"You are as changeable as reflections in a pool of water, ever rippling to and fro—I will not be won over to your argument."

The other is making sleep a quickly disappearing target for Loki.

But I have a plan. He uses his sweetest, most coaxing voice and Loki rolls over. The bed the Midgardians have provided hasn't helped his search for rest—tiny and stiff, his feet hang off the end. I have a plan to have her—

"No! I'm sure you have a plan but I shall not listen to it or you. Your ideas are fickle and unpredictable. First, you think she throws herself at me trying to win my affection and then, you say I disgust her! I shall have no more of it, your opinion of her affection changes with the winds. Put this plan of yours from our mind!"

Loki will not admit it, but he is curious about the other's plan. If it weren't for the punishment he feared for using idle magic, he would hear this plan then wipe it from both their minds.

If we but do as before, if we force ourself upon her, then she will crave us evermore.

Loki tugs his bed clothes off of him and swings his feet off of the bed. He feels he must do something, move about to clear and hopefully still his mind. "I know not of what you speak." He has a feeling the fog is to do with this, but Loki doesn't want to know what he could have done to earn an obscured memory. "We have not interacted with her in any way beyond formally. I think patience is our fastest friend with the Lady. She is already more fond of us than before, we may woo her yet, and without breaking our oaths and endangering our sovereignty. "

The other scoffs, I know what you did. You cannot his so much from me. Loki sits quietly for a few minutes. He hates to admit his own ignorance and is finding a suitable reply to be fleeting. Oh!... You, you don't, do you?

"There is a fog upon our mind, I feel it ever so often but I know not its source or purpose and nor should you. It is magic and thus beyond our reach while paying our penance." The other giggles a maniacal, frightening sound and finally falls silent. Loki sighs, he's shown a weakness, a blind spot; he hopes the other doesn't exploit it.

When he finally falls asleep he dreams as though in waking. The sights, sounds, feelings, even smells feel more like a memory being relived than an invention of his subconscious. He knows this dream, he's had it before, or did he live it? Natasha glorious, bare and brazen with all her many scars. He is surprised by the tiny, shining lines—wait, no. He knew of them already, of the perfect circles mirrored on either side of her right shoulder, a 'bullet' wound he thinks, he's set his thumb just there before. He knew the gentle swell of her breasts, the milky flesh so coloured as a blush rose, and soft as its petals, pert and warm. He's felt her thighs grasp his waist, knows the taste of her tongue before she sneaks it into his mouth. The fog, this is what the fog was hiding. A memory, a living memory, now revealed in all its glory.

He has had her before, felt her moan around him, shudder with pleasure by him. He knows when the other should take over, flip her onto her back and plunge into her with frightening force. He knows when she will com, when he will follow and find it but an illusion itself.

The fog, the fog is his own magic—was his own magic. He had darkened this memory to protect her from himself, from the other but he found a way around it. How?

You left a little trail, in all your simple tricks, you left a path hinting to this. I had only to follow it. Loki sees the other now, overlaid onto the memory, smirking at him. Let's see it again, shall we? Again he sits on her bed, turns to her, feels her warm lips caress his own. Then a grip like a vice rips him from sleep.

"What is that?" Loki is dragged out of his bed and tossed onto the floor. Natasha's voice is quiet and dangerous, ringing with suppressed rage through his darkened room. "Answer me. What was that, that dream?"

Loki looks up into her face, pallid, shining with sweat and contorted with fear and outrage. His knees begin to ache from his fall.

"What. was. that. dream? It felt real and not real. First a dream, then a memory—so which is it?" The other had sent it to her as well, an illusion to win her over. Not so much.

"Why don't you answer? Are you guilty? Is this your secret, the reason you were being so nice and cooperative, because you've done this to me, erased my memory? Because that was real, that was REAL!" Her carefully controlled voice rises in volume and force. He stays silent and her hand descends, fastens onto his shirt's collar and hauls him to his feet. He's shoved surprisingly hard into the wall. "Say something, any anything." She seems to be panting with the effort of not screaming, not striking out in anger. "What that a vision of my actual past or did you fashion is and shove it into my mind?"

