Chapter 11 - His Natasha

And here we are again with the next chapter! Thank you to those of you who reviewed. Didn't quite hit that 70, but something tells me that we will this time around, yes? You all have been leaving such kind remarks, and they really make my day, so I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. You guys are amazing. :D Also wanted to thank Lalamo for giving me a certain idea for a piece of this chapter. Was waiting for someone to ask me that! Haha, thanks for the inspiring question, my friend!

Oh, and I also heard from other authors that last week, fanfiction was having a hormonal fit of sorts and wasn't working for everyone. I do apologize; I had no idea. I hope that it wasn't too bad for you guys out there! And I hope that fanfiction decided to fix itself. I haven't had any significant trouble, and for someone who has everything bad happen to them, I would take this as a good sign.

Haha, anyways! I'm sure you guys are done hearing me ramble, so we shall continue with the story. :P

Disclaimer: *still bawling her eyes out because of last disclaimer*

"Get up," he heard her gruff voice order, and then felt a hard punch delivered to his shoulder, causing his back to twist even further into the minuscule couch. He let out a pained groan, opening his blue eyes to glare at the redheaded offender.

"This piece of furniture isn't fit for a god," he complained, sitting up and resting a hand on his back, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles.

Natasha scoffed, her arms folding in front of her chest. "Then make it bigger."

"Your timing is rather poor. As usual," he mentioned, quickly employing use of his magic to make the makeshift bed slightly wider for his broad shoulders.

"I think it was good timing," she chimed in with a smug smile.

He stared at her, watching as she turned and grabbed a new set of clothing before dodging into the bathroom. The shower turned on only a moment later, and he let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had been holding. He watched the door with a frown. Was she still upset with him? From whatever it was that he did to upset her? Though he was used to people being disappointed in his actions, her anger with him was something he did not like. He shouldn't care, but he did. Out of all of the pesky mortals, she was the one woman who he hadn't absolutely despised. She was perhaps the only beacon in the dimly lit world; his diamond in the rough.

The thought brought a small smile to his face, and he looked down the brown carpet to hide it. Diamond was definitely not a word that people would attribute to her if they knew the real her, and yet it was the only word that he could conceive to describe her. So complex, so diligently carved and perfected. Displaying a multitude of colors or personalities when the sun would hit her just right. She was a mystery to him, and he could not help but marvel at her, trying to find imperfections that were not there.

Even her lips had seemed perfect, he thought, smile widening to an unfamiliar size. Though their kiss had been brief, the softness and touch lingered on his own. He figured that she had not felt the electrifying spark as he had, otherwise, their evening may have ended quite differently. Her rejection had stung him, though he hadn't been overly surprised. Love is for children. Did he love Natasha? No, he didn't. Though she constantly berated him and called him childish, he was confident in his feelings for the spy. Lust was all he felt for her, and he was equally confident that that was all that she would ever feel for him. This was good, he told himself strongly. Emotions brought on a burden that he had no patience for. It only brought on an inevitable hurt and pain.

Coming out of the bathroom in sweats and a t-shirt, she picked up her key card. "I'm going to go downstairs for breakfast. Don't follow me, and I mean it, Loki." She exited the room without another sound, leaving him alone once more.

She seemed devoted to the task of avoiding him, and though he had no objections to solitude, he couldn't help but feel saddened by her disappearance.

Deciding to use his time wisely, he headed into the bathroom for a shower of his own, enjoying the frozen water droplets cascading onto his pale skin. It cleared his head and left him refreshed.

After his shower, he stared at his own keycard, debating on whether to follow his partner downstairs for breakfast. He recalled her warnings to leave her alone, but he was the God of Mischief, after all, and it would be a disrespect to his character to let her have her way. He had been kind enough to her lately, and she needed to remember who he was.

With that thought, he grabbed his keycard and left the room, walking downstairs to the dining hall. There were numerous people in the area, each carrying plates of syrup bathed pancakes and glasses of orange liquid. Her bright red hair immediately snagged his attention however, and he could not help but be pleased when he saw her sitting alone and not with an attractive male. She dragged her fork lazily through what he presumed to be eggs, and though her back was to him, her shoulders slumped. She turned in her chair to glare at him, and he flashed her a wide smile, coming to join her at the rickety table.

