And when she sees Thor, he tells her the same.

That Heimdall lost sight of him, and he is gone from Asgard. To where, nobody knows.

Jane only nods. And neither of them say anything more of it.

A week later, Jane returns to Earth.

Thor says he wishes he could stay with her, but that with Odin still in his sleep, that Asgard needs him as her acting King, and Jane only smiles weakly and tells him she understands.

Things between them… haven't felt the same since the battle with Malekith.

Neither of them have really acknowledged it. It's just there, sitting like a rift which separates, keeping them apart.

Jane can't explain it, why it's there or how. It seems illogical. But emotions have never been something she's particularly good at navigating, and she thinks whatever short lived affair there had been between her and Thor has perhaps already run its course.

It makes her sad.

She doesn't know when she'll see the thunder god again.

If she ever will…

Without expectation, she thinks suddenly of Loki, and how it is even less likely she shall ever lay eyes on him again.

And the sadness she feels somehow grows, until it feels like a weight, crushing down on her chest.

Until there is a sense of some inconsolable loss.

A part of her life over before she even really knew it was there…

/

Six months later

Jane grits her teeth, entire frame tensing as for what must be the fifth time, an "error" message pops up on her computer screen.

It takes, she thinks, every ounce of her considerable will not to scream in frustration, or smash her keyboard against the adjacent wall.

She's been trying to figure this fucking program out for the last hour and a half, and has gotten exactly no where.

Fucking Stark technology. It disturbs her, just slightly, that a physicist, at the top of her field, and no she doesn't think that's bragging, can have so much difficulty figuring out how to work a computer.

Ever since she landed this job working for SHIELD as head of their inter-dimensional space travel program, she's had nothing but trouble. She'd taken the offer because of the incredible funding that came with it, and the seemingly endless resources. But since then, she's run into so much bureaucratic and political bullshit, she can practically feel herself choking on it, and she very nearly regrets her decision now.

She longs for the solitude and quiet of her tiny little lab in New Mexico, when everything was hers, and no one else could touch it.

Here, in New York, in this locked down skyscraper, she swears, it feels like someone is constantly standing over her shoulder, watching her every move, just waiting to tell her no, she can't do that.

Breathing in through her nose, she rests her face in her hands, thinking now would probably be a good time to take her lunch break, when her cell goes off.

She reaches for it, pressing the call button without checking the caller ID, and bringing to her ear.

"Yeah?" She barks irritably, not really in the mood for talking.

"Jane, holy shit, do you see what's happening, like, right now!?"

Great. Darcy.

Jane closes her eyes, bringing her fingers to her temple and massaging absently.

"Darcy," she breaths in exasperation. "what are you talking about?"

"On the news!" Darcy shouts, practically breaking her ear drum. "Like, right now! This shit's going down LIVE."

Jane rolls her eyes, eyes scanning lazily for the remote control to her office's television, interest only slightly piqued.

"What?" She asks half-heartedly, finally finding the thing buried under a pile of papers, fumbling to turn it over and point it at the TV.

"That psycho little brother of Thor's!" Darcy finally blurts. "Him and the Avengers are facing off, right now, in some… some pastry shop or something! I don't know!"

Jane very nearly drops the remote, eyes going wide.

"What!?" She nearly shouts, finally managing to press the power button. She searches frantically for the nearest news station.

And then everything freezes.

Darcy's still talking in her ear, but Jane doesn't hear a word she's saying, her eyes glued to the TV screen, a news reporters voice over the images.

"… Pastry Shoppe in Downtown Manhattan, the Avengers arriving on the scene some five minutes ago and attempting what appears to be some sort of preventative course of action. Violence has yet to break out but…"

And then the reporter's voice fades to the background too.

Jane can't believe what she's seeing.

