It was two years later when I saw him next.

The day that has gone down in the history books as The Battle of New York. The single greatest terror attack on U.S. soil that the world had ever seen.

The day that I had been conveniently visiting a friend in the city, intent on finally taking some time to relax and regroup.

I had literally been climbing the steps to her doorway when the sky had ripped in half. I barely had time to register that there was a hole in the horizon before the Chitauri began swarming through it.

The first explosion was seconds later, close enough to knock me slightly off balance.

And then the door in front of me flew open and my friend appeared, practically in full sprint before she caught my eye.

"Violet, thank God!" She skidded to a stop next to me and threw keys into my hand. "Get inside my apartment, lock all the bolts, hunker down in the bathtub, and do not come out until I come back for you!"

She instantly took off running again so I had to call after her.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm pretty sure this is me being called into work," Sharon pointed at the sky without another glance backward. "Now take cover!"

I, of course, did not.

As we have perhaps already ascertained, my response to life-threatening situations has never been exactly orthodox.

So as the next string of explosions lit the skyline, I took a deep breath and took off after Sharon and toward the best likelihood of fatality.

I had often looked back at the moment, at that specific decision, and deeply wondered if I had been seeking recompense for my part in the death of that man on that dark night at 3 a.m.

It certainly wasn't as though I hadn't often thought of him.

His obscure nature had haunted my dreams on numerous occasions, and I always awoke with questions I knew I'd never get the answer to, and deep deep regrets.

And so, even to this day, I wonder if it was yet again my selfishness that propelled me forward.

It wasn't as though I wasn't equipped to help in such a situation at least.

My ever present, yet ever hidden, need to do something greater, to be something greater, had seeped into my career path and I had veered toward the humble yet critical profession of nursing.

I didn't have to go far to reach the outskirts of the carnage. As the metallic-looking aliens continued to descend, the destruction continued to grow rapidly. The smell of death was already in the air.

When wailing reached my ears, I veered right and turned a corner to spot a woman trapped under debris. Her leg was buried beneath a piece of fallen building and two men were attempting to lift it.

She screamed again and I matched her volume shouting, "Stop! Stop! Don't lift that!"

The men froze as I reached them.

"I'm a nurse," I explained out of breath. "Her femoral artery is severed. If you remove that cement she'll bleed out in minutes."

"We can't leave her here," the man faced me with panicked eyes.

"I said nothing about leaving her here," I hushed him and quickly knelt beside the sobbing woman.

"Hey there, I'm a nurse and we're going to get you out of here in a jiffy," I promised.

Turned back to the men, I got down to business. "You, give me your shirt," I pointed. "And do either of you have any matches or a lighter?"

I won't go into the gory details of what happened next, but it involved a hand-made splint and cauterization, and ended with me splattered in a fair amount of blood and the woman being carried safely away.

"All in a good day's work," I murmured to myself, pausing for only a minute to tie my hair back before exiting the alley.

Possibly not my greatest life decision.

I was met with the sight of what appeared to be about a dozen alien hovercrafts flying down the main street, demolishing everything in their path.

Diving back into the alley, I curled into ball and counted the seconds until they had zoomed past.

Then there was no time for hesitation.

I stuck close to the front of the buildings and sprinted in the direction they had come from, nearly colliding with the next person I came across.

The woman had a nasty gash on her arm and was holding it gingerly, but seemed to forget her pain when she registered me and roughly grabbed me by both shoulders.

"Please," she begged. "Please they grabbed my husband and pulled him down that alley. Please help me!"

I nodded hard and fast. "Okay okay," I agreed. "Get inside one of these stores and hide behind the counter, I'll find your husband."

Yes, I realize I'm only a nurse, and yes, I realized it then, but my reaction seemed to be the only logical one at the time.

So I turned in the direction she had pointed with no real plan and a hopeless hope that they would have dropped him in some saveable condition.

In only minutes I came across a man, clearly not Chitauri, with his back to me and sighed with relief.

That is until I registered an archer, clearly in my sight but not the mans, standing on a rooftop and taking aim.

The moments that followed played out far cooler, and more successful, in my head.