"I told you not to follow me. Again," she growled, setting her fork down and pulling her hands into her lap as she glared at him.

"And I decided to follow you. Again," he teased, taking her abandoned fork and using it to stab at a sausage link, taking a bite out of it. "You really shouldn't be surprised."

"Forgive me for mistaking you to be a gentleman," she said sarcastically.

Loki chuckled playfully. "Wherever did you come up with this hypothesis?" he wondered.

"Well, you bought me dinner last night, for one. Then, you let me have the bed," she mentioned, cocking her eyebrow at him in question.

"Only because I did not see a reason to upset you further. It would gain me nothing."

"And coming down here after I explicitly told you not to would?" she retorted.

"Sustenance is a gain," he replied, holding up the sausage still on his fork as proof.

"I thought gods didn't need to eat as much?"

"Keep your voice down, Natalie," she chided, casting uneasy glances around at the chattering family at surrounding tables. "Wouldn't want to blow our cover, would we? As you are all about the mission, of course."

She sighed and stole away her fork, finishing the remaining sausage. "Go get your own food if you want any," she said, resuming her sifting through her eggs again.

Loki watched her thoughtfully, resting his head on his fist. "Are we going to discuss a plan to speak with Schmidt?" he asked randomly.

"I'd rather not talk about that here," she spoke roughly.

"Then shall we go for a walk?" he teased. Unsurprisingly, she stood from her seat and threw the rest of her food in the garbage, leaving the hall. He diligently followed her, once again not shocked to see her slam their bedroom door before he could enter. Chuckling, he swiped his key card into the lock, opening the door and grinning madly at her. "Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" he mocked, holding up his key card proudly.

"Why do you insist on bothering me?!" she demanded, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. "Why can't you sulk and brood on your own?"

"Is that was Barton does when you two are on a mission?" he remarked. "Or are you two too busy in the throes of passion for him to brood?"

"You leave him out of this," she growled, jabbing a finger into his chest. He grabbed the offending hand and tugged her close, their chests touching.

The humility had evaporated out of his sharp face and his playful gaze had turned cold and threatening. "I thought we agreed no touching?"

"That's funny. I seem to remember you trying to make out with me last night," she growled. "Let go of me, Loki."

He released her at that moment, but the anger remained plastered on his face. "You are trying my patience, Natasha. I would be wary of what that entails. You forget that I am a god, and you are nothing but a mortal. I could crush you with my bare hands at this very moment, and you would be powerless against it. Unless you wish to die by my hand -"

"I thought we already agreed on that?" she mocked.

"Would you want your death to come before the end of this mission?" he retorted.

"Oh, you would wait until we won before killing me? How thoughtful," she continued.

"Well, I have a gentlemanly reputation to keep, apparently," he answered with a smug smile. For a moment, it almost appeared as if she was his Natasha again - the Natasha who would smile. Her green eyes twinkled, and the corners of her tantalizing lips turned upwards slightly. The moment however was brief, and she turned around and walking back to the table, taking out her laptop.

He sighed sadly before throwing himself onto the bed, flicking on the television. He leafed through the countless channels, finally settling on a documentary about the Vikings. After ten minutes, his eyes traveled over to Natasha, watching interestedly as she worked, fingers flying across the keys, and green eyes analyzing everything on the small screen. He knew he would vehemently deny it if she asked, but at that moment, all he really wanted was to see her smile again. Or laugh, or anything that represented the Natasha that he knew - his Natasha.

His eyes widened in alarm at the repetition of the thought and he refocused his gaze on the television. She was not his. There was nothing in her that belonged to him, and he liked it that way, or so he told himself. The personality that she typically showed around him was not his, like Tony claimed yesterday. The tiny twinkle in her eye that she would adapt when he said something witty was not his. The way she desperately tried to hide a smile; that wasn't his either. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, he repeated to himself, taking deep, soothing breaths to calm himself. He would have to be more wary of his traitorous thoughts from now on. They obviously could not be trusted when she was being considered.

