NOTE: long one this time, and happy! enjoy! :)

CHAPTER 25

Loki stirred, pulling himself out of sticky unconsciousess and into a vague awareness that seemed to rise and fall like an ocean swell. Light came and went, and when he was awake enough to notice, he thought it had been a long time before he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was plain white and dull, the smell was institutional and antiseptic. And the sound, a soft hum and occasional beep, was clearly mechanical. He listened to it, and eventually the thought crossed his mind that he didn't know what the sound was. He didn't know where he was either. But he was comfortable and sleepy so he could wonder all that later.

He was lying in a bed, with a small pillow beneath his head. Good for going back to sleep.

"Loki," a familiar voice said, heavy with relief. "You're awake. Thank God.'

Loki turned his head to see his father, hunched by the side of his bed, leaning toward him. Behind him, there was a narrow window, covered by horizontal blinds that were open only a little to let in light, and beside the window, hung a framed print of a painting of one of the fjords. Loki stared at it, trying to decide if he'd been there, until his gaze wandered back to the window. It might be nice to know what was outside.

His thoughts seemed slow, but that didn't concern him. His mind was still bundled in the cotton blankets of sleep, and he drifted peacefully. He became aware that his breathing was somewhat restricted and each breath ached, but not enough that he cared about it.

Something gripping Loki's hand brought his attention back to Laufey's face.

Right, his father was there. That was his hand on Loki's. "What-" His voice came out all rusty and his mouth was so dry, his tongue didn't want to form words. "Papa?"

"Yes, son. I'm here." Laufey's hand brushed Loki's forehead, smoothing back his hair. "You're going to be well. You'll heal up and be back to normal. The doctors here did a good job stitching you up, and it'll be no time before you're up and about again."

Loki had the impression that what Laufey was saying was important but couldn't muster the will to care what doctors had to do with anything.

Laufey's lips twitched with amusement, but his thumb rubbed the back of Loki's hand in a soothing way. "You have some strong pain-killers right now."

Drugs. That was why he was so hazy. It was pleasant enough except for how the inside of his mouth felt like he had a dead vole in there. "Water?" he asked, surprised by the faintness of his own voice.

Laufey turned to find a little paper cup on the table nearby. "Here, they will not permit you to drink yet, with the anaethesia still in you, but there is some ice." With a tiny spoon, he slipped some pieces between Loki's lips, rather like feeding a baby, and Loki thought that he probably ought to be embarrassed. But he liked that his father was there, taking care of him. He certainly didn't feel like moving, himself.

The bits of ice helped to ease the disgusting feeling in his mouth, if not the taste. After that he put together doctors, anaesthesia, and pain killers and remembered why he would need them. He'd been stabbed. He lifted a hand to find that one had an IV stuck in it and a tube attached to the apparatus by his bed. He tried to touch his stomach, and despite the bandages and the drugs, pain shot through him, bringing an uncomfortable awareness with it, chasing away the haze.

A soft sound came out of his mouth, and his middle throbbed worse with each breath. Laufey plucked his hand away and set it back down at Loki's side. "Don't touch it," he advised.

He looked up at Laufey's face. "Papa?"

Laufey brushed his cheek and waited for Loki to gather his thoughts. He was frowning, and Loki remembered that look on his face - worrying, fearful, loving - from when he'd stayed at his mother's side. "Yes, Loki?"

"Where am I?"

"In hospital. Bryggen."

"You… came here?" he asked, knowing there was something wrong with that, but unsure what.

But Laufey misundertood his confusion. "Of course, I came, Loki,' he answered, first outraged then moderating his tone to a more hurt reassurance. "I was not so far away that I couldn't come to you, when you were so hurt."

"But… danger…"

Understanding lighting his eyes, Laufey let out a soft bark of a laugh. "So they told me, you and I should not be in the same place. I told them all to go to hell. They had to find a way, because I would go to you."