Loki shuts his eyes, that memory had been erased for a reason, the other's meddling was dangerous. Now it's even more so, revealing magic working upon magic and emotional manipulation. She sighs, exasperated then his face splits the shock of impact, a ringing slap sounding as her palm makes contact with his cheek.

"That was just a warning, the next will be knuckles. Tell me this instant whether that was real or not. You'd do best to comply because, as it is, you're in deep shit. Either way that was magic." She slaps him again, her hand landing on precisely the same spot.

"'Twas real." She wasn't lying. Her knuckles are next employed, her fist digging deep into his side. He doesn't really feel it.

"What gives you the right to step into my mind, do that, the magic trick, in the first place and then violate my memory by taking it away?" She isn't yelling but her voice is no longer the quiet threatening mutter it had been minutes before. Her emotions are leaking into her words. He's lost her.

He's silent again, so she punches him once more, this time in the face. She hisses and shakes out her hand, it seems to have hurt her more than him. He frowns, if only her attacks could hurt him, he deserves it and it would help his cause if she felt just a touch more empowered. No such luck, she grimaces at her hand then his face, still unmarked.

"WHY?"

"To protect you. From him."

"So you did do it, you used magic! I thought you had changed, that we had a chance to rehabilitate you but you haven't, you're as sniveling, conniving and wicked as before! And who is him? Someone you just pass the blame to to keep from going really crazy with guilt?" She strikes him again, a series of well aimed and varied blows to his most vital organs and tender areas, had he been human. But he's not. He's a monster, he stands and receives her blows as if an adult batted at by an infant. She's growing more frustrated as she lands a final punch to his chin with a growl. Loki finally moves, finally stills her anger, reaching up to calm her expert strikes, catching her wrists and taking each in hand. Then he looks into her eyes, catching them as she moves to avoid him.

"Lady Romanoff, I swear to you that this was done to protect you, and myself, before my trip here, before even my sentence. He has done this, both created the image and restored it to you, I only tried to fix his destruction he causes and erasing it was the best way. I was ignorant of it as well, took it from my own mind for the same purpose." Natasha's eyes are still hard and livid with rage but she does not fight his grasp.

"You're lying," she spits angrily.

"No, for once I can say with the utmost confidence that this is not a lie. I have another within my mind, my Jotun half, we spoke of it before—"

"That's just metaphorical, your natural instead of your nurtured identity." The snarl in her voice displays her distrust, the look of repulsion playing around her nose and eyes assures him of it. She might never believe another word he says. He must nonetheless try.

"Unfortunately not. I have an active duality vying for control of this form." Her brows crinkle, more disbelief or perhaps confusion. He shall use an analog. "I am like this tale of yours, or your world, the Man Jekyll and the Beast Hyde, except I sought not out this split but fell into it by temptation and an offer of redemption and power." His voice weakens as admits such a lowly truth. "The other, the Jotun part, the part that had control when last I came to Earth and that conjured this illusion, it sits in my mind and whispers evil, plays his tricks like tonight. He was once me and I him, we were united and indistinguishable. He is just the wickedness of my nature, but now he is separate, sentient and endowed with his own will by the Other, the evil force that wanted the Tesseract and directed me."

Natasha's face has relaxed, her eyes slightly widened in surprise and shining almost as though sad for him. "I'm not guiltless in this," he drops his voice, fearful should it hold his own agony, "but I did not violate your mind except to correct what was not meant to be put there by him. Will you forgive this trespass of mine?" He's taken a step towards her, leaning down his neck and closing the space between their bodies as if drawn to her like iron to the lodestone.

She doesn't move, doesn't back from him but only nods, a gentle tilt of her head and she's about to assent, to whisper 'yes.' Her words are muffled by a slam of his door. Clint kicks it in and barges into the room gun in hand.

"Hands up and off or I'll blow a hole right through your fucking eye."

Loki drops her wrists and steps away. He doesn't want violence, doesn't need the threat to comply and he especially doesn't want to appear guilty. The depths of Asgard in solitude do not hold a promising future.

"Barton, it's fine—it's fine. Seriously, we were just talking."

