Okay, so the last chapter didn't seem to be very popular. Little thought to all fellow/wannabe writers: publishing is an amazing exercise, because no matter how much effort you put into your work, 99% of the time, people will shrug it off. At first, I thought I was bad, and that since people were not even taking the time to tell me what they were thinking, my stories must suck. So, since most of the time, people don't care about what you're doing, you might as well do what you want.

Also, some of you will find a reference to a demon and an angel (and I'm not looking at anyone in particular).

Enjoy! (or not!)


"Is it painful?" Loki questions, brushing Morgan's cheek as delicately as possible.

She timidly nods, trying to escape his gaze. The contrast is startling, between extravagant-Morgan, who never seems to be afraid of what anyone might think about her, and this Morgan here, who is everything but self-confident right now. Two different persons: one everyone sees and another only Loki sees.

He remains as careful as possible: his hand skims her jawline, then her right cheekbone, and finally her eye, shining with a dim green light. Little by little, the bruises start to become less visible, then fade completely, returning her skin to its usual colour.

Morgan lets a small exclamation out, under the effect of surprise, or maybe relief, certainly both. She hesitantly touches her face again, on which is growing an amazed expression. As for the wound on her skull, better to wait for it to cicatrise a little before withdrawing the bandage. Loki smiles as he remembers her fierce insistence not to let him take care of the wounds inflicted to her during the battle for the Infinity Stones, at least not before his own injuries were completely healed.

"Thank you." Morgan beams, before clasping his neck, then standing on tip-toe.

Which is not enough for her face to reach his.

"Go on. You're almost there." Loki taunts.

"That's right, make a fool of me." She grins, not vexed the slightest "What's the weather like, up there?"

The god of Mischief chuckles and grabs her legs to raise her from the ground, so that her lips can meet his, and there is no need to ask twice.

"I love you." She whispers against his ear "Very much. A lot. Immensely. More than... I don't know. You get the idea."

She is nervous, even more. Afraid.

Loki puts her down.

"I may sound incredibly paranoid right now..." Morgan winces "But I can't help thinking that we cannot speak freely here."

Evidently, she is referring to Stark's AI, which is probably able to monitor them anywhere they are in the compound. Especially after what just happened.

"Put your finger on my mouth." Loki requests "And stay still."

"That's what she said."

"You really are beyond redemption." He laughs.

"Dare telling me you disapprove."

She complies nonetheless, and Loki mirrors her gesture, closing his eyes for a moment to better focus. The spell is quite basic, and does not take him more than a handful of seconds.

"Now, only you can hear what I say, and vice-versa." He explains.

"Convenient. That works as well."

Her surprised tone unsettles him.

"Were you thinking about something else?" He inquires.

"Well, yes. No one else than us can access Whatever-its-name."

The name itself, which is not even one, is enough to send disagreeable shivers down Loki's back.

Whereas Morgan can only psychically reach this dimension-between-dimensions made of infinite whiteness, the powers she has transferred Loki enabled him to enter it entirely, body and soul.

But...

But what if he stays trapped there? What if he finds himself unable to get out, once again?

"The reality is, you never escaped this place."

What if this is still an illusion?

Is anything around him even real? Is Morgan real? Is he real? Has he ever gotten out?

"Loki... Loki!" Her voice resonates in his ears "Look at me!"

Her hands grab his face, firmly this time, and force him to stare at her. Only then does he realize that his breath has become loud and accelerated.

"Okay. We won't go there. I don't want to do it, anyway." She assures.

Yet, this terrible anxiety is gnawing his guts. How can he be sure that he is real? How can he truly know that he is not trapped in a nightmare anymore?

It is so overwhelming; he feels like actual claws are seizing his throat. Because he wants to cry, he realizes. Even more, he wants to scream until his voice breaks, to push away all these poisonous sensations eating him from the inside. He wants to smash everything around just to make sure that it is tangible, that it is real.

But he cannot. He cannot break down here and now, after having already failed so spectacularly to protect Morgan.

Can't you stop being so unsteady, so vulnerable, an accusing voice groans in the back of his head, can't you for once control your fears?

"Loki..." She whispers again, on a tone that sparks pure anger in his chest.

Is that pity? Is she pitying him?

"I am fine." He cuts, taking her hands away from his face, a little more briskly than he would have wished to.

Morgan's reaction is not long in coming. She crosses her arms and raises her left eyebrow, looking everything but convinced.

"Cut the shit. You're not fine." She furiously hisses.

"Alright, I am not fine! Is that what you want to hear?!" Loki snaps "Are you satisfied, now?!"

"Satis- what?!" Morgan exclaims "Do you think I enjoy seeing you afraid?!"

"I am not..."

Obviously, he cannot finish his sentence. First, because it is an outright lie: he is absolutely terrified. Second, because Morgan is now going ballistic.

