I did research on Norse clothing- - - most I yielded said the fabrics used are unknown or that they mostly wore wool and animal hide. I didn't stay accurate to this. Just keepin' you in the know.

-XXX-

It's morning when I leave for my walk. Loki declined my offer, staying inside for breakfast. When I depart, he's attempting his tie - a rarity, for he often just tosses some magic on it - and his frustration is mounting. Laughing, I take the scrap of silk in hand and neatly finish the process, straightening the knot before stepping away. Well, making to step away. A pair of hands have found the small of my back, and I'm pressed closer, forced to look up.

There is a curious look in the god's eyes when he thanks me. Something akin to…wistfulness? I don't even know.

"You look nice," I say softly.

His smirk is slow coming. "Don't I always?"

I do not respond, choosing instead to stroke the silk, admiring the pattern. His expression is troubling me. Lately, a lot of his expressions have been confusing, to say the least.

"Going out?" he asks casually.

"Yes." I examine him. "And you? Business this morning?"

On days he stays in Loki typically wears comfortable Asgardian clothes. He never wears these things with ease, though. Always shifting about, plucking at hems and stray threads, rearranging various articles. I have the feeling throughout his life Loki has spent more time wearing formal court clothes than the linen and wool. The loose, drawstring trousers may look nice on him, but the god clearly prefers heavier threads. Such as the suit he's wearing right now, along with his wool coat and scarf.

"Would you not like to know?" he teases.

Of course. Never a straight answer. I pout, sticking my tongue out before leaving the room, a spring in my step.

I take my usual route to the park. Bright leaves drift down from the trees above. I smile, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck. It is a beautiful day. I miss the sprawling beauty of my own city, the expanse of nature and urban land together. New York is nice enough. I've not seen much of it yet, unfortunately. Loki has kept me on a very short leash.

As I walk the leaf-scattered paths of the park, I muse over the happenings of the last five months. Unless I am mistaken, my life has never been in more peril, nor has it ever felt so…right. Frustration rules my days, and I'm living with a person who is more annoying than my last four ex-boyfriends combined, and yet I am undeniably happy. Mind you, there are other emotions in the mix as well. But I am happy. Reasonably fulfilled. Somewhat at peace.

Glowing with my happiness, I become distracted in myself. Which is why, thirty minutes into my walk, I don't right away see the troop of black-suited men that keep cropping up. It's why when a pair of big hands seizes my forearms I am unready for a struggle. It is how I am shoved roughly into the back of a vehicle, and a black cotton bag, rough and unkind, is put over my head. Handcuffs, cold and solid, appear at my wrists. I am told, as the engine starts, to be a good girl and shut up. That I should've realized this was coming. And that Nick Fury wants dearly to speak with me.

-XXX-

This time, it is not any interrogation room I find myself in. It's a conference room, with a big steel oval desk and six very unhappy Avengers seated around it. Even kind Dr. Banner looks displeased with me, though less so than the others. Tony merely appears annoyed. I feel annoyed, knowing my hair has been severely mussed by the bag. Wrists free of the cuffs, I place both hands on the table, and wait. Silence ensues. Uncomfortable and heavy. I mentally sigh.

Nick Fury enters, glowering. "You were supposed to contact us."

"Sorry, but the whole kidnapping scenario didn't exactly give me warm fuzzies toward SHIELD as a whole," I snarl. Under normal circumstances, I would be more than a little fightened. However, I'm not in the cowering mood today. Actually, I am pissed, and if this one-eyed bastard thinks he can intimidate me, he has another think coming. I blame this on Loki's influences. "And I had no means to, anyways."

Fury opens his mouth to retort.

"You have seen my brother," the big blonde says across him.

I look to Thor. "Yes. I have."

"How does he fare?" He sounds cautious, almost wary. It takes me a moment to realize this is Thor-the-big-brother who is speaking, not Thor-the-Avenger. "He worries after Loki. Genuinely."

"Well," I say honestly. "He is doing well."

Across the table, Bruce shifts uncomfortably. The Widow's eyes narrow at me, and what I assume is her counterpart, the stout one known as Hawkeye, lets his own gaze linger on me. It is known that I do not sit among friends. Except, perhaps Tony, who I can see regards Fury with no love.

He is next to speak. It's reassuring - not Tony's style, but appreciated.

"We don't want to take him from the city," the Iron Man begins conversationally, directing his bright, good-humored gaze toward me. "That could be potentially dangerous. Loki smash, and all that. We don't want the disturbance. But," he continues. "It's clear he wishes to stay here. We're willing to strike up a truce."

I frown. Loki really doesn't strike me as the truce type. "And if he isn't willing?"