That was warming to hear. Comforting. But Laufey being so determined to be his father, reminded Loki of what he'd thought would be his last regrets. He swallowed hard, trying to find both words and voice. "I'll be... better son. I - I'm sorry…"

Laufey shook his head. "No, Loki. No need to be sorry." He must've seen lingering traces of Loki's doubt, because he added, "I wouldn't change anything about who you are. You are my son, and I always love you. You and I have had our disagreements, Loki, but I've always been proud of you." His free hand smoothed back Loki's hair gently, and Loki felt hot tears prick his eyes at the words. He blinked, trying to chase them away, but instead pushed them out of his eyes.

Laufey thumbed them away from the sides of his face. "These are things I should have told you more often and I shouldn't have waited until you were in this much danger to say them, but they have always been true."

If it was true for Laufey, it was true for Loki, too. It wasn't just the king who had held back words that he should have said before, and old resentments uncurled in his heart and dissolved away. "I love you, too, Papa."

Laufey smiled and bent down to kiss Loki's forehead. "You are the best son any man could ask for. But now, you need rest. I see your eyelids drooping."

Loki nodded his agreement and closed his eyes. But when something metallic clanged in the hall outside, his eyes shot open again.

"Shhh, it's all right." Laufey brought his other hand to cradle Loki's between his. "You're safe now. Sleep." He lifted their joined hands to kiss Loki's. "I'm not going anywhere."

Reassured by that, and exhausted despite how little time he'd been awake, Loki let his eyes close.

The detective handed Sif her passport and then her purse. "You are free to go." He nodded to the young man in the green uniform waiting on the other side of the cuonter. "The guardsman has instruction to bring you to the hospital. The king has summoned you."

She swallowed. That sounded so much more impressive than "Loki's dad wants to talk to you". Slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder - without the weight of the weapon now of course - she tried a smile. "Okay. Great. Thank you."

"Ms. Rowan?" the detective said, "I did not say so before, it was not correct, but thank you for helping Prince Loki."

"My pleasure, Detective." She went to join the guard.

He nodded to her. "Ms Rowan. This way. I am ordered to bring you to the king."

"Of course. Am I going to be able to see Loki?"

"I cannot say, miss," He answered, not exactly a surprise that he wouldn't or couldn't tell her. But if she was really being summoned by the king, and not by Loki, it was probably going to be something about 'thanks for saving his life, in exchange I got you out of jail. Now go away, we don't need any more murderous Americans hanging around.'

"Do you know how he's doing?"

In the car he glanced at her and answered, "He awakened, I heard."

"He woke up? Oh, that's great, I'm so glad." She leaned back in the chair and watched outside the window as the small car headed around main streets and then up the side of a hill, to where she could see a bigger building lurking behind a wall and many trees.

At the gate their car had to be called in then approved, and they drove up the path. It wasn't just one big building, she realized, it was a large complex of several older, smaller buildings and a large, more modern one behind that. The car had to pass another checkpoint to go to the rear building, and there were more uniformed soldiers waiting there as the car stopped.

Margud was one of them, and she came to the car to take charge of Sif. Very properly, she greeted Sif and it wasn't until they were inside the building and briefly alone, she turned to Sif and said, "You saved him." She grabbed Sif's arm tightly. "Thank you. I am sorry you had to be involved."

"it's okay, I wanted to help,' Sif reassured her.

Seeming more relaxed, Margud let go and squared her shoulders. "The king awaits your arrival. Come."

They went up in an elevator, using a key to access the floor. It looked like any modern hospital corridor beyond that, wide enough for several gurneys to pass each other, big automatic doors, white floors, bright lighting, and random equipment parked in the hall.

It seemed this wing or at least this portion was empty, however, with only two nurses at the station, and only two other rooms occupied.

At another guard station, they passed into a room intended as a waiting area, but the extra seats had been stacked to the side to clear space for some tables to be used as work desks. Laufey was sitting behind one, laptop in front of him, talking to someone on a landline phone, while Maxine worked on a tablet nearby.

