This chapter was almost going to be longer, but then I decided to combine it with the next chapter instead. So, next chapter is going to be super lengthy, mehehehe. Not to mention you'll probably grow to hate a certain character even more in said chapter.

Accrediting time! So yes, last chapter, the wolves thing was actually inspired partly by the whole Fenrir mythology bit (although he doesn't exist in this particular universe, I can't help but allude to it. And who wouldn't want Loki to have an affiliation with wolves?!) and another by a hotel commercial. I know, the latter sounds absolutely outlandish, but if you search up 'shangri la hotel commercial wolves' or something of the like on YouTube, you'll see what I mean. I saw it in Hong Kong once and it gave me so many feels I gushed.

(Also, sorry for this unnecessary comment, but seriously. I fell in love with writing Tony. You guys will see about seven or so chapters from now. He's absolutely wonderful.)

Before anything else, can I say asldkfjal;ksdfja;fd?! Writers who I consider in my mind to be rather well-known Avengers fanfic writers are now following this story?! I am so, so honored and shocked. Seriously! An enormous thank you to every single person who reads this story, and a great big hug to those that take time to give me reviews. They seriously make me so happy and I just love publishing this story even more.

Natasha woke with a jolt. She could hear her heartbeat against her pillow as her eyes slowly adjusted to the still young night. She dug her nails into the sheets underneath her. Yes, she could feel it. She could feel the soft cloth, the springy mattress, the smooth covers. This was reality. This was no dream.

She turned her head to face the alarm clock. One seventeen in the morning. She had only slept for a good hour and judging by the way her heart beat against her throat and the tingling of her skin, she wasn't going to fall asleep again anytime soon. She ruffled her cropped red hair, trying to shake the remnants of her dreams out of her head, before sitting up. It was very silent, rather disturbingly so, for a night in the city.

"Dammit," she said under her breath, leaning her head against the wall. She could still see the dream playing in her head and she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that time would take its toll on her subconscious memory and run it thin until she could hardly remember it. She knew she wouldn't be so lucky. This was not the first time, nor will it be the last.

She didn't remember the faces, at least. The many faces that were the manifestation of her past festered in her dreams, reenacting memories she knew were too real. This time, she had killed a child again. She hadn't even hesitated in her dream, and deep inside she feared her subconscious had yet to let go of her assassin days.

Well, sleep wasn't going to be her best friend tonight. She dragged herself out of the bed and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. Stark's name was stitched like a flag on the front and she rued the day she let him provide her free clothes. It was too difficult to pass up the offer of free things, though.

Water. She needed water. She could taste that sour aftertaste of a bad dream on the roof of her mouth and it made her cringe. She slipped out of her bedroom and felt her way through the hallway to the joint kitchen on the floor. Tony had dedicated an entire floor to the SHIELD agents assigned to Loki's stay, claiming he didn't need more SHIELD noses sticking around in more of his tower than he'd like. He offered Clint and Natasha a separate quarter, claiming that they were 'a bit more acceptable than the others' but they both declined.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured icy water into it from the fridge. The lights were off and she accidentally spilled half of it on the counter. She cursed under her breath and used a dishrag to wipe it aside. For an assassin, she didn't work quite as well in pitch black as others, but she refuse to turn on the lights. The last thing she needed was to switch on the lights and have something pop out in front of her like in a horror movie.

She sat on the counter, pensive, slowly sipping the water that numbed her tongue. Now she completely forgot what the faces and voices sounded like in her dream, but it didn't matter. She still remembered a child's form in front of her. She remembered pointing a handgun at that blond little head and pulling the trigger. She remembered feeling nothing as she walked past the body, and she shuddered.

They said the subconscious was more truthful than anything else, and yet she wanted to deny every bit of it. Was that even possible?

She was about to take another gulp of water when she paused. There was a dark figure outside the window on the outer deck. She froze, all memories of every horror movie involving the paranormal flooding her head (she refused to tell anyone, even Clint, that such movies freaked her out because ghosts weren't even real, for goodness' sake, what was there to be afraid of?), before the figure shifted slightly, its face barely illuminated by the glow of Stark's tower lights.

"Oh, it's you," she said to herself.

