"When I discover who I am, I'll be free."
― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Chapter 1

"You have failed godling."

The cold of the abyss surrounded him as he stood before the creature known as The Other, hands bound tightly behind his back. The expanse of stars in every direction only served to emphasize that he was small, insignificant – alone. Even his magic had abandoned him in this place, so far from Yggdrasil's branches, deeming him unworthy and denying its warmth.

Failure was his only companion.

"I promised that you would wish for something as sweet as pain."

Strange that he could find no words – even his silver tongue failed him. Not for the first time he wished that Odin had left him to die as an infant on Jotunheim so long ago. It would have been a mercy. It would have spared so many so much pain.

"You will beg for death," the creature hissed as it circled behind him. "And scream for me."

The Other kicked his knee joint from behind, causing his legs to fold and pitch him forward. Without his hands to break the fall, his body slammed against the barren ground, face grating against the course rock.

"And when you have reached the brink of death, we will allow you to heal, and start again from the beginning."

A heel came down on his head, grinding his already skinned face further into the jagged rock. It was better to not anticipate, to not tense, but he could not help it. He knew what was coming. He remembered the pain that had driven him to promise the Tesseract – anything to leave this place. The creature drove a spike down into each shoulder, impaling him into the ground, but he knew the worst was to come. As the Other activated the device, fire and lightning burned like lava down his spine. There was nothing to offer this time – no deal to make. The abuse would continue – his own personal Hel. His body convulsed wildly as the smell of charred flesh singed his nostrils, and Loki did scream as he futilely reached for magic that would not come.

Natasha Romanov stepped into the elevator, letting out a deep sigh as it started its lazy climb to the upper levels of the tower. Her plans had been simple – home, hot bath, vodka, and bed. It really wasn't too much to ask after being dragged by a small Cessna along a runway. Of course, Fury had different plans. The spy readjusted her grip on the heavy, lead-lined case she carried, grimacing as the movement strained her injured ribs. If she hadn't been just as curious about the mystery object, she might have told Fury where he could shove it. The elevator arrived at the correct floor, cheerfully chiming its arrival as the doors slid open.

Banner was usually the most reclusive in the tower, but since returning to Earth, Loki had kept mostly to himself. It had been a surprise for everyone when Thor had arrived four months earlier with his errant little brother in tow. The would-be conqueror of Earth had been quiet, choosing to stare at the ground rather than make eye contact with anyone – a far cry from the arrogant madman they all remembered. Fury was indignant at first, but Thor informed them that at his trial, it had been determined that Loki was not acting of his own free will when he invaded Midgard. With deep sincerity, Thor had pledged that his brother was making good progress in recovering from his madness, was here to help and make amends, and would be … good. Fury ultimately had to accept. Earth was now an apparent target, and SHIELD could not afford to offend the allies they had in Asgard. So, Loki had taken up residence in the tower.

Although Fury had charged Natasha, the one who had tricked the Trickster, with managing him as an asset, she really had nothing to report as of yet from their regular meetings. The so-called God of Chaos was a perfect gentleman. He was professional in all his interactions, polite, obsessively neat and clean, forthcoming with any needed information, arrived everywhere he was asked to attend on time, and was surprisingly introverted. Stark made sure that JARVIS kept a very close watch on their newest resident. So far, he had been … good … and showed no signs of the psychosis that had marked his last trip to Earth. Okay, there were little incidents such as long golden horns sprouting from one of Stark's suits and Thor's cape turning green, but New York was still intact and no alien armies had been sighted. Thor assured them that minor mischief was in fact "normal" behavior for his little brother and a very good sign. As far as Natasha was concerned, they could allow the God of Mischief a few tricks to keep his chaotic side occupied, especially if they happened at Stark's expense.

And that was when Natasha heard the scream – not an ordinary scream. It was a bone-chilling cry of agony and despair and fear. She was already drawing her firearm as she raced forward and kicked in the door to Loki's rooms. A slight jolt, like static, crackled through her as she sprang through the doorway, muzzle pointed ahead, scanning for trouble. There were no intruders, no one in danger, only one very distraught god writhing face down, screaming and sobbing as he clawed at the carpet.

