A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry it's been a while. Here at last is the Loki scene I know you've been wanting. I meant for it to be in the previous chapter, but as I said, I had to shift things around a bit. This is one of my favorite chapters so far, and mostly because of Clara's scene. I lived in the D.C. area for a couple years, so there are a few little details and references from my own experience there.


Loki was sitting on the cell's hard bench, perusing a scroll. He did not look up immediately when Thor approached. Thor used the moment to observe the prisoner's conditions quietly.

His first few weeks back in Asgard, Loki had refused all but the barest food and drink, and made no move to preserve his appearance. Now, an empty meal tray lay on the ground, beside a washbasin. Thor allowed himself a moment of optimism, that a clean dinner tray and an empty basin meant that his brother was adopting a more agreeable state of mind. He knew it was foolish hope. Even the basest creatures were driven by self-preservation, and Loki was too shrewd to let himself waste away for long.

"You must be truly desperate for entertainment, to stand there and watch me read," Loki said, still not looking up from the page.

"I am not here for entertainment," Thor said.

When Loki finally raised his eyes to the visitor, he saw the distress in Thor's face. "It would seem not," he said. "Something disturbs your thoughts?"

"What are you reading?" Thor asked. He knew Loki would see through his evasion, but he had not yet decided why he had come there at all.

Loki smirked down at the parchment. "Lessons in ancient etiquette. I daresay your servants thought I could do no damage with such knowledge." He looked back at Thor with a flick of his eyebrows. "Or perhaps it was the queen's idea—in hopes that I might better myself."

"I ordered that you be given something to read," Thor said. "I only asked Varin to practice discretion in his choice."

The prisoner's low chuckle resonated through the chamber. "If he had hopes for my education, he chose ill. But if he was concerned for my slumber, he has been immensely kind. This text is more effective than any soporific potion I have found."

Thor's mirth at the joke was brief, ending when Loki held out the paper toward him.

"Would you like to read it?" Loki asked, his tone glib. His eyes did not falter as they stared at the crown prince. "Your nightly rest could use some assistance." It was a figurative gesture, as the clear wall still stood between Loki and the rest of the world. Thor would have had to use powerful magic to reach the scroll.

Thor sighed. "I suppose there is no good in denying it."

"None whatever."

Thor began to pace in front of the cell as he spoke. Loki watched him in silence, indolently lounging upon his one piece of furniture.

"Each night brings trouble enough to interrupt my sleep," Thor said. "I do not intend to repeat my youthful mistakes, and yet I live in dread of Svartalfheim as once we feared the threat of…" He paused, realizing what he was about to say.

"Jotunheim," Loki finished. When Thor said nothing, he added, "And you were right to, were you not?"

Thor looked at him sadly. "You are one of us, Loki. The barrier could be removed, if you would allow it."

Casting him an enigmatic look, Loki pretended to go back to reading the scroll. When Thor did not leave, Loki knew that he had not said all that he wanted.

"And Midgard?" Loki murmured.

"She is home," Thor said. "Safe, with her own people…for the moment."

Loki froze his expression. "She did not trust the mighty Thor enough?" he asked, still pretending to read. "Afraid she would be kidnapped by Svartálfar if she stayed?"

"I insisted on it, for her own benefit," Thor said. "But now, I am not sure."

"Please tell me you did not come here to seek my counsel."

"No, Loki, I know your opinion of the Lady Clara well enough."

"Then why are you here?"

Thor fell silent; he had come without knowing the answer to that question. It was useless—on the verge of insanity—to think that Loki could advise him on any matter involving Clara. Yet he desperately wished to speak about her to his erstwhile brother and friend. In the old days, he would not have hesitated to do so.

"Would you…would you never soften?" Thor asked. "If not for her sake, or mine, then your own—if only to lighten your mind, to let yourself be free of one object for hatred?"

"You have said yourself that my mind is far afield, that I thirst for power and vengeance. And you think it a burden on my soul?" Loki chuckled again, letting the scroll fall to the ground and lying back on his bench. "But what is one more object of hatred to a mad, ice-hearted monster?"

"It is as I feared," Thor said. "You will not release your bitterness, even for yourself."

Loki turned his head to look at Thor. "What benefit could I possibly reap otherwise?"

