The nightmares came back that night with a vengeance. Possible apocalypse-level invasion was imminent, but it seemed Taylor's subconscious was unwilling to allot her the seven or eight hours of rest she needed to function properly to face said threat. A miserable groan clawed up her throat as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting JARVIS had activated when she'd woken up. Bless his electronic soul, he had acknowledged her request to let the others continue sleeping without alerting them.

It had been two or three months since her last full-fledged, wake in sweat and terror, half on fire, tears stinging her eyes nightmare. She had others, the creepy ones that raced shivers down her spine and made her huddle under her comforter fortress like that would save her from whatever creatures lurked in the shadows. Those she could handle. The real nightmares had not resurfaced until that night.

Mostly they were just images, or sometimes memories, either one brought with it a plethora of unwanted, buried insecurities, but ended in the same result: a sleepless, unsettled night. A deep sigh escaped her as she settled her face in her palms, desperately trying to control the tremors and quakes that wracked her body. Disjointed fragments haunted her—a burning house, someone screaming at her to stop, a hand leaving a red mark on her cheek…

"Your breathing and heart rate have spiked again, Miss Cadence," JARVIS informed her helpfully, his calm, cultured voice, sounding perpetually just a tad concerned bringing her back to Earth.

"I'm going to make tea," she mumbled, throwing the blankets back and urgently leaving her room, each step on the cool tile reminding her that she was in the Tower.

The living room was dimly light, darkened in consideration of her currently light-sensitive eyes as she traced the familiar path the Avenger's kitchen. They'd opted out of doing shifts—JARVIS would alert everyone if the readings in the locations of the doors changed, leaving Taylor to her own shaken devices, thankfully.

She managed to get her unsteady hands to procure herself a cup of soothing tea, using her powers to heat up the water rather than the kettle or microwave. As it steeped, she leaned into the counter, arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Taylor was more of a coffee person by nature, a slave to all things caffeinated, her second favorite stimulant beverage to coffee being Coca-Cola. Bruce had introduced her to the wonders of sedative herbal tea in her first year with the heroes, and she'd used it as a crutch for sleep ever since.

It was so quiet that when she heard the slightest of movements, she wasn't startled when someone spoke, although the owner of the voice did surprise her.

"It's an odd time of night to be up and about don't you think?" Loki questioned curiously.

A short, mirthless chuckle forced its way past her vocal chords.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical?" she pointed out, keeping her azure eyes steady on her fingertips, tapping out a rhythm to match the wild racing of her thoughts.

The faint rustle of clothes informed her that the surly god was venturing closer. He had not, in fact, chosen to join their Star Wars marathon. That had been…not exactly disappointing, but rather dampening on her nerd-infused spirit, not that it had really been affected in the end anyway. Steve and Bucky had been mildly surprised that Darth Vader was Luke's father despite their fairly sufficient German vocabulary, but Thor had absolutely lost it. She was sure Loki would have been floored too, if he weren't such a sulky drama king bent on milking the "everyone hates me" trope for all it was worth—but hey, at least he was king of something, anyway.

"I have an altered sleeping schedule," he replied, "and I wasn't very tired."

He paused, and she heard him stop in front of her, the counter a firm, solid obstacle between them, because whenever he was close to her like this, it was hard for him to keep his distance. Taylor was purposefully avoiding his gaze entirely, while he studied her far too intently for her liking, like he was trying to unravel some mystery. The joke was on him though—Taylor was had no wonderful mystery to solve, just nightmares.

"You seem tired, yet you're wandering about at some ungodly hour of the night. I'm curious as to why."

The female superhero shrugged, reluctant to tell anyone about what haunted her in her dream realm. More than one Avenger had caught her meandering about in the wee hours, but she'd never explained to them the demons that liked to seize her when she shut her eyes. Taylor may have been able to run from her mistakes, flee her torturous life before the Avengers, but she couldn't escape her own vicious ghosts.

"Trouble sleeping." She opted for a half-truth rather than full lie.

Taylor was a bad liar and she knew it. Rather than embarrassing herself with her deplorable skills of deception in front of the god of fibs himself, she went for vague honesty. More often than not, that caused more questions than anything, but she was better at being evasive than lying. Usually the others respected when she was being exclusive, but Loki, apparently, did not.

"Oh?" he questioned, settling his arms on the counter and leaning closer, "Tell me what troubles you."