"Loki!" she called out.

He lifted his head slightly at her voice; but his eyes were squeezed shut, the god lost in whatever terror gripped him. Natasha backed up as green magic sprang to life at his fingertips. She had no idea what he was experiencing or what spell he might call upon to defend himself.

"Loki!" she yelled more loudly.

Deep green eyes finally snapped open. Loki blinked, sobs quieting to harsh, ragged breaths as he sat up and looked around the room. His gaze landed on her still drawn firearm, and he quickly scooted away, backing into the wall and holding his hands up in surrender, chest heaving. Magic still pulsed at his fingers.

They stayed that way for a moment, Natasha now aware that Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake - was playing softly in the background. He had good taste, though she hadn't really figured Loki for a classical music aficionado. Then again, she could hardly compare him to Thor - they were polar opposites in many ways. At times, it was truly baffling to think that they had been raised by the same parents.

"Agent Romanoff," he voiced as eloquently as one could under the circumstances. "Did I cause you any harm?"

"No," she answered, realizing she still had a muzzle aimed at him. Not a good way to diffuse a tense situation. Natasha slid her firearm into its holster, and Loki slowly lowered his hands, magic dissipating. Keeping her movements slow, she cautiously neared the still wary god, crouching down in front of him gingerly to keep from aggravating her bruised side. "You okay?"

Of course he wasn't, but it still seemed the appropriate question to ask. In their interactions since his return to Earth, he was always composed and meticulously groomed, in complete mastery of himself. At the moment, he was a mess. Sweat-matted, tangled hair hung in his eyes. The deep green tunic he wore was crumpled and ripped at the bottom. But, his eyes betrayed the most. Usually sharp and clear, they were muddled with deep fear and bewilderment. He swallowed with tense throat movements as he gauged how to answer.

"Yes, I think I shall be fine," Loki answered quickly - too quickly - as he picked himself up off the floor and turned his back to her, running fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to smooth it down. Although he was trying to compose himself, the tremor in his hands betrayed the battle he was fighting to remain calm. Being caught in such a vulnerable state had to be unnerving. Natasha knew it would be for her. She truly wanted to give him privacy, but Fury had made it clear that any hint of instability in their new resident had to be evaluated immediately.

"Nightmare, I take it?" she tried. Thor was infuriatingly quiet about what had happened on Asgard before or after Loki invaded Earth. Fury had attempted to get Loki to talk to a counselor, but whatever transpired had sent the grizzled veteran fleeing from the room in anger. Having been called a "mewling quim" herself, Natasha could only imagine what words Loki's sharp tongue had used to lash out at the man. Thor had been livid after speaking with his brother, insisting that Loki had been properly counseled on Asgard and would no longer speak with SHIELD healers.

"Always the analyst," Loki hummed as he turned back around to face her. A smirk sharpened his features, mask falling firmly into place. Damn, she was going to have to work to get anything out of him. "From what Barton told me," he continued, "I would assume there are very few in this building who actually manage to sleep through the night."

"You are probably right," she said with a nod as she crossed her arms in front of her.

Loki surveyed the sitting room, frowning at the splintered coffee table. From the looks of it, he had drifted asleep while reading, falling from the sofa in the grips of his nightmare.

"I am sure Stark can get you a new table by tomorrow …"

"That won't be necessary." With a flick of his wrist, the table rebuilt itself. Loki retrieved a book from the floor and thoughtfully thumbed through it before placing an ornate bookmark in between the pages. Natasha noted that he took care to reverently place the book in a specific spot on the table. Apparently chaos could also suffer from OCD.

"Your door probably needs the same treatment," she said. "I thought you were being murdered or something worse and kicked it in ..."

"I beg your pardon, Agent Romanoff, but was there a reason you were coming to see me?" Loki asked with tense politeness as he surveyed the door. "My rooms are hardly on the way to yours." The door reassembled itself and snugged back into its hinges. Loki lingered with his hand pressed to the entrance as he whispered something and the door took on a momentary soft green glow.

