Phew, mad night last night! I woke up to so many lovely responses, I couldn't believe my eyes. Thank you all of you very much. Oh and Southern Facade, I think 'saccharine' is my new favourite word hehehe.

The next morning was a whirlwind of activity. Right from as early as six a.m, people began to converge on Maeve's small R.V in their own mobiles homes, ranging from massive Winnebagos down to a lavishly painted gypsy caravan. Maeve herself ran from one to the other, greeting everyone with hugs and steaming mugs of coffee, yellow and green sundress vibrant in the august sun, bare feet flitting between people. By nine, someone had set up a barbecue and the smell of bacon and toasting bread filled the air, Maeve looking in her element as she flipped the sizzling food, offering rolls to eager, grabbing hands of children that ran away giggling to sit in the shade and eat.

Just before midday an impressive navy blue Itasca pulled up, squeezing it's way into the ring of caravans. When the door opened and the steps were lowered, the plump woman called Bonita dismounted first, followed by a still fragile looking Grayson, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

Abandoning the barbecue, Maeve ran to him, winding her bare arms around his chest and hugging him for a long moment. Loki sat in the doorway of her R.V, watching quietly as she looked up at the old man, pushing the rim of his hat up to see him better. She was smiling brightly as she spoke to him, taking his arm to steer him down into a sturdy camping chair and he pulled her close, she leaning over so he could mumble something to her. She nodded, then pressed a loving kiss on his bristled cheek and set him up with an iced tea and a bowl of fruit salad.

As the early afternoon crept on, Bonita helped Maeve feed everyone, the clucking woman fussing over her too, occasionally forcing her to stop and sip some cold water, her freckled cheeks flushed pink from heat and exertion. Around two p.m the six or seven children that had been weaving their way between people were sat down, Maeve giving each of them one of the corn dollies she'd made before. That sat happily decorating them with ribbons and beads and the wildflowers she'd picked, while their parents knelt to rub them with sun block and chatter idly about grade school. On the outset it would have looked like a perfectly normal camping holiday and on the fringe Loki observed it all in silence, taking in the nuances of natural human life.

Eventually Maeve came over to him, kneeling before him with her hands resting on his knees.

"There is someone I'd like you to meet," she said with a cautious smile. Already knowing where this was heading, he nodded, allowing her to take him by the hand and lead him over to Grayson. As they approached the old man got to his feet, drawing himself to his full height. He looked at Loki with cool steel blue eyes as the girl introduced him, stiffly holding out a calloused hand as he said abruptly,

"I hauled your behind into Maeve's van. I'm surprised you're still here." Loki took his hand, gripping it firmly as he returned the elder's gaze levelly.

"I was invited to stay," he said, each word carrying a touch of curtness. He could feel Maeve shrinking between them.

"Yeah, that's my girl. When she was a kid it was cats and corn snakes," Grayson replied slowly. He was simmering. Maeve put her hand on his arm, steering him to let go of Loki's hand, the air prickling.

"Stop it," she whispered with a frown. "Don't do this today. I said I would talk to you tomorrow…" She prized his arm away, leading Grayson back to his seat and lowering him back into it. As she did her gaze flickered up to Loki and she gave him an apologetic smile. He nodded to assure her it was alright. If he had been her father, he would not be impressed by a stranger's extended stay either.

Later in the afternoon the children were changed, dressed prettily in dresses and smocks of reds, golds and oranges and Maeve, along with their parents, led them out of the circle of caravans into a clear space. Each of the children clutched their corn dollies tightly in pudgy hands as they walked and Loki leant against the back of Maeve's R.V with his arms folded to watch. He recognized the familiar sight of Maeve marking a circle with salt, then each of the children were encouraged to sit in their parents' laps on the ground. She settled in the centre of the group with one of those sweet, bright smiles, leaning forward as she began tom tell them a story. Loki tilted his dark head as he listened. It was about John Barelycorn, from Maeve's song before. In the version she spun it rhymed, making the whole venture sound innocent enough, describing a metaphor for the harvest each year. He found himself smiling as she led the children to sing a chant;

"Lughnasadh is the life and the death of the Corn King,

Lughnasadh, life and rebirth of the Corn King."

It was a simple, innocent ritual and as Loki watched, Maeve encouraged each of the children to give their dollies a kiss and say thank you. Afterwards she handed each of them a gingerbread man, insisting they ate before they got up to play. As she sucked a smudge of icing off her thumb her gaze flickered up and she gave Loki a brief smile before a little girl in a puffy red dress clamoured into her lap, insisting she gave her corn dolly a kiss.

"I don't know who the Hell you are, but I know you're trouble."

Loki was snapped out of his reverie by Grayson laying a tight gripping hand on his shoulder. For a man who'd recently been at death's door he was surprisingly strong. Loki turned around to look at him face to face, feeling a swirl of defensive anger in his stomach.

"You're attracting attention," Grayson continued, "and if you bring any hurt to Maeve, I will personally kick the crap outta you. People have been asking questions and I will not have Maeve dragged down with you."

Loki felt a surge of adrenaline, steering Grayson out of Maeve's view, hissing under his breath;

"What questions? Who has gotten to you?" The old man snarled, leering at him.

"They called themselves S.H.I.E.L.D. And they really want to know where you are. They came to my damn hospital room!" His face was turning bright red, breathing erratic. Loki felt a surprising twinge of concern. If he became ill again, Maeve would be destroyed. He lay his hands on the older man's shoulders, saying softly,

"Calm down. Your heart."