"So, I've got an address of where Schmidt lives," Natasha announced, turning in her chair to stare at him. He looked trouble at the moment, and it was clear that she had interrupted a rather pensive thought. He was currently gazing at his hands, being wrung tightly in his lap. She couldn't help the curiosity that raced through her at the sight, and she tilted her head to the side.

After another second, his trepidation disappeared entirely, and he appeared as the arrogant god he was. "What do you propose we do about that then?" he asked, turning off the TV and giving her his full attention. His eyebrow arched teasingly at her, and she looked back to her computer to fight the smile.

"I say we go and invite him to the theater," she said coolly. "There's supposed to be a ballet performance tomorrow night, so it would be the perfect opportunity." Not to mention, she enjoyed ballet, she added in her head.

"And you wish to go and invite him now, yes?" he concluded, standing from the bed. "Would it not be strange for two, supposedly unimportant people to go to this man's house to deliver such an invitation?" he questioned. "If he was at such a party the other night, we can only assume that he really has the monetary value to have been there. Whereas we do not. Not to mention, he is very little acquainted with us, and already holds a grudge against me -"

"That was your fault," she interrupted.

"And he didn't actually invite us to his house to finalize any sort of plans," he finished. "By all reason, we aren't supposed to know where this man lives, and it would be suspicious to show up unannounced."

Natasha frowned, running a hand through her red hair. "So what then?" she demanded. "We just wait until he starts world take-over and then ask him kindly if he wants to go to the theater?"

"I expected more expertise from you, Agent Romanoff," he teased, coming to her side and giving her a gentle push out of the her chair. "The Black Widow, incapable of cornering her prey." He chuckled, closing her internet page and opening another. "Quite humorous, if I do say so, myself."

"Shut up," she growled, giving him a shove, only receiving a playful shove in return, which infuriated her to no end. How dare he pretend like nothing happened? That she wasn't angry with him, and that he had hadn't kissed her and then made fun of her? "What are you doing?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder, and then pulling away at the gentle waft of old parchment drafting through her nose. He would not get the best of her. He would not win.

"A man of his stature, and of his intellect and arrogance, would not be keen on hiding in his mansion, waiting to strike. No, a man like him will be out in the open, attracting the love and attention of his peers. Not like us," he added in a gentler voice.

"You seemed pretty intent of getting attention; I wouldn't call you two that different," she chimed in with an indifferent shrug.

"Perhaps. However, unlike him, I am knowledgeable on how to play the game in the dark. I can cope with hiding, where he cannot. I've had to do it my whole life," he answered. "Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed joyfully. "Apparently, there's a local fundraiser later today that he is supposed to make an appearance to. We can corner him there, invite him, and then be on our merry way." He paused. "There does seem to be quite an awful lot of activity going on around in this town."

"It's Munich," she justified lightly. "It's a pretty popular place is all."

Natasha couldn't deny the tingling she felt in her fingers as her would-be husband took her hand, weaving them through the sea of people in the square. Loki's tall frame was determined, blue eyes darting everywhere at once, it seemed, set on finding one specific target.

"There he is, Natalie," he whispered, tugging her along until they seemed to be in front of everyone, Schmidt perched behind a podium with a large smile. "I will leave the talking up to you, as he and I are not on joyful terms," he murmured, his smell making her feel anxious, yet calmed at the same time. As she stared up at the tyrant, all of her previous emotions rushed through her system. Fearful anticipation was building inside of her, but she flashed a wide smile nonetheless and clapped enthusiastically with the crowd. After his speech, she felt Loki's hand settle delicately on her lower back, as if to push her to Schmidt. However, at she felt his thumb make gentle sweeps on the shirt, she took it as a calming gesture, and the normally blue mocking fire in his eyes was soft and encouraging now.

With a nod of determination, they reluctantly approached Schmidt, Loki's hand feeling more forceful as it wrapped its way fully around her waist and pulling her close to him. "Mr. Kaiser!" she exclaimed jovially and with her best smile.