Loki, standing in what looks like a bakery shop barely bigger than her office, dressed in some ridiculously expensive looking suit which, she thinks, would look absurd on anyone else, but damn if he doesn't have the body to make it look amazing, standing across from the freakin' Avengers. Like, all of them, save the Hulk and Thor, and thank God for that.

His pose looks casual, as though he's utterly unconcerned by the fact that four super hero's are facing off against him, each with decidedly more hostile body language, clearly ready and maybe even vying for a fight.

There's no sound. This is being filmed from a distance, obviously, but the picture is still clear and close up.

Loki is saying something, pointing it seems to behind the order counter, casual.

The response to him is anything but.

Hawkeye suddenly looses an arrow, and Jane can't help the tiny shriek which escapes her lips before watching as Loki gestures, waving a hand lazily, the arrow dropping in mid flight like a stone to the ground.

She sees his features line in mild displeasure, and he's shaking his head now, saying something else. Hands raising, as though trying to placate.

He isn't attacking.

Iron Man's hands are raised, the repulses glowing white in clear threat.

Loki says something else, and Iron Man lets loose, a blast of pure, white energy.

Loki throws his hands up, and the blast slams against some sort of otherwise invisible barrier, light shimmering and dissipating across its surface.

"He isn't attacking…" Jane mummers to herself.

Another arrow, hitting the same barrier and falling, useless to the ground.

"He isn't attacking!" Jane yells at the screen, hands waving frantically, as though anyone can hear her.

Loki's expression is visibly angry now, but still, he isn't matching their assaults on him, only deflecting. He says something again, and then, suddenly, like something unreal, the wall beside him comes down, breaking away in massive chunks, and he whirls to face the giant, green behemoth filling the now empty space.

Jane can see a flash of something like shock pass over the god's features, and then he's raising his hands, green-white light splaying bright between his fingers.

But the Hulk is like lightening, moving faster than the eye can see, and in an instant, he's grabbed hold of Loki, lifting him from the floor like he weighs nothing, and Jane feels her stomach flip in sickening dread at the sight.

Loki, who she'd seen with her own, two eyes uproot a tree from the ground and wield the damn thing like a toy sword.

The Hulk barrels into the shop, massive hand gripped about Loki's shoulders, and it's like the world comes to a screeching halt, and what's happening is playing out in some bizarre, slowed haze.

The Hulk lifts the god, and there is a nauseating horror which rips through Jane, everything snapping back to reality as he brings Loki down, smashing his head against what looks like a slab of inch thick marble lain out on the front counter. The kind bakers use to work dough on.

The thing snaps in two from the impact, and for one, terrifying moment, Jane is sure, she's sure, Loki is dead. The speed with which he was smashed, the power behind the impact…

She knows he's a god, or a… a super powered alien or whatever, but Jesus, she doesn't think anyone could have survived that.

The Hulk lets him drop, Loki's body falling limp to the ground, and it seems for a moment, time stills, and Jane can feel herself shaking.

And then her eyes widen in absolute disbelief, and such unexpected and overwhelming relief, as she sees the mischief god shift, and push himself to his knees. His arms are shaking, and there is blood, too much blood, smeared along the ridge of his brow, a deep laceration running from the edge of his hairline, down his right temple.

The Avengers are standing around him, gathered in a half circle, watching with apprehension as he struggles up to his feet, posed to fight. They're wary of him still, even as he stumbles, and falls back to one knee, hand coming to his head.

"Oh, God…" Jane breathes to herself, watching as he again tries getting to his feet, and again, his legs give out beneath him.

The Black Widow says something to him, pistol aimed directly at the god's head. But whatever it is, Loki isn't listening.

Jane sees his eyes light like green fire, as a third time, he struggles to his feet. And then those eyes flare brighter somehow still, glowing incandescent, and his mouth falls open in what looks like a scream of rage.

He turns, in a motion impossibly quick, and in an instant, a blast of green and gold light explodes out from his hands, thrust towards the Hulk.