"Fury has an artifact he would like you to look at – strange energy readings. It may be magical in nature." A calculated gaze slid to the case and he reached out toward her; it was obvious he wanted her to just hand it over and leave, but she did her best to level him with an unamused stare that said she was not going to budge on the issue. "I'll be honest. I am more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment … and we have discussed this before - it's Natasha."

"You can rest assured; I am not going to strike out at the populace of this fair city, Agent Romanoff," he murmured, still focusing intently on the case. Not really understanding how magic worked, she wondered if he could already sense something about it. "I am still in my right mind …"

"Does Thor know you're having nightmares?"

Loki bristled slightly and clenched his jaw. They all knew his relationship with Thor was complicated, and he definitely didn't seem to favor any allegation that he needed Thor to take care of him. Even bringing it up was akin to poking at a hornet's nest.

"Yes, but having lived on the same corridor as me for the better part of a millennium, he has managed to learn discretion and when not to pry …"

"You want to talk about it?" she tried bluntly. Subtlety was going nowhere.

"It's astonishing that you mortals truly think yourselves capable of understanding a being as old as I am?" Loki snapped back defensively. "I found Dr. Maxwell to be a waste of humanity, if you could even call him human."

"Yeah, he's a real prick," Natasha remarked. And truly, she would have loved to have been a fly on the wall to see what Loki had said to insult him. "But, you were the first to ever make him leave the room – quite a feat. Trust me ... we all cheered."

"Do you know that the first question he asked me was what it felt like to birth an eight-legged horse? Apparently he had not been properly briefed," Loki ground out.

"Oh my," Natasha murmured, choking to keep a laugh from bubbling out. Earth mythology concerning Loki, which it turned out was mostly untrue, was definitely on the list of subjects Thor had warned them to not bring up. It was a miracle Maxwell was still alive.

"So I questioned his credentials." At the devious chuckle that followed, Natasha decided that she definitely needed to see that recording. Maybe JARVIS could find it for her. "Though, I think my creativity in questioning his parentage may have been what truly angered him." His cool gaze fell on her again – calm, composed, dangerous. "So, Fury thinks you can do better, since you tamed me before?"

"Look, counseling is definitely not in my skill set. I am usually sent in to mess someone up - not fix them. My 'official' reason for being here is to deliver an artifact. I was only offering a listening ear, which is actually considered polite here on Earth," Natasha snapped. She was sore, tired, and trying to figure out who was crankier at the moment, Loki or her. "You don't have to live a thousand years to suffer … or did you forget all the red in my ledger that Clint so helpfully told you about me." Yes, she was still bitter that he apparently knew so much about her. Fueled by her own anger, the spy easily held his gaze, and he seemed genuinely impressed by her ire. "Even a pathetic mortal like me might just happen to know what it is like to be tortured to the point you wished you would die and to have your mind twisted and bent to someone else's will …"

"What has Thor told you?!" Loki demanded suddenly storming forward to tower over her, leaning in close enough that she could see rage and hurt seep into a hard emerald gaze.

"Nothing. He's just as stubborn as you are." Natasha replied curtly, resisting the urge to back away despite how close his face was to hers. "You may be able to fool everyone else with your masks, but you can't hide it from me. It takes one to know one. Someone unmade you, and to bring someone with your command and strength down, whatever they did had to be horrible."

"I apologize … I assumed …" he murmured. As though suddenly realizing their proximity, he straightened and took a decisive step backward before turning his back to her. Hands clenched and unclenched in an eerie reminder of the interrogation on the hellicarrier. "I find I am once again the outsider with Thor's new set of friends – different place, same situation. It puts me slightly on edge."

"Friends?" Natasha shook her head lightly and allowed herself to laugh out loud. "I think you were on to something when you called us lost creatures, Loki." The god turned back to face her, but didn't look up, casually tapping steepled fingers against his chin as he listened. "The Avengers may be allies, but we still barely know each other. I do consider Clint a friend. He's been my partner, had my back, made a different call, but not even he knows my whole story. The rest, including your brother, get … my mask." She paused to give him a moment to process before driving home the point she needed to make more than any other. "One thing I can guarantee - I am the only one in this building or probably in your life who knows what it is like to have to learn to coexist with people who were once the enemy."