The man turned in his position and faced them. For a moment, his face remained passive and blank, as if he did not recognize them. After a second, he smiled gently and approached the couple. "Yes, I did believe I saw you amongst the crowd," he mentioned. "I would have expected you to have gone home to America by this time," he stated.

"We have a little longer yet," Loki said in a cold voice, Natasha elbowing him in the gut.

"It was a wonderful speech," Natasha praised.

"You speak German?" he asked, surprised.

"Not completely fluent, but yes," she replied with an excited smile. "World languages are so fascinating to learn."

"Well, I suppose that it is important to have something to do in your spare time," Schmidt acknowledged rudely, though Natasha remained unfazed.

"And what do you like to do in your free time, I wonder?" Loki drawled with a smug smile.

"I enjoy reading," Schmidt answered easily. "History books in particular. WWII is such an interesting subject, in my opinion."

"I would assume so, being that you're German," Loki continued, earning a glare from them both, but he shrugged and directed his gaze elsewhere.

"Yes, the Germans were in this war," Schmidt agreed. "Sometimes I ponder what could have happened for this country had we won, but I suppose we shall never know, shall we?"

"I guess not," Natasha claimed with a giggle. "I'm not sure you remember, Mr. Kaiser -"

"Klaus," he corrected, and Natasha smiled shyly, letting a blush bloom on her cheeks. She felt Loki's grip tighten, and when she looked up at him, the god was glaring darkly at the tyrant.

"Klaus," Natasha purred. "Well, Tom and I were going to attend the ballet tomorrow evening, and we were wondering if you would still be willing to attend such an event with us. It would be so very enjoyable, don't you think, darling?" she asked, looking up at her partner.

"My love, it would be wonderful," he answered dutifully with a confirming nod.

"I do believe that that would indeed be an enjoyable evening," Schmidt agreed. "Shall we meet there at eight o'clock then?" he asked.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha replied with a smile.

"Well, forgive me, but there are other things that need to be done at this time, so I must go. Lovely seeing you two again," he finished, flashing them a smile before disappearing to talk to one of his managers.

"You damn well nearly blew our cover," Natasha growled as they began making their way back to the hotel. His arm remained tightly wound around her waist, and though she was still angry with him for everything, she didn't protest. "Again," she added for effect.

"That man disagrees with my personality," Loki reasoned. "There is nothing that I can do to like a man who I firmly despise."

"Funny, I always assumed you two would end up best friends or something. What with your world domination plans and all."

"This man wanted to kill the entire human race. That was never my goal," Loki argued.

"You were going to destroy the Jotuns," she pointed out.

"They were a race of monsters who were going to kill my fat - Odin," he retaliated.

"So you hate Schmidt for wanting to kill the human race?" she guessed, choosing to avoid the subject of his father.

Loki shrugged, not wanting to answer that question in the slightest. He cared not for the human race, and he cared not that Schmidt had once desired to exterminate their filthy race. He hated Schmidt because of Natasha. He hated how much she feared the German, and he hated how much the man disrespected her and aggravated her fear. A part of Loki wondered if she had ever feared him this way, and he hated this notion as well. He knew that he annoyed her at times, and he could recall seeing her scared because of his words, but that was different. She had purposefully allowed him to see that fear, and he doubted that it was ever really founded fear in the first place. How she would act around Schmidt though was a whole other story. Her breathing would become labored and her pupils slightly more dilated. That was fear, and he hated seeing her that way.

"Something like that," he finally answered, hoping she would quit her probing about the topic. "Are you hungry?" he asked, just to ensure a subject change.

Natasha shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Aren't mortals meant to eat three times a day?" he remarked playfully.

"I'm not your run of the mill mortal, Loki," she retorted, and it was then that she actually smiled, and the sight brought him joy.

"Thank Odin for that," he stated, earning a rough shove.

Things were finally getting back to normal.

"I have to wear that suit again?" he whined, his frown prominent on his face as he stared at the offending piece of clothing. The first time he had worn it, he liked feeling the power that the garment gave him, but now, it was an uncomfortable article that made him feel ridiculous.

"Well, yes," she said obviously, holding out the tuxedo in front of him. "We're going to the theater, not to IHOP."