The blast hits the beast, and as easily as he had lifted the god and crushed him down, the Hulk is now blown off his own, massive feet, lifted into the air and shot like a bullet across the shop, smashing through the wall with such an impact, it seems to shake the very foundations of the building, disappearing onto the street outside.

And then nothing.

Loki takes a step forward, still clearly unsteady on his feet, and before he can do so much as raise his arms again, Iron Man blasts him with a repulse, throwing the god back against the counter, crushed against his lower back.

As he falls forward, Captain America lets his shield fly, the edge of it catching Loki in the throat, and then Iron Man surges forward, seizing the god by the lapels of his suit, lifting him up and tossing him over the counter, following after him as Loki lands hard against the open stove top beyond. The Avenger wastes no time, not allowing Loki to recover as he grabs him by the hair, and smashes his face into the wrought iron appliance. Visible steam rises off the surface, and Loki convulses, and Jane realizes with horror that the stove top is on, that it's hot.

Iron Man holds him there, pinned, as he retrieves some sort of device from one of the compartments in his suit, what looks like a high tech collar of some sort.

Loki struggles viciously, bucking under the Avenger's hold, getting his hands underneath him, pressing them to the stove top. More steam rises, and Jane feels sick, realizing that the heat must be flaying the god's naked hands raw. But if he feels any pain, it does nothing to deter him, as he lifts himself up, overpowering Iron Man's pressure, the sheer strength of the move leaving Jane's, and the other Avenger's mouths hanging open in astonishment.

But before he can rip himself free, Iron Man leans forward, jamming an elbow into the god's back, nearly laying his entire torso across Loki's, effectively pushing him back down. And then he's snapping the collar around Loki's neck, and there is a violent shutter through the trickster's thin frame, his mouth falling open in what looks like a scream.

Everything stops.

Loki falls limp and still. Unresponsive.

Unconscious.

Iron Man hauls him off of the stove, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

He gives the thumbs up to his team. The Hulk still hasn't emerged from where he'd been thrown through the wall.

When they pull Loki's arms behind his back, carelessly and even unnecessarily rough, and bind his wrists together in some thick, metal restraints unlike any she's ever seen, Jane can't take any more.

She shuts the television off, and turns away.

She hears Darcy's voice, still talking incessantly through the speaker on her phone, dropped at her side.

She bends, lifting the device off the floor, hitting the end button.

And then she sinks down, onto her knees, and presses her face into her trembling hands.

And all she can see is Loki defending himself. Not attacking. Not attacking.

Not until they attacked him.

Loki, who saved her life twice over.

Loki, who she saw in his mother's garden, weeping for her.

And something about this feels wrong.

All of it.

It feels so wrong.

/

She finds him where he always is.

Tucked and hidden away in the backmost section of the palace library, huddled low in a chair, back against the wall of the corner it's placed in.

He knows she's there.

Loki always knows, and she smiles softly to herself.

Her son, brilliant and bright and too, too sensitive.

Such sensitivity has never fit in such a place as Asgard.

Not in a man.

Though Loki is still just a boy, somewhere half between childhood and a warriors age.

This will only become more difficult for him.

He doesn't move as she approaches, doesn't give any indication that he's aware of her presence.

And at first, she says nothing, as she pulls out an opposing seat, sweeping her skirts back as she lowers herself elegantly into the chair.

Loki has his face buried in his arms, rested against the table.

He's trying to fool her into thinking he's asleep, and her smile only grows.

She studies him a moment longer.

His hair is damp and mussed, half caked with dust from the training fields. His clothes similarly so. There is a long tear in the right sleeve of his tunic, and underneath, she can see dried blood from a wound long since healed. But the fact alone he's left it uncleaned would be enough to tell her something is wrong.

Loki is always so fastidious about his appearance, about cleanliness.

Eventually, she breaths in, reaching out a hand and resting it gently upon his thin shoulder.

"Loki." She speaks his name in barely more than a whisper.

