A/N: You all get Loki clones. You all deserve one. I love every single one of you for reviewing, alerting or both.

BeatnikFreak I had to put a reference to Mr Wilde in. I could not resist :D

On with ze show!

It was another month before she heard anything.

There had been a massive explosion in the centre of Manhattan, and Camille had been ordered to stay in the penthouse no buts. Natasha stayed with her while the doctors inconveniently, she had a check-up that day made sure everything was going smoothly baby-wise. Which it was, aside from that teensy little fact that said baby wasn't actually of the human variety. Luckily, Stark's money bought the best and most discreet physicians, and thankfully they were nice enough not to comment much on the differences.

It was when Stark got back that Camille's heart froze.

"No."

Loki's face was white, and he was barely able to stand as a large shard of metal protruded from his stomach.

Stark and Thor were the only things keeping him from falling to his knees.

The blood was steadily pouring, sticky and scarlet, and Camille's stomach plummeted.

She flew to Loki's side, panic surging through her veins, and she glanced at Stark.

"Where's Banner?"

"He's already in the lab. Move." Stark's voice was brusque as he and Thor half walked, half dragged Loki past her, and she followed them, her heart racing.

Loki was lifted and placed on a bed, though he barely managed to suppress a hiss of pain, and Thor deftly undid straps and buckles, stripping his brother to the waist as quickly and painlessly as he could. Loki's face was as white as bone, and Camille stood by his head. He turned his head to glance at her, and his eyes softened.

I will be fine, he tried to reassure her through an aggrieved gaze. I promise.

"Camille, I'm going to need you to step back. This won't be pretty."

The words barely registered until Loki gently stroked her cheek.

I missed you.

Thor clamped his hand down on Loki's shoulder, his eyes sober. The god of thunder looked at Camille.

"Stay by his side."

She looked to Tony.

"But Stark said"

"No. Stay. Loki needs you."

Stark made no objection, too focused on the task at hand, and he and Bruce stood on either side of the bed, expressions calm and clinical.

"This will hurt," Bruce warned Loki softly. "Thor, you need to hold him down. Are you ready?"

Loki nodded, and Camille kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness of his panic.

It'll be alright, she soothed him. You're fine, you're okay –

Loki convulsed as the shard was pulled from his stomach, and Thor pushed him back as he tried to sit up, a low cry of pain escaping the younger god's lips.

Damn it, Loki cursed through the agony. He tried to quell the noise, but the fire licking his stomach was too much. What emitted from his mouth were sharp breaths and barely repressed hisses.

Camille took his head in her hands and turned it so his gaze was on her. Her eyes were pained, but she did not crumble.

Look at me, she said steadily. Focus on me.

He never saw the blow coming, and his eyes rolled back into his head as oblivion swallowed him whole.

Camille sighed, and glanced at Thor.

"Thank you."

He inclined his head, for once unsmiling.

Bruce and Tony continued their work faster then, and Camille, squeamish as she was, never left Loki's side.

"A few basic stitches should do it," Tony murmured after what seemed like an age. "He heals much faster than we do; we just need to stop the bleeding."

Thor watched, fascinated, as they mended his brother. Camille softly explained to him what the two men were doing, and his eyes grew progressively more enraptured.

The gauze was finally taped over Loki's stomach, and the two men sat back, clearly relieved. Neither was truly qualified to do such surgical work, but taking Loki to a hospital had been out of the question.

They took the only option then, and did the best their genius brains could do. They monitored his heart rate, got him a saline drip (though where that had come from, Camille wasn't quite sure) and promptly left him to wake of his own accord.

Camille was alone with him now, and she pressed her lips to his hand. His mind was dead; that was to be expected, sure, but it still unnerved her.

And so, she waited.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Loki cursed. How many times would he have to hear that? What had she done now?

"It's not my fault, you loon. You're the one who got a fucking huge piece of metal stuck in your gut."

His eyes shot open at the sound of her voice and Camille smiled.

"Hey there. How are you feeling?"

He frowned, glancing around.

"What… where am I?"