Loki was sitting on the edge of the outer deck, his face blank. Natasha remembered what Thor said about Loki jumping to his suicide attempt on Asgard and she hesitated. She certainly didn't pride herself in understanding Loki, as much as she was able to manipulate him for information; would he really have the same sentiments as he did back then?

Well, Thor wouldn't appreciate it if she just watched his little brother potentially jump to his second death. Sighing heavily, she pushed the glass of water aside and made her way to the door leading to the outer deck. He did not react when she stepped outside, walking towards him. It was chilly tonight and Natasha noticed Loki was only wearing a pair of dark pants and a thin button-down shirt, no doubt a hand-me-down from Tony.

"Aren't you cold or something?" she said.

She didn't expect any sort of answer and she was satisfied. Loki continued staring at the brightly lit skeleton of New York City, his face illuminated by its vibrant hues. She continued to stand behind him, her hands hidden in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. She began to regret not bringing at least a taser with her.

"I thought SHIELD agents were supposed to be guarding your room," she said.

Loki shot a sidelong glance at her that said, You truly believe I can't outsmart that crowd?

She shrugged. "Honestly, I'm surprised you were even able to move, considering your state."

Loki scowled and turned away from her. She gave a soft laugh at his bruised pride before stepping next to him. She stayed clear from the edge; even if he was powerless, it didn't take a master warrior to push someone off a building.

"Can't sleep again?" she said.

Loki raised his eyebrows questioningly at her.

"I sort of woke up in the middle of the night," she said. "That's all."

He shook his head.

"I'm serious," she said.

You're lying, said his eyes.

She clenched her teeth. It wasn't fair he had the inherent ability to be a living lie detector.

"What about you?" she said. "What brought you outside?"

He shrugged, returning his gaze to the streets of New York City. She crouched next to him.

"You aren't thinking of jumping, are you?" Sweet, straight, to the point. Very unlike herself. Of course, there was no reason to lie here.

A corner of his lips twitched. She wondered if she ought to feel worried. Somewhere, deep inside, she was.

Self-preservation, of course. She wouldn't want Thor guilt-tripping her for an eon and onward.

"I doubt you'd die, anyway," said Natasha. "If you already went through all this and are still fighting, I doubt a five-hundred or so feet drop would do much to you. You're frustratingly strong."

A wry smile flitted past his features before dissolving immediately.

"And I doubt you're out here stargazing, either," she said. "This is New York City. All the light pollution hides the stars from view. We'd be lucky if we saw a single constellation."

Loki grimaced, indisputably disapproving of humans and their polluting ways.

"We have our faults," said Natasha. "We do things we shouldn't do. But that's the same with any living creature. That doesn't make us any more inferior."

She sat down, letting her legs dangle over the edge. She could feel Loki's sidelong gaze on her face and kept her composure.

"See that over there?" She pointed to a little ways off in Manhattan. A small, warm glow emitted from the streets. "That's a monument for that one time you came to Earth."

He shot a skeptical glance at her, almost judgmental if she didn't know better.

"Not for us," she said. "There's definitely not a monument for the Avengers for that day. A lot of people died that day. That memorial is for them. To remember them."

He furrowed his eyebrows confusedly.

"We don't just commemorate soldiers," said Natasha. "We want to remember everyone. They shouldn't have died. They didn't deserve it."

Loki picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.

"The names of all the people are written on it," said Natasha. "They're all worth remembering."

He turned disbelievingly at her.

"Of course they are," said Natasha. "Just because they didn't fight in the war doesn't mean they aren't worth honoring. They were innocent people."

He made a face and shook his head. Natasha had the urge to slap him.

"Look, I know that you people on Asgard think that only the strong warriors who can bench press five hundred oxen are the ones worth remembering, but that's not how we do it here on Earth," she said. "Every human life is valuable. It meant something to a lot of others. That's just as powerful as fighting a war."

Loki tilted his head, genuinely perplexed. Natasha could only be thankful that Asgard's way was not the only way.

"There was this one show that Tony watches all the time," she said. "And the main character is this really powerful alien creature. Sort of like you. Except nicer, maybe."

He narrowed his eyes and Natasha couldn't help but chuckle.