"I am well." He answers immediately, voice muffled.

But she can hear the thickness of it, and she is his mother. She can tell when he's lying, even if no one else can.

"I know you are not." She says.

And he remains silent at that.

"Thor told me what happened." She goes on.

Loki scoffs, still hiding his face.

"Did he?" He asks, tone derisive.

Frigga nods.

"Yes." She answers. "Loki, remember what I told you? You cannot…"

"Did he tell you how he laughed with the others?" Loki suddenly cuts her off, still refusing to lift his face to her.

Frigga pauses, feeling herself tense slightly, mouth pulling into a frown.

Her hand still rests on Loki's shoulder, and she can feel the vague tremble running through his frame.

"No." She at last answers. "He did not."

Again, Loki scoffs, and now he sits up, turning his face away too quickly for her to catch a clear glimpse of it.

"Of course." He mutters.

She feels her heart sink, watching as he wipes quickly at his eyes, trying to disguise it as he rubs his hand over his face and racking it back through his hair an instant after.

"Loki," she begins again, finally pulling her hand back. "you should not let it bother you. Thor is brash, and young. He is libel to fall to the pressure of his peers. It does not mean that is how he really feels or…"

Loki turns to her abruptly, and her heart nearly breaks at the sight of him. Eyes rimmed red and puffy, still glassy with unshed tears. He's clearly been crying. His face is bruised, a wash of tiny lacerations across his left cheek, lip split wide across the bottom and left eye blackened.

The wounds will be healed over entirely in another hour or so.

But Loki's pride will not.

His expression is trembling, struggling as he fights to hold on to a mask of indifference, until finally, he loses the battle, and his face breaks in pained lines.

"I cannot even best a girl, Mother." He says, voice pitched slightly higher in his distress. "Sif makes of me a fool. And what are the others to think? Seeing their Prince so easily defeated? So easily disarmed and thrown? How is anyone supposed to look to me as their leader when I am so weak and useless on the field of battle?"

He turns away again, hand coming up and fisting in his already tangled hair.

"Loki…" Frigga reaches out in concern, seeing the beginnings of a panic attack in him.

He's suffered them since he was a small child, and it frightens her so, whenever it happens.

"They are right to laugh at me." Loki finally says, voice hoarse and weak. Resigned.

"Loki, do not speak such nonsense." Frigga chides, quickly and firmly.

When he doesn't acknowledge her, she reaches forward, placing her palm against his left cheek and turning his face towards her.

"Loki," she repeats. "I never want to hear you speak that way about yourself again. Do you hear me?"

His eyes flit away, even as she keeps him facing forward.

And a sigh drags from her lips, letting her hand fall.

"My boy," she says so quietly, it's almost soundless. "you cannot do this to yourself."

She watches him silently a moment, and then shakes her head.

"You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, my son." She goes on. "What do the words or regard of others matter unless you believe fully in yourself? Loki…"

She takes hold of his slender hand, squeezing gently.

"What matters is you fight bravely. And yes, perhaps you are not physically strong as some of the others. But you still are growing, and eventually, with time, you will become more proficient a fighter."

"I will never be as strong as Thor." She hears him mutter.

She frowns.

"… Perhaps not." She replies, giving his hand another squeeze, because she knows he will not.

Few ever will be, as is, and Loki is small. Of slight build, from the time he was a babe…

He will grow more… but not much.

She looks down, still holding on to him.

"They laugh at me for my inadequacy in wielding more formal weaponry, and yet chastise and call me coward if I dare to use my seidr in battle." He snaps suddenly, and when Frigga looks up, she sees the single tear which escapes down his cheek. He wipes it viciously away. "I know not what they want of me! I know not what… what…"

His eyes squeeze shut, and he shakes his head in frustration.

"What I am supposed to do. What I am supposed to be!"