"Easy," she soothed. "Stark and Bruce patched you up. Thor knocked you out so they could mend you more easily. You're fine now."

Her hand stroked his cheek, and the question he was most loath to answer fell from her mouth.

"What happened, Loki?"

His eyes closed.

"Not now, love. I haven't seen you in a month."

"Thirty five days," she whispered, distracted by his words (as he'd hoped). A wry smile threatened to curve his lips.

"Yes."

His eyes opened, and his gaze fell on her stomach.

"Show me."

She unbuttoned her shirt, and Loki's eyes warmed as he took in the slight swell of her belly oh so slight. But it was there. His hand reached out and he winced. He glanced down, and rolled his eyes.

Fucking needles.

Camille laughed softly. "They're a bitch, aren't they?"

"I make no denial of that."

She smiled, and got up to sit on the other side of the bed. His free hand moved to cup her stomach, and he gently caressed the small bump.

"They'll be beautiful," he murmured. His eyes met hers and he smiled. "Like their mother."

Her lips curved, and she leant down to kiss him.

The monitor picked up the pace and she grinned against his mouth.

"Guess it's not just us girls, eh?"

He ripped the wire from his chest, and the machine went dead.

"Monitoring be damned," he muttered, and his mouth sought hers. His hand cradled her face, and she sighed. It had been too damn long since she'd felt those lips. Too damn long.

But he was still recovering, and though she could feel the lust rising within him, she placed a hand on his chest and pulled away.

"Later. I promise. You're in no fit state to ravish me just yet."

"Give me a few hours, and I will be." The look in his eyes could have melted Jotunheim, and her cheeks pinked.

"What happened?" she asked again. He sighed.

"So persistent."

"You got hurt, Loki, of course I'm going to be bloody persistent. Do you know how worried I was that something like this would happen?"

His eyes flashed.

"You did not think I would be able to"

"I was worried because I love you!" she cried. "No matter how capable you are, I will always worry about you. Always. Nothing will change that."

His eyes closed, and a dismissive sound came from his mouth.

"Do not fret over me." His voice was akin to ice. "It is unnecessary and you will harm the child."

"You're telling me this while you lie on a bed after having had stitches and your stomach gauzed." She raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes, that's"

"Having had what?"

"Stitches. You know, needle and thread through your skin to mend it."

"I know what they are. I want to know why those two imbeciles sewed my skin back together."

"You would have bled to death."

He laughed coldly. "No. I would have healed soon enough."

"You should be grateful they even bothered to help you!"

He was silent, and she immediately felt guilty.

"Loki, I'm sorry, that was harsh"

His hand gripped her wrist, cutting her off as surprise took her.

"I do not like to appear weak," he said quietly. "You know that."

"I do, but everyone is allowed to be less than strong on occasion. Even you." Her eyes were soft. "You are not made of metal. You have a heart. A body of flesh. It will be hurt. You are not indestructible."

Camille touched his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat, and she smiled slightly.

"Nobody will think any less of you just because you were injured. I certainly don't."

She took his hand and kissed his fingers.

"I should go, leave you to rest"

"No."

She quirked a brow at him. "No?"

"Don't. Stay."

A memory flashed, of warm arms and soft blankets and a starlit sky, and she realised how much he needed her to remain. He would never outright plead it, but this was his way of imploring.

Her eyes turned gentle, and she squeezed his hand.

With a start, she realised she was sitting completely on the bed, feet and all a bed which had somehow become a double rather than a single.

"Come," he murmured, eyes warm. She hesitated.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered. An amused smile edged his mouth.

"You will not. Now come."

She kicked off her shoes and curled up next to him. His free hand curved around her, cocooning her in, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She hesitantly rested a hand on his chest, carefully avoiding his lower torso, and she sighed happily as she felt his mind fully link with hers.

Much better, he said contentedly.

Couldn't agree more.

His soft laugh was the most reassuring thing she'd ever heard.

