"I really don't think this is necessary guys." Cara struggled to push herself up off he table even as both Loki and the red-headed doctor pushed her back down. Her clothes were torn through in several places, leaving the bare skin of her back to press against the chilly metallic surface of the examination table. It was the same gunmetal grey as the rest of the room, and, oddly enough, being surrounded by thick metal walls wasn't doing much to calm her. "Pretty sure there's just some surface damage here. A good bath and a sturdy pair of tweezers for the splinters – maybe some stitches – and I'll be good to go."

"Nonsense," Loki replied casually, not looking away from he medical instruments and various screens Dr. Grey was trying to teach him to read. "I'm going to heal you as soon as I know the extent of your injuries. Now sit still."

"The scan will only take a few minutes," the doctor supplied, thoughtlessly levitating the clipboard with Cara's brand new chart on it across the room towards her. Cara hadn't really had much of any experience with mutants, and she'd been something of a hermit during the latest round of "mutant registration" politics, but after everything that had happened in recent weeks, she found herself strangely unfazed by the woman's powers. "After that you're free to go upstairs and do whatever you want."

Stark, now free of his armor, lounged comfortably across the room, playing idly on his cell phone and trying his best to resist flirting with Dr. Grey. "Take it easy there, Katniss. It's not gonna explode."

She shot a glare at him as best she could. "You don't know that. The door wasn't supposed to explode either – but it did." After a moment's thought, she added, "And who the hell is Katniss?"

Stark rolled his eyes at her and went back to playing what looked suspiciously like Angry Birds.

"Karnilla and Sigyn are not aware of our location, I promise you." Loki's hand gently pushed her down again. "And I will personally ensure the machine will not explode with you inside it. Now, please lie down and be rational."

At the weary, pleading gleam in his eye, Cara bit back her nervous, snarky reply and mumbled an apology as she lied back down on the cold metal table and tried not to fidget. She didn't know why anyone couldn't quite understand why she didn't particularly want to be shoved inside a metal tube, various wires and sensors attached to specific sections of her skin to measure her heart rate, blood pressure, and other things she was sure were fine. Although she'd assured her friends – and their new hosts – upon their arrival that she really felt alright and just wanted to go lie down for a bit, they had all insisted that she go downstairs to see the resident doctor. The alternative was being carted off to the nearest hospital, so Cara had reluctantly agreed, though not quietly. She would admit, however, with the stress of their situation quickly escalating, she might be a little bit punchy.

Dr. Grey considered her thoughtfully, her brown eyes gentle. "I can help you relax if you'd like," she suggested.

"You can help me relax, sweetheart." The cheeky grin on Tony's face was obvious in his voice.

"Shut up, Stark." Cara took a deep breath and tried to force her body to release the tension she'd been storing in her muscles, offering the doctor a small smile. "Thanks, but I'll be okay. Sorry for making a fuss."

"She doesn't like being inside." Loki was still looking at the controls for the scanner – which seemed to be similar to, but at the same time completely unlike, and MRI machine as far as she could tell – but he rested a cool hand on the hunter's forehead, brushing her hair back from her face almost absently.

"Among other things," she muttered. Being inside was definitely somewhere up high on the list – along with being underground, not knowing exactly where Fenrir was, Stark babysitting her boyfriend, and having her planet invaded by an alien force of magical beings led by her boyfriend's ex-fiancé.

Thankfully, Dr. Grey didn't say anything else on the subject, only offering Cara an encouraging smile as she finished setting up the machine.

She shifted slightly on the table, trying to get more comfortable on the hard surface and resisting the urge to scratch and squirm as her skin started to itch. In an attempt to get herself to focus on something else, she glanced up to study the raven haired man beside her. In the bright light of the "clinic", for lack of a better word, he looked even worse than he had before. Dark lines of ash and dried blood contrasted harshly with his pale skin. The shadows in his face seemed somehow more prominent, as did the dark, bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes. His brows were drawn together in thought, and Cara got the feeling his mind was already far away from the screen he appeared to be staring at.

Feeling the need to touch him, she reached out to curl her fingers around his hand, noticing for the first time a long scratch down the side of his palm that was just beginning to scab over. At her touch, his gaze slid over to meet hers, something haunted lurking behind his green orbs. Her thumb traced a slow pattern across the back of his hand as his fingers squeezed gently around hers. She could see that he wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright - that she didn't have to worry and he'd take care of it. He wanted to. But he couldn't. And there was a silent apology there in his eyes for that shortcoming.

She smiled for him, trying to tell him there was nothing he needed to be sorry for, and took a deep breath as the table slid forward into the machine.

Bailey was too restless to go back to her room, despite both Logan and Professor X having told her that's what she should do. She hadn't been particularly tired before, and with the arrival of new and interesting guests – guests who, oddly enough, were not mutants – she was too curious and too excited to be able to sleep. So, she lounged easily in the main sitting room, observing the visitors through the swirling colors of her eyes and not caring whether or not she was being obvious about it.

