Did I take a really long time again? Yes. Do I have perfectly legitimate reasons? Yes. I had the most intense and most fun ten days of my life taking part in a delegation of my hometown and NYC. I had a girl from New York staying in my house and made some amazing new friends. After that, I finally began the journey of fixing school, which means retaking three tests and getting tutored in chemistry and math. I feel very good about my efforts, but sadly that meant neglecting writing for longer than I prefer, so I'm also very pleased to have this chapter out. I hope you enjoy it!

Asgard never stopped being beautiful, no matter how accustomed you were to its greatness. Thor spent over a thousand years there, surrounded by gold and white, towers and fountains, and still the sight of it shimmering in the distance as he rode towards it on the Rainbow Bridge made something come to life inside of him. Long months have passed since he made the choice to call Midgard his home, for all its cultural differences, but something in him would always yearn to return here; the kingdom that was once meant to be his. Thor never once regretted turning down the throne – Jane, his new friends and their strange world were more than worth it in his eyes – and so it was not a sad yearning that now filled his heart. It was more like a pale yet vivid longing for a time that was, as it should be, unwaveringly gone.

Time has done nothing to diminish the detailed memory he had of the palace. The palace was where he grew up, a golden-haired prince running through corridors and staircases with his dark-haired brother, the pair of them causing mayhem and trouble wherever they went. Thor thought back to his childhood as he entered the palace, reflecting at the joy it used to be. Loki took that joy away in his madness, poisoning Thor's memories with dark words spoken in jealousy and betrayal. Had Loki truly felt unloved for all that time? How could he, when all these years he showed Thor nothing but love and admiration? And yet the last time they met they parted as enemies. Thor has lived a long, long time, but he was still only beginning to learn the hardness the world held. He did not know if he would ever discover all there was to know of it.

The throne room, that once held laughter and life, was almost eerily quiet when he entered it, his boots thudding loudly as he walked, the echoes of the sound going steady and long. There were merely a handful of guards standing at the golden throne of the King of Asgard, their armor shining in the not-quite-as-bright-as-it-should-be light. And on the magnificent throne sat the Allfather, full of cold wisdom and fiery courage - the stoic and fearsome Odin.

Even from the highness of Odin's throne, Thor could see the distance in his eyes, as though his mind was elsewhere. Thor wondered where that might be, and if it had anything to do with the reason he was summoned so unexpectedly.

"Father," Thor greeted Odin formally. "You look well." It was a lie, of course, as Odin looked more stressed than anything else, but still politeness was expected from the Prince of Asgard, despite him denying the throne several months earlier.

"I could say the same," replied Odin, his voice devoid of emotion. "It seems Midgard has been treating you well."

"It has," confirmed Thor. "It is very different; I am still getting to know it."

"I am glad to hear it," said Odin.

"Not that I do not appreciate your concern, Father," Thor began, "but you did not summon me here for this. There is something else."

"Yes," said Odin. "Leave us," he ordered the guards, who obeyed him without question. Thor eyed them with growing concern as they left the throne room. Something was wrong – he knew it, felt it in his heart.

"There has been a breach in our prisons," Odin informed Thor. "A prisoner managed to escape."

"What?" blurted Thor, shocked. "How?"

"We don't yet know."

"Who was it?" asked Thor. "Who escaped? Are there any leads on finding him?"

"There are currently no leads on the fugitive's whereabouts," said Odin. "And the identity of the prisoner is why you were summoned."

Even before Odin said it, Thor knew.

"Loki," Thor murmured, feeling the hints of comprehension at the edge of his mind. He didn't know what would be the full consequences of Loki's escape nor his adopted brother's intentions, but he knew only bad could follow.

"He remains unseen so far," said Odin. "His control over magic makes tracing him difficult, as does his cunning and familiarity with his surroundings. Heimdall cannot see him."

"It's happened before," Thor remembered. "Heimdall told me he couldn't see Loki at times when he ruled over Asgard, when…" his face contorted with realization, "when he went to Earth. Father, Loki knows secret ways out of Asgard; he can go wherever he pleases."

"And you believe he will return to Earth again, after everything?" asked Odin, raising an eyebrow doubtfully.

"He might," said Thor. "His anger is partially directed at me. He wants to destroy the things I love. He would be on Earth." Fear began to fill his chest. "I'm sorry, Father, I must go back to Midgard and prepare in case I am right."

Odin nodded. "Do what you must. I will tell Frigga you send your love."

Thor gave him a curt nod in return and ran out the throne room. Loki couldn't have escaped long ago, but it wouldn't take him long to get to Earth. And once he did… Thor didn't want to think about that. He ran out of the palace, hoping he was not too late.