She settled into sleep quickly, comforted by his presence, but he remained awake, his mind racing. The previous few hours played over and over in his consciousness like he thought somewhat wryly a broken record. It had not been a pleasant encounter, and privately he thought himself a fool for being so easily attacked. But then he reasoned that he had no prior knowledge of what he was defending himself and his beloved against. He had been taken aback, even when on his guard.

With a grimace, he forced the thoughts out of his mind.

Four hours before

He scanned the area below as he stood on the Empire State building. A tad conspicuous, given his previous escapades, but at least he wasn't wearing the helmet and the cape which would undoubtedly alert the authorities. And much as he might adore chaos, he was unwilling to cause a repeat.

And if that happened, Camille would be rage personified.

Hmm. Not a favourable option.

He studied the wide expanse of the city laid out before him, and he felt a brief pang of longing to rule, to have Midgard under his command. He had not attacked the realm merely under pressure from the Chitauri; he wanted to prove he was capable of reigning as well as if not better than his brother.

But you have a throne, a traitorous voice in his mind whispered. Jotunheim.

Disgusted, he closed his eyes. Even if he deigned to sit upon that cold and godforsaken seat of power, he would never be accepted. The only place in which he felt some semblance of belonging was, ironically, Midgard. At the side of his beloved.

His eyes opened as he sensed it. The thin threads of magic, weaving themselves. Not him. Not one of the Avengers. Not an Asgardian.

The creature.

Spurred by his adrenaline, Loki leapt off the building, ever graceful, and flew towards the source, his eyes sharp and focused. He halted a block away, crouching on a flat roof, scrutinising the structure in front of him. A plain thing, unremarkable. The perfect hiding place.

Slowly, he alighted to the nearest door the building provided, cautious. The magic was still pulsing from within, and as he glanced back at the street, he realised the mortals could not see him. Interesting.

Putting up all the guards he could, he steeled himself and entered.

The door closed softly behind him, and he found himself in a deserted apartment block. Elevator and all. It was filthy, covered in dust, and Loki's skin crawled. He tried not to breathe in too much, and, after ascertaining the pulse was coming from upwards, he silently ascended, taking each flight of stairs as it came. He wished he still had Gungnir, or the staff the Chitauri had given him, but there was no use mourning now. A long silver staff fashioned itself in his hand, slim, well-balanced. His kind of weapon, when he used them. Unlike his Asgardian kin, he was not an advocate of war; he neither revelled in it nor glorified it.

Chaos, yes. But war? No. Not truly. There was no glory to be had in the spilling of blood, the cries of children, the destruction of cultures.

Yet you thought that, the voice mocked. When you sought to destroy your homeland. You thought the All-Father would be proud. How pitiful of you.

Loki suddenly realised those words did not come from his own mind, and, enraged, he nearly spat his reply.

Who are you?

The voice laughed.

You knew me. Once.

Loki frowned.

Then why do I not recognise your voice?

Amusement filtered through.

Perhaps because I do not wish you to.

Frustrated, Loki continued to make his way up the staircase, his footfalls no longer silent but soft; there was no point to stealth if the creature knew where he was.

He reached the top floor of the building, and almost rolled his eyes. How cliché, for this to be held at the height of the structure. Out of the countless books and numerous films he had watched on Midgard, the battles always took place at the very top of somewhere.

Did the creature want an audience?

He stood in the doorway. The whole floor was one open space, dusty floorboards, derelict furniture. The pulse was strongest here; the being was definitely present.

Loki's eyebrow raised.

"A tad dramatic, is it not?" he remarked.

"Says the man who sought to bring this city to its knees." The accent was cool, amused. "Via a rather conspicuous portal."

"Who are you?" Loki asked for the second time. "Why do you shield yourself from me?"

"That's half the fun, Odinson. Or should I say Laufeyson?"

Loki's eyes narrowed, and his fingers itched to use the staff.

"Touched a nerve, I see… Intriguing."

Loki suddenly found himself slammed up against the wall. He grimaced and pushed away, barely noting the god-shaped dent left behind. His staff hummed in his grip, and his eyes narrowed. He concealed himself from the creature's eyes, remaining invisible to any who might have entered the room.

"You can't hide from me, Loki."

