There was pain before she opened her eyes.

Just as they were before, Max's dreams were filled with horrifying images of recent events, and when she fought her way back to consciousness, her cheeks were wet and her body felt like it was on fire. At first, she thought she had slept funny, and before opening her eyes, she tried to shift around to find a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, every single twitch was like a punch to the gut, and eventually, Max decided she might as well get up. It would have been easy to stay in bed all day, but the mattress was so hard that it felt like she had been sleeping on a rock for the last few hours—which did nothing for her battered body.

Her eyes were heavy and damp when she finally opened them, and she ran her hands under her lashes to collect any wayward tears. Although it seemed to have stopped raining, the skies weren't any friendlier: thick, dark clouds could be seen through the large windows of Loki's room, and they looked full enough that they might burst open at any moment. It was all a big, grey mess, and the windows were still stained with water droplets, as though the storm had only recently eased off.

She was happy to be inside, waking up in a bed without rats, but she couldn't help but wonder about everyone who wasn't quite as lucky: what about the people in cages in the streets? Did those assholes have the decency to move them inside, or was everyone wracked with pneumonia now after sitting in a thunderstorm for hours on end?

Loki was nowhere to be seen. Wincing, Max propped herself up on her elbows and did a quick sweep of the small room—she was alone. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw there was no one in the bathroom either, and she swallowed down the blow in her ego that came from waking up alone after spending the night with someone.

It wasn't exactly a new phenomenon, their sex life, but she still would have liked to exchange a few words once she woke up—anything, really, to remind her that she wasn't a complete idiot for throwing herself back into bed with him.

Not that she felt like an idiot—it wasn't that simple. A part of her was happy with what transpired in the early hours of the morning: it had all felt very genuine, very real. However, she also knew that something like this can and would undoubtedly complicate an already complicated relationship—so there was that to look forward to. She rolled her eyes, hoping that he hadn't gone off to hide somewhere so that they wouldn't need to talk about things.

She pushed the thin blanket off her, gritting her teeth at the overwhelmingly painful sensation that ran along her body. Every inch of her skin felt tender, and once the blanket was discarded completely, she realized why. Although her trek through the sewers hadn't been great for her body, it seemed that spending a night screwing Loki was even worse: there were dark purple, blue, and brown bruises on her thighs, hips, waist, and—when she shifted—she could also feel them on her back.

Panicking, Max scrambled off the mattress, only to collapse onto the floor when her legs couldn't actually carry her weight right away. Her feet practically screamed bloody murder through their bandages—which probably needed to be changed soon—and Max crumbled down to her knees, holding herself up with her hands, with a cry. Breathing was painful, and it took her a few long minutes to crawl to the end of the bed to find her previously discarded sweatpants and slip them on. From there, she sat on the mattress and simply stared at the bathroom—it seemed so far away. However, even sitting was tough on her bruised skin, and she carefully eased herself to her feet for the second time. With one hand out, ready to catch herself on the bed if she tumbled again, Max inched along the length of the mattress, and then started toward the bathroom.

Even though she remembered the rule about light switches, once Max had the door shut, she flicked on the light and started peeling off her clothes again. She wanted to get a good look in the mirror to assess the overall damage—which looked even worse than she felt. The bruises were immense: it looked like a painting on her torso, with beautiful dark colours that could sit in any museum. She quickly realized, as she fussed over her battered body, that the majority of the bruising had come from Loki—there was no other explanation for it. At the time, she hadn't felt like someone was beating her with a cinderblock, but apparently that was what happened when you had carefree sex with a Norse god.

She wrinkled her nose, her eyes traveling up her body to her face—at least that bruise was looking better. The marks on her back definitely belonged to Loki: they looked like they came from his fingertips.

"Well," she muttered as she gingerly stepped back in to her pants and underwear, "this is officially the worst hickey I've ever had…"

Rolling her eyes, she scuttled over to the toilet to appease her full bladder. When she wiped, however, there was a bright red smear of blood on the white tissue paper. After another fleeting moment of panic, she realized that without taking her birth control every day, her period was bound to start at some point.

Awesome. Fucking phenomenal, really.