"Your home, perhaps," the crown prince replied. "Or family—but I suppose such things mean nothing to you now. That alone is a tragedy. If you ever proved that you could set aside prejudice and cruelty, adopt humility and courtesy instead, we might be able to trust you again." He gestured at the scroll. "The old ways of etiquette might have been your salvation. I am sorry you find it so dull."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You make nebulous promises for indefinite demands, Odinson," he said.

Thor inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils, like a bull preparing for the charge. "As long as the Lady Clara has a place in court, she will return to Asgard. I would not want her work to be impeded, or her stay to be inhospitable, because of your further discourtesy."

The prisoner did not hold back his disgust. "Must every conversation return to that tedious wench? Her pitiful little life never should have entered my consciousness, and now I cannot escape mention of her."

Both Thor's hands clenched into fists, and for a moment he considered throwing Mjolnir through the clear barrier that separated him from Loki. One more denigratory word about Clara, and he was not sure he could be held responsible for whatever he did to Loki. But instead of pummeling him into dust, he took another deep breath.

"She walks free—in two different realms—while you are imprisoned for your violence and destruction. In what way is she inferior to you? How is she the one called 'pitiful'?"

Loki said nothing, but only scowled.

"You know the manners of Asgard, Loki," Thor continued. "If you can practice courtesy and hospitality to Lady Clara wh…if she returns, if you can treat her as an equal, to place her comfort over yours, then you will be granted your old rooms, your former seat at the banqueting table, and you will have ingress to the galleries you once enjoyed. That is all the liberty you can be given. You will remain confined to the palace, and you will certainly not be permitted into the weapons vault."

"So your idea of kindness is nothing but a more luxurious prison."

"If you wish to prove yourself worthy of more, you may do so. But be warned: you may play a role to get what you desire, but we grew up together, and I know some of your tricks. I am confident that you could not long hide your insincerity."

"And thus I am condemned again, even as you claim to offer me opportunity to 'prove myself,'" Loki said, grinning. "What mad gambler would accept odds so clearly stacked against him?"

"You called yourself mad mere minutes ago," Thor pointed out.

Loki sat up again, resting his forearms upon his bent knees.

"And so I am."


Clara spent the morning at the Washington zoo, watching the river otters and the Komodo dragons and enjoying the fact that a S.H.I.E.L.D. car would not pull up beside her.

Mealtimes had been so underwhelming that she hardly bothered to get gussied up, though she at least wore a skirt to combat the oppressive heat of Washington in July. When she walked into Ristorante Tosca, however, she wished she had made more of an effort—and maybe were not so sweaty—when she saw her father seated next to the most absurdly handsome human she had ever set eyes on.

"Clara, meet Seth Rosen, one of NASA's top aerospace engineers. Seth, my daughter, Clara McKenna."

The man was six feet tall, about thirty-five years old, and completely fit. Clara was almost blinded by his smile, to say nothing of his dark curls, or the dimple in the middle of his chin. If Steve Rogers was the modern-day Jimmy Stewart, this guy was Cary Grant. She could have crumpled to the floor at his resolute handshake.

A drop-dead gorgeous rocket scientist? Clara thought. Well, if you insist…

"Have you been enjoying D.C., Ms. McKenna?" he asked, when they had ordered drinks and starters.

"Clara, please," she said, smiling.

"Only if I'm Seth," the man said.

"I can do that," she said. "Anyway, D.C. is a nice change of scenery, I suppose."

"I hope this trip is everything you've wished for," he said, giving her another flash of brilliant teeth.

They talked casually about the differences between New York and D.C., some more Hill gossip, and their lunch selections, never broaching the subject of the attack in Manhattan or Clara's visits to Asgard. Once again, Clara found this confusing and unsettling, though it was not too difficult to push aside those feelings in the presence of such a man. His intelligence made conversation interesting; his charm made it easy. She actually began to enjoy herself—and almost forgot that her father was present at all.

They were nearly done with their meals when the topic shifted.

"So, Clara," Seth said, "your father says you'd like to help us out a bit, getting the right message out about everything that happened in New York."

"Oh…yeah," she said. Eloquent. "I mean…as long as it's the truth. I use my blog to be honest about the things I see, wherever I travel. So when I talk about Asgard, I say what it's really like."

"Asgard looks like a beautiful country," he replied.