Loki did not answer, instead quietly monitoring the room, searching for anything which might give the being away. Keeping his magic concealed, he searched for that pulse, a slight spark, anything which would show him –

There.

A bolt of light surged from the staff to the pulse and Loki was thrown back as an earth-shattering explosion sounded. He landed hard on the floorboards, which gave way and he plummeted straight through two floors, crashing onto solid, stronger wood, debris smashing on and around him.

He rolled onto his back and a sharp stab hit him in the abdomen. He let out a yell, and soft laughter permeated through the blinding pain.

"Not careful enough, I see. How disappointing. I had hoped you would present more of a challenge. Shame."

There was silence, and Loki compelled his eyes to focus. His hand touched his stomach, and his eyes widened as he crooked his head to stare at the large shard of metal jutting from his torso. He pulled his hand away, and dread rushed through him at the crimson which dripped from his fingers.

He forced himself to move, and nearly collapsed from the agony. His vision was blurring, and he closed his eyes.

He did the one thing he never thought he would do.

He called out to Thor.

Camille awoke to find herself still settled against him, but a blanket covered the two of them, and she blinked tiredly.

"Blanket?"

"My doing. I did not want you to get cold."

"Oh. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

She shifted onto her stomach and looked at him.

"Good morning. At least I think it's morning. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Miss Langley?"

"What time is it?"

"It is twenty-five minutes past six in the morning."

"Thank you."

She returned her focus to the Norse god, who was smiling.

"Good morning," he murmured. She reached over to press a kiss to his lips.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not quite so uncomfortable," he replied quietly, his voice smooth, less roughened than before.

"Good. Will you tell me what happened?"

His eyes flickered. He could no longer evade her questioning; it would only upset her, and after her bleeding incident the month previously, he had no desire to cause her to worry. Miscarriage would break both of them.

"I would assume you know of the incident in Manhattan."

"Yeah, the explosion. You were right in the middle, weren't you?"

"For once, I was not the culprit."

She quirked a brow, and his mouth twitched.

"So little faith in me. How disheartening."

She rapped his cheek. "Carry on."

"I… encountered some difficulties. Whoever is behind this is extremely thorough. But they are not from Midgard. No-one from your realm would have been able to penetrate my armour and injure me so."

She frowned. "Then who? Chitauri?"

Loki tensed. "Perhaps. I did not uphold my end of the bargain, after all. Though how they re-entered Earth when I sensed no portal…"

Frustration rolled off him in waves, and she cupped his cheek.

"Hey. We'll find out."

Loki was quiet. The memory of the creature weighed heavy on his mind, and the image of his broken lover and bloody almost-child was not one he favoured.

"The creature is controlling Fury," he murmured. "SHIELD has no interest in you. But the thing does. As to why, I cannot be certain. It certainly… wishes to bring you to an undoubtedly sticky end."

"Delightful."

"I have managed to keep SHIELD from pursuing you up till now. But I am unsure as to how long I can continue that. I can only stretch so far, god though I am."

"Yeah, we did wonder how we managed to go a month without anyone bursting in on us. Couldn't you have broken the mind control?"

"Not without the risk of the creature leaping to its next host namely, me. And I do not yet know its strength."

"So it's a psychic entity?"

"Possibly. Or one which possesses such abilities. The puppeteer will rarely reveal himself, if at all."

She did not speak for a moment.

"You're really riled by this, aren't you?"

"It is infuriating when you are only able to gain little."

"How long do we have?"

His lips thinned.

"Six months at most."

"At most?"

He sighed, clearly unwilling to elaborate. She rolled her eyes.

"No. Tell me. Now."

"It would take pleasure in killing both you and the foetus. I will not go into detail, but it is not charming."

"Well, no, it wouldn't be."

His lips twitched at her blasé nature. How he wished he could act as such. Yet the worry was constant; casual airs seemed but a dream.

"I was in Manhattan because I suspected the creature would stay close to you. I was right I caught a scent of magic. And as soon as I arrived at the destination, the building exploded."

"Magic?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Mind control is a form of it, after all."

"Oh."

