A/N: Oh, the complexities and mood swings! I wouldn't have my 'ships any other way.

Sif leaned over Loki's unconscious form, gliding her fingers lightly over the raw flesh of his cheek. She lost track of how long she had been sitting at his side, lost in the image of his scarred but serene features. She tried not think about how he got those scars. Nor did she dwell on all the complexities that lay beneath the surface of the pale skin stretched across his brow. She only wanted to be in the moment. To touch him, to watch over him, to press the heat of her lips on the cold line of his mouth.

She felt the tingling warmth of his exhale on her cheek, and it made her smile, like she was getting away with something. A sleeping Loki couldn't spoil the moment with a snide remark. Nor could he cower away from her affection, which she was regrettably anxious to smother him in now that she finally had him to herself.

Sif had waited hours for this: Waited patiently while Thor carried his brother's broken form into the palace, through the great halls and into the healing room. Waited anxiously while Eir and her apprentices had treated his critical injuries. Waited faithfully at Thor's side as the King addressed the city's populace, informing them of their prince's mysterious but miraculous return. Waited silently outside of the healing room—no one was allowed in while Eir did a follow-up analysis—while Thor paced and responded to Volstagg and Fandral's questions with shrugs of ignorance.

Finally she had him to herself. It was merely a small window of time before Eir would return to continue treating him, but it was enough. She only needed a few stretched moments to feel the silk of his hair between her fingers, to watch the gentle rise and fall of his bandaged chest. His body easily filled the length of Eir's table, bare heels perched at the very edge. The healers had dressed him in simple linen pants with a draw string top, beige in color. Loki would surely hate it upon awakening and demand his dark leathers, but until that moment Sif was going to appreciated the façade of innocence that lay before her.

She was postponing all of her questions, all of her frustration and all of her anxiety, to simply be here with him. There would be ample time for pressing concerns once he woke up. She was just happy to have him back, to check his well-being off of her worry list. He wasn't exactly well, what with the hole through his chest, plus all the lacerations, burns and bruises, but he was alive and he would recover, just as Sif had always recovered from her grave battle injuries.

She lowered herself to a grazing distance from his lips again and just hung there, closing her eyes and breathing him in. He was so at peace like this, so beautiful and powerless when his torrential mind was at rest.

"How dare you," Sif whispered. How dare he lure her like this again. How dare he play such a crucial role in her life, and in the lives of those closest to her. How dare he play with his life so recklessly when there were so many who cherished it...even those he has yet to meet.

Sif stole one last kiss while she had the chance, hearing Eir's footsteps in the hall outside, drawing closer. She drew the kiss out to the very last moment, and then a second longer. She couldn't help it.

"Do be careful not to suffocate him," Eir said flatly upon entering the room.

Sif sat up rigidly as the elder immediately went to work, pulling up an array of sparkling charts that mapped Loki's body. Sif rose from his side and took a step back, allowing Eir enough space to work. She didn't mask her awe at the healer's skill, watching wide-eyed as delicate hands worked through layers of data indecipherable to a warrior. Eir was truly the master of her craft.

"Do you see this cavity?" Eir asked, highlighting what Sif could recognize as the wound that spanned from Loki's back to his chest. Sif nodded. "It is not an illusion. It is very real and it would have killed him if left untreated."

A chill shot down Sif's spine, even though this wasn't news to her. She could see at first glance, when she had found Loki's body on the shore, that his wound was real, and could only deduce one reason for it being there. "It is there to confirm the conditions of his death," Sif said quietly, "as Thor had reported it."

"I know why it is here," Eir spoke with an edge. "It is part of his deception."

Sif dropped her gaze, guilty.

"It's clever enough to fool Thor," Eir continued, manipulating the charts so only the cross section of the wound was visible. "To fool you if you didn't know any better, to fool the All-Father when he awakens, even to fool my apprentices who lack proper experience in these matters."

"I get it," Sif said impatiently. "You're not fooled."

"Look at this," Eir ordered, highlighting only the projection of the wound so it stood out. She pointed to the middle of his back. "The spear entered here, traveled up at an angle breaking these ribs and puncturing a lung," she traced the path she was describing with her finger. "It then pierced through his chest, cracking the sternum."