When Sif would've approached the desk, Margud subtly pulled on her shirt at the back to keep her near the door while they waited to be acknowledged.

Laufey saw them and finished up his conversation, to beckon Sif forward.

Sif felt like she was at the principal's office, standing in front of Laufey's temporary desk, especially as he rose to his feet. "Ms Rowan."

She had to clear her throat to find her voice and bobbed her head in some nervous gesture she was embarrassed to be making even as she did it. "Uh. Sir. You wanted to see me?"

He came around the desk and approached her. She held her ground though she desperately wanted to back away. He didn't look angry, but she didn't know what he wanted with her. She folded her hands together, then pulled them apart to try not look so much like a chid who'd gotten into the cookies.

Laufey looked into her face for a long moment and then, unexpectedly, he reached out and took her hand, as if to shake it, but then brought his other hand to keep hers between both of his. "Ms Rowan. Thank you," he said, very earnestly, "I wanted to say that to you directly. Thank you for saving my son's life. I know without you finding and tending him, he would have died."

"Oh." She looked up at him, letting out a relieved huff of breath. "I - don't know about that; Grundroth was right behind me and he did most of the first aid. I just wish I'd found him sooner."

"You found him, and you helped him," he said. "That was enough." He let go of her hands. "I think it was foolish to go after the assassin with Thor, though this is hardly the first time Thor had persuaded his companion into something rash." His pale eyes looked far away and pained, no doubt at some memory of Loki and Thor doing something reckless.

With a small shake of his head, he looked at her again. "I am told you intend to go on the strike team after Thanos. Is that true?"

She wondered how he knew that, when it was only a couple of hours ago she'd told Captani Rogers, but then he was the king and he was highly motivated to know these things. "Yes, sir. I want to finish this. Not just for Loki's sake, but for my own. Thanos must know I've gotten in the way several times now. He doesn't take betrayal very well."

"No. that is very true. Have a care for yourself . I think Loki would take it poorly if you were hurt or killed."

"I think I'd take it poorly, too, so I will, sir."

His lips quirked in a smile at her quip. "Just so. I know he would like to see you before you leave."

Sif nodded and waited for the rest, certain there was a 'but' coming.

She raised her chin as he said nothing, looking at her. Then black brows lifted and he said, with a gesture of invitation, "You can go in. Margud will escort you to his room."

"Really?" she blurted. "I thought-" she stopped, not wanting to give voice to her suspicion.

Laufey regarded her a moment and then said, "You are not what I expected, Ms Rowan. I cannot say I'm pleased at your former… profession. But, I believe you intend only good. It seems inevitable that Loki would be attracted to a woman of such intrigue and strength." Hearing that, Sif almost let her mouth drop open. A compliment? The king continued, "He needs someone who does not covet his title or fear his brain. However, I will not approve any match that does not include you spending time together not in danger. You may find that excitement has covered a bad fit."

She blinked, trying to figure that out. Was the king actually giving his blessing to their dating like normal people? He wasn't sending her away, which was amazing in itself, but he was also saying he was foreseeing a more permanent attachment and he didn't want them to rush into it. She could certainly agree with that.

"I think that wise, sir. Definitely we could use some ordinary time together." As 'ordinary' as Loki got, anyway, which wasn't all that ordinary, but that was what made him so interesting. She'd love to get coffee or dinner with him without getting shot at. Now she had Laufey's approval for doing it, too. "And thank you. For giving me a chance."

The more severe cast of his features lightened, and he said, "My son is very special to me, Ms Rowan. He is all I have, and I want to see him happy and loved."

"So do I, sir," she added softly. "I'm not sure where he stopped being a mark and became someone I'd defend with my life, but he did."

"Which is why you are not in prison," he said, smiling like it was a joke, but she didn't think he was joking at all. "Go in, Sif." He gestured her toward the door.

She walked down the hall and looked at the Royal Guard at parade rest on either side of the door. Margud spoke with them, and she smiled at Sif. "You can go in. He's awake. But do not stay long."