"Oh, Loki…" Frigga breaths, and she stands without hesitation, coming around the table and bending, taking him in her arms and embracing him close.

"You be yourself, my child." She whispers against his hair. And she feels him cling back, a sharp shutter through his frame. "You be yourself."

When she enters his cell, she has to stop a moment and catch her breath.

She sees him, sat along the floor.

His hands are bound above his head. Shackled to the wall. They're the same, thick metal cuffs she'd watched them fit onto him on the news. They cover the entirety of his hands, hiding them away, coming midway down his forearms. The chain which holds him to the wall must be three inches thick at each link, bolted down at their ends.

They've removed the suit he was wearing, she notices quickly.

He's in nothing more now than a single, grey t-shirt and loose cotton pants, no shoes or socks on his feet, ridiculously long legs lain out flat in front of him.

His head is drooped forward, and for the first time, it registers to Jane that his hair is short, in the least, compared to how long it had been when last she saw him. Down only to his shoulders now.

But it is mussed and disheveled, thick strands of it falling over his hidden face.

She can see bruises along his arms, starting where the cuffs end, and all the way up to along his small biceps and around.

It's bizarre, how thin he is, how slightly built, and yet they have him bound by restraints meant to hold only the strongest of mutants on their planet.

More bruises still are visible along the low cut neck of his t-shirt, where his collarbone is showing, and Jane feels ill.

They've tortured him.

Fury all but admitted it to her, outside in the hall, when she'd come storming into the compound earlier, demanding to see Loki.

They'd refused at first.

And then she'd begun threatening them, telling them that Thor was by to see her at least once a week (which was a lie. But Thor did come to see her fairly often. Perhaps every month or two.). She'd told them then she would be letting Thor know that they'd essentially beaten the hell out of his little brother and locked him up in a cell, after he'd served his judgment for his crimes both here on Earth, and in Asgard. It wasn't a lie, to tell them that Thor would be extremely unhappy, if he were to find out what they'd done.

Whenever she did see Thor, he still spoke to her about Loki. About how much he missed his brother, and wished he would come back. How he would worry over him, about where he'd gone and what he was doing. About what, possibly, was being done to him.

He tells her Frigga's garden still blooms healthy and with life, and Jane has smiled at that.

Thor loves Loki, Jane knows. He loves him with all his heart. And if he knew… if he knew what was happening now, well… Jane hardly envies SHIELD, or the Avengers at this moment.

She knows Thor has enough power alone to tear both entities apart, should he so choose.

And if Heimdall is watching… if Loki hasn't cloaked himself from the gatekeepers sight, then it doesn't really matter if she ends up telling Thor or not, because he'll know, and he'll be coming.

That collar is still secured around Loki's neck, she sees. Flashing red and green lights interchanging on a timed loop, blearing brightly along its edge.

It's some sort of magic repressor, Fury had explained. Something keeping Loki from accessing his power.

The SHIELD director claims that the physical pain it causes the god was an unexpected side effect. That they hadn't anticipated that to happen. That they still didn't know enough about how "this whole magic thing" worked to understand the consequences of binding a sorcerer's power.

Jane has a hard time believing that, looking over Loki now.

Fury claims their "tactics", as he puts it, were a necessary evil. That they'd been trying to get him to talk, to glean what he was doing back on Earth. Apparently, though, their efforts have been in vain.

Loki, Fury says, hasn't spoken a single word to anyone since he woke up.

Hasn't so much as uttered a cry of pain for their special attentions.

The agents of SHIELD are spooked.

Jane can see it in their body language. The way they hold themselves, and start, however minutely, at every, little, unexpected noise.

Loki scares them.

And she smiles grimly to herself at the thought.

He should.

Loki is fucking scary.

Jane doesn't know why exactly she feels this way. Why she's even here.

She tries to reason to herself that she's upset on behalf of Thor. That it's because Thor would be horrified if he saw what they'd done to Loki, and she feels some weird obligation to him to make sure his family is okay.