She wasn't sure why that information would interest him, but she was suspicious. He'd taken a rapid plunge from non-hostile to anti-Taylor Jessica Cadence like he was on a roller coaster ride of friendship. They'd been getting along fairly well and then suddenly he was all scowls and clipped remarks…again. Why he had to be such a struggle-child was beyond her, but she was not about to let him burn her—figuratively anyway. Revealing the deepest, darkest parts of her soul and baring them to a complete stranger that reportedly took a sadistic pleasure in exposing and irritating sensitive nerves made her twitch.

Avoiding his piercing emerald eyes, her own gaze drifted to the counter, to his large, rather nice hands resting in loose fists. Startled, she studied further, past the long fingers, to his forearms, lean, subtle cords of muscle relaxed beneath the smooth, pale skin. Taylor had always had a weakness for hands…and arms…and well…nice body parts in general, but hands tended to distract her. The conspicuous clearing of the Asgardian's throat made her turn away, fishing the tea leaves from her mug and nearly sloshing the scalding water all over herself—not that she'd feel it.

Ah yes, her grace was truly unparalleled. Perhaps she should have forgone world-saving for professional ballet? The half-amused, half-incredulous look on Loki's face indicated that she shouldn't quit her day job just yet either.

"I…what are you even doing in here?" she questioned, recovering with a scowl, "Don't you have a tight schedule of sulking and lurking?"

He had the decency to look mildly offended by her snipping. Truthfully, he was desperately hiding a smirk at her irritation. There was no missing the somewhat…what expression had she been making when she was ogling his arms? Whatever it had been, she'd been sufficiently distracted—and even more comical was her current flustered state as she tried to recover some dignity from her unwitting fumble.

"You seem to be doing enough of both to compensate for me," he replied, goading the small temper he'd ignited.

Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she set her cup decisively on the counter and stalked around. Straightening as she neared him, he raised an eyebrow down at her with barely concealed amusement as she stood toe to toe with him, fists planted firmly on her hips. Her bright blue eyes were narrowed, her expression aimed for severe, but he couldn't quite take her seriously with half her dark hair sticking up from sleep and a matching, rumpled set of pig-themed pajamas on.

It was endearing really, this small spitfire glaring up at him, who towered over her, with an attitude to rival his own. He was purposefully aggravating her, to see how much of that inferno he could draw out of her without getting injured. When she replied, one hand left the generous curve of her hip to gesticulate her point.

"First of all, I wasn't sulking, I was contemplating. There's a difference," she informed him matter-of-factly, "and second, I've lived here for four years. I can lurk all I want."

Loki could not restrain the antagonizing grin that curled his lips up.

"But you admit you were lurking."

"I was not lurking!"

"Easy, doll, you'll wake up the whole tower at this rate," Bucky said, coming into the kitchen just then.

Taylor snorted (very ladylike) and fixed him with a glare as well. Apparently finding her temper amusing as well, the soldier chuckled, burying his head in the fridge in search of water and a suitable snack.

"You two seem to be hitting it off," he added as he reemerged.

Loki and Taylor shot each other looks before both rolling their eyes and shaking their heads. Bucky observed them knowingly, smirking to himself. Not many people could rile Taylor up like that…this was turning out to be interesting. Before he could comment further, however, Steve suddenly burst into the kitchen in a pair of American flag-themed pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

"We got a hit. Suit up."

Taylor started giggling and Loki cleared his throat to hide his own laughter as Bucky considered the star-spangled pants incredulously. Realizing that no one had taken his orders seriously, Steve glanced down at his pants, huffed indignantly and pointed an accusing finger at the pyro.

"You're the one that bought me these pants," he pointed out.

"I know," she snickered, "I remember. I just didn't expect you to actually wear them. They look good."

If he'd rolled his eyes any farther, she was sure he would have seen his own brain. She'd bought him the pants as a joke on the Fourth of July previous. Steve had made a point of ranting about all the crazy things that had the stars and stripes printed on them in modern times, so Taylor had taken it upon herself to buy him a pair of pants and boxers from a vendor at a fair they attended. She had no idea he would actually wear either of them.

"They're comfortable," he explained defensively, "now suit up. There's something going on in Greenland."

Taylor groaned loudly before darting out the room after him. She hated cold weather and Greenland was not actually very green at all.


Loki spluttered as they boarded the jet, each and every Avenger present for the task since no one was sure what to expect. Taylor had traipsed past him just a second ago, jogging ahead to accelerate pre-flight procedures while Romanoff and Barton took the pilot chairs. Her raven dark hair had been whipped back into a tight ponytail, pulled over one shoulder for the moment. It wasn't so much what she was wearing that made him pause, it was where it sent his mind.