Sif rubbed her hands on her slacks, anxious, but she smiled her thanks and went in. The door closed behind her.

The hospital room was simple: all white-washed walls, pine cabinets and trim, and a narrow window opposite the door that faced the building's courtyard. The window sill held three large vases of flowers, fewer than she would have expected, though perhaps most of them had been given away or not accepted for security.

There was one bed in the room, and Loki was sitting with the top of the bed angled up just enough to see the television on the opposite wall. He was wearing a hospital gown with little green flowers on it, and a blanket over his legs. There was an IV drip in his left arm, and some wires wound their way beneath his shirt, but other than that, there was no other scary equipment attached to him, which meant he was doing well.

She hadn't seen him since she'd been afraid he would bleed to death on the base, and for the space of a few breaths, she just looked at him and her insides felt warm with the knowledge he was alive. He was there, sitting up, conscious, not dying, not dead, alive.

He didn't seem to have noticed the door opened, or didn't look right away, so she was able to look her fill and try to absorb this miracle. Finally he did turn his head, and recognition sparked in his eyes and a curve of his lips. She smiled back. "Hi," she greeted. "Are you okay with a visitor?"

When his expression didn't change, that vague happy smile on his face, she knew: he was on heavy pain-killers. It was confirmation when he blinked in seeming incomprehension to what she said. He muted the television, which was playing a local cooking show, and said, "Hello." He waved his fingers at the television then at her, to come closer. "I- sorry. Not thinking English well. Come."

She perched on the nearby chair. "That's okay. I wanted to see you. How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," he answered with another of those smiles. "I only hurt when I move."

"So the drugs are good then?" she teased.

He nodded, still smiling. "Very recommended," he said with a doped-up seriousness. It took a moment then the smile faltered, as a thought hit, and he asked, "And you? You are okay?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "Not hurt at all. Someone told you Rumlow was dead, right?"

He nodded and shifted in the bed, grimacing with pain but also more alert afterward. "Thor told me you killed him."

"I did," she answered. She hesitated, looked down and bit her lip. "And he told you it was self-defense. Because that's what I told them. But you should know, that's a lie. I shot him."

"He was attacking you? No?"

She shrugged. "He made a move. I could've gotten out of the way. But I didn't. I just... " she swallowed, "I couldn't bear the thought of him getting away, or sitting in some cell with three meals a day for the rest of his life, after he'd tried to murder you." She should feel bad, she guessed, for taking it into her own hands, but she didn't. She would feel bad if Loki thought she'd done something wrong, though. "I wanted you to know the truth."

He closed his eyes, creases at the corners deepening, until she was sorry she'd mentioned it and looked down at her hands. "I suppose I should be horrified," he said finally. "Trial and prison are civilized, of course; it is what I should want, I know. But honestly I'm glad that I never have to look at his face again. So, thank you."

Her head snapped up to search his face, to see that he meant it. He stretched a hand in her direction, falling short from reaching her. "You keep doing all these heroic things for me," he murmured.

"Heroic? After what i just said?"

He frowned in weary confusion. "Is that not right? Epic, then. You do these epic things for me, and I don't undersatnd what I did to deserve it."

She looked at his face and smiled, shaking her head, amazed. Anyone else in his position would simply accept it as a fact; that of course people would do that for them. But he was impressed by her.

"You inspire me to be better," she answered, and touched his hand lighly. "Nobody's ever done that before."

He drew her fingers between his, to hold onto her hand. He had nice hands, long fingers, warm skin... He said, "But I'm not that kind of person."

"You're not a saint, if that's what you mean. And you have the common sense of a drunk moth next to a candle, but when you talk about the tesseract and what it can be, I hear the future, Loki. I hear that you care about the world and the people in it. Do you know how rare that is? I've met men with power and money who never do anything but make the world worse. You could be one of those people, but you're not." She smiled, thinking of Laufey outside. "You were raised right."