Jess's spine arched backwards as she stretched her arms wide and leaned against her chair, eyes shut in content. Her head lolled back and her dark hair nearly brushed the floor.

"Oh, man," she groaned. "This is the life." She straightened herself, blinking her eyes several times. "Life is good."

Amy glanced at the empty tray in front of them both. "It's not so bad," she agreed. "Especially with all the oil they put on this goddamn pizza."

"Ugh, that oil," sighed Jess. "I could marry that oil."

"Could you?"

"I'm sure it's legal somewhere."

Amy smiled. "Did you check on that thing we talked about earlier?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Jess, eyes widening subtly in recognition of the sudden change of subject. "Slim chances. It's apparently difficult to get so many people out of the Tower all at once."

"So… no party at the Avengers Tower?"

"No party at the Avengers Tower," confirmed Jess with a pout. "I don't think anyone except for Tony and maybe Clint would like the idea anyway. And what the hell do you need a party for? Can't you and Charlie just come over? We'll have a good old fashioned slumber party. Watch Pitch Perfect, talk about our feelings, gossip forever…"

"Tempting," confessed Amy. "Still. Something different might be nice."

"I'm not saying otherwise, I'm just saying I'm not gonna host anything, especially since it's not actually my house that I live in."

"It's kind of yours now, though, isn't it?" Amy pointed out. "I mean, it's your home now, right?"

Jess toyed with a piece of leftover olive. "Yeah," she murmured. "I guess."

Amy frowned. "Does it feel like home?" she asked.

"I don't really know," said Jess. "I always thought my home's gonna be either with my family or with you as a roommate. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like right now."

"Well, it's only been a few months," said Amy with soft, comforting reason. "You're probably still adjusting."

"Yeah," agreed Jess. "Probably. And anyway, it's not that I definitely don't feel at home there; I just don't understand it yet."

Amy nodded with sympathetic understanding.

Jesses thought about stereotypes then. Teenagers can't be as smart as adults, said the stereotypes. They can't possibly have an understanding of the ways of life. They lack experience and don't really have a grasp on how the world works yet. It would be unfair to call these stereotypes necessarily always wrong, Jess thought. It was only natural for younger people to have less experience than older people, except for the extreme cases Jess casually ruled out of the equation. And she has met some teens who were little more than bricks in human bodies. The stereotypes worked sometimes. However, people tended to forget that it was a sometimes rather than an always. When teenagers like herself, Amy or Charlie broke the stereotype with higher intellect than most adults, they were classified as misfits.

Which kind of almost made sense considering how much more comfortable the three felt with each other in comparison to other people.

And Jess did occasionally wonder how on earth she was supposed to ever become a part of society.

But 'misfits' was not the correct term.

When Jess sat at that slightly grimy table and looked Amy in the eyes over the dirty tray, she didn't see a misfit. She never saw a misfit when she looked at any of her best friends.

She saw stars looking back at her from their eyes.

Amy and Charlie shone for her. They were a light that could never go out.

"Have you gotten any further in The Wind's Name?" asked Amy, abruptly cutting Jess's random burst of thoughtfulness.

"Yes," answered Jess, hiding any traces of disconnection from reality. "It's amazing and horrible and makes me want to kill myself and I love it."

Amy snickered.

"I still can't get over the fact it's Patrick Rothfuss' first book," admitted Jess. "Like, how do you write a first book like that?" She sighed. "It's the dream, man, I'm telling you."

"If your first book ends up as good as The Wind's Name I'm paying for all the freaking pizzas for the rest of our lives," said Amy seriously.

Jess grinned. "My motivation has just been increased."

"Speaking of," Amy started. "How's math going out for you?"

"Oddly good," said Jess with a spark in her eyes. "I've been working with Mr. Coalfield in private a lot and he's been really helpful."

"You work a lot harder for school than you used to," Amy pointed out, and Jess felt her smile slowly fading. "It's great; don't get me wrong; but why the sudden interest to lift up your grades?"

Jess shrugged. "I don't know," she mumbled and was about to brush it off out of habit – usually she didn't like talking about this sort of stuff – before deciding she did want to talk about it. "It's a distraction, for one," she admitted, avoiding meeting Amy's eyes. "I try to always do something - beats staring off into space brooding. Also…" she cleared her throat and blinked. "I don't know, I guess it's about stretching myself to the best of my abilities. And I… I want to make them proud. The Avengers. They took me in expecting nothing in return, and I don't wanna be dead weight. I want to be someone, not just the emotionally and physically beat-up girl who got adopted by superheroes. I want to make you proud. You and Charlie. I know I don't have to and that you'd love me either way, I just… I want to…" She swallowed. "I want to make myself proud."