Banner speaks now, dark eyes serious. "That's where you come in, Tatiana."

"Oh?"

Fury sinks into a chair at the head of the table. "You're the closest thing we have as a mediator between SHIELD and the God of Mischief. He wants nothing to do with Thor, and he won't talk to anyone else. You need to convince him a truce is in his best interests."

"And this truce," I say. "Will really be a truce? Not some kind of scheme to lure him back to Asgard?"

Fury nods, looking to Thor. Uncomfortable, the god says, "It will be a truce. My brother clearly does not wish to come home. We shall not force him. He's done no harm since his fall. All that we ask is that he stay in touch with SHIELD…as a human…what did you name it?"

"Probation," Stark fills in. "He'll be on probation."

I settle back in my set, folding my hands delicately on the cold tabletop. All wait.

"So, what you're saying is, it is too much trouble to try and bring Loki home," I begin, eyes on the ceiling. "So you're willing to keep him in New York - on probation. You want him under your eye, and who knows, he might prove useful. But no one can talk to him and tell him about this cease-fire, because every time one of you tries-and this is the part that is really confusing, excuse me - he's under the impression you're trying to stuff his ass on the next train to Asgard, exactly where he doesn't want to be since he figured out his entire life there was a constructed lie, if what he's hinted on our more touchy-feely conversations has any truth to it. Is that about right?"

The room is very, very quiet. I remove my gaze from the ceiling. Tony is suppressing a smile. Banner appears impressed, the Captain troubled, and the other occupants various degrees of annoyance. The entire room has feel of foreboding hanging about. Nick Fury is impassive.

Tony is first to speak, bringing a hand up to his chin. "So, these touchy-feely conversations! Any chance you might have them recorded, because I am in big need of a-"

Fury cuts him off shortly.

"That would be near the truth," he concedes. "But we have a condition or two. If he doesn't agree, Miss Deror, then I want you to go. Leave. We'll transport, if need be, away to a SHIELD safehouse. He is a dangerous being. If we cannot find a truce, it would be better if you were out of his presence."

"I don't know if I can agree to that," I say, brows raised.

"That's fine," he tells me. "Because if you don't go of your own motivations, we'll take you."

"Ah." The realization dawns. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Of course. "You're using me as a bargaining chip." I am on fire today.

"I wouldn't exactly use that terminology." Fury's lips curl. "Your safety is of an importance to us-"

"Because you think it is important to him." I want to laugh, but suppress the urge. "You'll find that you are wrong. I'm like a…housecat, or something. Entertainment, what he uses to alleviate boredom. He's got some attachment to me, but don't think anything of it. "

Tony laughs then. Loud and freely, with his head thrown back. He'd been getting tense at the words "bargaining chip." Turning to me, he says lightly, "I think you will find otherwise, Tati. He almost had a heartattack when Thor brought you up the last time we had an…encounter. I didn't think he could get any paler."

Thor looks sheepish - well, as sheepish as a god can be - saying, "He's never taken a woman before."

"Whoa." I don't want to think about what he means by "taken." Too many romance novel covers surface in my mind at that reference.

"Excuse me, but I am not, seriously not his 'woman.'"

Tony looks positively gleeful. "Of course not. But, let's get back to business, shall we? Tati," He looks to me, seriousness sliding into his features. Ever the businessman. "Will you help us?"

I hesitate.

Across the table, Bruce Banner leans forward. "Miss Deror. This is the best option for you both. Talk to Loki. See if you can't get him to agree. You're the only one he might speak with."

"I-" All faces are expectant. Even Fury appears intensely interested. "I'll do my best. But this whole grab-and-bag thing has got to stop. If you need to talk to me could we maybe take some more traditional routes? You can't maybe shoot me an email, or maybe one of those nice little picture-postcards dentist send, reminding you of check-ups? Maybe? The grabbing me in the park scenario is getting seriously old."

"Oh yes," Thor murmurs faintly, as the group rises to walk out, Tony at my elbow. "She is certainly my brother's woman."

"He's rubbing off on her," Stark explains, apologetic. "Come along, Tatiana."

-XXX-

Stark is kind enough to drive me back to the park after a late lunch downtown, with Banner in tow. By the time we exit the Tower (I am dismayed to find the hour-long drive in that wretched SUV took me to the Tower, and not further away) it's late afternoon. Tony takes us to a diner he knows and loves, ordering nothing but coffee and pie for himself. Banner orders sandwich, but I'm too shaken to order right away.

"Why…me?" I ask abruptly. Both men look up, startled, from their mugs. Silence had ruled since we stepped into the car together. My voice breaks this.

Banner exchanges a quick glance with Tony. "You'll have to ask Loki," he says simply.

