I barely had a chance to take in our surroundings before shrill screams sent me into full attack mode. With only an empty-chambered gun as a weapon, I dropped Loki to the floor and whirled in the direction of the screams.

Three tall, Asian women shouted, screamed, and gestured at us with terrified faces. A man ran up and shoved the women aside to peer into the room. I lunged for him, swinging wildly.

My fist connected with his face, and his nose crunched under my knuckles. He fell to the floor, face bloodied and eyes closed. The women grabbed him and ran, shrieking in an oriental tongue that I could not understand.

With a quick gasp of effort, I slammed the door, locking it and turning to face the carnage that was lying face-down in the middle of the room.

I had no idea where we were. Loki – Loki had slipped into unconsciousness during the brief fight.

Good.

For once, I was in charge. A comforting blanket – or maybe shield – of power made my every action effortless and determined. With my empty gun in one hand, I eased out of the room, intent on doing several things before Loki awoke. Firstly, discover where he had brought us. Secondly, find a safe house – preferably this house or building or whatever. Thirdly, find out what was happening back in New York. And afterwards, I supposed, make sure that Loki was in a position to heal himself. I was more concerned with my own safety than that of the man who had almost killed me.

The hallways were lavish, covered from ceiling to floor in elaborate, oriental décor. I came to the end of the corridor and found myself standing at the head of a wooden staircase, complete with a carved handrail and distinctly Asian tapestries on the wall. I put my hand on the smooth, polished wood and let it glide down the banister as I descended into an ornate entryway. A rounded door led me into a picturesque garden, complete with a little waterfall and a frozen pond.

The winding stone path was overshadowed by the bare limbs of cherry trees. Snow dusted the plants and pond surface, but had been melted to slush beneath my feet.

Carefully, I followed the path around several large bushes, over an artificial creek, and back into another large, dark-wood building. Several Asian faces peeped through the curtains of the upper rooms, but quickly hid themselves again. I stepped up to the front porch and tried the door. It was unlocked, and I entered without hesitation.

The first thing that caught my attention was a huge mural across the room, depicting a forested landscape, at the center of which stood Mount Fuji in full snow. I was surprised to find no one at the front desk, but when I peered behind it, a small brown-eyed child looked up at me, giggled, and scurried away.

Brita.

She was still with the babysitter back at the forest home. Overwhelmed with a sudden surge of simultaneous love, concern, and anger, I cursed aloud.

Sitting down at the desk, I swiveled the chair over to a desktop and shook the mouse to wake it up. The screensaver disappeared, revealing a plethora of Japanese characters and spreadsheets. I clicked each one down and found the internet without too much trouble. The home page immediately flashed on, and though the headline was in Japanese, the picture beneath it needed no words: the ruined Le Bernadin and a massive green blur in the left corner.

I stared at the article in displeasure, but no amount of squinting made the characters any more legible. Finally fed up, I copied the entire page and pulled up a new tab, found the Google homepage, and navigated my way to the translator from there. Ten minutes later, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the translated article in horror.

The death toll was unbelievably high, and by all accounts the Hulk was still raging through the streets of Manhattan. Tony Stark was attempting to subdue him in an unidentified new suit of armor, but with limited success. We had been noticed, identified, and (rightly) blamed for the entire deadly fiasco. No doubt SHIELD had already enacted emergency search protocol on our behalf.

Would they look for us in Japan? I didn't know.

With my list being completed out of order, I searched the desk for a business card. I knew what had happened back in New York, and I knew what country we were in, but I still needed to find out what exactly this place was and how to clear out all the people who didn't need to see us.

Another quick minute on Google Translate revealed that this was a kind of resort-spa in the upper, mountainous region of mainland Japan. Being the middle of winter, it was the off-season here, much to my relief. There wouldn't be more than one or two guests and a handful of support staff.

Reluctant, but resolved, I grabbed my gun off the desk beside me and marched deeper into the resort, yelling random Latin phrases (to avoid any connections that could be made to me) and waving my gun at everyone I met. It was effective, but made me feel guilty. These poor innocent people.

I rarely thought of my victims anymore, but today was different – a kind of sad relief filled me. Despite the last few horrible months, I had retained some of the humanity SHIELD had shoved down my throat.

With the resort cleared of all staff and guests, I found my way back to Loki. He was still knocked out. However, he still had a strong pulse, so I left him alone for another ten minutes while I found keys, locked all the doors, pulled all electric cords, and found a first-aid kit. Then, and only then, did I bother to clean myself up. I cleaned and bandaged my cuts, sighed at the myriad of rainbow bruises on my back and legs, found some food to eat, and then turned my attention to Loki.