"You're afraid! And I'm afraid!" She shouts, in a mix of both rage and panic "I'm really afraid! Maximov, she... She hurt me! And she hurt you! I'm afraid of what happened, and what could have happened, and what can still happen!"

Loki bites his tongue. Everything around him seems so unsettling. He does not know what to cling to.

"I promise you..." Morgan declares "I may be worried for you, but I will never pity you. Never. So, just stop pretending that you're fine when you're not!"

"Easy for you to say." Loki huffs.

"Why?!" She immediately reacts, opening her arms to illustrate her confusion "Because you're a god and a man? Because I'm a human and a woman? So, I'm supposed to be afraid, and you're supposed to protect me, and all the rest of it?"

"If only it was that simple!" He sarcastically sneers.

"Ugh..." Morgan sighs, rolling her eyes out of exasperation "In any case, it is certainly not your protection that I want from you."

"So, what exactly do you want from me?!" Loki suddenly exclaims, infuriated "What could I possibly give you?!"

"I want you, Loki!" She shouts, even louder "But like, the entire you. Not only the super-strong-quasi-immortal-master-sorcerer part! Sure, that's absolutely awesome and I'm amazed by all the things you can do, but... I also want everything else. The constantly inquisitive and nearly suicidal what-if-I-push-this-big-red-button part, the haughty smartass which whom I can bitch about the entire cosmos, the funny-as-hell prankster, the fucking drama-queen, the one who's afraid and hurt, all of that!"

For a handful of seconds, which seems like an eternity, Loki remains completely unable to say one single word.

"Did you just call me a drama-queen?" He then manages to articulate.

"And I can do it again!" She almost proudly affirms "In short, what I want from you is not your protection... but your support."

"Why..." Loki stammers "Why would I stay with someone who sees a head injury as the perfect occasion to pick a new hairstyle, and who could practically write an entire book entitled How to Roast the Avengers in Ten Lessons? Why, by all the Norns, do I tolerate this arrogant, reckless and irreverent specimen of a Midgardian? Why am I..."

The sensation is indefinable. He feels like he will never be able to say these words, and yet he desperately needs to do so.

"Why am I so afraid to lose you?" Loki hears himself whisper.

He immediately braces himself for the usual wave of frustration and sarcasm at his own powerlessness, but...

But it never comes.

Obviously, you moron, because this is Morgan in front of him. This is Morgan who is awkwardly smiling, this is Morgan who remains by his side in times of war and peace all the same, and this is Hell-forsaken Morgan who wants him!

Why would he ever feel powerless?

"So..." She begins, and the muffled sound of her voice makes Loki realize that they are into each other's arms again "Why?"

He smiles, as the answer very naturally comes to him, this time.

"Because everything would be so boring and bitter without you."

The following kiss is probably the most intimate they have ever shared, tasting like tears of joy and nervous laughter.

"Loki, I just thought about something."

"Something good or something bad?"

"Something terrible. We might have grown up a lot."

"Ouch. Let's go wreck something. Preferably one of the Avengers' something." He offers.

And then, Morgan has one of these smiles. These he absolutely adores, as they generally arrive right before she discloses a very interesting idea.

"What do you have in mind?" He questions, too curious to stay quiet.

Morgan sits on the edge of one of the sofas. She often does that, instead of settling on the cushions. Loki does not know the exact reason, if exact reason there is.

"What I have in mind is that both us have been far too tolerant with the Avengers." She explains "I think it's time to show them what we are capable of."

Loki is, at first, quite surprised. Morgan does not hold grudges. No, it is not true. Morgan is physically unable to hold any grudge. For what the god of Mischief saw, she might be afraid of the Scarlet Witch, but she does not appear to resent her at all.

And yet, Morgan Dumas always remembers. Always makes plans. Always thinks ten steps ahead of everyone. Except Loki. Evidently. Undeniably.

Maybe.

In short, to hurt others is not something Morgan appreciates. To disturb, however...

"And how do you suggest we do that?" He teases.

Morgan stands up, rather, she swings her legs in the air and they miraculously land next to each other on the floor.

"First step." She decrees "Alcohol. A tremendous amount of alcohol."


As soon as they step inside the compound vast dining room, Valkyrie's sarcastic salutations are not long in coming.

"So, how did you mess up, this time?" She inquires, explicitly staring at Loki, before her mouth gapes open, as she has just noticed the person next to him.

Morgan does not say anything, but does not hide her amusement either. She strides towards the table at which Valkyrie is seated, and casually settles in front of her, as if both of them were longstanding drinking companions. As she has her back turned on Loki, he cannot see the expression on her face, however, he does not miss one second of Valkyrie's utter perplexity; the warrior's arm, still holding an umpteenth bottle of Asgardian ale, is completely immobile, and on her face is growing a grotesque wince which Loki does his best to deeply engrave in his memory.