"I heard you shouting. You weren't in your room, so I came here. Did he attack you?"

"No, like I said, we're fine. Just talking, there—there was a bit of a misunderstanding. I was angry but now it's all worked out, I'm okay." Natasha is turned away from Loki now, standing in front of him. She doesn't see the other's image flickering to life beside her.

"What the fuck is that?" Barton, after just holstering his gun, puts four holes into the wall behind the phantom before he figures out it's a piece of magic. Loki meanwhile withers, letting his head fall into his hands, his chances of redemptions are flickering away before his eyes. He's 'done' magic and will be recalled in shame.

"How are there two—that's magic—that's magic, Natasha. He's in violation." Clint is calm, the kind of professional assassin calm that often foreshadows mass bloodshed.

"I'm only here to prove her point, a… misunderstanding indeed." He, the other, strolls around Natasha staring hungrily down at her with those darkened, cold eyes. Loki sees her tremor, most likely with disgust and rage.

"That's enough of that." Clint re-aims, putting Loki's left eye in his sights. "Turn that thing off or I'll shoot."

"Please, don't." Loki looks up from his hands, now alarmed. "It will do me no harm, but it might deflect onto you or the Lady Romanoff." He raises his hands again, surrendering.

"Turn that freaky ass thing off."

The other giggles and turns to look pointedly at Loki. "I obey him not, silly mortal. Don't you remember Clint, I follow no one, I am the one in control."

Clint growls, not pointing his weapon back at the other. "What is it? What is it, then?"

"An illusion. He is harmless, unless he speaks." Loki concentrates, focusing hard on the other, he hasn't been strong enough to appear corporeal in quite some time. It's now that much harder to subdue him.

"As harmless as an idea, isn't that right, Natasha?" The other smirks as an image of her nude and limp with satiety flashes ever so briefly before them all. She gasps and Loki steps forward, angry now.

"Be gone!"

"As you wish." The other bows with a grin and vanishes. The violence is avoided, but the damage is already done.

"I'm calling this in, one move from you and we'll report all this straight in to your pop!" Clint steps back into the hall and Loki sinks to his knees, defeated. He had had such hope, now quashed. Soon, Clint storms back in and slams Loki against the wall, slapping his limp wrists into handcuffs without resistance. "He's going under 48 hour surveillance. For whatever reason Fury wants to give him another chance, something about being indispensible in the future. Some bullshit, I think he's just scared to lose Thor's support. But," he turns to look threateningly up into Loki's face, "any more magic, ass face, and we're sending that letter home to daddy and Thor. We translated that sandcastle or yours, we know you'll be in deep shit."

Loki's immensely relieved, he didn't expect such clemency. A symptom of their weakness. Still whispering after all he's done, the other spits his disdain. Loki snaps back, silence, without it we are doomed, fool! And thanks to you.

Loki refocuses on the Midgardians before him. Barton has turned him round and is fastening on a muzzle. This doesn't bother him as much as Natasha's reaction. She stands silent, with her eyes trained on the floor. Then, she moves, reaches out to touch Clint's elbow.

"Clint, I need to speak with you, now." She steps towards the door.

"But—"

"Clint." He follows begrudgingly, shooting another poisonous glare over his shoulder at Loki. They stand outside the door muttering, arguing in muted tones, meant to keep Loki from hearing. He hears all the same.

"I think we should call this off, give him a chance. I don't think—I really believe that thing wasn't him. Did you see its eyes, it was different, like the old Loki."

"Why are you on his side, Nat? Why are you standing up for him? That's Loki remember…"

"We can help—obviously he needs help—talk about conflicted and burdened with guilt."

"Glorious purpose, you mean. Remember? He's a fricking monster, evil, and you want to help him? I just don't get it."

"You should Clint. You know what it's like to be unmade and so— everyone wants to be forgiven, ya! It wasn't his fault tonight, we can save him just like you saved me, I swear!"