Her "suit" was little more than scraps of thick, fire-proof material, barely covering her skin. The top was a deep red V-neck, with thick shoulder straps and sharp lines that displayed a tight stomach. The bottoms weren't much better, a skirt in the same color that stopped mid-thigh with slits in the side up to the hip. The only redeeming quality was the pair of black shorts she'd donned beneath it to maintain some modesty. The ankle high black boots did nothing to hide the length of her creamy, muscular legs.

It made his heartrate kick up a pace or two, and his mouth went dry as paper. What in the Nine Realms was she wearing? And how in Odin's name was that supposed to protect her during battle? It was little more than undergarments, let alone armor of any kind. He couldn't believe her friends were even letting her run around like that! They were so protective of her, but they were allowing her to skip about almost indecently? Loki couldn't fathom it.

"You'll catch flies like that, Loki," Banner remarked laughingly as he passed him.

The god hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, or that his mouth was hanging slightly agape as the raven-haired superhero flitted around in preparation for their mission.

"How is that at all an effective uniform?" Loki wondered aloud, continuing up the ramp.

"She can raise her body temper to the point that she burns anything she comes into contact with," Rogers explained, sans pajama pants, strapping into a seat, "The more skin she shows, the more damage she can do."

Taylor, oblivious to the conversation, approached them then, cutting off any further discussion of her clothes. Most of the flight was filled with idle chatter and the more tired Avengers attempting to rouse themselves. Loki contemplated this revelation. He hadn't inquired about Taylor's abilities, partially because he didn't care, but also because he knew the others would be suspicious if he started asking questions. He knew she could control fire, but was it more than that? How hot could she make her body temperature? How much heat could she stand?

"We're almost there, get ready," Romanoff called back to them, and Taylor sat forward, her fingers drifting to the release of her harness.

"Why Greenland, anyway?" Taylor questioned suddenly, glancing around as if someone had an answer, "It's not like they have a particularly large population—or really anything all that important."

Stark had already stood up, his suit unfolding and enveloping him where he stood.

"Maybe that's why," he suggested, "Greenland pretty much flies below the radar. If they're going for subtlety, that's a good place to do it."

"That's a good point," she agreed, sighing, "but I wish they'd chosen, like, Madagascar or something, instead."

The aircraft finally landed as she finished saying this and the group of nine quickly disembarked, planning to finish the mission quickly. As soon as she stepped out into the cold, Taylor grit her teeth, scowling as if the entire island itself were offending her. Small, white flakes drifted aimlessly from the blackened sky, attaching themselves to the Avengers hair and clothes. It melted immediately on contact with her skin, leaving wet droplets.

"I hate the cold," she muttered, brushing at the snow in her hair with irritation, "we should sue Greenland for false advertising."

"Like you wanted to sue Iceland for not being icy?" Natasha asked.

"Or the Space Needle for not actually reaching space or being a needle?" Tony added.

"Exactly."

"Focus guys," Steve called back to them, diligently scanning the area, "we've got work to do."

According to the spy duo, they'd all landed a couple miles from the town nearest to the portal. If the readings were correct, then whoever was causing the disappearances would likely target them. The team split up into two groups, half going in the direction of the portal and the other half of them towards the town to makes sure they weren't already too late. Loki and Taylor, both on the team headed for the portal, agreed that something felt wrong. It was far too quiet, and not just because it was night and it was cold…

"Taylor, watch out!"

Loki turned just as someone slammed into the woman full force, tackling her into the snow and ice. He heard a sharp cracking sound, likely her head impacting the ice, before she was able to recover. A burst of flame accompanied a powerful kick that launched her attacker off her and she scrambled to her feet, visibly gritting her teeth as she touched her head, her fingertips coming away bloody. He had no time to ask if she was alright before another came for him this time, swinging, and he snatched at the dagger in his belt to defend himself.

There were a lot of them, a battalion of at least two or three dozen, all of them with skin like obsidian and glowing like hot embers. Taylor called for backup into their radio devices before launching herself at another of the creatures, the two fighting in indiscernible flashes of light. Loki caught glimpses of her out of the corners of his eyes while he fought his own battles.

She was fierce and wild, surges of fire erupted as a punctuation to each blow and defense. It was hard to keep up with the ferocity with which she fought and he was suddenly grateful Taylor had not been a part of the team when he'd led the attack on New York.

"What are these things," she demanded between breaths, landing back to back with him only a moment later as the rest of the Avengers joined them, "they don't really seem to be affected by the fire."