Grumbling under her breath, Max wadded up some toilet paper to carry her over until she could ask Sue for a better solution. Washing up was an equally frustrating process—it hurt to stretch any of her limbs—and in the end, Max dabbed under her armpits and splashed some cool water on her face before calling it a day. A shower might be in the cards again, but she almost wanted to wait until she could lift her arms over her head without cringing.

Once she was finished, she seemed to be moving a little better: each step was marginally less excruciating than the last, and she made a note to not only ask for a tampon, but a whole bottle of Advil. Running a hand through her almost too clean hair, Max searched the floor for Loki, but after shuffling along the hallway and poking her head into the other two rooms, she realized she was completely alone. She frowned; it would have been nice if he stuck around until she woke up.

The sitting room was just as basically furnished as the two bedrooms were, with a single couch and an empty bookshelf, but Max wasn't about to complain: a room was a room, and anything was better than a sewer. So, after taking a few moments to mentally prepare herself, she tackled the never-ending stairwell one stair at a time, a hand gripping the metal bannister the entire way down. She couldn't remember exactly which floor she had eaten dinner on the night before, but she knew that if she reached a door that was welded shut, she had gone too far.

Eventually, she pushed her way through onto the floor with the most activity on it—as evidenced by the yellow-tinted lights flickering in the hallway. Sure enough, the scent of food caught her attention, and Max shuffled along down the familiar corridor—lined with tile and sparsely decorated—until she reached the living-kitchen area she had first been taken into by Sue Storm and Reed Richards. This time, there were children present: two kids sat at the kitchen island with an assortment of books in front of them, and Sue puttered around the countertop behind them.

Still no Loki. Her frown threatened to deepen, but she forced it into a smile when Sue turned back and caught her out of the corner of her eye. Max lifted a hand and gave a half-hearted wave.

"Morning."

"Afternoon," the woman corrected her gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Horrible," Max sighed, taking a few steps toward the kitchen area, "but that's to be expected."

Everything in the room appeared much bigger in the daytime, but this was what Max had expected people like Sue Storm and Reed Richards to live in. The furniture was perfectly matched—modern and tasteful—and the kitchen appliances were at least two decades newer than the ones she and Pat had at home. The granite countertops were like nothing she had ever seen before—nor would she ever own for herself—and she swore the barstools around the island glistened.

She lingered on the outskirts of it all, feeling horribly out of place and a little awkward, until Sue beckoned her forward.

"Have a seat," she offered. "We were just making some lunch."

Nodding, Max started toward one of the barstools at the other end of the island, preferring to give the kids a little space. Sue Storm was what she thought a superhero would look like: even in a pair of grey yoga pants and a baggy sweater, she looked flawless. Her dirty blonde hair was swept up in a fashionable ponytail, and her skin looked like it had never faced a blemish—ever. She moved gracefully, gliding around the kitchen and stopping at the stove, which had a boiling pot of macaroni and cheese sitting on one of the spotless burners.

"These are my kids," Sue told her, gesturing over at the duo with a wooden cooking spoon, "Franklin and Valeria."

"Hi," Max said uneasily when two sets of small eyes darted up at her.

From the fleeting moments that she had seen Reed Richards (and from all her experience studying him in glossy gossip magazines), Franklin looked more like his father than his mother. His eyes were light brown, while his hair was dark, and his facial features were similar to Reed's. Valeria, on the other hand, took after her mother: dark blonde hair curtained her face, and her light blue eyes had a startling awareness to them as she stared at Max. When their gaze met, the girl hastily looked away and resumed scribbling something in her notebook.

"Guys, what do we say?"

Both mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a hello to her, and Max tried her best to smile warmly.

"This is…" Sue trailed off, and when Max glanced at her, she saw the woman biting her lower lip, one eye narrowed as she tried to recall who on Earth Max actually was.

"Max," she offered, and the woman nodded.

"Yes, Max, and she is going to be staying with us like Peter is," she continued, "and so is her friend."

"Speaking of my friend," Max interjected quietly. "Have you seen Loki today?"

"No—"

"I thought Max was a boy's name."

"Franklin!"

The little boy, who looked no older than eight or nine, blushed when Max's eyebrows shot up, but to his credit, he didn't hide in his books like his sister.