"You know it's not your fault, right?" said Amy gently. Jess didn't know what her face looked like since she was still trying not to look directly at her. "Everything that's happened to you in the past year, it's not your fault."

"I know," said Jess quickly. "I do, really. But Emmett's dead, and I couldn't protect him because I wasn't strong enough or smart enough or some other sort of shit."

"You can't blame yourself," said Amy sternly. "It's because of your dad, not because of you."

"Well, what if I'm more like my dad than you think?" asked Jess, letting her mind wander, allowing it to enter forbidden sections of her fears.

Amy looked taken aback (Jess has finally found it in her to look at her friend). "What do you mean?"

Jess let out a sigh of frustration and ran her hands through her already messy hair. "Would you really love me either way?" she asked almost breathlessly. "If there was something about me that was wrong and scary and evil, would you be able to look past that?"

"Of course we would-"

"Are you sure?" urged Jess. "How sure are you? My life has been turned upside down several times in the past year alone and I need this one thing to be stable, okay? Just this one thing. So I need you to be real damn sure. If I wasn't the Jess you thought you understood, if I wasn't like you believed, if something in my blood changed the concept of who I am somehow, what would you think? Would you be able to shrug it off over nothing but trust? Because for the life of me, I wouldn't blame you if you can't."

"Jess, calm down," said Amy, demonstrating calmness with her tone. She took hold of Jess's hands, and for a moment Jess nearly withdrew them thinking of what these small hands might someday do. "Jess. Focus. There's nothing you can ever be that would make us go away. Not me anyway. If you came to me with blood on your hands, I'd help you hide the body and not ask questions. Would I lose sleep over that? Probably, but I'd lose that sleep very willingly. I get it, you're hiding something big, but you don't even have to tell me if you don't want to. And if you do – how long have we been best friends? You have to know by now that you can."

Jess took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, slowly beginning to restore her composure. "Okay, just give me a second." She drummed her fingers nervously against the table, tapping her foot irritably – signs of insecurity, whispered the overly sensible part of her brain. Jess suddenly wondered if it was at all possible there was a SHIELD agent in the pizza place, making sure she didn't do anything explosive. Then she remembered she was prone to paranoia and that her PTSD infused mind was not to be trusted.

It was one of those 'now or never' moments for Jess. She had an unexplainable but clear feeling that if she didn't tell Amy about the flames now, she'd never again find the strength to do so. And Jess couldn't imagine a world in which Amy didn't know absolutely everything about her.

"I didn't tell anyone about this," Jess began with an odd sense of urgency, lowering her voice just in case. "I really need you to not freak out, okay?"

Amy nodded immediately. "Spit it out, Jess."

Jess opened her mouth and found herself without words. How could she possibly explain this, this catastrophe that she didn't yet fully understand? Her throat felt dry and unwilling and her stomach fluttered with anxiety.

Then Jess realized that sometimes actions speak louder than words.

She glanced around anxiously. Her bones felt cold inside her, as if they too were waiting with baited breaths to see the situation unfold.

Very slowly, Jess moved her hand so that it's partly hidden by the table but still visible for herself and for Amy. Amy's eyes darted between Jess and her hand, curious and puzzled. Jess let herself have one final moment of mental preparation, and then the flame gently grew from her open palm.

Amy's eyes widened. She turned her head to meet Jess's eyes, finding them purple and glowing. Her hand instinctively flew to cover her mouth. Jess closed her hand in a fist before pulling it back to fall against her thighs, fearfully watching her friend's face for her reaction.

Amy stayed quiet and still for several moments, moments Jess spent silently reminding herself of all the reasons Amy shouldn't and wouldn't completely flip out and abandon her.

"It's alright," said Amy eventually. Jess felt numb with disbelief as she stared at her best friend with distant relief. "It's okay," repeated Amy. "Can you control it?"

"So far," mumbled Jess. "I mean, yes, I think so. I never lost control of it yet."

"Is there anything else except the fire?" asked Amy. "Does it affect you?"

"You mean, if it's driving me nuts?" asked Jess. "Not really. Mostly I just make myself crazy worrying. It's probably not going to, right?"

Amy shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, there's no reason it would." She paused. "Did you really not tell anyone?"

"I'm scared SHIELD would do something bad to me if they find out," said Jess, fear clawing at her from the inside. "And I mean really bad, Amy, like sci-fi apocalyptic movies style bad."