"Fire giants," he deduced, "From Helheim."

She made an irritated noise.

"What sort of fire demons choose to attack in Greenland?" she demanded, throwing a large ball of fire that interrupted a nasty fight between one of the creatures and Tony in his Iron Man suit.

"Perhaps they didn't realize where this portal opened to," he suggested, pushing her out of the way when an explosion erupted too close to them.

They landed together in the snow, a tangle of limbs and torsos pressed together. Taylor hastily pushed herself away from him, shaking her head slightly to rid her ears of ringing from the blast.

"If fire doesn't work, I'll just have to get more creative," she commented, before running right back into the fray.

Her dedication and determination were commendable, but Loki wondered if she hadn't hit her head one too many times. Taylor, for her part, had morphed her fighting style from fire to tangible blasts of energy, more of force than heat, since heat wasn't working on the giants. A particularly difficult struggle with one of the creatures twice her size, had her so focused she didn't realize the bolts of light crackling beneath the surface of her skin until it was backing away from her, staring.

It yelled something to one of its comrades in a language she couldn't understand, but she didn't hesitate to run at it, unexpectedly knocking them both through the portal. Black soot and rocks buried themselves in her hair and dug into her skin as the two wrestled, now in another dimension. Back on the other side of the rift between worlds, Loki had witnessed Taylor's disappearance and, knowing she likely needed assistance for one reason or another, he dove after her.

He leapt through the opening, and landed right in the middle of the brawl. With his aid now, the two were able to subdue the monster quickly. Neither triumphant individual had won unscathed, however. The glass-like quality to the creature's skin had left oozing cuts and scratches that peppered their bodies. Taylor was, perhaps, worse off than Loki. With more skin available, they'd had more contact, the heat of her body doing little good to melt the obsidian shards in the end. All in all though, they could both remember battles that had ended worse.

"Are you alright?" she questioned, pressing her palm to a rather nasty slice in her side, staunching the flowing crimson liquid.

"More or less," he replied, surprised that she seemed genuinely concerned before he figured he ought to return to the sentiment, "and you?"

"Eh, I've had worse," she answered with a casual shrug that only made her wince for her trouble.

He half-smiled at her attempt at humor before turning his eyes to the landscape around them. She followed his gaze, bright blue eyes tracing the sharp rock outcroppings and the harsh lines of distant mountains. Everything around them was dark and desolate, there was no vegetation, the wind whipped at their clothes and hair, hurling bits of the strange black gravel into them at a painful velocity. Taylor felt as though the entire planet had a malevolent energy to it, desperate and somewhat depressing

"Where are we?" she inquired, brows pulling together and lips quirking into a frown.

This didn't look like fun. In fact, it looked like the entire planet was dead, deserted.

"Svartalfheim."

Her expression turned blank as she slowly faced him again, an arched eyebrow cluing at her emotions.

"What-alheim?"

The god rolled his eyes, snorting at her lack of effort on the name. He repeated himself, slower this time so that she'd get it properly. When she just stared at him, apparently unimpressed, he elaborated.

"Home—well, former home—of the Dark Elves. I believe they've truly gone extinct this time, however. This was their realm."

She turned her eyes back to the landscape again, pressing her lips together for a moment before speaking.

"Thor told me you almost died. One of them stabbed you when you saved his life."

There was no inflection in her voice at all, but it still came out soft, more of a statement that he could choose to comment on or ignore. After their fight, he was less inclined to humor her efforts than usual and chose to mirror her previous unimpressed expression.

"More or less," he allowed blandly, turning on his heel suddenly and walking back towards the portal, "Hurry up or I'm leaving you here."

"Hold on, my leg hurts," she called with a grimace, limping to his side when he paused.

With a dramatic sigh of aggravation that Loki only partly meant, he ducked down on her uninjured side and wrapped an arm around her waist while her own went around his neck. He helped her back through the portal, where the rest of the Avengers had finished up and were just asking where the two had gone off to.

"Rule number two of missions Taylor: no running off for romantic interludes," Tony called, mocking seriousness.

She snorted, flipped him the bird, and explained what had happened. As they were trying to figure out what to do with the unconscious fire demons, the prone bodies suddenly disappeared into smoke all at once. Taylor leaned into Loki's side slightly and huffed, clearly exhausted, but holding out as they tried to puzzle out the missing enemies. Her blood felt slick and hot beneath his hand, but her skin felt cooler than usual, and it was making his stomach turn over as though he were going to be sick.