I knew he could heal himself, but his broken bones and blood-soaked skin looked both painful and disturbing.

With a longsuffering moan, I plopped myself down on the carpet at his side and opened the first aid kit again. There was some antibiotic spray and gauze left in the bottom, and I went to work immediately, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. When I had worked my way down to his leg, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the mangled limb. I didn't know how many times the bone had been broken, and I was no doctor. I didn't think I could set his leg without causing further damage.

Defeated, I slumped over and stared at the bloody pieces of gauze that I had tied around his left arm. I had ruined his clothes again.

"Feel free to wake up anytime," I muttered, climbing to my feet and wiping my hands on my torn dress. "You got us in this mess, you know. It's getting really old."

His lip twitched.

"Oh, good. Welcome back to the world, Loki." I wasn't feeling very sympathetic.

"Thank you," he said faintly, his mouth barely moving. Loki's eyes stayed closed, crusted as they were with blood.

Unmoved, I grabbed a clean piece of gauze, dumped part of a bottle of water on it, and dabbed gently at his face. "You've been bleeding all over the floor for half an hour."

"It was my pleasure." His brow wrinkled slightly, and he tried to blink open his eyes. I watched this demonstration of weakness without a word, distancing myself from his pain and encasing my heart in an icy shell of apathy. I felt nothing. "As you have no doubt suspected, my injuries are more severe than last time. Accordingly, it will take much longer for me to recover my strength and heal myself."

"Oh. Do you want some painkiller while we wait? Or maybe some sushi?"

He gave a weak laugh, and then several rasping coughs. "You did not enjoy our dinner out, dear Natasha?"

"Don't call me dear – not after almost getting me killed," I snapped.

His eyes finally peeled open, and the sharp green hues were startlingly vivid against his pale skin and sunken features. For a moment, I witnessed something very rare: undisguised pain. Mental anguish. Torment. I had seen it once before, in Barton's eyes, after I had been shot in the shoulder during the Budapest conflict.

His next words were slow in coming, and held a great deal more conviction than I was expecting. "I did not mean for that to happen."

"Then why would you take on the Hulk again?" I demanded.

"To weaken the Avengers," he murmured quietly, sounding lost in a daze. His voice grew a bit stronger as he continued, "To bring their numbers down. If they still stand, I cannot claim America as my own."

"Why in single combat? Couldn't you have gotten help from someone?"

"The Chitauri are no longer mine to command," Loki scoffed. "And you..." Again, that flash of humanity, of emotion. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

I glanced down at my bruises and scrapes. "That worked well."

"But you are not dead." Loki's eyes fluttered shut again. "That's all that matters now..."

"What!?" I stared at him. His words sounded... strange. Almost like they were out of a movie. "What do you mean?" I asked, emotions flopping uncontrollably between horror and sudden thrill.

"You've been so blind," Loki whispered brokenly. A cut on his bottom lip cracked open again, sending rivulets of blood trickling down his chin. "Even Dr. Banner saw..." He opened his brilliantly green eyes and stared up at me. "When I gave you your powers, I also placed a spell of bondage on you so that you wouldn't leave. The dreams were just a side-effect... But I had to lift it. I could see you accepting me, and I couldn't stand for our comradery to be artificial. So I released you from your bondage. And you immediately rebelled."

"Steve," I breathed, remembering. "I let him go..."

Loki nodded, his breath rasping and bubbling in his throat. He waited a moment, swallowing once and I saw him grow still more limp on the carpet, as if he had used a bit of energy to heal an urgent wound. After a brief pause, the demigod went on. "I was so angry," he said with a wince. "So angry... But I let you continue without the bondage spell. Instead, I brought you Brita. She was partly to keep you with me, partly so that she would be cared for, and... partly because I couldn't stand to see you in pain, once my anger had cooled."

I could only stare at him.

"But then I realized that you truly cared for her, and that she made you happy. That made me happy. And then you came to me that night..."

I listened in silence, my hands trembling in my lap. I folded them and bowed my head, unable to speak, barely able to think through the haze of confusion and embarrassment.

"You slipped into the room like a shadow in the night, weak with hunger and weary from your inner wounds. You sought me out, when I was in desperate need of solace." His words grew faint, as if he were reliving a pleasant memory, and I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't look up. "You stole to the couch in your bare feet, and sat beside me unafraid. I could feel you by my side, a steady presence, curious and watchful. Close enough to touch. And then you read the poem to me by candlelight, and fell asleep as the storm passed. Leaning on my shoulder, you seemed so soft, so fragile... so unlike the heartless killer I had at first hoped to find in you. And that was when I realized..." Loki hesitated, as if he were waiting for me to look down at him. I obliged, and was immediately trapped in his passionate gaze. "That my protective feelings toward you were not merely in defense of my best ally. That it was... love."