"Yes, but he's not telling," I stress. "I've asked a thousand times why he's brought me here, why me, why he does he stay with me, why…everything. And now this…." I drift off.

Tony frowns. "You didn't come to New York yourself?"

"Did I come here looking for him? No. Besides," I snort. "Would I be wearing this-" I indicate the fawn-coloured boots and green velvet jacket I'd donned this morning. "-if I'd packed for myself?"

"Fair point," he says dryly.

Bruce sighs. "You're a good person," he says. "Compassionate. It would be hard for him not to drawn to you. He feels…abandoned. Through everything, you've stayed with him."

"Not always by choice."

The food arrives. I finally order a salad, then sit back to watch men eat. There is a comfort between them. Scientist and inventor. They fit, I think, quite nicely. Both men of the mind. And opposite enough to make sense. Gentle, shy Bruce, and the quick-witted, loud-mouth Tony. Each quirky in his own right. They catch me smiling. Both grin back, Tony lazily, Bruce with a low-key charm.

"I don't particularly like SHIELD," I tell them. "Especially not with this new deal. I cannot help it if Loki doesn't agree. So, why do I get 'taken-'" I use air quotes here. "-if he is the one the whole thing applies to?"

Tony sits back. "It's insurance. They know he is bound to get angry once you disappear. They're hoping to use that anger as an excuse to send him back, or to force a truce on him."

"So…if he doesn't agree, they'll trick him back into Asgard? Tricking the Trickster?"

Bruce nods. "He will be treated fairly there," he assures me, swallowing a bite of sandwich. "According to Thor, his family is sick with worry over him, and the people as a whole like him okay. He'll be punished, yeah, but probably nothing worse than what we hand out here." He gestures, as if referring to America or the world as whole. "And he's a god, besides."

"That doesn't mean it won't hurt any less." I shake my head, fiddling with the nearby salt shaker.

"I don't know if I can talk him into it."

Bruce finds my hands, squeezing. "You need to try."

My salad arrives. Fingers sliding from Bruce's cool, calloused hand, I look down. There is a long pause, filled with the bustle of the dinner around us and the sound of the men chewing.

"I don't want him to get hurt," I whisper. "I really, really don't want that. But I know he'll tear this place apart if he does decide to come looking for me."

"He will," Tony says confidently. "And Tati, it's for his own good. We just want to make sure he's not scheming."

Oh, if only I knew. I cannot even tell them if he is. I mean, it's hard enough to convince him to inform me of where he's been just over th course of the day. For all I know, he could already be enacting some great plan for the Earth's demise. Just what is the stolen jewely set - his "batteries" - for, anyways?

I can only hope. Biting into a cherry tomato, I decide to push my fears aside - there will be plenty of time for worry and debate tonight. For now, I relax enough to enjoy the company of these two highly intelligent gentlemen. The science-y banter is quite…stimulating. I am reminded of myself on a tour - they pause to explain things every so often. It's comforting to hear other voices for the first time in a week or so.

-XXX-

By the time I am in front of the stoop, the street lights are flickering on, buzzing to life as the sun dunks beneath the horizon line. With any luck, Loki will not yet be home - which is, even I admit, unlikely. I open the door slowly, trying not to let my keys jingle. With great caution, I step inside, surveying the scene before me. The foyer, parlor, and stairs are empty. I hear not a sound.

Fully crossing the threshold, I turn to remove my hat and scarf, and I am just shrugging out of the velvet jacket when a small noise stops me. The sound of tapping.

Turning very, very slowly, I look to the stairs.

The god stands on the landing, fingers beating out a rhythm against the wood railing. There is a dangerous glint in his eye. I lose breath as he descends down slowly.

-XXX-

He came home in a fantastic mood. Positively beaming. All of his transactions today went well-he was another step closer to finding the Vinters, the last owners of his pendant. A lead had turned up well. It pointed him to Boston. A trip was in order.

Then he'd promptly realized Tati was missing. He didn't begin any searching, having a sneaking suspicion of her location. His connection to her ring told him clearly that she was alive, well, angry and nervous, but out of harm's way. This could only mean one thing - SHIELD.

Livid, the god raged about the house for a few hours, then put it all back with a wave of his hand. He has been moping around about the time she returns. He has sensed it, naturally, and was prepared. Gone is the Midgardian suit. He appears decked out in his battlewear.

Tatiana stands her ground, clearly still burning from her little chat with the Avengers earlier in the day.

"My dear half-wit," he fumes delicately. "It seems you've had quite an…enterprising day."

-XXXX-

Ah, I just love the Avengers. Writing this chapter was great fun! What'd ya think? We've got a rather nifty comment box here now, so why don't you give it a good test run and submit a review?