"Magic," Loki supplied to their questions, noticing the woman was beginning to shiver, "whoever sent them has some means to call them back without the portals. That would explain how they took the villagers as well."

"Who or what could do something like that?" Steve asked.

Loki made a helpless gesture with the hand not supporting Taylor.

"Your guess is as good as mine without my materials here. There is a library in Asgard that might have the answers."

Thor nodded, shifting his hammer wearily in his hand. There was a bad cut in his upper lip that kept dripping blood into his mouth and it was making him nauseous.

"Tomorrow morning we will return home," he declared tiredly, "for now, we will rest and recover."

Taylor glanced at her teammates, sighing when she realized most of them were in similar shape as her and Loki. Bruce seemed to be in the best condition, thanks to "the other guy" as he liked to refer to his alter ego, and even he looked like he'd been thrown in a woodchipper. She glanced at Bucky, making sure he was alright as well. For his first alien fight, he seemed to have fared well, though he looked one-thousand percent done for the day. She felt the exact same way.

"I agree with Thor," she added with a small groan, "Let's head back. I somehow doubt they're going to be back anytime soon."

With resounding agreement, the team began for the plane again, eager to return to the tower and nurse their wounds. Loki deposited Taylor securely in a seat while they took off and once they were steady in the air, Bucky helped her care for her injuries. The slash in her side needed to be stitched, and they had to wrap her ankle, but otherwise her injuries weren't serious, and anything that hadn't already stopped bleeding was slathered in antibacterial and covered in gauze.

Taylor noticed Loki remain unattended, refusing the first-aid kit and the offer of assistance from Thor. With a sigh, she hobbled to his side and dropped down next to him with absolutely zero grace, casually studying the wall of the aircraft.

"Any particular reason why you're not caring for your wounds?" she began.

He snorted, and she determined he wasn't in the best of moods, but when was he, really? She decided to forge onwards nonetheless, despite the glare he was probably throwing her way.

"I hardly need your silly Midgardian medicines," he sneered.

"Oh, right, because the almighty Loki is immune to an infection," she scoffed, "at least cover up some of the open ones."

He rolled his eyes and refused to respond. With a huff, she leaned back to conserve her fading energy, giving him a pointed sideways look.

"If you don't, I won't stop bothering you," she threatened, "and believe you me, I can ramble with the best of them. Do not underestimate my ability to carry a one-sided conversation with another person."

He sighed, fighting the irritating urge to smile at her words. He would not be amused by her attempts to irritate him into submission (even if they were humorous) over something as ridiculous as his own health. They were actually arguing over his own health. How ridiculous.

"Very well," he acquiesced, making a big production of sighing and rolling his eyes like it was some great labor.

She grinned victoriously and went about coating the more wicked cuts in a viscous ointment and plastering them with bandages. Behind her, the other Avengers were casting furtive glances, some perplexed, and others pleased. It wasn't unusual for Taylor to help patch her friends up after battles. In fact, she usually did so with great relish while they regaled her with the details of their exploits as a distraction to the pain. But she was patching Loki up like they were the best of friends. Loki!

"I forgot to thank you," she said suddenly, quietly.

"Thank me for what?" he inquired with surprise.

Well that was new, and admittedly pleasing. He couldn't remember the last time someone had thanked him—and actually meant it.

"For helping me."

He raised an eyebrow, scanning her expression while she remained focused on a small cut on his jaw.

"You will have to be more specific. I am having trouble remembering the specific instance you are speaking of."

She rolled her bright blues at him before reach for gauze that she began wrapping around his forearm.

"Well you came after me in Svartalfheim," she butchered it, but at least she'd tried this time, "and then you helped me back even though I was bleeding everywhere. I appreciate it, so thank you."

He stared at her for several moments after she said that, studying her fair features, gauging the weight of her words. Prompted by his silence, she glanced up at him, azure gaze locking with his own, piercing emerald one, and she became very aware of how close they were sitting together. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she got to her feet and used the nearest steady object to begin back towards her seat.

"You're welcome," he responded belatedly, just loud enough for her to hear.

She paused, apparently shocked that he'd answered her, before flashing a genuine smile at him over her shoulder and finishing the trek to her seat. The rest of the journey was quiet, most of them trying not fall asleep. The battle had wiped them out, the difficulty in injuring their resilient opponents having drained them. When the plane landed, Bucky volunteered as Taylor's human crutch and all the Avengers, plus Loki, retired to their rooms and slept without further altercation.