"Sorry. You heard me on the phone. Call's already in to Fury, it's too late now. You can do whatever, help him, save him, all that shit. I'll turn a blind eye to you but him, him I'm not going to stop watching." Clint reappears, takes hold of Loki's shoulder and excorts him out, a little gentler, but not much. Natasha has her jaw set when they pass, a determined expression fixing her face. Loki wants to thank her, or apologize, or both but his mouth is clamped shut. The words probably sound empty to her anyways, having heard them so much from him already.

He's taken to a metal chamber, a cube of plain, smooth walls and glaring, hard light. Clint leads him inside and then stalks out, only to return seconds later, frustrated and rolling his eyes.

"Muzzle off, Fido. But you start throwing your evil halp around and it'll go right back on. The cuffs stay, and we'll know what you do." He points to two separate corners where tiny boxes protrude from the walls. "We've got eyes in the sky. Behave." He pushes Loki, no free to speak, back onto the hard bench and marches back out, slamming the door behind him.

Loki has mere seconds to settle back onto the bench before his prison is opened for a third time, but now Natasha enters, shutting the door quietly and gliding toward him.

"Here." Loki moves to raise his eyes, look at her face and outstretched hand, I holds a bound volume. "The Brothers Karamozov, I don't have it in English, this is Russian but hopefully you can still read it. It should keep you busy for a while."

He tries to reach out and take the kindly proffered gift but he remembers his bindings. "Your generosity is to be warmly welcomed, but I have not the ability to accept."

Natasha leans around him, spots the handcuffs and sighs. "That's absurd. Hold on." She set the book down beside him and hurries out the door, returning, unlocking his hands. Her fingers trail lightly over the flesh where the cuffs had been, where the marks should be.

"Thank you, is it fiction?" Loki tries not to think of the energy and warmth emanating from her touch, as Clint said there are people watching.

"Yep." She sits down next to him and gently takes the book from him, running the pages under her thumb, handling it fondly, like a well loved friend. "Well, yes and no. There was a lot of reality inspiring it."

"I shall treat it with the greatest care, Lady—"

"Natasha, just Natasha." She sets the book back in his hand and stands to leave.

"Thank you, Natasha." She can feel the warmth of his smile as she leaves, or maybe that's just the feeling of her name rolling over his tongue.

When she returns the next day, Loki's finished the book.

"I appreciate your tailored recommendation; your point is well taken." Loki had seen more than reflections of his life in the novel, he had felt their agony with them, as his own. They were the same.

Natasha nods, retrieving the book. "Dostoevsky, he, uh, helped me when I was recovering. I found his writings… enlightening. I wasn't alone, I was experiencing something that's part of the human condition. And now, now I know it's part of the living, breathing condition. Don't worry, you see in there, you can be redeemed or at least that people should forgive you…"

Loki grins, sadly and looks away from her, she has hopes for him. That is well but he might just fail again.

It's time. Natasha turns to the camera and gives the pre-agreed sign, a shrug as she stands at the door. She walks out, waits six seconds, then re-enters. That should have given Clint time to loop the feeds.

"Clint, please. Just listen. I told you that stuff about him, his secret he entrusted to me so you'd trust him, now trust him and do this for me." Clint had not been enthusiastic about helping Natasha chicken shit SHIELD, this sort of shit never went well. He had said just that.

"I know, you're worried but I'll take all the heat, okay, and this needs to happen. I need to learn more about this thing so we can stifle it. From the way Fury talked, we need Loki in the coming months, Loki free and with his powers, so the more I find out about this other the better."

"Nat, come on let's just tell Fury about it."

"Are you kidding? They find out he's potentially unstable and he'll be in lock down instantly, only to be pulled out as a secret weapon, like a super-powered slave."

"Maybe that's the way it should be."

"Clint."

"Fine. I'll loop it when you shrug."

And he did. "You're good." Clint mutters as he sets the security footage on a ten minute loop. That'll give her several hours before the other guards find out, and hopefully she'll fix it by then. Otherwise, shit'll hit the fan.

"Is there something you've forgotten?" Loki glances up at her with genuine surprise as Natasha steps back inside. She says nothing, just sinks down beside him, right beside him on his bench. Close enough to feel the warmth of his leg against her own. Loki quickly sits straight up and moves away from her, backing into the corner.

