A/N: Can anyone spot the POTO reference? ;)

Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?

"Sometimes, I believe, ignorance is indeed bliss."

Molly gasps in surprise at the sound of Loki's voice, the remote control toppling from her hand to the floor with a soft thud. She jumps up from the couch, heart pounding as she whirls to face him. He's still clad in his strange attire, Sherlock's pajamas left in a neat pile on the kitchen counter. She has no idea how, but he appears far stronger than he did when she left him just a few moments ago.

"I – I don't – I –"

"I won't harm you."

She laughs nervously. "New York City says otherwise."

Loki gives her a lopsided, suspicious grin. "You are not New York City."

"That's rather lovely and all, but…I – I don't –" she stutters again.

He takes a single step towards her; she takes a single step back.

"You must trust me, Molly."

"Trust you?!" she exclaims, panicking. "Trust the man – no, 'god' – who destroyed an entire city?! How exactly do you propose I do that?"

"It's simple, really. You close your eyes and give in – just as I did when you came to me earlier."

"That's completely different. You could've died if I hadn't helped you."

His eyes darken as he walks slowly, deliberately around the sofa, coming closer with every step. The image perfectly matches the one on screen a few moments ago – except now, he isn't grinning. "Then you should not have helped me. I did not ask for your assistance."

"Then-then why did you accept my help?" she asks, continuing to back away from him. "Clearly you're capable of…fixing yourself." She waves a hand in his direction, indicating his new-found strength.

"I had no desire to fix myself," he imitates her with derision.

With all her usual tact, Molly can't help but ask: "Why?"

She jumps nearly a foot in the air when Loki slams his hands down on the wooden coffee table before him, shaking the entire flat. "If you hadn't found me, I'd be DEAD!" he roars. "Perhaps then the world would forget the MONSTER who destroyed an entire city and REJOICE IN THE END OF MY EXISTENCE!"

He stares her down from across the room, chest heaving, eyes a wild mix of pure hatred, vulnerability, and brokenness.

After what feels like an eternity, he sinks to his knees, pressing his forehead against the coffee table. From her place in the corner, Molly watches all the rage drain out of him. His tormented words sink in in the silence.

Her heart breaks.

Swallowing her fear, Molly edges back towards the sofa, kneeling silently beside Loki. His eyes are closed, but the single tear that has escaped rolls down his cheek.

I need a new type.

Before she can convince herself otherwise, she gently wipes away the tear, smoothing his hair back from his face. He lifts his head, his eyes – now an icy blue – boring into hers.

She's always been good at reading others. She may not be as good with deductions and observations as the great Sherlock Holmes, but she knows how to read the emotions in others' eyes.

Loki's eyes betray his defiant expression. In those eyes, she sees years of torment and self-loathing. She sees a man haunted by his past, threatened by the present, and terrified of the future. His future.

Molly sees no monster in those eyes.

A phrase she heard once long ago floats through her mind. "Pitiful creature of darkness," she whispers, nearly inaudibly. "What kind of life have you known?" Loki's eyes widen. "I'm sorry," she continues, gently placing her hand atop his still-clenched fist. He looks down at their hands, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "Sorry, didn't mean to be so…forward."

"Don't touch me," he growls, turning away. "I do not want your pity."

"I don't think you're a monster."

Loki laughs bitterly. "What could you possibly know about me? You've only known me for a few hours. For all you know, I could still kill you."

Swallowing her fear at his words, Molly settles down on the floor beside him, even if he refuses to meet her eyes. "Well," she begins, "I know – I mean, I knew – someone very much like you. He always thought he was a monster. He never believed me when I told him otherwise, of course, but I always tried."

She pauses. It's unbearably difficult speaking about Sherlock in the past tense. "Before he died, he…he told me something. He told me that I mattered; that I counted. I'd always counted to him, and he'd always trusted me." She smiles at the memory, a faraway look in her eyes. "At first, I didn't realize why he told me that, but now I know. I always look for the good in people. I believe that it's always there, deep down, no matter who they are, where they come from, or what they might've done. And Sherlock…he knew it. I believed in him – and I still believe in him, even now that he's disgraced and gone. Even now, when everyone believes he is – was – just a fraud. And he wanted me to know that…that that mattered to him. That he appreciated my unwavering loyalty.

"That's why I know that you can't be a monster, either. I can see people – really, truly, see them for who they are. That's my gift, I suppose. And I can see you, Loki." Molly holds her breath, hoping that her words have touched him somehow.

After what seems like an eternity, Loki finally speaks. "This friend of yours…Sherlock…how did he die?"

"Well, actually, he…he committed suicide. He jumped off of a building. My work building, in fact."

His eyes fly up to hers, and for a brief moment, he almost seems sympathetic. "That must have been difficult."

Molly gives him a sad smile. "It was. But…I'm learning to deal with it, you know?" She pauses as he looks away again. "So – what's your story?" she asks playfully.

He laughs darkly. "I can assure you that you do not wish to know."

She squeezes his hand in encouragement. "Tell me anyway. I haven't talked about Sherlock like that since he died. And now that I have…I feel a bit better. Believe me – the only way to heal is to talk about these things."

Loki scoffs. "Oh yes. Talking to a tiny mortal woman about the lies I was told all my life – by the man I called 'father,' no less – and my failed attempt at world domination will make my life magically perfect."

Molly gives him a hopeful smile. "It's a start."

He sighs, defeated, meeting her gaze at last. "It is not a pretty story."

"I do post-mortems. Believe me; I know stories that aren't pretty."

Loki smirks. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

To be continued…