It is past midnight when Loki gently shakes Jane awake. They creep out to the gardens. They sit under the flowering trees on the bench holding hands. The palace is dark, there is little light from the sliver of a moon. The stars are many and bright. The petals from the tree's flowers still tickle as they brush skin in the warm air. No one else stirs. The only sound is the song of night creatures, a chorus of tree frogs and crickets.

Loki's grip on her hand tightens and she leans against him, "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know where to start."

"How about with 'Hi, Mom.' or however you used to greet her?"

"Hello, Mother."

"Keep going."

"I miss you desperately, especially as I am becoming a father." He pauses and clears his throat, "I don't know how to tell you this, but...I'm so sorry I said 'no'...every time. I broke your heart. I broke my own. And you were right. So perceptive about everyone but myself." He stands, letting Jane's hand drop, "I was a fucking idiot."

She winces at his harshness in his words, "Be gentle with yourself. She would be."

"I can't be, Jane. My behaviour toward her, particularly, was reprehensible. She may have lied by omission, but she did love me, in her way. And she was ever my champion when Odin did not want it. She stood between he and I when I returned from Midgard, defeated. She had even sought me while in the Void, desperate to know I was still living, never believing the fall meant my death. She visited me, convinced I was worth reaching... And I perpetually pushed her away."

"Talk to her. Not me," Jane's voice is soft, her redirection careful.

"Mother...and how strange it feels to call you that...you did not deserve what I put you through. While I hated you for standing beside him, you were in such a difficult place- choose your son, or choose your husband? And what would your actions teach your eldest, who so often looked to his father for guidance? While I am sure you intended to show him that mercy was a far greater gift, he did not understand it as you did." He pauses and his voice drops, quiet, "Thank you. Just...thank you. For all you did to reach me. For finding me in the Void. For continuing to try to reach me even after I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you. For the few moments he allowed you after my return. For persisting in visiting in illusion when he forbade it in person. And for believing I was yet your son when he could not. Gods, Mother. I owe you my life. And yet the last thing I did was disown you."

He drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. Jane gives him a moment and then kneels beside him, folding him in her arms, pressing his head to her chest, her cheek resting against his hair.

He repeatedly whispers, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you." Jane squeezes her eyes closed, her heart breaking for him. After a few dozen repetitions, his words give way to sobs and he wraps his arms around her waist. She strokes his hair, rubs his back, and waits for him to cry himself calm.

When he finally rests, she lifts his face and brushes his hair back from tear-streaked cheeks, "Are you going to be OK?"

"Yes."

She gently kisses him, "If the dead can hear us, I'm sure she did." He nods, "Come on. Let's go in. It's getting chilly." She walks him back to their rooms and they slip into bed, dropping quickly into sleep.