But deep down, she knows it's something beyond that.

Deep down, she knows there's something in her which protests at seeing the god treated this way.

Logically, she thinks she should still hate Loki. Still feel nothing for his own suffering.

He saved her life.

But that doesn't change what he did to ruin so many others. Including Eric's.

And yet, she doesn't know. It's like she sees something in Loki she can't explain.

Something which makes her heart ache in some hopeless pain.

He seems so… lost to her.

Almost like a child.

She scoffs inwardly at the thought.

He's literally thousands of years old. He's lived so long, seen so much, known so much, she can scarcely begin to wrap her mind around it.

But still, the impression is strong within her.

He's so young looking.

She continues staring at him, lost in thought, when the sound of his voice nearly startles a yelp from her lips.

"Ms. Foster." He says, voice hushed in its softness.

And then he lifts his face, and she sees the vicious bruising around his eyes. The dried blood crusted round the nostrils of his fine, long nose, and along his upper lip. The abrasions, ugly and red and stark against his too pale skin.

He smiles at her, and she's both at once unsettled, and struck by how very handsome he is, even through the beaten state of his visage.

His teeth are smeared with blood.

"This is an unexpected surprise." He continues.

And she watches him shift, straightening as much as he can with his hands trapped above his head.

Even chained to a wall, he manages somehow to still look dignified.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He asks.

Jane swallows.

She doesn't understand how he can sound so… light… given his situation. Given what's happened.

"Fear not, mortal girl." He bows he head slightly. "I harbor for you no ill will."

His eyes rise up to her again, bright and clear.

"No longer." He says. And he sounds like he means it.

Jane's brow furrows, and at last, she takes a step into the cell, the door swooshing shut behind her, giving a mechanical click as it locks into place.

She should be afraid, being locked in a cell with Loki, she thinks.

For whatever reason, she isn't.

"… Are you alright?" Are the first words which find their way out of her mouth.

For a brief moment, there is a flash of something in his eyes. Something like a mix between confusion and defensiveness.

He sits up straighter even, holding his chin high. And then he smiles, a carefree, easy expression.

"Do not concern yourself, Ms. Foster." He says brightly. "I am hale and whole."

Jane's lips pull into a frown, stepping closer, seeing better the deep contusions which consume his collarbone and run to beneath his shirt.

He's still so skinny.

She doesn't think he's gained any weight since last she saw him.

"They hurt you though." Jane nearly whispers.

And Loki laughs.

Jane's frown deepens.

"Yes," Loki nods after a moment, seeming to have to catch his breath. "well," he shrugs as best he can with his arms restrained as they are. "they have given it their best effort. But these ridiculous mortals, they lack both the stomach and the imagination. They do not begin to grasp the true concept of torture."

His smile widens, and there is the ghost of experience in his eyes. Haunted memories imprinted there.

Jane feels a horrified chill run through her, remembering the sight of his naked back, and the scars upon his face.

"I would offer you a place to sit." Loki's voice cuts in to her thoughts. "But as you can see, the room they've placed me in is rather bare."

Jane reaches up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"That's okay." She says quietly.

Her eyes flick down, away from him finally.

It's bothering her, she realizes, seeing him chained up like this.

"You came back to Earth." She says almost soundlessly. So quiet, she thinks he must not have caught it.

But then she hears him answer.

"Aye." He says.

She looks back to him.

"Why?" She asks bluntly, realizing only a moment later that it's the same question which has been posed to him over and over by SHIELD the last two days, and he hasn't deigned to answer them at all, even when they've tried to force him to.

For a moment, she fears she's messed it all up. That he'll grow angry and rage at her. Or simply shut down and refuse to speak.

But he again only shrugs.

"They think me to have returned in another attempt to subjugate this Realm." He says softly, smiling faintly.

Jane swallows, staring back at him.

"… Have you?" She asks nervously.