Sif shrugged, blinking at Eir. "Okay?"

Eir continued, clearly displeased about something. "Heimdall had told me that Kurse impaled Loki on a sword, and that is what killed him. The same sword that Loki had first run through the monster."

"That matches up to Thor's report," Sif added, wishing Eir would get to her point.

"Not taking into account the angle of this wound, the point of entry, or how this type of injury would have taken hours if not days to kill even a stunted frost giant..." Eir blew up the image even more, specifically highlighting the shape of the entry wound. "Look at that."

Sif looked. The wound on his back was a gaping hole, a near perfect circle. Not the kind of wound a sword would make.

Sif crossed her arms. "Elder, please just tell me what you're getting at."

With a strong swipe, Eir made all of the charts vanish. She then stared at Sif with a piercing disappointed. "You have involved me in this deception."

Sif shrank. "What?"

"I have to document every detail of these injuries," Eir explained sternly. "It is my duty to accurately describe the cause, the weapon, and the time at which the injury occurred. Not one of these factors coincides with Thor's account of Loki's death. All anyone would have to do is read my report to know that."

Sif could only shake her head, at a loss. What was she expecting her to do about it? Alter the past?!

"Don't you realize the position you have forced me into?" Eir gave her a pleading look now. "By failing to tell Thor of Loki's tricks, you have passed that burden onto me."

"No!" Sif blurted. "You can't."

"I will not compromise my duty for this."

Sif believed her. It was Eir after all who had taught Sif at a young age about the importance of duty, and the integrity of honesty. "Please, just give me another day."

"You had a week to tell Thor the truth." Eir turned and created with magic a small window. In it was a live feed of Thor, who was in his feasting hall with the Warriors Two. "Thor," she spoke to the window and Thor turned to look at her. "Please report to the healing room." She then closed the feed by disintegrating the window, not even waiting for Thor's response.

"What are you doing?" Sif barked, insulted. "I have this under control. I do not need your intervention."

"Under control," Eir echoed, unconvinced. "All of Asgard believes Loki to be a resurrected martyr, transcendent of the prophesies, returned to us for some great and unknown purpose."

"Is that..." Sif dared. "Is that such a bad thing?"

Eir shook her head. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"This is his chance for redemption," Sif argued weakly.

"It is not redemption if it is founded on a lie." Eir didn't budge an inch. "I did not bring you up to behave this way. You have let yourself fall victim to..." she gestured at Loki, who seemed to sleep through this entire ordeal. "His enchantments."

Sif straightened her stance and lifted her chin. "I know what I am doing."

"Then do it already." Eir commanded. She then turned to the table behind her and slid a small vial out from a row of bottled ointments and tinctures. Her voice softened, thankfully, signaling the lecturing was done. "Have Thor help you move him to his bedroom. He needs plenty of rest. And apply this balm to his wounds once a day. It will speed up the healing process. Do it once you two have moved him."

"Yes, Elder," Sif sighed.

Eir moved around the table then placed her hand on Sif's tensed arm. "Be angry at me all you want. It won't make it any easier." She then left the room.

Sif shook her head and cast her glance down to Loki. "You should be the one to tell Thor, not me."

"Tell me what?" came Thor's booming timbre from behind. "Is everything okay, Sif?" He cast his glance around the room. "Where's Eir?"

"She um..." Sif took a deep breath. "She left."

Thor was perplexed. "But she just called me in here."

"She wants us to move Loki to his bedroom." That was where Sif will tell Thor everything. In the comfort of a space that will remind him of their childhood. That should help cushion the blow right? And with Loki in such a helpless state, how mad could Thor actually get to learn he had been deceived, again. Multiple times. In multiple ways.

Sif winced.

"Okay." Thor looked at her strangely as he moved to the opposite side of Loki. "So, we each grab an arm?" He bent over and wrapped Loki's limp arm around his neck.

"Yes." Sif awkwardly followed suit, lifting Loki's other arm and ducking her head under it. "Support his torso when we lift him. The wound is still fresh. We don't want to worsen it."

They both lifted Loki to sit up, their arms supporting his body. Loki's chin dropped to his chest, hair falling forward and masking his features.

"On my count, we slide him— Wait," Thor interrupted himself. "What do mean the wound is fresh?" He gave Sif a quizzical look. "It happened weeks ago."