"As you can see..." Morgan slowly starts, leaning a little over the table to bring her face closer to Valkyrie's "Kissing walls goodnight is generally a bad idea."

The elite Asgardian combatant stays speechless for a moment, then cannot refrain a small laughter, which she tries to dissimulate under a poorly convincing sigh.

"You seem rather fighting fit to me." Valkyrie observes, before turning towards Loki again "Seriously though, we leave for Wakanda for what, a couple of hours, we come back, and it's already total mayhem."

"Yeah, if anyone can give us an update of what's been going on, we wouldn't say no!" Rocket requests, upon entering the room.

Loki has to admit, he is quite glad to see the Guardians of Galaxy, all present, especially the racoon. The latter does not wait for an answer to jump swiftly on the wooden table, right in front of Morgan, who does not flinch by any mean.

"Okay, clearly, you've seen better days." He comments, explicitly staring at her.

"Well, you're not a stunner either." She tranquilly smiles, without an ounce of irritation.

"Ha!" Rocket laughs out loud "Can I try my luck?"

"Please." Morgan nods.

"You were a smartass with the Black Widow chick."

"I'm a smartass with everyone."

"That's just the thing." Rocket approves.

Loki takes a seat. This can last hours, and he would not miss a second of it, for all the money in the world. The rest of the Guardians seems to think the same.

"How does she do it?" Peter Quill tries to discreetly whisper at Loki's ear.

But the racoon has a sharp ear.

"How does she do what?" He loudly echoes, making every single head naturally turn towards the man next to Loki.

"How do you manage to put up with him?" Quill repeats, respectively pointing out Morgan then Rocket.

"How do you not manage to put up with him?" Morgan innocently rectifies.

"You see Quill, she gets it." Rocket smirks.

"Just kiss each other, already." Valkyrie comments.

"Just open a few more bottles, rather." Morgan suggests.

From where he is, Loki can see the subtle tints of gold in her gaze, focused on the Asgardian warrior, and can reasonably expect what follows to be even stranger. He is not disappointed.

"Alright." Valkyrie accepts "If you guys are able to handle it..."

Loki raises a confused eyebrow when she grabs a bag at her feet and takes out one, two, three, four bottles of what he identifies as some liquor he saw on planet Sakaar, what seems like a lifetime ago.

That briskly reminds Loki of his time spent in complete freedom, without his brother being even aware of his existence. From time to time, he would leave Odin's disguise and take his good time on some other realms, blissfully following his desires and impulses. This way of life sometimes comes back to his mind, and he wonders if he still longs for it. Living on his own, without any attachment, surely has its appeal. No one to depend on, no one to obey, and certainly not anyone to be hurt by. It can be, on the other hand, lonely. Very lonely. Even though he is fully aware that what lies in front of him is certainly not freedom as he has experienced it, now that he has much greater pain at stake, would he be ready to take the risk? Could he, were the occasion presented to him, leave Thor without any second thought? Could he do the same to Morgan, without even looking back?

He loves her, no doubt. He loves her in a way he cannot fully define, partly because she is so much like him, partly because she is so different from him. And yet, he cannot be sure of who he will turn out to be, nor of what he will do on a whim.

But for now, he does not want to think about that.

More important, how exactly does Valkyrie does it? That is, always carrying such a large and diverse amount of drinks? Does she actually possess the basics of Asgardian magic, allowing her to create a small pocket dimension?

That remains to be seen.

"Hey, you've got your weird eyes again." Valkyrie notices "Are you doing the hypnosis thing, now?"

"Nope." Morgan affirms, with rock-solid confidence, and eyes brighter than ever.

"Good, 'cause otherwise I would kick your teeth in."

"That's scary. Which is why I would never try to deceive you." Morgan solemnly declares "I swear it on Rocket's head."

"You're a desperate cause." The racoon snickers, before seizing one the bottles and giving it a try "Oh, that's some good stuff!"

"I am Groot?" The talking tree intervenes, which reminds Loki of his presence.

"You're a bit young for that." Drax warns.

Loki does not know where Nebula is, though. Shame. For some reason, he desperately wants to see a sincere smile on her face.

"Wow, what the hell is that?!" Quill exclaims, after having helped himself a drink as well, which is turning his face red at fascinating speed.

"Told you." Valkyrie shrugs.

It does not take long for the volume of the conversations to increase significantly. Rocket and Valkyrie now seem to have known each other for centuries.

"That is a good start." Loki admits, taking a seat next to Morgan "Though as much as I would love to see the rest of this compound inhabitants in the same state, I do not think it will be that easy."

"You are right." She smiles "Which is why I need your help. And some music."

"Some music?" The god of Mischief questions, unsure of where she is going.

"Some good music."

Fair enough.