"Just a little bit nicer. But he had a lot of power and could go anywhere he wanted. He lived for hundreds of years, but he always said that everyone he has ever met, every human and every creature, in his nine hundred years, was important. Was special. Not because of their fighting abilities, or what they can do, but who they are. What kind of person they could be for others and for themselves. If only you could realize that."

Loki took in a deep breath. Natasha leaned forward to catch sight of his face. His face was impassive.

"Do you even regret it at all?" she said.

He turned his gaze to her.

Do you? his green eyes said to her.

She bit the tip of her tongue.

I do, she thought. I do. I don't know how to, but I do.

She looked into his eyes and somehow she knew that he understood her thoughts, even without her saying anything. She swallowed and faced the cityscape.

"It doesn't matter how I feel or what I want," she said. "The dead are still dead."

He bowed his head as if in agreement.

"Why'd you do it?" she said.

He narrowed his eyes briefly.

"Thor mentioned you were trying to take revenge on him," said Natasha. "Of course, I'm sure you would be less than pleased to admit that Thor may understand you more than you want, so you'd say it was something else."

She thought she could see his eyebrow twitch with irritation.

"Do you really hate Earth?" she said.

His eyes said it all in his snarky glory.

If I hated it, why would I intend to rule it?

She shrugged. "Because you had nothing else to rule?"

She was so certain he would have hit her—hard—if she wasn't out of his reach. Before, he would be positively annoyed by her; here, he was enraged, but he bottled it in that lithe form of his until he was virtually shuddering in his bones from the pressure.

"You claimed you were born to be a king," said Natasha. "Thing is, you were acting more like a dictator than a king."

His eyes flashed. The shadows on his face sharpened.

"I'm probably saying all the things you don't want to hear, am I?" she said.

He gritted his teeth.

"Good," she said.

He did not move. She wondered what went through his head. Even when she outsmarted him, she could never understand him. She wondered if anyone could at all.

"Did you ever finish reading that book you stole from me?" she said.

He gave a quick smirk and nodded.

"Does O Mighty Loki approve?" she said.

He shrugged, feigning indifference.

"Not bad for mortal literature, right?" she said.

A small smile played on his lips.

"Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon stage and then is heard no more," she quoted. "Not sure if immortal people like you understand."

He nodded.

I do, said his silence. I do.

"Ambition's a dirty thing," she said.

He glanced at her as if to tell her he had caught on with her ploy a long time ago.

"Are you ever going to return that book to me?" said Natasha. "I actually was going to show them to Thor at one point. He was interested in Midgardian art, apparently."

She probably would have had more success if she didn't mention Thor. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'll trade you another book," she said. "What about The Tragedy of Julius Caesar?' Or Hamlet? I think you'll enjoy those a lot. It's from the same writer."

The flicker of curiosity and desire passed his face and she knew she hit the jackpot. She wondered if all they needed to do to avoid the whole New York City disaster was to bribe Loki with books and goodies. Sometimes hindsight was less than desirable.

Before she could react, Loki suddenly climbed onto his feet, his eyes glued to something below them. He strode quickly to the edge of the deck a little ways off, close to the end of the railing. He bent down a little, leaning forward to look below them. Natasha narrowed her eyes, rising to her feet and following him. Was there a threat to Stark Tower? She was now berating herself for not bringing even a cell phone to contact the other SHIELD agents.

"What is it?" she said, leaning forward beside him.

It was Loki of all people, so she shouldn't have been surprised when she felt the hand shove her back. She shouldn't have been surprised when she reeled over the edge, losing her balance and starting to plunge to the sidewalk hundreds of feet below them.

She should, and certainly was, surprised when Loki's hand immediately caught hers before she fell over, her toes still caught on the edge of the deck, her heart nearly leaping out of her mouth.

She turned her head sharply, her pulse ramming against her skin as she swayed dangerously over certain death. Loki had one hand latched on the railing to keep him steady, his other linked to hers. His face was blank.

Why? she wanted to ask, but found herself too breathless to speak. What for?

Are you scared? asked his eyes. Do you think I'll let go?