Grayson took a few deep breaths. Shaking his head. Loki could feel loathing emanating from him, but none the less he knew he was right. Finally he said in his Southern drawl,

"If you have any respect for Maeve, for what she's done for you, don't hurt her. You need to go and take this away with you."

Loki looked at him, at the desperation in his eyes. If S.H.I.E.L.D came here they would punish Maeve for his actions, he knew they would. Guilty by association and there was so much he was guilty of…

He gazed down at Grayson, feeling all of the misery which had begun to fade in the last few weeks return in a horrible, crushing wave. The old man peered at him, his hard expression softening slightly.

"I think you care about her," he said, more gentle now. "I know you'll do the right thing. Stay tonight, it's an important night. But tomorrow… Tomorrow please do the right thing…"

He loped away, leaving Loki stood alone, numb and slumping against the van. S.H.I.E.L.D. S.H.I.E.L.D coming after him, bringing their vengeance into Maeve's quiet, innocent life. He'd wanted to go home, or stay, or take her with him, he just wanted to remain near her. But now all his hopes were gone. He had to go. For once he had to do the selfless thing.

By the time Maeve led the children and parents back from their circle he was feeling nauseous and miserable. Families were cooking dinners and lighting a fire in the iron pit and Maeve was wandering round giving the children small parcels of sweets wrapped in red tissue paper, flitting over to Grayson constantly. Loki wanted to talk with her, to steal her away and tell her the truth about everything. But instead he watched from a distance, feeling increasingly detached.

In the evening when the children were ushered to bed there was a shift in mood. People began to disappear into their vans, Maeve climbing into hers to find Loki sat on the bed. She smiled at him, settling beside him with a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You've been so quiet today."

He looked at her, her cornflower eyes, her freckles, her pale pink lips. He wanted to say no, to tell her he had broken his word not to bring trouble to her door. He wanted to say he was sorry, for what he was doing now, for all he had done before, for lying and wounding and all the darkness he had ever unleashed.

Instead though he nodded, giving her a wan smile. She could see through it, her knew, as she gently touched the back of his hand.

"We'll be doing the ritual soon. You're welcome to watch if you like," she said. "I just need to get ready." He nodded in silence, brushing her fingers before stepping outside. Some people were milling around the fire pit already, clothed in gold, orange and yellow robes and smocks, cords and ribbons tied around waists and in hair. They looked completely out of time.

Bonita was amongst them and in moments she was beside Loki, ushering him with the group away from the campsite and a few minutes into then desert, until the caravan lights were winking in the distance. Grayson was there too, one of the corn wreaths Maeve had made on his head. Around him people were making a huge circle out of candles, laying out crystals and bound feathers, a cauldron, shells, more and more strange and beautiful objects that cast long shadows and glittered in the candlelight. They lay out corn dollies in the centre and someone balanced a sword across them and a stone chalice beside.

Bonita led Loki a few feet away from it all, explaining he couldn't stand in the circle but he was welcome to observe and he sat on the ground, forearms resting on his knees as he tried to ignore the feeling of a blade hanging over his head.

Soon the circle was ready and they stood waiting, talking amongst themselves. Finally they fell silent as Maeve approached. Loki looked over his shoulder, following the group's gaze to her and felt his stomach drop. She was clothed in a wine red dress, shoulders bare and white under the moonlight, bell sleeves fluttering in the mild breeze. The full skirts swam around her, a gold sash pulling in her small waist and her loose hair was crowned with a corn wreath, red ribbons ripping through her raven waves. She looked regal and beautiful, clean of any make up or jewellery. She was simply lovely, achingly so and Loki felt his chest tighten.

When she entered the circle she placed something in the middle and in the candlelight he recognized the statuette he'd made her. As she straightened up she caught his eye, giving him a shy smile before she was swallowed up in the group, someone sealing the circle with salt and the ritual beginning.

They chanted, they took one another's hands and wove their way around the space in intricate patterns, there was drumming, Grayson raising the sword point to draw down power into the space. Loki watched intently as Maeve opened her arms high over her head at one point, stalks of corn in each hand, her voice as clear as a bell;

"Behold the first of the harvest, symbol of the bounty of the land and of the Great Mother who sustains us. Let us give thanks for the fruitfulness She gives us. Blessed be."

She was echoed, then Grayson called upon various Gods and Goddesses by name to bless them all. They passed around the chalice, taking a sip from it each, some spicy wine inside. Loki couldn't help but watch Maeve, enrapt. She looked happy and radiant and he could feel the thought of leaving her beginning to twist like a knife in his side.

Finally she closed the ritual with a sung chant and when it was done they all embraced one another, laughing and crying 'Blessed be!' Then they were gathering everything up, heading back to the campsite in groups, Grayson leaning on Bonita's arm for support. Maeve hung behind to the last, statuette in her hand as she approached Loki, expression awkward and unusually shy.

"I know it might have looked a bit odd…" she began, but he cut her off, taking her hand.

"No. Not at all," he said softly. "It was… right." It was the best he could think of, this whole way of life was beyond typical conversation.

"We generally have a celebration now," she said, letting go of his hand awkwardly. She took a few steps down towards the campsite, looking back over her shoulder and brushing her hair behind her ear to call back to him,

"Are you coming?"