Sif blinked, returning Thor's stare with a shifty one of her own. She really wasn't making this easier on herself. "Right. The wound is fresh because..." She paused. This was not where she wanted to begin the story, telling Thor right away that Loki's death was a lie. She had to ease into that bit. "Because..."

"Because wounds do not heal in Helheim," came a faint but smooth voice from beneath Loki's stringy locks.

"Loki!" Thor said excitedly, lifting Loki's chin until he could see the dark, sunken eyes. "Brother, you..." It took a moment for Loki's words to sink in. "You went to Helheim?"

Sif breathed a long sigh if relief. Thank the Eternal, Loki had spared her of this burden.

"I'll tell you all about it," Loki said to Thor, "once you remove me from this dreadfully hard operating table."

"Of course!" Thor assured. He and Sif did as Loki requested and slid his body off of the table. They then carefully moved him into the hall, supporting his weight but letting him walk minimally on his own, his bare feet dragging on the cold marble floor.

"Tell us, Loki," Sif spoke up, looking Loki deep in the eyes. He looked so drained, she almost felt guilty for pressing him like this. "Why were you in Helheim?"

Loki squinted at her. "I don't entirely know..." He then smirked. Sif started to get an uneasy feeling, like she was trusting a snake to sprout legs and walk itself out of the shadows.

They reached the grand staircase that led to the royal family's private chambers. Each step was a challenge for Loki but he pressed on. He didn't want to be fully carried. "I can only assume," Loki continued, his words labored, "my Jotunn blood split upon Svartalfheim was enough to confuse the Valkyries." He then turned to Thor. Sif could feel her burden of regret growing heavier. He was only digging them in deeper. "As far as I know, they don't allow frost giants into Valhalla."

Thor was not pleased with this information. "You were raised an Aesir," he argued in Loki's favor. "You died as nobly as all Aesir warriors before you. What possibly is there to confuse?" Thor looked to Sif. "Did the Valkyries speak of this to you?"

Sif opened her mouth and shrugged, clueless how she was supposed to answer that. Then Loki cut in. She shouldn't have let him.

"My questions were the same as yours, Thor," Loki explained with a brilliant act of innocence. "As I woke up on the frozen grounds of Helheim, surrounded by those wretched Nyblings who proceeded to ravage my flesh, one thing kept passing through my mind." Loki paused as they stopped in front of his bedroom door. "Where is my daughter?"

Thor searched Loki's eyes, cross-checking him for the truth. Sif couldn't see Loki's face but she could picture the severe puppy dog eyes he was probably laying on Thor.

"Brother," Thor said, squeezing Loki's shoulder. "As grateful as I am for your return, I intend to have a talk with the Valkyries."

"You mean," Loki teased, "in preparation for the next time I am slaughtered on your behalf?"

"Let's get him into bed," Sif interrupted, opening the tall, heavy door and leading them into the room. She couldn't let Loki keep lying. It would only hurt them both in the long run. Plus if neither of them came forward with the truth soon, then Eir or Heimdall would, and that would only injure Thor even more to have heard it from an outside source.

"So little Hela brought you back to life?" Thor asked in disbelief, helping Loki into the over-sized bed while Sif pulled back the covers. The bed had been recently made by the servants, by Sif's request. In fact, she had asked they tidy his entire room. No one had slept in it since Loki's fall from Bifrost. She wanted Loki to feel at home, as if years hadn't passed since he last slept in his own bed.

"If it wasn't for Hel, I would not be here," Loki replied to Thor, wincing as he adjusted his back against the headboard. Sif grabbed a pillow and carefully wedged it between his body and the board, giving him disapproving looks every time he caught her eye. Physically she wanted all his comforts met, but she wasn't ready to ease up on his conscience.

"Why did she take so long in sending you back?" Thor asked skeptically.

"My daughter is..." Loki paused and a genuine sadness fell over his features. "A very troubled soul." He then lowered his gaze and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thor," he pleaded. "I can't talk about this now. I'm just too...tired, and—"

"Loki," Thor cut in, placing his hand on Loki's knee. Loki looked up at him with glistening eyes. "You don't have to."