"I don't see anything wrong with IHOP attire," Loki grumbled, standing from the couch and tearing the suit from her hands. Last night, he had taken her to the little pancake house, and he couldn't deny, the sweet blueberry pancakes could very well have been considered a delicacy, even in Asgard.

"If you want to blow our cover, then go ahead and wear that," she regarded.

"I am apparently so very good at it," he agreed, getting a slap on the arm.

"Go shower and change. It's six, and I need time to get ready," she told him pushing him in the directions of the bathroom.

"So abusive," he mocked, and at her glare, he held his hands up in surrender and dove into the bathroom for cover, hanging his suit on the rack.

Natasha sighed, watching the door close, and she began rhythmically rubbing her temples. Her mind set itself into the mission fully. All of her anger and confusion for Loki dissipated as she steeled her mind. All that was important was gaining Schmidt's trust enough tonight. They had to win him over, follow him to his lair, and then call for the Avengers. It was simple.

So then why was there an instinctual pain in her gut that told her otherwise? Though this was one of the most dangerous missions she had ever been on, she had still been confident. Until this moment. Tumultuous fear rumbled through her belly, making its way up her throat, and for a second, she felt nauseous. She fell back onto the bed, feeling shaky. A cold, vice like grip settled onto her heart, and she could feel the sweat cumulating on her brow.

"Natasha?" Loki's voice sounded garbled in her ears, and her head snapped up to meet his gaze, the world fuzzy and out of focus. "Natasha, what's wrong?" he demanded, walking to her side and giving her a steady shake. Old parchment swept through her nose, her accelerated heart rate slowed, and her breathing steadied. The nausea dispersed, and she felt like she could breathe again. "Answer me, woman!" he growled, shaking her again.

"Nothing," she muttered, swallowing back any remnant of bile in her throat. "It's fine. Just a dizzy spell or something," she dismissed.

"Your skin is warm," he commented, his hand falling on her face, and she sighed, closing her eyes. She could feel his thumb trace even circles on her cheek, and her face cooled. "This is not like you," he continued worriedly.

"It's fine," she said again, pushing away his hand and standing from the bed. She grabbed her dress, a stunning silver, and dodged into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, it was clear why Loki had been so anxious. Her normally pale skin was sheet-white, and there was still a small collection of sweat coating it. Plump red lips had turned to a less vibrant, blanched pink.

She showered quickly, trying her best to calm her body with the scalding water. Her whitened skin turned a blotchy looking red, and she turned the water cooler, feeling calmed and relaxed by the temperature change.

Dressing, she let the shimmering silvery gown hide her nervousness. She applied her makeup, hiding her face. She left the bathroom with a confident smile in Loki's direction, and though he didn't say anything, she knew that he wasn't buying her act. He gave her the smallest of smiles and walked to her side, handing her a silver handbag. "You're not going to change my dress green?" she joked, trying to dissolve his worry for her.

Loki simply shook his head, still not saying a word, which partially infuriated her. On one hand, she appreciated his concern for her - she couldn't really remember a time when anyone else really cared about how she felt about missions. Granted, any other mission, she wouldn't have felt this anxiety, but her thesis still applied. Clint probably would have cared… in his own way. He had never been one for comforting, and though Loki's prowess in that area left many things to be desired, Loki knew how to soothe her nerves the best. However, she also hated this worry that her partner was currently harboring for her. It could jeopardize the mission, and she didn't like thinking that she actually needed someone's concern. She could take care of herself. Her problems were her own, meaning that they were hers to deal with and no one else's. Especially not Loki's.

"Whenever you're done staring at me, Immortal God," she said in a harsh tone, looking longingly at the door. She wanted to get this mission done.

"Simply waiting for you to feel at par, Natasha," he said gently, offering her his arm with a smile.

She took his arm without thought and allowed him to lead her from the room and through the lobby. The same black SUV from their first visit was waiting for them patiently.

Upon arrival at the theater, Loki presented the ticket boy with a fake pair of tickets before walking in, searching for Schmidt.