What really took place was that I shouted some sort of unintelligible nonsense and only attempted to tackle the man out of the way as the arrow was let fly.

To be fair, I really did throw all of my weight into his body. Yet all I managed to do was shuffle him over a few inches.

My failure was rewarded with a piercing trauma to my right arm.

Without blinking, the man raised his arm, something very green and shiny happened, and the archer was knocked off the roof and out of sight.

The man, somehow unconvinced that I was not a threat as well, proceeded to bring his spear-like object to my throat.

And that is when we both got a nice long look at the other's face.

He dropped his hand to his side and stepped back instantly, studying me, as my jaw dropped.

"Oh my god… shadow… it's you," I exclaimed.

"The damsel from the bridge," he concurred, any shock he might have felt pushed aside. "I do wonder how your guilt has been treating you."

For once it was I ignoring him as I stared down at my arm.

"Oh my god… I've been shot… with a freaking arrow," I exclaimed even louder.

"That would appear to be the case," he said with annoyance clouding his features.

I grinned brightly up at him suddenly and he tilted his head curiously.

"Do you know what this means?" I sucked in a shaky breath. "I saved your life! I just saved your life! I have no idea how you're actually alive, but here, right now, you're standing here and you're breathing because of me!"

Out of relief and gratitude mixed with adrenaline, I was suddenly throwing my good arm around his neck and pulling him close. I had to stand on the tips of my toes to even attempt to get to his level, but then succeeded in my heartfelt hug for about three seconds.

What followed was a blood-curdling scream.

A person is likely to have that response when you rip an arrow out of her arm with no warning after all.

Throwing my hand over the wound, I moved to jump away from him but he easily held me in place with one hand to my shoulder. His other hand ripped the sleeve off of my shirt as though he was plucking a blade of grass.

"What is wrong with you?!" I shuttered as blood started to seep through my fingers.

"Just hold still," he sighed, moving my hand out of the way as gentle fingers began to secure the cloth around my arm.

I hissed when he pulled it tight, but when he stepped back, I had to admit he had done a skilled job.

"I have stabilized your wound," he stated pointedly. "I owe you no debt."

"Ah but you forget," I squinted up at him. "I apparently saved your life once before."

The response I received was instantaneous, violent, and unexpected. Not unlike our whole relationship had been so far.

I found myself thrust up against the brick wall behind me with his hand around my throat, squeezing threateningly but not quite enough to affect my air flow.

"I. Owe. You. No. Debt." he ground out through bared teeth.

My eyes widened and the corner of his lip turned upward as I attempted to remove his arm with absolutely no success.

"Okay who are you and what is your problem?" I let my arms drop to my side. "I'm starting to think you've got some serious psychopathic tendencies going on."

As if to exemplify my point, his attention shifted to follow the sound of screams as the woman with the gashed arm entered our line of sight from the alley. I immediately went back to fighting his grasp, hissing that we had to help her and then screaming for her to come to us, before he clapped a hand over my mouth.

"Shhh," he murmured. "Just watch."

She turned to face us, following my voice, just as the Chitauri reached her.

There was a booming noise and flames and then half of her body disappeared, leaving what was left to splatter to the ground.

The man was watching me again, which afforded him just enough time to remove his hands before the contents of my stomach came up and onto the cement, looking not unlike what was left of the woman.

I slid to the ground in shock and horror, leaving him to tower over me even more. My mouth kept opening over and over but no sound was coming out.

"You wish to know who I am?" He opened his arms wide and stared upward where his backdrop was all aliens and explosions and death. "Here is your answer."

….

Honest to God it was only after he strode away, that I actually put any thought into the strange green light or the spear. Adrenaline will do that to you.

The back of my mind told me that I knew what it must mean, but I couldn't accept it until I passed the TV in the store front when I finally picked myself up off the concrete.

The newsperson looked to be in shock as he narrated video of New York.

And there was the shadow.

Riding on an alien ship through the streets of the city and destroying everything in his path with a glorious grin.

"Loki," I had murmured without ever making the conscious decision to speak. "Loki Laufeyson of Azgard."