"It is a boy's name," Max told him, "but sometimes girls can have a boy's name too."

"Oh." He frowned for a moment, perhaps mulling the information over. She looked over at Sue, who seemed somewhat unimpressed with her son.

"It's called a unisex name," Sue told the boy, "and we ask politely about things we don't understand… We don't make sweeping statements without thinking."

"Oh, it's okay." Max could see the boy's shoulders slumping with each word his mom said, and she tried to stop whatever was happening before it went too far. "I get asked about it all the time."

Her reassurances didn't seem to do either of them any good: Sue continued to give Franklin a hard look until he pulled his thin textbook closer to him and started reading again. Feeling somewhat awkward, she shifted her weight on the barstool, trying to ignore the fact that sitting on such a hard surface was making her poor hips and thighs scream.

"Are you hungry?"

Max's stomach gurgled at the thought of food, and she placed a hand on it gently before nodding.

"I could go for something to eat."

"How does a bagel sound?"

The woman opened her ridiculously large fridge—an appliance that probably cost her thousands of dollars—and pulled out a bag of bagels and a carton of cream cheese.

"We're… We need to conserve a lot of the produce and whatnot—"

"Whatever you want to make me is totally fine…" Max brushed off the woman's concern with a smile and a wave. "I'm not a picky eater."

"You can have some of my Kraft Dinner," Franklin offered meekly, which caught Max's attention. His little sister shot him a wide-eyed look, but then resumed her work in silence.

"Thanks, man," she said, her smile growing when she saw the satisfied expression on his face. "That's really nice of you."

"You're welcome."

As she watched Sue make the final preparations for said Kraft Dinner—pouring the noodles into a strainer and grabbing some milk—Max wished she had something to fiddle with. The best thing would have been her phone: she would have given anything to check on Pat and Tiffany and Garret, maybe call her parents to let them know she was okay—maybe tell them that their only son was dead.

However, that was still in her locker, and the horrible battery probably bit the dust a few days ago.

The sound of her bagel flying out of the toaster—which was equally as fancy as the fridge—made her jump. Heart racing and muscles tense, Max searched the room for the noise, feeling the colour drain from her face until she realized what it was. Slightly embarrassed, she eased off the stool with the intentions of helping her courteous hostess, but Sue seemed to handle everything just fine on her own. She scooped two bowls of mac and cheese for the kids, and then set those and a plate with a sliced apple in front of them.

Her bagel came next, and Max opted to lean against the granite counter rather than sit anymore: her feet were officially less sore than her bruised mid-section.

"Something to drink?" Sue asked when she handed the small plate over. Max grinned at the generous helping of cream cheese on each side of the bagel.

"Water is fine."

The first bite reaffirmed that this was exactly what she needed—the next best thing would have been settling down on a cloud of some kind, but obviously that was out of the question. As she swallowed down her warm, crunchy bagel, she realized there was something she needed to address now before the issue became an actual problem for her.

"I just…" She paused as Sue set a tall glass of water down in front of her, and then took a deep breath. "I said some things last night about… what you guys were and weren't doing—"

"It's okay," Sue muttered, touching Max's arm briefly and speaking in hushed tones. "You seemed a little out of it when you got here."

Max licked her lips as she stared at the woman, and then cleared her throat. "No, no, I meant what I said."

Sue frowned.

"I'm sorry that I came across as rude," she clarified. "That's all."

"Oh."

The next bite of bagel felt too big for her mouth, and it seemed to take forever to just chew and swallow it. Sue lingered by her side, her eyebrows knitted, and Max forced the mouthful down.

"It's just… When I was younger, you guys were always in the news," she told the woman. "You were fighting crime in the Big Apple and sending bad guys home in body bags."

Sue looked pointedly at her children, and Max lowered her voice a little, cheeks flushing when the woman's hard gaze turned back to her face.