"I was wondering when you two would show up," Schmidt's calculating voice stated from behind them, and the couple swiveled to meet the man's brown gaze. An outgoing looking blonde woman was perched on his arm, baby-blue eyes wide and welcoming, so unlike the hawk-like hunger in Schmidt's murky brown. "My wife enjoys ballet," he said. "This is Nicole. Meet Natalie and Tom."

"Pleasure," the woman said, extending her hand. Natasha kindly shook her hand and Loki kissed the back of it, making the woman blush. "Shall we take our seats?" she asked in broken English, and all three nodded in agreement, walking into the auditorium and finding four available seats. Natasha analyzed the wife carefully, hyper aware of every move that she made. She did not seem afraid or disturbed by Schmidt's touch, rather, she appeared to instigate it, taking his hand and kissing his cheek frequently.

Natasha cast a glance at the man pretending to be her own husband, seeing him also watching the accompanying couple invasively. As if sensing her stare, Loki snaked an arm around her waist, ducking his head low to whisper in her ear, "Do you think she knows of her husband's deeds? Giggle if you think yes." Natasha let out a playful, silly giggle, seeing Loki's eyes light up at her answer.

"Beloved," Nicole purred. "Did you remember to bring the binoculars?" she asked, extending her hand in question. Schmidt pulled out a set of binoculars and passed them over to his wife without a word.

"Why is he acting this way?" Natasha whispered into Loki's ear. "Don't you think that he should be trying to convince us of his love for his wife?"

"Schmidt at the moment has no reason to worry about us being aware of his current plans," he explained. "And we already know very well of his opinions of women. There would be no reason for him to treat his supposed wife any differently."

Natasha nodded in agreement.

"So, Klaus, what is that you actually do?" Loki started, pretending to look interested.

"Business owner, actually," he replied.

"What kind of business?" Loki continued.

"It's an environmental movement," he answered dryly.

"It's quite wonderful, actually," Nicole added. "He is such a caring man underneath this exterior. He's like my hero," she said sweetly, snuggling into her husband and kissing his cheek again. He took no notice of her touch. "What does your husband do?"

"I'm in the banking business," Loki said tersely.

"Well, I suppose the whole world can't be out saving the world," Nicole remarked.

"Interesting way of putting it," Loki mumbled so only Natasha could only hear, and she chuckled.

"Pardon?" Nicole asked politely, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh, it's just an inside joke that he and I have," Natasha claimed, snuggling into Loki to prove it. She felt his lips press firmly on her head, and had she not have been on the mission, she may have hit him. He had done that on purpose, knowing exactly what the hidden meaning behind that was, as if to taunt her. Damn him! Now was not the time to be playing games! Still, the desire for revenge was so very tempting, even in the throes of a mission. Smirking beside herself, she pulled away from his slightly, giving him a smug smirk before planting her lips on his. She felt his body stiffen, and just before she went to pull away, his lips responded, making her gasp. Natasha pulled away fully, hiding her surprise expertly and returning to settle into his embrace.

The performance was rather beautiful, Natasha had to admit. The dancers exhibited their craft with precision and grace, as if the music was flowing through their veins and being the gateway to their movements. The costumes, which she knew could sometimes be hindrances, seemed to be anything but in this case. They only amplified the intensity of the dances and the passion that the characters were meant to feel. Even the sets had been painstakingly perfected.

"I must say, I don't know if I've ever seen such a wonderful ballet in my life," Nicole commented as they exited the theater. The wind howled unpleasantly around them as they emerged into the night air, and Nicole tugged her light jacket tighter around herself. Natasha, without a coat, stood there simply, wrapping her arms around herself to fight off the cold being presented to her bare arms.

"I told you to bring that coat, darling," Loki said exasperatedly, and Natasha watched with wide eyes as he divested his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. Without saying a word, she tugged the thick jacket closer to herself, letting the old parchment scent wash over her and calm her. She saw him smile at her acceptance and merely rolled her eyes in response.

"If you would be willing, we would love to have the two of you over to our house before you retire for the evening," Schmidt offered.

"We would be honored," Natasha answered. Loki arched a brow at her in surprise, but she firmly ignored it, climbing into the limo as it approached.