Loki's smile grows tight.

Almost… sad.

"No." He answers, looking straight at her.

And then his eyes flash away, face turning down.

"I no longer seek a means to pride." He adds, so quietly, she isn't sure she's even heard him right.

A moment passes, Jane feeling unsure, remaining silent as he continues to face away from her.

Until, abruptly, he straightens again, looking at her.

"I am traveling." He says. "Or rather, was." His smile is bitter now. "I have been to all Nine Realms these past months." He explains. "And some places beyond. Exploring their different cultures and costumes." Here, his smile grows more genuine, before falling abruptly. "Midgard was merely my most recent destination. I should have been more cautious, I admit. Disguised myself, perhaps."

He glances away once more.

"It is only that there are so many of you, and I thought… miscalculated, I suppose, on the chances of me being recognized. Though, truly, even you may wonder at the probability of one of the… Avengers, walking into the very same shop I found myself the afternoon before last."

She watches as he leans his head back against the wall, eyes closing, a faint smile playing about his lips.

"I admit delight upon finding a Midgardian baker's shop." He says. "That, if nothing else on this Realm, is similar to Asgard. Though your pastries are of an entirely different sort."

He leans his head back forward, eyes opening, staring at her across from him half-lidded.

His smile is lazy now, and Jane is beginning to wonder at the number of expressions his face holds.

She's never seen anything like it. Never seen a person's face emote so many things, and at times, emote nothing at all.

"It is a weakness of mine." He goes on. "Sweets. Sweet things. One should always admit to their weaknesses Ms. Foster, lest those weaknesses remain unbolstered by strengths and so used against you."

Jane swallows, averting her eyes, cheeks flushing for some reason she can't place.

"They aren't going to let you out of here." She says softly.

"No," he answers. "I should think not."

She glances back to him.

"What are you going to do?" She asks.

She realizes there is a sense of dread within her, being pulled in two opposing directions.

She fears for Loki, for what may be done to him here.

And she fears for those who keep him, for they understand not the power he holds, she thinks.

She finds him staring back at her, that same, confused, almost defensive shadow in his eyes, and again, she wonders over it.

"I will manage, as I always do." He at last answers.

Again, she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"Can… can Heimdall see you?" She asks quietly, looking away.

Loki smirks.

"Now? Yes. With this infernal human device round my neck."

Jane shifts, folding her arms over her chest.

"If Heimdall can see you then, well… I guess Thor could…"

"I do not require a hero, Ms. Foster." Loki's voice suddenly cuts her short, harsh and sharp.

Her mouth closes with a snap at the look across his face, eyes blazing at once with unchecked fury and indignation.

They stare at one another a moment, silent, until Jane watches the anger seep away from Loki's features, leaving a blank mask in place.

"… I'm sorry." Jane says, trying to keep her voice calm.

He still scares the hell out of her, even chained up like he is.

"I just thought… I mean…" she shuffles uneasily, crossing her arms. "Couldn't you just tell them the truth, about why you're here I mean?"

Loki laughs suddenly, a light chuckle, and he shakes his head.

"I hardly think they would believe me." He replies. "What reason would they have to?"

That was a good point.

Jane shrugs, looking down, feeling her cheeks flush somewhat.

"I guess they don't." She admits quietly. "Maybe I could…" she shrugs, looking around the cell. "I don't know, maybe I could…"

Again, she hears Loki laugh, though this time it isn't quite so incredulous, more like a tolerating amusement.

Almost… pleasant.

"Compassionate girl." He says. "It is a wonder you mortals survive past a day, hampered as you are by such sentiment."

Loki's words are mocking, but the tone of his voice… he sounds almost fond. And he's smiling at her nearly kindly, good naturedly.

"But no," he goes on after a moment. "I should not require your assistance, Ms. Foster. I assure you I am quite capable on my own."