"I didn't know whether you had powers or anything…" She wondered if the woman could really turn invisible whenever she wanted. "But you guys were what I thought were… superheroes. And Peter is that spider guy who fought a lizard, and now there's this alien invasion—"

"No one knows that they're aliens—"

"Loki does," she argued, nodding her head a few times. "Loki does and they are, and they're k-killing people…" The idea made her a little breathless, and she stopped to gulp down some air, the colour draining from her face again. "They're trying to take over the planet and you guys are just… sitting in this tower doing nothing with doors welded shut—"

"I don't want to talk about this," Sue snapped, stepping away from her.

"But… But you guys are the Fantastic Four—"

The woman whirled around, her hands clenched at her side in tight little fists. "And that's supposed to mean something?"

Max's mouth opened and closed a few times, and she heard forks clanking against the bowls at the other end of the table.

"You—"

"Do we somehow owe all these people because we've had our genetic code altered?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes, and Max's cheeks paled more. "Are we somehow responsible for fixing all the wrongs in this city because the newspapers gave us that name?"

"I… No," Max sputtered, shaking her head quickly. "No, it's just… There are so many people out there who can't do anything." Her lip trembled. "There are people in cages and hiding in sewers, and they physically can't do a single thing to make it right, but you guys… you guys could."

"There's a new wonder team in town," Sue sneered, "and we've been playing for too long. Let the Avengers deal with it."

"Well, I guess no one's doing anything…" She broke off a piece of her bagel. "Because we're still hiding in here not turning the lights on and off, and they're…"

She trailed off when she saw Sue's gaze fall to the ground, and Max quickly realized she had overstepped some boundaries by a mile. They were legitimate questions that she thought warranted an answer, but maybe this was a conversation for another day—maybe when she knew Sue for more than twenty minutes total.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, her eyes wandering over to Sue again, who was turned away from her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound… like I was accusing you of anything. I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

The kids were quiet as ever as she continued to watch Sue, and the woman marched over to the dishwasher and wrenched it open, unloading the dishes in silence. Licking her lips, Max grabbed her cup and plate and hobbled to one of the couches, thinking that the distance would be good. She plopped down in the spot she had occupied the night before, and as she savoured every bite of the bagel, she wished Loki had been around to back her up. Even if he didn't agree with her completely, it would have been nice to have someone on her side as the voice of reason so she didn't sound like an asshole in front of Sue's kids.

Just as she was finishing up, Sue appeared in front of her with fresh bandages, and Max set the small plate on the couch armrest.

"I'm sorry," Max said again as the woman kneeled in front of her. "I really appreciate that you took us in when you didn't have to… We both do."

"Hey, anything we can do to help," Sue muttered dully. "How do your feet feel?"

"Better," she told her, holding out her foot as Sue started to unwrap one of the bandages. "I don't think the cuts were very deep."

"No, they weren't." The woman tossed the soiled bandages aside. "I was more worried about infection than anything."

Max watched the woman fuss over her foot for a moment, checking it from all sides, and then gritted her teeth when she began to rub some cream on the cuts.

"So, are you a doctor?" She had read about Sue Storm in magazines before, including the rare interview about women in power that Max read as a teenager, but she couldn't remember anyone ever focusing on Sue's actual profession.

"I trained as a genetic engineer," the woman told her, "but I guess I wear a lot of hats these days."

"Well, at least you know what you're doing."

"And you?" She wrapped some thinner bandages around Max's foot, looping the tawny material several times before securing it in place. "What do you do?"

"Museum technician," she replied. "I work at the Civil War Museum."

"Franklin went there with his class once."

"Cute," Max said with a smile, holding up her other foot when Sue switched sides. This was definitely a more pleasant conversation. "Maybe we've already met before then."

"It's possible."

The woman's eyebrows knitted as she studied Max's left foot, and in the end, she needed to get a pair of tweezers to pull out a piece of glass that was still wedged in there. The whole process was painful, and once again, Max wished Loki could have at least been around for moral support.

"We'll change this bandage again tonight," Sue told her once all was set and done. Max nodded, biting her lip to keep it from wobbling, as the woman wrapped her foot in a thicker bandage. "Does anything else need a touch up?"

Her eyes darted up to the bruising on Max's face, to which she shrugged.

"I don't know what you can do for bruising," Max said as she leaned forward to grab her glass. Her shirt lifted in the process, and Sue gasped when she undoubtedly caught sight of the black and blue mess that encompassed her hip and torso.