"Are you sure about this?" Loki whispered into her ear as he took a seat next to her. She gave a steady nod and kissed his cheek. The other couple stared at them curiously. "Ehehe," Loki chuckled. "My wife, she well, she hasn't been feeling well as of late."

"We can certainly reschedule," Nicole interjected.

"Oh, but they won't be here for much longer, will they, Nicole?" Schmidt retorted, keeping his eyes fixed on Natasha.

"I shall be perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern," Natasha replied, unconsciously shrinking into Loki's side under Schmidt's offending stare.

As they came up to the mansion, their faces remained passive. Yes, it was a beautiful piece of architecture, but the perfection of the place was on neither of their thoughts. Loki's hand found its way into hers, and she welcomed it more than she would have cared to admit.

"I'm just going to go freshen up," Nicole announced. "Care to join me, Natalie?"

Desperately wanting to remain with Loki, she knew she could not possibly give any reason to rouse suspicion. She nodded happily and gave Loki a peck on the cheek, pulling her hand out of his. His gaze was one of warning as she took step after step away from him. She gave him her best smile, seeing how it didn't change his face in the slightest. Rounding a corner in the house, she knew for sure that the furthest she had been from safety - from Loki - than she had ever been.

Loki stared nervously after Natasha, not trusting the wife in the slightest. Schmidt stared intriguingly at him, and the god found himself gulping in anxiousness. "Care for a drink?" Schmidt asked.

No, he thought sourly, I wish to find Natasha and bring her back to the hotel, and get the fuck away from you. "That would be nice," he found himself saying.

Schmidt smiled at him and led him to the kitchen. "Women and their beauty," he remarked. "It is almost a drug to them. When I was growing up, one saw more natural beauty than is found today. It's all covered up by these ridiculous products."

"One of the many reasons I fell for my wife," Loki commented, watching carefully as Schmidt began mixing the drinks. "I've never seen a more beautiful woman in my life," he continued, finding his statement to be perhaps the most true statement he had ever made.

"Your wife is remarkable; it is true," his enemy agreed. He passed Loki a glass and took a sip out of his own. "One of a kind."

Loki hesitantly brought the drink up to his nose, smelling the distinct aroma of alcohol. Not smelling anything out of the ordinary, he took a tentative sip, surprised at the taste. As if unable to help himself, he downed the remainder of the glass, feeling more relaxed.

Schmidt smiled again, and Loki knew immediately that he had made a mistake. "Let's see what I do with your one of kind wife now," he said. Struggling to summon any magic, the world around him whirred and spun, leaving his stomach gurgling in upset. Schmidt's evil grin was the last thing that the god could see before his world went black.

He groaned, pain erupting in every crevice of his form. Blue eyes opened to meet the highly arched ceiling, and he promptly rolled onto his side, vomiting the contents of his stomach onto the hardwood floor. He could still feel the effects of whatever was in his drink coursing through his system, and he supposed that it was only because of his god status that he was even awake at the moment.

"Natasha?" he moaned weakly, struggling to stand. There was no answer. "Natasha?" he tried again, stumbling into another room. Still nothing.

The adrenaline kicked in, and the nausea faded into the background as determination filled his gaze. He searched every room, crying her name louder and louder as he went, each room fruitless. Tears burned in his eyes and anger took over. Fighting the pain in his head and stomach, he released his magic, searching for any other soul, for her. When the spell revealed nothing, he tried again. And again. "No!" he yelled, hitting the wall and leaving a large hole.

His Natasha was gone.

Dun, dun, dun! First cliffhanger for the story! Now, don't be mad… okay, I suppose it's a little unreasonable for me to ask such a thing. Just know that this had to happen! It had to! For the plot to work, for their relationship, for EVERYTHING! I have a plan, people, rest assured.

Now, I know how much cliffies suck. I've been on the receiving end far too many times. So, here is my proposal. I know we didn't quite hit ten reviews this time around, which is cool. I'm not one of those authors who holds chapters hostage. But, if we can hit ten reviews BY MONDAY, I will update on Monday or earlier. Because I don't have school that day, and not a lot of homework this weekend. Thank you, President's Day. So, you like? Let's do it!

Love you all lots!

- Books