"You really think they would?"

"The Avengers sure thought so if it got them to adopt me," Jess reminded her. "And that was when they thought I might maybe someday develop it. Who knows what they'll do when they find out?"

Amy bit her lower lip, thinking. Jess stayed quiet and didn't disturb her.

"Don't tell anyone else," Amy said eventually. "Not unless you feel like you can trust them not to tell SHIELD. Maybe they don't have to find out at all."

"Okay," said Jess, but there were doubts in her mind. Sure, she could hide it forever, if that was an option. But then what was the point of having the ability to shoot strangely colored fire out of your hands? The Avengers all had some kind of special abilities, and they used those to help people. What kind of person would Jess be if she didn't at least try to do the same?

But how could she do it on her own?

How could she ever take the risk of telling?

Quiet.

Quiet and dark.

That was night in New York City for Jess that day walking back to the Tower, despite the famous constant noise the city provided. Pepper always told her she didn't actually have to walk anywhere and that she could be picked up roughly always, but Jess didn't mind the cold air so much, and she liked the opportunity to clear her head.

Tonight, however, it wasn't really working.

Infuriatingly familiar claws of Jess's twisted mind teased her mercilessly as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself and shoved her hands into its warm pockets, her hot breath turning to mist in front of her. The pavement was wet with old rain, and Jess had to struggle not to slip over her boots from time to time. The Tower, visible from just about everywhere in the city, seemed to scream its lights in her face, making her blink her eyes at it and cast them down to stare at her feet, numb with cold. For the millionth time in too little time, Jess wished her brain could be as numb as her body. Not being able to feel began to sound appealing after a while of mental torture.

Lights.

They were the first thing that registered in Jess's brain. The second followed quickly.

Noise.

And then, the last ingredient.

Panic.

Jess didn't have time to wrap her head around what was happening before it was time to react. A car, its lights bright and blinding, practically flew in her direction, making a godforsaken creak as metal scratched asphalt. The car was dark and bent and broken beyond saving, but that Jess's brain only bothered to work out after. At the moment, Jess's world depended on basic and primitive instincts.

She hit the pavement; that she was aware of. How she got there, not so much. She must have jumped out of the car's way, focusing only on the lunge and not on the landing, because the car skidded past her, smashing in a closed store with deafening cacophony. The part of Jess's brain that told her to roll into fetal position and protect her head was slightly more conscience than its predecessor, but not by much as Jess found that there was no stage of consideration, of decision – just reaction, pure and animalistic.

Pain was the next thing Jess knew. Her calf burned, and Jess could feel something wet dripping from what must have been an open wound. The pain combined with the shock from the noise and the trauma – that was enough to make anyone dizzy. So if Jess was slightly out of sorts in the important minutes that followed the crashing car, it was hard to blame her.

She could see a figure approaching her, slowly and confidently. In the dark Jess couldn't make out the face; not until the stranger was standing with his toes an inch from Jess's still crumpled body.

"I know you," murmured Jess faintly. Something was wrong with her head. She could tell by the way her thoughts felt sluggish and stupid. "I saw you in the papers."

The stranger gave a cold smirk. "I could say the same for you," he said. "Jessica Cory, was it? The Avengers' newest pet."

"It's Jess," was all she could say in her hazy state.

"Jess," repeated the dark stranger. "I'll remember that. You said you knew me; prove it." His cold smirk was lifted off his face like a curtain. "Say my name."

Jess blinked. The clouds were slowly fading away; the blow to her head wasn't so bad. Gradually growing horror, trickling through the cracks, was taking the clouds' place. Still, she didn't move, stubbornly refusing to show fear. Say my name, said the stranger. Of course she knew his name. Everyone knew his name.

"Loki," said Jess with an unnerving calm. "You're Loki."

"That's right," said the exiled prince of Asgard with a smile. "And you are coming with me."

A/N: God, that was difficult. I am never writing for Asgard again. All those who can have my utter and eternal respect.

So Loki's coming to town! I'm so excited. That's the beginning of one of the first story arches I came up with regarding OHAM. It should mean updates would become more frequent now, but every time I say that something pops up, so I'm not making any promises.

Violently changing the subject with some shameless self-promotion, I recently made a Tumblr blog for this fanfiction account. It's called thedoctorismyguardian and since it's still new it only has fic ideas and a single Avengers oneshot, but I have a lot of plans for it so it should be really interesting, and it'd be great if you could check it out.

Please leave a review if you liked this chapter or this fic in general and you have a spare 30 seconds!