They'd been here a little over an hour, and no one had taken the time to explain to her – or to anyone, as far as she could tell – what was going on. The mansion was supposed to be a haven for mutants, someplace safe they could go to be away from the rest of humanity. Not that she particularly minded having normal people around. But she knew there were some at the school – some of the children in particular – who would mind. The people here were full of scars and painful memories that didn't need to be aggravated. There had to be a good reason for the Professor letting them stay here.

They were waiting patiently. Professor X had offered to have them shown up to rooms immediately, but they'd all opted to wait and go upstairs together after Dr. Grey was finished with their friend. The guy with the bow was talking in hushed tones to the redhead, both of them looking collected, but moderately uncomfortable. The black patches on their shoulders, emblazoned with a too-familiar looking eagle insignia, told her well enough where they came from. The man with the metal suit – she'd thought with a smirk when she'd seen him that Magneto would have a field day if the two of them ever met – was downstairs with Dr. Grey and her patient, along with the tall one dressed in green. The big blonde with the hammer sat on another one of the couches in the room, closer to the fireplace with his massive arm around a small brunet woman who seemed to have fallen asleep against him. The other chick – the one with the glasses – looked like she was playing some game on her phone, a tired and bored expression on her face.

There was a light growl from over in the corner where Logan had been suckered into playing with their dog. Wolverine hadn't been particularly interested in the little creature until the thing decided it was going to nip at the back of his knees until it got attention. Now the man was stuck sitting on the ground getting his fingers and hands scratched up repetitively as he wrestled with the pup. She'd been watching them a while ago, curious about the unusual intelligence shining in the creature's amber eyes and the faint metallic sheen to its shaggy fur. It had been very careful with Logan until he'd seen the man's flesh knit back together before its eyes after an accidental injury. Now that it knew its playmate had regenerative abilities, however, caution had been thrown to the wind, and the dog playfully attacked him with a joyful fervor that actually had Logan smirking a bit.

The walking American flag, his matching shield gleaming at his feet reflecting the firelight, was seated comfortably in an armchair close to her. And he was staring at her openly.

She frowned at him, wondering what the hell his problem was.

He smiled back, much to her amazement. "You have beautiful eyes," he said softly, his blue gaze suspiciously sincere.

She scowled. "Your sarcasm is outstanding."

"I wasn't being sarcastic," he frowned, his face clouding in confusion. "I've never seen anyone with eyes like yours before."

"That's 'cause nobody's got eyes like mine." When he continued to stare, she felt her temper rise a little. "You stupid or somethin'? I didn't think y'all let the mentally challenged be superheroes."

He smiled slightly. "I think all superheroes are probably a little bit 'mentally challenged.' We seem to get hit in the head a lot."

"So that dinner plate you've got over there isn't some strange helmet? Don't know whether to find that more of a relief or a concern."

He chuckled. "No, it's a shield."

"I figured, dumbass." It was the shield that really gave his identity away, as if the stars and stripes on his chest weren't enough. She'd taken enough history classes to recognize the hero of WWII, although part of her didn't really want to believe that it was him. In her mind, Captain America had always been some larger than life being – being more made up of what it meant to be American than out of flesh and blood. He barely resembled the posters her high school teachers had on the walls or the pictures plastered across her textbooks. He was the essence of equality – the bright hope of freedom. All in all, she found him disappointingly human.

He didn't seem to take her attitude personally. The man just smiled and leaned forward to introduce himself – as if he really needed introduction. "Steve Rogers."

Her southern upbringing demanded she respond in kind, although she halfway felt like pointing out the fact that she knew very well who he was – just as she knew most of who his companions were. She reached to shake his hand, feeling the rough calluses on his palm firmly grasped in hers. "Bailey Cromwell."

He leaned back, but he was still looking at her.

"Never seen a mutant before or somethin? Yer lookin at me like I'm a museum display."

She didn't need to slip into infrared vision to see the heat rise to his cheeks. The red flush raced up his neck to fill his face quicker than she would have thought possible. "Actually no, I haven't. At least – if I have, I haven't noticed it."

"Some of us are better at hiding than others." She gave him a tight smile. Her own ability to "fit in" was primarily dependent on a set of mirrored Oakleys she wore on an almost-daily basis. The darkened lenses of the sunglasses made using her ability next to impossible, but it did cut down on the number of revolted glares she received when walking down the street. And since the dynamic, prismatic quality of her irises cut through the dull plastic of colored contacts, sunglasses were pretty much her only option. She met his gaze, amused at how he seemed to grow even redder, as if he was afraid he'd offended her. "Don't get out much, do ya."

"No," he smiled. "That obvious?"

She stood, suddenly bored with the sitting room now that the rest of the party was quietly observing her as she and Captain Rogers had spoken.

The warm water cascading across her shoulders and down her bare back wasn't quite as refreshing as taking a swim in the river, but it did a lot to soothe the muscles that were beginning to ache. She swept her hair back away from her neck, noticing not for the first time it had grown down past her shoulders. It had been years since she'd had it this length, and she had itched to cut it for weeks. But she'd noticed on Asgard Loki seemed to be rather fond of playing with the longer locks between his fingers, and so she'd let it grow, almost as if it was a reminder to herself that he'd be coming back.