"What the hell is this?" Sue demanded, lifting Max's shirt without asking. Max cringed away when the fabric brushed over the bruising, and she heard a fork clatter against a bowl from behind her. "You didn't have this last night!"

"I… No, it's nothing—"

"This is serious bruising," Sue snapped, dragging Max to her feet and gently examining her hips. "Did… Did he do this to you?"

It took her a second to realize what she was hinting at, and Max quickly shook her head.

"Loki? No, he… Well, I mean, I guess he…" Her cheeks tinted dully when Sue looked up at her. "He didn't do it on purpose—"

"He's not staying here—"

"No, no, it's not like that," she whispered heatedly, hoping to avoid any unnecessary drama. "No, we used to be… together, and then this morning we… uhm… We were… uhm…" She swallowed thickly—how was she this awkward about sex? "We were… together again."

Sue's eyes narrowed.

"This hasn't ever happened before," Max carried on, her cheeks flushed. "I don't think he even knows that it turned out like this."

"Regardless," Sue started, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pants. "Let me see how bad it is."

Max glanced over her shoulder at the kids, but both seemed pointedly interested in either their food or their workbooks. When she was sure she didn't have an audience, Max hesitantly peeled down her pants just enough to show the extent of it. Sue examined her skin with a clinical eye, and then shook her head.

"You need to get back to bed," she decided, "and we're going to put you on a schedule to ice it. I think Johnny has some muscle creams that will help with the swelling."

"Maybe some painkillers too?" Max suggested. It was getting tiresome to stand for so long—despite the fact that it also hurt to sit.

"Yes, and you need to lie on your side," Sue instructed. "There seems to be less bruising there… Not much less, but a little."

"Okay."

"Here, sit down." Sue gestured toward the couch. "We'll get you set up here."

"Actually," she said, stepping back before the woman could touch her arm, "I don't want to take up space in a communal… space." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I'm fine with the room you gave me."

Sue shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll meet you up there with some new clothes and meds to help with the pain."

"And…" Max stepped closer again, lowering her voice. "And maybe some tampons?"

The woman's eyebrows shot up as Max's cheeks coloured again—this shouldn't be an embarrassing request, and yet here she was, blushing like she was a preteen.

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks," she mumbled, turning and shuffling in the direction of the stairwell. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Sue gathering up the empty dishes and pushing Franklin's notebook back toward him. Sighing, she carried on down the tiled corridor until she reached the door to the stairs, and then pushed through gingerly.

The climb was definitely worse going up than it was coming down. Every stair was one step closer to agony, and after four floors, Max forced herself to take a break. Not only was she embarrassingly breathless, but her legs were shaking and her hips were on fire. She almost wanted to go back down to the couch that Sue initially offered, but that would have meant tackling the stairs again, and she was over halfway up to her floor.

Cursing, she pushed off the wall and gripped the railing, dragging her body up with a slowness that might just kill her.

Another two floors up, she thought she heard something in the stairwell, and when she leaned over the railing, she spotted a familiar figure hurrying up after her. Loki took the stairs two at a time, only realizing she was there when he was at the first step of the level she was currently on.

"Max," he said, appearing somewhat startled to see her. They stared at one another for a moment, and he quickly darted up the rest of the stairs. "How are you—"

"Where have you been?" she snapped, stepping away from his outstretched hand and folding her arms. He frowned at her.

"I was… I was in the sewage system—"

"What?"

"I was simply looking for an escape route should we need to flee this place," he told her, shaking his head. "This building will fall like all the rest—"

"Oh my god," Max groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically and attempting to stomp up the stairs away from him. Unfortunately, she didn't quite have the mobility to accomplish that, and the best she could do was an angry hobble. When she turned the corner to take the next set of stairs, she saw him standing where she left him, looking a little stunned. She glared, and then leaned over the railing again.

"Why can't you just stay in one spot?" she snapped. Her frustration seemed to surprise them both, and while she felt like she might have been overreacting, she carried on anyway—he should have been there when she woke up. "Why can't you just accept that someone is actually helping us?"

"I… can," he said slowly, hurrying up the stairs after her. "It never hurts to be prepared for the worst, Max."