"The creature was there; no doubt about that. Otherwise I would not have received that gloriously pleasurable piece of metal in my abdomen."

She snorted, and kissed his collarbone, rolling onto her side again.

"What will you do once you're fully healed?"

"Ravish you," he said simply. She smacked his chest, laughing.

"Be serious!"

"I was. That is exactly what I plan to do. I have gone too long without having you fall apart under my influence."

Heat rushed to her thighs, and his smirk was wicked.

"I haven't heard you cry out my name in oh so long…"

"Loki, stop it. You're recuperating."

"And you would make it all better."

His free hand, while he was teasing her, had crept down her stomach and deftly unbuttoned her jeans, and with one swift movement it slipped beneath her underwear to gently stroke her. Her eyes widened and a gasp slipped from her lips.

"Ah, there we are," he purred. His thumb lightly pressed her bud, his fingers delving lower, and his eyes gleamed as he felt the wetness coating his skin. He withdrew, grinning at her protest, and licked his fingers clean.

"You taste better than I remembered."

Her eyes burned.

"You'd better recover quickly, or I swear to God I will make you regret it."

He laughed. "Oh, I have missed you."

He leant over and ripped the needle out, barely wincing. He waved his hand, and the wound resealed itself.

"Let's examine the damage, shall we?"

He ripped the gauze from his abdomen, and Camille stared.

All that was left was a raw scar, livid red.

"That… that's… wow."

He waved it away. "It is nothing. It will be fully healed soon enough."

"Oh, of course. Asgardian," she said, an edge of sarcasm to her tone. "It would take weeks for someone of Earth to heal to that stage."

"Yes, well, you are mortal, and therefore inferior," he said dismissively, sitting up.

She shot him a look which would have made a lesser man cower in fear. Loki, being not of the idiotic vein, could smell the danger, and he quickly amended that statement.

"Most are inferior," he corrected. "There are a few you included, of course who are not such a thing."

Still eyeing him threateningly, she got up off the bed and stretched, feeling her joints pop. She ran a hand through her hair, and balanced on the balls of her feet. Loki watched as her top rode up, and his eyes settled on the very slight swell of her belly before it was covered once more.

"I need a bath. A long, luxurious bath. As do you, I would think."

He knew that was a thinly veiled attempt to get bathroom shenanigans, and he smirked.

"I would not be averse to one. I take it you will be joining me?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?"

He tilted his head, brow furrowed slightly.

"I understand the gist, but the words you have just spoken ruin any sense of coherency."

She rolled her eyes.

"Pope. Leader of the Catholic Church. Branch of the religion known as Christianity. You know, God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, etc."

"I understand." His eyes gleamed. "And what happened to waiting for me to, ah, recover?"

"Screw that. You have godly healing speed. You'll be running marathons in less than three hours. It's been more than a month. I have needs!"

He laughed. "How typically human. You reproduce like rabbits."

"Hey, you're the one who lost control, not me."

"You bewitched me, woman. I do believe the blame is yours."

"Don't start nit-picking. Your penis, your orgasm. Your godly equipment. End of."

She yelped as he suddenly swept her up in his arms.

"Loki! Put me down! You're in no fit state to be doing that!"

"Oh, but you're willing to be bedded by me? How hypocritical of you." His peridot-green eyes glittered, and she blushed.

"I didn't mean right this minute!"

His smirk was absolute sin.

"No, but I did."

His head dipped down, and he captured her lips with his.

After that, it was no wonder they found themselves in a hot bath, Camille straddling Loki and keening as his mouth closed on her collarbone, his fingers slipping beneath the water to tease her. Her hand splayed over his scar, and he distracted her with a bite to her neck. There was no time for worrying. He would be perfectly fine, though she, being mortal, could not yet believe it. For now, he simply wanted to reacquaint his senses with her. The way she felt, sounded, tasted, looked, smelled.

Glorious.

The first time he sheathed himself inside her, both of them let out groans of desire; the time apart had been far too lengthy for both of them.