He said the words, and everything snapped into place. Brita, the diamond earrings, all the expensive clothes, the lifting of my punishments, the ending of my dreams, the Stonehenge holiday. The fancy dinners.

I didn't know whether to be horrified or touched. All this time… All the pain and suffering and death only to discover that he loved me. It didn't make any sense. Loki was watching me breathlessly, waiting for a reply of some kind or another. I didn't want to respond. I couldn't respond. This was too real, too sincere, too much aflame with passion to be a lie.

It was the truth.

The plain and awful truth.

Loki Laufeyson, the monster, the demigod, the king of lies – the bane of mortal men – was in love with me...

How could this have happened? Was it the poems by candlelight and romantic dinners? Dancing in the snow at Stonehenge? The fact that I had patched up his wounds? All of the above? What had I done to earn such violent affection from his cold, black heart?

My world was turning upside-down yet again – and this time in a way that I had never imagined. Not even in my darkest, most bizarre nightmares.

I stared down at him, shocked, bewildered, and truly, deeply frightened.

"I have nothing to offer you, dear Natasha," he whispered. "Everything I gave you in the past was a lie – stolen from Midgard. I possess no kingdom, no riches... only the broken remains of my plans and a life of war. I wish to conquer these people with you at my side... But, Natasha, I would give that all up... I would relinquish my conquest, my revenge, and even my immortality... if I could only hear it but once from your lips that my affections have not been in vain. If you would only give me one more chance... to prove my love for you. Whatever you want from me, I will freely give. Anything, Natasha," Loki rasped, his tone sinking lower. "Name it, and I swear it shall be yours."

Gulping for air, I shook my head. This was all happening too fast. "Time," I managed. "I need... time... you can't just... I can't..." My defenses were quickly crumbling. I was breaking down. I couldn't take it anymore. His lies, his truths, his deception – and now his sudden revelation. It was all too much to process. The simple fact was that I couldn't stomach the idea of being loved in that way by Loki. Especially not after Barton...

And now he was lying before me on the stained carpet, covered in gore from head to toe, unable to so much as lift a finger. The heretofore master of my fate was completely and utterly in my power. I could kill him, right now, right there on the floor. Slit his throat and be done with it. But then I would be stranded in the middle of Japan, with a price on my head and nowhere to run. The only logical thing to do was place myself at his mercy if I wanted to survive. Somehow I knew that he would not force his affections on me... but what would he do if I rejected him now? Now, after all that we had been through together? He was still insane, still unpredictable. I couldn't trust him. I could never trust him.

I choked, covering my face with my hands and sobbing. It was not the first time I had wept in his presence, but it was by far the most humiliating. I couldn't even look at him. I felt trapped, lost, and alone.

I don't know how long I sat there in my ruined evening gown, trembling in anguish. The light streaming in through the windows waned, but Loki never once moved from his place on the floor. He was silent. An icy chill pervaded the air, creeping all through the room and numbing my skin. The atmosphere was even colder inside than it had been out in the snow, but by some trick of emotion or the human body, it had ceased to bother me.

My tears slowly froze on my cheeks, and when I finally opened my aching eyes, the vision before me stole what breath I had left.

The walls and floor were coated in a thin, cracking sheet of ice, as if the whole room had been frozen in time. Splotches of Loki's blood had crystallized beneath a layer of frost, and he himself was covered in shadow. His eyes were open, staring blindly up at the ceiling as a blue tinge slowly faded from his skin. He sighed once, quietly, his breath not even misting in the frosty air.

And something stirred within me.

He seemed broken.

Defeated.

Dead.

Not even a trace of emotion remained on his face or in his hollow eyes.

My sobs had melted into silent tears, and I watched him for a long while. His chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly. The last of the daylight quietly vanished, and the pale blue glow of the moon crept between the bamboo curtains to take its place.

Loki loved me... Could I love him back? Yes, I had felt an odd compassion for him occasionally, as well as moments of admiration. But I had never felt comfortable or at peace around him. With Loki, there was always an unpredictable element. He was not a stable person. But then again, neither was I.

Did I even want to love him? What would happen if I told him yes? How would he react if I told him no? Would it be a death sentence?

Loki took a deep breath. "My body is falling prey to sleep. Will you tell me yea or nay, Natasha, before I do?

I blinked and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know," I said. "I guess you'll have to wait."

"I will wait as long as you need," he sighed. Moments later, his breathing deepened and settled. The pain in his features faded to tranquility. Overwhelmed by confusion, I got up and fled the room, unable to watch his peaceful face anymore.


Co-written with Alassiel