His eyes met hers in surprise, the briefest hint of vulnerability and pain returning. If that was the surface, he had to be drowning inside, haunted by demons that rivaled hers. She at first thought he would refuse the offer, knowing the simple question at the forefront of his thoughts – can I trust you? That simple question had dominated most of her life. Given what she knew of his strained relationship with his family, she wondered if there was actually anyone in his life he trusted. Possibly his mother, the queen, if she went by what little Thor had told her. They stood staring each other down, a silent battle of wills.

"Anyhow ... if you could take a look at the artifact. Director Fury has a bad feeling about it." The spy turned, hoping her apparent willingness to give him space would catch him off guard as she slowly made her way to the door.

"Wait." Natasha resisted the urge to smile in triumph as the god finally let out a resigned sigh. "Perhaps I could use company at the moment, if you are willing to stay. I find I don't wish to be alone after that particular nightmare." His voice was soft as though he were admitting a terrible and shameful secret. "And please forgive me for my lack of manners – my mother would be appalled. I have kept you standing here, tired and injured. In fact, please allow me to heal you."

"I am fine, Loki … the injuries are minor and will heal in a few days …"

"Nonsense, Agent Romanoff, you are heavily favoring your left side. Even the lightest of jabs to your ribs would double you over. It is foolish to suffer, when I can so easily heal it … and part of my rehabilitation is to help," the god insisted. "It's the least I could do to thank you for charging in to my rooms to defend me."

"Fine." She softly smiled at the brilliance of it, agreeing to admit weakness, but only in exchange for her acknowledgment of her own weakness. And, the thought of not having to wait to heal had some appeal. "What do I need to do?"

"Simply stand there."

Loki approached and stood facing her. Natasha was pleased to see that there was no sign of maniacal insanity, just exhaustion and pain. He lifted glowing green hands to either side of her head, and she tensed slightly.

"Worry not for your safety." The god tugged down his sleeves to remind her of the engraved bracelets around his wrists. According to Thor, the Allfather had crafted them to prevent Loki from using his magic to hurt any innocents. "I couldn't harm you even if I wished to do so."

Loki closed his eyes, his face relaxed, his very aura exuding poise and confidence. Natasha had noticed that he seemed most at peace when using his magic. His touch against the sides of her face was light and gentle, practically sensual. She felt a shiver of static run down her body, and after a few moments, the pain was gone.

"There," he said softly. "I am not as gifted in healing magic as Eir, or even my mother, but I can do a passable job."

"It felt like when I came through your door," she murmured. "You have a spell on your rooms?"

"You felt my wards," he answered. "Had you wished me harm, my magic would have cast you back into the hallway." The god motioned to an overstuffed armchair. "Please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink? I have tea … or water."

"Anything stronger?" she murmured under her breath, not intending for him to hear.

"I have bottles of a really good Elvish wine – from my uncle's vineyards." Damn Aesir, or Jotun hearing. "Though, don't tell Thor I have it. He has no appreciation for a good vintage and would only squander it. I also have a Dwarven homebrew. No … on second thought … that's a remarkably bad idea. There is really only one purpose for Dwarven alcohols. I was saving it for Thor's life day." Loki glanced at her worriedly. "Now that I think about it, I am not sure the effect even the wine would have on you. Perhaps I was wrong to offer it."

"I would love a glass," she replied. "Vodka was on my agenda, but I would have to drink enough to rot my stomach to even get woozy."

"If that is what you wish."

As Loki left to retrieve the wine, Natasha tried to contemplate how her evening had ended in her drinking with the God of Mischief. He returned, offering her a glass. She carefully took a sip. It was strong, but she figured she could handle the modest portion he had poured.

"This is really good," she said as he took a seat on the sofa across from her. "Are we drinking to something?" she hinted as she feigned innocence and casually flirted.