She's touching him again, finally touching him, in reality. Not a memory or an illusion. His thigh, warm and firm and real under her fingers, now his inner thigh.

"If there is something that you wish to tell me, please do!" His lower body spasms as her hand glides even further up his leg and center-ward. "Lady Romanoff, I don't understand, the eye in the corner," he nods towards the camera, "it will see."

"Not for now," she advances more on him, leaning her body close, so close to his and crooning softly, "it's off for now. We're alone."

"Please, tell me what you wish, I will gladly listen and do as you ask." His voice is huskier, a quick change and one she happily notes.

She smiles, a sultry pull to the corners of her lips, stretching their fullness into only slightly thinner curves. "I'm not here with a purpose, not expressly. There is just something I've been wondering, pondering over." She withdraws her hand and Loki relaxes but just a little.

"Then how may I help?"

"I have some favors to ask, something that could use your assistance."

"Anything." He looks her straight in the eye. Complete sincerity. "You need only ask."

"Well," she leans in towards him, making a point to press her breasts together. If he notices he makes no sign of it. "I've just wanted to know recently, wondered over really, how you could do it, separate yourself from the other evil one."

His mouth twitches into a quick grin but the rest of his body recoils from her. "Magic." He wrinkles his nose at the entire idea, it seems. "'Tis the only way, and 'tis terrible, I assure you. Our natures are better united. Always." Now his brow knits upwards—sadness.

"So, you wouldn't be able to… oh, I don't know, help me separate the red from my ledger?"

Now concern. "No." He's firm in his rejection. "No, I can't. It would be immoral and against the commands of my father. Magic it still is."

Natasha flashes another smile. "So, you really have changed."

Loki continues looking at his hands, "I would hope so."

She's quick, too quick for even him to react to. Her legs are wrapped around his hips before his last word is fully voiced. Loki has no time to respond, no time to resist, although by her estimation, Natasha doubts he would have. She entwines her fingers in his hair and presses her chest to his before hungrily taking his bottom lip in her teeth. Now he truly shows no attempts to push her away.

His hands find their way to her bottom, then her waist, skirting up to cup the back of her neck then her face. His hands can hold her entire head easily, long fingers applying gentle pressure to the back of her hand while his thumb lightly traces the features of her face. As his tongue, his wickedly deft tongue slips in and out, dancing with hers, teasing her senses with invigorating tingles of touch, his thumb moves from caressing her cheekbone to her ear, the lightest graze makes her insides quiver.

She pushes herself harder against him, digging his hipbones into her inner thighs to be closer to his hard warmth. There is no doubt he wants this, she can feels it pulsing beneath her, if it weren't for three measely layers of clothe she would have him. She grinds hard against him as his teeth carefully lay hold of her lip. He groans and lurches towards her, biting harder than she expected, almost drawing blood. Then his hands are gone, reappearing about her waist and effortlessly lifting her off of him.

"What—what're you doing?" She's breathless with need.

"I apologize, Natasha. I can go no further. I assure you of my interest but such… stimulation excites him, allows him to get out of hand. For now, while he's still in some power, I must stop, abstain and put him in his place." Loki stands and begins pacing the room.

Natasha chuckles with a shrug, secretly trying to feel any emotion besides severe disappointment. "You're as bad as Banner." Loki glances back at her—shock and maybe jealousy on his face. "No, not that, listen. When we debriefed Betty, she and I became pretty close, close enough that she told me—Betty was Bruce's love several years ago—she told me that they couldn't get hot and heavy at all without the big guy threatening to come out and rip her in half."

Loki's face doesn't soften at all, he steps back, withdraws even further from her. "Oh, I was only kidding. Down boy. I'll be going now, I don't actually think you're like Banner, not entirely… I think we can save you from this, from yourself. I'll be back" she walks, a distinct sway to her hips, "and we can try this again. Maybe I'll bring the cuffs—hard to hurt me when you're all tied up." She looks back once more from under her lashes, completely serious and then leaves with a quirk of her eyebrow. There's no maybe about it, she's bringing the handcuffs the next day. After seeing him flushed and gasping she has little choice in the matter, she simply has to have him.