"It's gorgeous," she said, feeling a little flutter of butterflies at finally getting the chance to talk about something close to her heart. "I've traveled a lot, and I've never seen anything like it on this planet. A shame that my blog can't convey what it's really like to be there, however I try."

With a look of mildly pleasant surprise, Seth leaned back a little in his seat. "I'm glad you said that."

"You are?" she asked.

"Yes, you see…" He paused until the waitstaff had refilled their drinks and left again. "I don't have to tell you what it's been like since the attack. People are asking questions, and aren't sure who to turn to for answers. It seems as though your combination of family history, existing online presence, and communication skills could help New York, the nation—really, the globe—move forward."

"Okay," Clara said. "I mean, that's what I've been trying to do. I don't really know what else anyone would want from me."

"You better not be talking yourself down," Seth said teasingly. "You could be immensely valuable. I mean," he added, dropping the tone of his voice and gesturing to her with one hand, "more so than you have been, obviously."

"What did you have in mind?" Clara asked. She glanced at her father, but he was listening quietly, an expression of mild interest—but no surprise—on his face. He already must have talked to Seth about whatever was going on.

"Well, without being too nosy, obviously one big question is your mode of transportation. The average person"—here he chuckled slightly—"not to say you're just an average person, of course—simply doesn't have the means to travel into outer space alone. So when a woman says that she traveled to an entirely different world, you have to admit that it's a little unbelievable without understanding how."

Here it is. The question I will have to field until the day I die. "A lot of people have asked me about that," Clara said. "I just…I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone. I know what I need to do, but I don't really know how it works, and I've already said that Asgardian magic is involved. Without Thor and Odin's say-so, I'm really not comfortable disclosing more details about how I get to Asgard and back."

"I was just thinking of the work you've been doing," Seth said. "You said it's been difficult to convey the wonders of Asgard, being the only person who's been there." Here he leaned forward a little and looked at her with his enormous brown eyes. "It sounds like quite a burden."

"I carry it well enough," Clara said, still sounding collected even as her heartbeat grew stronger. "You can put up with a lot when you think it's worth it, right?"

"But is it?" he asked, using a tone she could only describe as intimate. "Is it necessary? Especially when there would be so much benefit otherwise."

"Like what?" She tried to look serene, despite the trepidation coursing through her veins.

"That's exactly what they want to know, sweetie," Senator McKenna spoke up for the first time in a while. "You see, I wasn't quite correct about the task force. The truth is even better. NASA is assembling a group of researchers—engineers, astrophysicists, biologists, anthropologists, and so on—for a scientific expedition to Asgard."

"But all of that is impossible without your help," Seth said. "All the brilliant minds in the world wouldn't make a difference if they couldn't get there, and as far as we know, you're the only person who could get them there."

"A scientific expedition?" she asked. "What for? I mean, specifically…?"

"Specifically, I could hardly begin to tell you," Seth said. "If you're telling the truth, we're talking about an entire world previously unknown to us, completely unexplored and full of potential. What elements is the planet and its atmosphere made of? What other forms of life inhabit it, aside from the Asgardians you've met? The terrain, the climate, all of it a complete mystery, and you have been there! This could change everything, Clara, and you alone have the power to help make that change."

Clara swallowed, staring at him and absorbing his words. All this time, she had been seeing Asgard as a holiday destination, and her role there as a purely diplomatic endeavor. Being a more creative personality, she had given little thought to the scientific side of it. Of course it had come up before in some of her interviews, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had been interested in the Asgardians' technology, but she had not quite grasped all the possibilities that Seth was throwing at her. If she were honest, the realization of what power she possessed was an intoxicating one.

"I see what you mean," she said. Something was off, and she was trying to put it to words. "I wouldn't be much good with that—it's not like I brought a microscope with me the last time."

Seth chuckled. "I guess Clara inherited your wit, Fred," he said to the senator. Turning back to her, he said, "We wouldn't expect you to have equipment. That's what the whole team is for. With you to tell us how to get there, you'd essentially be the expedition leader. It couldn't happen without you."

"I want to help," she said. "I really do. But…I just can't. I can't do that to Tho—the Asgardians, letting a bunch of people into their world without permission, without an official invitation or warning of some kind."