She dangled threateningly, her toes barely keeping their grip on the edge of the floor. She felt his hand keep its iron-like grip on her, as if to mold his fingers to perfectly fit around her wrist.

"I know you won't let go," she said.

His face did not change. Nor did the grip on her hand tighten or loosen. He stared at her, threatening, demanding, questioning.

In a swift motion, she used the strength in her arm to pull herself up. With her other hand she grabbed the front of his shirt. Her weight jerked him down until he too hung hazardously over the edge. His grip on the rail strained, and she was sure his arms shaking. They were like suicidal characters from myths seen only in photographs and surreal art, clinging to life by only one pale hand.

"But if you do let go," she said, "I'm taking you down with me."

Their faces were mere inches apart. There was no satisfied smirk on his face, but there was an unquenchable fire in his emerald eyes, like a fire lit by a pyromaniac meant for destruction and wild amusement. She gripped the front of his shirt tighter until her nails grazed his chest, glaring up at him the entire time, daring him to make a move.

I dare you, she thought. I'll show you. I dare you.

Slowly but surely, he pulled the both of them back onto the deck. Her heart rate returned to normal she felt the solid ground against the soles of her feet, as Loki pulled her close and away from the edge of the outer deck. They both backed away, his arm still around her, before they reached the steps. She pulled away, searching his face for an answer.

He studied her as well. A crooked smile graced his features for a moment.

She was almost certain she understood what he meant.

"I'm not afraid for my own life," she said. "Why would I?" She shoved her hands back into the front pocket of the sweatshirt. "I only fear the deaths of others. You already knew that."

He inclined his head slightly. That I did, said his silence.

Nothing, and then—

"Are you as crazy as you play to be?" she said.

He blinked once. Twice. Then he smiled.

Only as crazy as you are, said his still lips.

She wanted to punch him.

"You're exhausting," she said. She turned back to the tower and opened the door. The warmth of the sitting room beckoned her. She turned back.

"Are you coming in or not?" she said.

He shrugged, his hands behind his back, watching the muddied black sky.

"Agents are going to drag you in if they find you here," she said. "Or, you know, I'll inform them myself. They'll tighten up security and everything."

He didn't move from his spot.

"You're going to freeze if you stay out here," she said.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter.

She pressed her lips in frustration. Did this man have an ounce of self-preservation? She marched forward and took a firm grasp of his elbow. He jerked his arm, trying to pull away, but she held on tighter.

"I'm not having you trying to run away," she said. "You'll collapse before you're five steps away from this place even if you try."

Loki scowled but let her pull him inside. It didn't escape her senses when he stumbled in his steps. She gritted her teeth, wondering if she had to make up for his lack of self-preservation.

"I know, I know," she said. "I said you were frustratingly strong. Doesn't mean you heal fast, though."

She closed the door behind them, making sure to lock it tight. They stood silently in the sitting room, almost awkward to be truthful.

"Are you going to go back to your room on your own, or are you going to run off again?" she said.

He shrugged. She rolled her eyes.

"Your choice," she said. "But SHIELD will not be as lenient with you if they catch you walking around as I am."

He tilted his head curiously. Why, he asked.

"Because," she said. "I know you respect me in your own twisted way. And in my own twisted way, I trust you."

His eyes widened slightly and he raised his gaze to her, his lips slightly parted in question. She did not break his gaze; they remained so for a long time.

He smiled and bowed his head. Somehow, Natasha knew that telling this truth was inexplicably the right thing to say.

You can't trust lies, said her common sense.

Well, said her honesty. Who's to say what's true and what's false?

"Whatever you do, I'm off," she said. "Good night."

Without a glance back, she retreated into the corridor and slipped into her room. She shed the gauze remnant of his gaze from her back and moved to lock the door. Her hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment before letting it fall to her side.

"JARVIS?" she said quietly.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Is Loki still in the sitting room?"

"Mr. Odinson appears to be absent from the room. Shall I search for him around the premise for you?"

Her lips curled into an ironic smile.

"Nah," she said. "It's all right."

She crawled into bed and not long after, she fell asleep.

The next morning, Natasha found her copy of The Tragedy of Macbeth right outside her door.

The next morning, Loki found Julius Caesar at his.