She tilted her head back slowly, feeling the clear water begin to wash away the remnants of the evening. Though her eyes were closed, she still knew when he pulled the glass door open to slip inside with her. She'd thought he'd be asleep. He'd had to draw from the power of the Tesseract when he'd healed her – the expression of barely contained horror on Tony's face when the glowing cube emerged out of thin air had been almost amusing at the time, until she remembered he had good reason to worry about having the artifact in Loki's possession. Yet the Trickster's usually emerald green magic had been nearly drowned out by the brilliant blue energy of the cube as he'd swept his hands along her skin, erasing the worst of her wounds, letting her know just how drained Loki truly was. When they'd finally made it up to their room and made sure Fenrir was settled in for the night in a small adjoining bedroom to theirs, Loki had collapsed into an armchair near the desk. With his eyes closed and his head back, Cara thought he might just fall asleep there for the night – and he was so exhausted she didn't have the heart to wake him even to pull him into bed.

But he had woken anyway, probably to the sound of the shower running.

His hands on her hips pulled her close into him, bending his head to keep his face near to the crook of her shoulder. Cara watched as the water at her feet turned dark with the combined grime and blood from their skin.

"Cara," he said softly, his breath warm on her neck. There was something in his voice that made her turn around to face him, slipping her arms up around his shoulders and pressing her breasts against his chest.

Loki's dark, wet hair curled around his face. Water dripped slowly off the end of his nose and trickled along the sharp lines of his collarbone. For a moment, his eyes remained downcast, his face locked in an expression somewhere between uncertainty and crippling regret. One of his hands buried itself in her hair, the auburn locks having grown now past her shoulders; the other went back to her hip. When at last he met her gaze, blinking back the water in his eyes, Cara found herself trying her best to blink back tears.

"Cara, I'm so sorr-"

"Shhh," she cut him off, shaking her head gently. "Stop."

He looked so lost, searching her eyes and trying to explain. "I was so afraid – so afraid you'd - "

"I know." She offered a smile, wiping some residual dirt from his face. "It's okay. We're okay."

He closed his eyes again, breathing deeply as he pulled her against him and nestled his head near her neck. He was cold to the touch with exhaustion, and Cara was halfway surprised his body hadn't reverted back to his Jotun form for lack of energy. His hands shook as he held her close; his breath was ragged against her skin.

"Don't you leave me like that again," she said softly. The words caught in her throat, making her sound harsher than she'd intended. Nevertheless, when he pulled back to look at her, a gentle smirk graced his lips.

"I missed you."

She smiled, reaching behind him to turn off the water before bringing him to meet her lips. She'd missed him more that she'd thought possible, but she could see from the gleam in his eyes that he already knew that. "You talk too much."

She frowned as she took in the battered state of his body. His chest was crisscrossed with light burns that were just beginning to heal, and a long gash, seemingly a week or so old, ran from the center of his stomach to his hip. Large bruises had blossomed beneath his pale skin, down both legs and up to his neck, some of them even bearing the shape of the weapons and appendages that had caused them. She remembered Tony and Steve telling her the Asgardians were seemingly impervious to bullets when the Avengers had stopped by to visit a while ago. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at what could cause so much damage to someone only the Hulk had been able to stun.

Loki caught her fingers as she reached out to touch him, gazing down at her solemnly, all traces of mischief gone from his eyes. Water still dripped from his hair as his other hand curled around the back of her neck.

"Loki," she frowned.

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not."

He sighed heavily before allowing a small smirk to creep up onto his face. "I'm fine. You and I both know I've been in worse shape.

"That was different, and you -"

"Cara. Your concern is touching, but really I'll be fine." He brushed the skin of her face gently as he snatched a towel from the wall to wrap around her shoulders. "Let's just go to bed. We can talk tomorrow. Alright?"

Surprisingly enough, it was a sincere request. She could see in his eyes that he would stay up and talk if she needed to, but she knew she couldn't do that to him, no matter how worried she'd been. Silently, she nodded her assent, offering him a small smile of apology.

He just kissed her softly in response, and she moved the towel from her shoulders to help dry him off, finally taking his hand and leading him out of the warm light of the shower and into the cool night that had drifted through the window of their borrowed bedroom.

He sighed in relief as his head hit the pillow, his bare body slipping between the white sheets as she followed him into bed, careful not to brush against him too roughly, though she knew she really had little chance of hurting him. Within moments, he had her pressed snugly up against his chest, his breath warm on her neck and his arms wrapped firmly around her. She put off her apprehension as she felt him beginning to fall asleep behind her, his breath slowly becoming more even.

"I love you, Cara," he said softly, almost inaudible even with his lips so close to her ear.

She squeezed the hand around her stomach gently, smiling. "I love you."

Sappy ending, I know, but I couldn't quite get around it. Then again, who doesn't need some lovey Loki fluff every once in a while? Already halfway done with the next chapter, so it shouldn't be too long before an update. Just gotta type it up.