"I… I know." Jane answers, abruptly worried she's offended him and not even understanding why. "I wasn't saying…"

"You associate with them now?" Loki cuts her off suddenly. "With this… faction of SHIELD?"

Jane blinks, for a moment thrown by his wording.

"Uh, if you mean do I work for them? Then, yeah." She nods. "I do."

Loki nods in return, looking thoughtful.

"And do you find the partnership to your satisfaction?" He presses.

Jane hesitates a moment.

Then shrugs.

"The funding's great." She says. "Pays pretty good. And access to their labs and equipment is nice too."

"You evade the question." Loki smiles. "You speak of the associations many benefits, but do you find yourself satisfied with the arrangement?"

Again, Jane hesitates, actually having to contemplate the question.

And she realizes in that moment, as she had before, and as she considers the god, and what SHIELD has done to him, unprovoked, no, she isn't. She really isn't.

She shakes her head, glancing away.

"Not really." She admits.

"Ah." Loki says. "Too many rules."

She looks back to him, surprise evident across her face.

He's smiling at her again.

"Factions such as your SHIELD," he begins to explain. "they offer the pretense of generosity, so long as you comply by their rules. And such strictness can only ever stifle creativity, I find."

Jane's mouth falls slightly open, eyes widening, because, yes, yes! That's it exactly!

That's exactly the issue she's found herself having with her new position. Despite all the resources and supposed command she's been given, she feels less in control of her research than she ever has in her life.

And Loki putting it to words like that just now, it's like a light going off in her head, clarity of just how unhappy she's been these past few months, answering to a government agency when before it was all hers. Her research. Her baby.

She's struck suddenly and acutely with the desire to be free from it, from the suffocating restrictions she's so recently found placed upon her.

The wrongness she feels in the knowledge that her work is no longer her own.

She's about to speak, to tell Loki what she's just, suddenly come to realize, to thank him even for helping her to it, when she's cut off by the sound of the intercom, and then Fury's agitated voice, flowing over the system.

"That'll be all, Dr. Foster. Times up." He says.

And then the cell door is sliding open with a whoosh, and two guards are entering, there, obviously, to escort her out.

Jane glances at them briefly, before turning back to Loki, finding the god looking at her still, smiling softly.

He bows his head to her.

"As you will, Ms. Foster." He says. "It has been a pleasure."

Jane nods absently.

And then she's being led away, out of the cell, the sound of the door whooshing shut and locking tight behind her filling her ears loud.

/

Four days later, Jane is on the phone, talking to Eric, and he's telling her that Loki has just escaped SHIELD custody in the last hour. Telling her he, somehow, talked one of the guards into undoing his cuffs before proceeding to rip the collar round his neck free with his bare hands and vanish from the place in a shock of green light.

Nobody hurt. Nobody killed.

He just… left.

The guard had already been detained and was being interrogated.

He's telling her all of this in a panic, voice thick with undisguised concern for her.

And she's reassuring him, telling him he's worrying needlessly. That more than likely, Loki has simply left the planet entirely, after everything.

And then she hears a soft knock at her front door.

She tells Eric to hold on a minute, placing the phone against her chest as she moves across the living room.

She doesn't even bother checking through the peephole. She assumes it's Darcy, coming to harass her and drag her outside for some "fun in the sun", as she puts it, every Friday morning.

And then she's opening the door, and she's greeted by somebody's chest, clothed in an extremely fine, green and gold embroidered vest. White dress shirt underneath. A scarf to match the vest hanging down over their shoulders.

She stares a moment, confused.

And then she remembers to look up, and her mouth opens, no words forthcoming.

Loki looks back down at her, a wide smile spread across his handsome face.

He bows his head for her, and then looks back up.

"Good morrow, Ms. Foster." He says. "May I come in?"

/

AN: Long chapter this time guys! Hope you enjoyed it! I SO appreciate all of your guys' feedback on the last chapter, and would love to hear what you thought of this one.