"Don't leave me for this long again," she breathed in his ear as her hips rolled, the water lapping against their heated skin. His hands skimmed over her waist, pressing into her soft flesh, dancing over her ribs.

"I will try my best," he murmured, tilting his hips. Camille let out a moan at the movement inside her, and Loki smiled almost lazily as his mouth descended on her throat once more. His hand cupped her breast, and his thumb circled the nipple, satisfaction rolling through him as he felt the bud pebble under his ministrations.

The both of them peaked quickly, unwilling to take too long in achieving their pleasures. There would be time to savour each other. Instead, they simply lay in the bath, as they had so many times before, and felt true contentment swell between them. Loki's hand rested upon Camille's stomach, lightly tracing patterns, and a smile shaped his mouth.

"Would you prefer a boy or girl?" came her soft inquiry. He took her hand and kissed her palm.

"As long as we have a child, I do not mind. Either would be a blessing, be it a son or daughter."

It'll be a miracle if we even have them, came the unbidden thought from her mind. He frowned.

Don't you dare think that, he admonished her. We will have this child and we will survive. I will protect you and our baby. You know that. You have many who would safeguard you; you are quite capable of living and birthing our little one.

Her fingers laced with his over her belly, and she felt his assurance flow through her.

I'm going to get fat, she murmured unhappily. He rolled his eyes.

Vain creature. You will be beautiful whatever shape you are. And I can't say I'll dislike your breasts… or your curves… His tone turned licentious, and her stomach instantly jolted with anticipation. He laughed softly.

Such a delicious form you have…

You despise mortals.

Oh, but you are much more than a mere mortal. You are the mother of my child.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Never had she expected that first sentence to come out of Loki Odinson's mouth.

I got promoted? He couldn't miss the sarcasm in her voice, and he grinned.

The highest rank I could give you.

Excellent. She settled back against his chest, her mind humming with satisfaction. I can live with that.

Good.

Loki?

Yes, my love?

She paused, and thought briefly to herself, No, it's too soon to be thinking about that. Have to focus on the present. Getting through this. Yes.

It doesn't matter, she said softly. She felt his confusion mingled with intrigue.

It most certainly does. Now. Speak.

She bit her lip. After… after the birth… where will we live? Asgard? Earth? Jotunheim, even?

He could not stop a laugh. Was that what you were worrying about? Truly?

Well… yes.

He smiled, and pressed a kiss to her jaw.

I should think Asgard would stifle you for the moment. Jotunheim, though suited to our child, is not the best place for you. You would be a mere plaything for a jötunn if I did not keep an eye on you, being as small as you are. And why in all the nine realms would you ask about that ruin of a world?

Because you are the heir.

He tensed.

I do not wish to rule a race I despise. His voice was short, curt.

You detest humans, so don't give me that. Why are you uncomfortable with the idea of having Jotunheim's throne?

Must we discuss this?

Yes.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, and Camille could feel it. She sighed.

"You are the only one who could use the casket effectively enough, Loki. Any other jötunn wouldn't know what to do with it. You could raise Jotunheim up from the ground. Return it to its former glory."

Her words echoed ones he had spoken so many months before in Laufey's presence, and his lips thinned.

"You speak as though it is simple."

"You're just purposely making it complicated," she hit back. "They'd probably be goddamn grateful for your rule. If Laufey was as horrific as both you and Thor say, they'd welcome a change."

He fought the urge to leave the bathroom. That would solve nothing. His lip curled, but he forced himself to speak civilly. Camille did not deserve his callous treatment.

"At present, my focus is you. Not the throne of Jotunheim. I couldn't care less about that. Not when you are carrying my child." His long fingers outlined circles on her belly. "When the little one is born, perhaps then I shall see about Jotunheim. Until then…"

His hand ran along her thigh.

"The only one I rule is you."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"No. You really don't– oh. Oh. Oh, my- okay, I take it back. I'm all yours, Odinson. Totally and completely yours!" Her voice went up an octave, and her body tensed up as she inhaled.

Loki smirked, and licked his fingers.

A/N: Ehehehehehe... I really hope this was okay for you guys... much love!

Lightning xoxo