She thought of the Svartálfar, sending a delegation ahead of their queen, with tribute to try to smooth things over before revealing their true purpose.

"And it just seems…disrespectful to let a bunch of people loose in Asgard to study them and their world like…zoo animals."

"But it might help them as well," Seth said. "All the advantage wouldn't be just on our side. The Asgardians may have knowledge to share, that we could benefit from—and since from your photos it looks like a more primitive society, I'm sure they could benefit from ours—"

And here, every ounce of charm that Seth had poured into the conversation lost its effect. Clara could not let him finish his last sentence before she burst out laughing, drawing a shocked look from a passing waitress. For a moment, Seth looked confused, and Senator McKenna looked mortified.

"I'm pretty sure we've got nothing that the Asgardians might need," Clara said.

Seth tried to recover, and gave her another smile. "We might not know for certain until we get there."

"To that primitive culture?" she asked. True, she had entertained some similar thoughts, and had even referred to Thor himself as a barbarian on more than one occasion. But she reserved the right to say so—she had been to Asgard, she loved Thor, and she did not want any outsiders making unearned presumptions. She thought of Frigga's hospitality, Thor's duty and determination to do the right thing, Sif's combination of power and poise, and even Loki's cunning. Primitive? Hardly.

"Look, Seth," Clara went on. "I'm not the smartest person alive, and I would never pretend to be, but I did stay awake in my history classes. This sounds a lot like the same imperialistic crap that governments—including this one—have been pulling for centuries. You're not taking muskets and smallpox blankets to Asgard."

"This isn't the sixteenth century, Clara," he said, frowning and defensive. "We would be there to conduct research, not conquer them."

"You're damn right you're not going to conquer it," she said. "You wouldn't get past the palace foyer."

"Clara," her father said with a dark tone, "settle down."

"Not for this," she said. "I can't settle down for this. The Asgardians want to help us, but I won't let a bunch of goons just swoop in and treat the place like their personal laboratory, or watch them like circus freaks."

Seth cleared his throat. "Clara, I'm sorry that this has upset you. I didn't mean to make it sound like we were threatening your…friends. It's admirable that you want to defend them." She eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed a little more relaxed now, casual. "We can put the topic aside for now. Maybe you and I could revisit it later—tomorrow night, over drinks?"

Now that smile was a lot less charming.

"I'm still not telling you how I get there," she said. "You guys at NASA will have to figure it out on your own. Who knows—you might live long enough to succeed."

"Clara," the senator said, "if you'll give it a little more thought, you'll come to understand how vital this could be for the future of humanity. Even if younever got your degree, you could still be at the forefront of some of the greatest discoveries of the century."

After looking at her father while he spoke, she turned and met Seth's eyes again. They stared each other down for a few seconds, during which time she saw the muscles in his face relax, and a creeping coldness retreat from his expression.

"The truth is that we need you, Clara," he said, his tone warming. "And you obviously know this. It would be such a waste if you kept all that information to yourself."

"I don't want anything to go to waste," she admitted. "I'm just not sold on your idea of how to use it."

Seth looked down and began to fidget with a dessert spoon. "That raises another question, though." He took a deep breath. "Is it just a general concern for Asgard, a desire to be polite, that makes you refuse to tell us how you get there?"

Clara's heart beat faster. Thor, she thought. So far she had kept their relationship, such as it was, and details about her feelings toward him out of her blog and away from the interviews. Had Seth made the connection over the course of a lunch hour? She thought of Loki, how he had known that she had been trying to make Thor jealous. Was their romance really that obvious?

But when Seth spoke again, it was not what she expected.

"Or maybe…you don't really want to help at all."

She could not slow her pulse, no matter how loudly her brain screamed at her heart and lungs to chill out. "What do you mean?"

He wasn't looking at her. "See, if you continue to insist on being so secretive, and won't help us gather evidence of what you claim…I mean, it looks questionable. Someone might think you have something to hide. Someone might wonder who you're really working for. Sure, we probably overuse words like 'security threat' and 'terrorism,' and I don't mean to sound accusatory. But in this case…well, if I were anyone else, I'd have to wonder where your loyalties really lie."

"Wait, are you saying…?"

He looked at her then. "I'm saying that, for all your insistence that Asgard wasn't the source of the attack, we have nothing but your testimony to go on."