"Whatever."

"Are you angry with me?" he demanded, snatching her wrist when she tried to walk away. She wrenched it back, staggering to the side.

"Don't touch me."

He held up his hands and took a step back.

"I'm… I'm confused." He licked his lips and took a let out a deep breath. "Have I done something that has upset you?"

She swallowed thickly and turned to walk away, but then thought better. Instead, she pulled up her sweater and pulled down the waistline of her sweatpants, showing off her collection of ripening bruises.

"Did you… Did you…" She felt tongue-tied as he gawked at the marks, and her stomach clenched inward when he reached for her. "Did you know this was… going to happen?"

He stepped closer and tugged her pants a little lower, forehead creased and mouth set tightly.

"No," he said finally, "but I should have realized when… I should have known."

"Yeah, maybe." She stepped away from him and fixed her clothes, then started up the stairs again.

"Let me help you," Loki offered, coming to her side and ducking down—probably to hoist her up.

"No, I can do it myself!"

He shuffled down two steps as though she had hit him, and Max carried on without an apology. She was sick of feeling helpless around him, like she was too small and weak to survive this. Her injuries from the tunnels were on the mend, and now he had gone and made everything worse—not intentionally, she was aware, but he had done it all the same.

Loki followed her up the remainder stairs, not once offering an arm for her to lean on. He did, however, hold the door open to their floor, and Max shuffled by him thanklessly. When she had the option to shut herself away in the room she originally chose, she decided on the spot that it wouldn't do either of them any good. Instead, she carried on to his room with Loki in tow.

It had started to rain again, though it was nothing compared to the storm earlier that morning. There was a light patter of droplets on the window now, and Max peeled off her sweater and tossed it aside once she was by the bed.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Loki told her as she crawled onto the mattress. "It wasn't my intention."

"Can you just not go anywhere anymore?" Max tugged the covers back up and glared at him. "Can you just… Can you just stay here with me?"

He cleared his throat, fiddling with the fabric of his black shirt. "Yes, I… I can do that."

"Good."

She let out a huff before settling down on her side, wincing and flinching and squirming until she found a position that didn't make her body ache. With her eyes shut, she eventually felt the end of the mattress dip downward as Loki sat by her feet. She peeked at him and watched as he made himself comfortable. Briefly, he seemed to debate whether he ought to touch her or not: his hand hovered over her leg for a long moment, but then soon found a spot on his lap.

Max sighed and stretched her legs out, stopping when her feet touched him under the blanket. She then tried her hardest to fall asleep, hoping that her body would heal itself in the meantime.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

RIGHTO. Just a quick update on my fanfic writing schedule and my writing one: I've decided to make this story my only active fic with the aim of updating once a week. This month, I've also undertaken a ghostwriting job where I'm writing a romance novel in 30 days like a moron, so my wrists are going to be stretched thin. I want to update weekly. I will try to update weekly. Sometimes it will be a week and a half, but I'm trying my best.

Anyway. So, my first thought when I think about apocalypses and being on the run from zombies or aliens or whatever, is that I probably wouldn't have my birth control pills, and two days in I'd get my period, and how much that would suck. Bit of a random concern, considering the likelihood of death, but hey, that's me! I've also always been sort of... concerned about sex with Norse gods. I mean. When I learned what their actual weights were, I cringed at the idea of what someone would look and feel like after being with one who didn't really pay attention to his strength-hence Max's bruising. Loki needs to get his shit together.

I was happy that a lot of the people who reviewed disagreed with me about my opinion on Loki's "softness" at the moment, and I re-evaluated my thoughts based on that. I suppose he isn't soft—more or less subdued instead. I think there's a lot of old feelings resurfacing the more time he and Max spend together, but then he also wants to just get out of there and, well, get off Earth.

Also, people are asking about the Avengers, and you'll learn a little more about them in the next chapter! If you're wondering, they will feature more heavily in the second half of the story. I'm still unsure about how long this will be, but there are several story arcs or plotlines that I want to carry out before we're finished, so just know it's going to be a substantial piece again.

Much love to all my darling reviewers! YOU'RE ALL FAAAABULOUS, DEARIES! See you again soon!