Loki frowned, setting his own glass of wine on the coffee table as he learned forward. "If you wish to have a real conversation and for me to bare my soul to you, then we have to resist doing what we both do best, Agent Romanoff."

"First, it's Natasha." She took a sip of her wine and shed that particular mask. There was something sincere and earnest in his eyes and it finally clicked for her. Loki wasn't offering information - he was offering honesty and friendship, but most importantly, trust. Falling into her skill set had become so natural, but she realized that she needed to be herself for this. "So, the Liesmith agrees to be truthful."

"And you agree to just listen and not manipulate, Lady Natasha."

"No, it's just Natasha," she corrected with a soft, genuine smile.

"Alright, no lies and manipulations … Just Natasha."

She leveled a stern gaze at him as his lips broke into a mischievous smile of his own - not the sharp smirks he favored. "You can be a real bastard you know."

"You have no idea," he replied. "Anyhow, as I was saying, I have no desire for subterfuge tonight … Natasha. I was not lying when I said that I didn't wish to be alone." Loki picked up his glass and drank deeply from it, finishing half of it. "Unfortunately, there are no happy memories to drink to tonight," he murmured softly. "There haven't been for quite a while. Not since before Thor's coronation."

"But Thor's not king yet."

"No, he's not. I'm afraid that's my fault."

Natasha listened, waiting for the story to begin. Suddenly, Loki's eyes widened then screwed shut tightly as he breathed out what could only be a string of curses in a language she didn't understand. The question was forming on her lips when he glanced up to the ceiling. "I hope you enjoyed this Stark. JARVIS, should your creator choose to review this surveillance, could you please impress upon him that I greatly enjoy my privacy and that if he breathes a word of this to anyone, I might have to test the limits of the Allfather's bindings."

"Yes, and also remind him that I am not bound by the Allfather and could kill him before he could even get a suit around his body," Natasha added sweetly.

"I will pass on your warnings to Sir," JARVIS answered.

Natasha returned her attention to Loki to find that the mage's eyes were shut. As he whispered soft words in yet another language, green magic shimmered around them in a bubble.

"What was that?"

"Privacy," he replied, swirling the contents of his glass before taking another healthy sip. "Stark is too nosy for his own good."

"So you used magic and JARVIS can't hear us now?"

"Yes," he replied proudly. "I could cast an illusion that would actually shield us from view as well, if you would like."

"No," she replied, filing the abilities away for future reference. If he could fool a system as sophisticated as JARVIS, it was very useful, and dangerous. "This is fine."

"So where to start," Loki murmured before the pair fell into an uncomfortable silence. "This is more difficult than I thought it would be, usually words are my strength. I can think of very few times in my life when I didn't know what to say."

"Thor said you received counseling on Asgard. This shouldn't be any different than talking to someone there."

"Oh, this is quite different from my experience on Asgard. In some ways that was easier." Loki seemed to steel himself. "You may have heard - I have a bit of a reputation for stretching the truth. The first week after Thor took me back to Asgard, Odin went into my mind so he could view and experience my memories." Loki nodded his head wistfully. "Memories don't lie."

"He forced you to ..."

"No, I allowed it," Loki replied quickly, raising a hand in a peaceful gesture to placate her sudden outrage. "If I had not, he would have had quite the battle."

"That's surprising to me that you let him," Natasha remarked. "I get the impression from Thor that things are a bit strained between you an Odin."

"Yes, well … he definitely wasn't my first choice, but even with me willingly submitting to the procedure, my magic would resist and protect me. There were only two powerful enough, and I have memories that would have been cruel to ask my mother to experience."

"One week, though. I'm surprised they didn't at least give you more time before trying something so drastic."

"That had been the plan," Loki said softly with a frown. He quickly drained the rest of his wine before meeting her gaze. "But I pushed Odin's hand when I tried to take my life … for the second time."

"Are you serious …"

"Shhh," Loki said softly, holding a finger up. "I fully intend to live … now. I went through Hel, but I have emerged ready to fight."

"I can't believe your own father sent you away when you were suicidal."

"He didn't send me away. Coming here was my idea, Natasha." Loki reached for the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. "You see, I have red in my ledger …"