"In my fancy palace on the hill?" he joked.

She shook her head, smiling. "No, in your farm house, collecting chicken eggs in short pants."

"Probably true," he allowed. A silence fell while he looked at her face and then his gaze dropped to his hand still holding hers. "You… don't seem like you're backing away this time," he said finally.

"I'm not," she answered. "When I found you on the floor, dying, I knew I couldn't do it again, if you gave me a second chance. And then Thor and I talked when we were looking for Rumlow, and he helped me get over my fear."

"Your fear? Of me?"

She shook her head. "No. That I would ruin you and all the good you can do. If people spend more time digging up the nastiness of my past than understanding the tesseract, or if they reject you because of me, that's not right, and I don't want that. I don't want to tarnish you with who I am, or was. But Thor told me I shouldn't assume the worst."

Loki considered that, not as quickly as he probably would have without the drugs, but finally he said, "You wanted to protect me. From gossip."

"When you put it that way, yeah, I guess."

He looked up at her, his smile warm. "That is very kind, Sif. But you know that's Maxine's job. She does…" he waved his free hand in a vague gesture trying to come up with the word, and said, "that thing. She will manage it. And if people don't want the tesseract because of you- fuck them, they're getting it anyway."

She had to smile at the declaration, a bit drunken sounding but he meant it. It put her fears to rest; it would not be stopped now. The future was coming, and if Loki wasn't being put off by a knife in his gut, words weren't going to do it either.

"Good, that's what I want,' she reassured him.

He pouted his lower lip and asked, "Not me?" The joking expression faded and he said, "You don't, I know, you said so."

It took a moment to figure out what he was talking about, before she remembered that she'd told Laufey she didn't want to bed his son. "I wasn't going to admit the truth to your father," she protested. "Certainly not back then. And I kissed you, remember?'

"And you pulled away," he reminded her.

"Well, I'm not now," she retorted, and lifted his hand to her cheek and then planted a kiss in his palm, folding his fingers around it. "There, my promise for when you're better. And," she hesitated and had to dampen dry lips, "if you're still interested, when you're out of here and when I'm back, we can start again with something normal, like dinner?"

His suddenly flashing grin was brilliant with delight. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"Well, I still think you're crazy not to want me out of your life, but yes, I am."

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. "Then I accept. If you don't invite a pretend assassin this time," he teased, and she rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, as he chuckled and then grimaced at the pain to his midsection at the motion.

"No more assassins," she promised, more seriously, "real or fake. I'm going with Captain Rogers' team to take down Thanos."

"No. Don't go," he objected, but corrected himself so it didn't sound so much like a command, though it was so plaintive she wouldn't have taken it that way anyway, "You don't have to go."

"I need to," she murmured. "You and I won't ever be safe 'til he's gone."

He accepted that with weary reluctance, nodding, and he murmured, "Then... be careful."

"I will," she promised. His gaze wandered past her, looking at the television, eyes falling closed before he opened them again, to turn his attention back to her.

"You look tired. I should go."

He didn't let go of her hand. "Stay. Tell me about how you found Rumlow."

She agreed but since she doubted this wakefulness would last long, she pitched her voice low. Before she and Thor were on the cruise ship, his eyes closed and his hand relaxed, so she stopped talking. He didn't wake, so she smiled, knowing he was out like a light.

She sat there, looking at his face, so handsome but thinner than she remembered from her first view. His black lashes sat stark against pale shadowed skin beneath his eyes and the creases of pain and stress lingered even when he slept. She wanted to smooth them away, but she couldn't, so she sat there and watched him breathe.

Oh, God, am I in love with you? Thor was right, I am. I am, of course I am.

This time, it wasn't a frightening thought, and she didn't want to back away. This time, she would try.

But first, she had to get rid of their enemy, or there could be no trying for more. Gently she disengaged her hand and bent over. She considered kissing his lips, but decided she'd rather he remember it. So she kissed his cheek instead, in a silent promise that she was coming back.

tbc...