"And Tony Stark's!" she interjected.

"And," Seth went on, talking over her, "when you are so defensive of another nation and so strongly refuse to defend your own, well…it's not just faulty testimony, Clara, it's all-out suspicious."

"Dad?" Clara turned to appeal to the senator. "You were supposed to help protect me. You said I'd be doing you a favor. And now I'm being accused of…of…terrorism? Espionage?"

"Clara, calm down," her father said. "You're getting ridiculous."

"This is ridiculous! He just said—"

"And he has a point!"

He barely raised his voice, but Clara's shoulders slumped at his words.

"I was going to bring it up to you eventually, at a more appropriate time," he said, shooting a scolding look at Seth. "But now that the subject has been broached, there's an easy way to resolve it."

"I'm not telling you how I get to Asgard."

By now, she was seriously questioning whether it was worth it anymore to cling to the information. The only thing that kept—almost strengthened—her resolve was remembering how respectfully and honestly Thor and Odin had asked for her help. They had been forthright, and even flexible. The U.S. government, S.H.I.E.L.D., even her own father had granted no such courtesies.

"Then there's another option," the senator said, "one you'd have to do anyway, before you go further with this project. You'll have to earn security clearance: a credit check, background interviews, polygraph test. It won't be pretty, but I don't think I have to tell you what your refusal might suggest."

"Dad, this is wrong," she said, her throat burning. She couldn't—wouldn't—cry about this. Not now, not ever. "I won't do it."

"Then I don't know if I can help you," her father countered. "I want to, sweetie, make no mistake about that. But I need you to be at least a little cooperative."

"I don't…" The words caught in her throat.

The restaurant's soft lighting and neutral-colored walls felt oppressive. She pushed her chair back from the table. As a waiter rushed over to help her with it, the two gentleman at the table stood. Seth looked poised for attack, prepared to head her off if she bolted for the door. Before Clara could walk away, Senator McKenna hurried around the table to stand beside her, bending down to speak to her alone.

"Walk it off," he murmured. "Calm down, have a drink, go back to the apartment if you have to…but think about what you're doing. This isn't just patriotic duty, Clara. This is in your best interest—in your family's best interest. Don't throw it away when you don't even understand."

She glared up at him. "I understand it better than you."

He stood straight and squared his shoulders. "Glad you could do lunch with us," he said. "The National Gallery cafe has good gelato, if you want dessert. Might cool your head."

Clara snatched up her purse and stormed out, practically bursting through the door before the maître d' could get it for her. The thick, humid heat of downtown D.C. did nothing to cool her off or remove the sense of oppression, so easily returned after so brief an absence. Hot tears hovered behind her lashes, but she wiped them away before they had a chance to escape. She barely noticed her surroundings, and almost by instinct, she made her way to the nearest Metro stop.

Even though he had all but accused her of terrorism, her father had stood back and let her flee the restaurant. He knew—she knew—she was trapped. He could shrug it off and go back to work on the Hill, secure in the knowledge that she had nowhere to run. He could have the local police, the FBI, or Homeland Security tailing her with one phone call, watching for her at any airport in the region, searching for her at every Metro stop, in every city taxi. And even if she managed to return to New York undetected, S.H.I.E.L.D. was waiting for her there. She thought of the Tesseract ring in the apartment, concealed in a pocket of her computer bag. A moment of delight at the prospect of going back to Asgard gave way to despair again. The entire reason she was not in Asgard already was because she was not safe there, either.

But Thor is there, at least, she told herself. That's got to make it my best option so far.

But he was supposed to come back and let her know what was going on. She had agreed to go back to Midgard, agreed to trust his judgment call. And there was still Alflyse and the rest of the Svartálfar to deal with—to say nothing of Thor's own brother, the ever-present thorn in her side.

Maybe I could take a Greyhound to Arkansas. I've never been there.

She returned to her father's apartment without incident. Fortunately, she had barely unpacked, even in a week. It was relatively easy to throw all her stuff back into her makeup bag, her suitcase, and her computer bag. For a few frantic moments she had to dig around for the ring, having forgotten which pocket it was in. When it was securely on her finger, she again felt an inkling of comfort again. And, like last time, it vanished just as quickly.

As soon as she zipped up her suitcase, there was a knock on the apartment's front door.