Glimpses of my porch and living room slipped in and out of my darkened vision. A pair of arms held me aloft and a voice far away repeated my name.

Is this really happening? I couldn't tell at all.

"Paton, Paton!"

I felt two cold palms against my face.

"Paton, nod if you can hear me."

I tried to lift my head but had to settle for vague groaning. Loki shook me vigorously and I felt sick, pushing ineffectively at his hands.

"Stay with me," he said briskly. "Talk to me."

"I can't," I half moaned, wanting to tell him not to be such an asshat.

"Keep talking to me," he said and I wondered at how smooth and level his voice was, like a glass of bourbon. I must have cracked a smile and giggle childishly because he fixed me with a strange look. "Can you still hear me?"

I began to frown. I remembered how I was a means to an end and if I was to die on this couch it wouldn't have made a difference. And maybe it was meant to happen like this?

"No it isn't," he barked.

"Getoutofmyhead."

"I'm trying to make sure you're still all there," he said, and I became aware of his hands. They were soft, just like you would expect of a prince.

He grimaced and drew his hands away.

"Cloth," he said suddenly. "I'll need cloth, lots of it."

I half expected him to send me off on the errand, but to my immense surprise he scooped me off the couch and strode into the bedroom. I rolled around on the mattress trying to right myself and learning what a bad idea that was while he pillaged my cupboard. He came around with one of my work shirts and I began failing.

"Nooo! Can't afford dry cleaner!"

"What do you want me to do then!" He said angrily.

I thought about the movie Salt and how Angelina Jolie had used a sanitary napkin to dress a wound.

"Super absorbent," I mumbled.

"What?"

"Top drawer."

I have to admit, even though I was probably dying or about to lose consciousness, the sight of his face as he retrieved a pack of pads and proceeded to shred them in confusion and frustration was pretty amusing. He crushed the pack in his hands and threw it aside.

"Curse it," he roared and advanced on me.

I squawked in surprise as he began to pull my sweater and shirt off over my head, tossing them away. I barely had time to protest when he unbuckled my belt and pushed it into my mouth. Terrified and ready to throw up, I searched his face wildly.

"Stop squirming!"

"Wha-" I managed through the strip of leather.

"Quiet!" He snapped. "DO AS YOUR TOLD AND STAY STILL."

If I was ready to piss myself before, it was nothing compared to what I had coming. I felt his hand over my skin and then, without warning, the most horrible pain I'd ever known gripped my body. Weak and scared as I was I could do nothing but bite down on the belt. Tears were rolling back into my hair and I was certain I had screamed myself hoarse and even when it was over the pain seemed to go on endlessly. After what seemed like twenty years of agony I thought I heard something metallic drop to the floor. And then everything went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't sure I had. Enveloped in pitch darkness, I wondered if I was trapped in some horrible nightmare, but slowly, the outline of things in my bedroom began to form under the light of a pale moon, peeping through a gap in the curtains. My throat felt sore and my eyelids felt heavy, but otherwise I felt like I was in top condition. And then I tried to move.

A hand shot out of the dark and pushed me back in place.

Startled I mumbled some unintelligible things.

"Paton, be still, I'm not finished," I heard Loki.

"Finished what?"

"Healing you, of course," he said, then muttered under his breath.

Realizing how exposed I was, I quickly drew the sheets up to my neck. I heard him sighing first and then I saw his silhouette cross the window and sit down on the edge of the bed.

"You frightened me."

I remained silent, uncertain of what to say. My mind was turning itself over for appropriate responses and failing miserably.

"Are you in any pain?"

"No, you?" I said stupidly and then scrunched up my face wondering if maybe I'd hit my head on something. Ten years ago. Hard.

"I'm unharmed, and also I'm a god."

"The case?"

"It is safe."

"The Chitauri?"

"I don't imagine anyone in your condition should carry out an investigation," he said and then gently sliding his fingers over my wrist, he held them in place a while. "Steady, that's a relief."

"What?" I tried to raise my head. I could see the dim outline of his face.

"Your pulse had dropped alarmingly low. I was afraid I'd lost you."

Maybe it was the last bit of alcohol in my pipes, or maybe because I just didn't have anything else to respond with, I drew in a breath and said, "Nice to see how it takes my almost dying to be appreciated."

Loki's fingers withdrew and I felt oddly lost. He turned away from me and mumbled, "Why must you do this? You must know how greatly indebted I am."

"When do you make the exchange," I asked, as business-like as him.

"Tonight," he replied softly. "The tesseract, the cube, will serve as a gateway to Asgard."

"You're leaving," it wasn't a question.

"I-" Loki began, "yes. I am leaving."

I was glad it was dark because for some reason tears were welling up in my eyes and I didn't want him to see. I turned over on my side and drew the sheets around me.

"Paton I-" he started then stopped. "Is there anything you need?"

"No."

"Don't move around too much, the healing isn't complete yet."

"Okay."

"Are you feeling-"

"I feel fine and thank you."

I felt like crap.