Sif sighed. So much for Thor's skepticism. Although she had to admit, that was a pretty convincing display on Loki's part. For all she knew, that bit about Hel was true.

"Thor?" Sif spoke up. "There's a small vial of balm in the healer's room, one Eir mixed especially for Loki. Would you mind getting it? I left it on the counter."

"Of course." Thor nodded agreeably. He then left the room, not even flinching at the fact that he was King and shouldn't be ordered to fetch anything. He was such a good soul. Sif was surely going to burn for deceiving him for this long.

"No more lies," Sif declared once Thor was gone. She took a seat at the edge of the bed and impaled Loki with a decisive look. "This deception has to end now."

Loki snorted. "Now is not the time for double standards, Sif. You've managed to lie to everyone for the last thirteen years, by your own will. What I'm asking of you is hardly out of your comfort zone."

Sif bristled at that, her fist clenching with a need to retaliate. She held it back only because Loki's body was already broken. "I am through lying to everyone," she spoke resolutely. "I'm going to come clean to Thor, and Ollerus, which means I want them to know the full truth of your actions."

"If you do that, everything I just went through will be for nothing." Loki's weakened state certainly wasn't hindering his ability to argue.

"Then you should have let me in on your plan."

"You would have tried to stop me."

"Damn straight I would have!" Finally, Sif thought, he was starting to talk some sense. "You're only digging yourself in deeper, and your dragging me down with you. Plus you nearly got yourself killed!"

Loki paused, studying the worry that must be showing in her eyes. "Give me time," he spoke with a softer tone. "I will make it right. But...let me have this homecoming. Allow Asgard time to warm up to me, so when I finally tell them the truth, they will listen openly."

Sif took a deep breath, shaking her head. "I don't like this."

"You know I've never been given a fair shot at winning the people's love." Loki now tried the puppy dog eyes on her. "I've always been kept in the shadow."

Sif wasn't falling for it. "You could have stepped out at any time. You chose to stay in shadow." Loki's mouth twitched. He clearly did not want to hear this. Sif continued anyway. "I could've stayed in the shadow of men, pitying myself for being born a woman. But I didn't."

Thor's presence then interrupted what had become a contentious stare down.

Loki didn't take his eyes off of Sif. She must have seriously struck a nerve, a small victory on her part. "What took you so long?" he asked his brother.

"Do you have an idea how many bottles of balm there were in there?" Thor complained, handing the vial to Sif from across the bed.

Loki squinted at the label as the bottle passed over him. "Yes, but how many have 'For Loki' written on upon them?" He rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," Thor barked, kneeling onto the bed and pulling Loki into a mighty hug. Loki groaned as Thor wasn't taking his injuries into account. Again. "It's good to have you back." He attacked Loki's head, planting a kiss on one side and completely disheveling his hair on the other.

Loki was defenseless, much to Sif's satisfaction. She could see by the shiftiness in his eyes that he had no choice but accept the affection, and to hug his brother back. His battered arms lifted feebly then curved over the royal red cape, the long fingers splaying over thick folds of fabric. Sif was touched by the sight, flooded by memories of earlier, more simpler times of the three of them together. It melted away some of her current frustration at Loki.

Loki's voice strained over Thor's shoulder. "You really have no concept what my body has endured."

Thor finally released him and scooted back off of the bed. Neither brother could make eye contact for a few moments. Through the wane of Thor's warm smile, Sif could see his own internal debate with his feelings for Loki. She imagined he faced an even greater conflict than she did, what with everything that had happened since Loki's fall from Bifrost.

The silence stretched on, so Sif figured it would be a good time to start applying the balm to Loki's wounds. With subtle movements, she scooted to the foot of the bed, twisting the cap off of the vial and scooping a small dollop with two fingers. She started at Loki's feet, waiting for somebody to say something.

Thor broke the silence. "Loki, I am in your debt."

"Or the score is even," she interjected. She couldn't help herself. She would not have Loki feed off of Thor's misplaced guilt. "Have you forgotten about the events on Midgard?"

Sif felt both sets of eyes upon her now. Thor shifted his stance to address her. "I thought you said you weren't dwelling on unpleasant memories."

She glanced at him briefly. "I'm not. But you should." She didn't look at Loki but she could feel his glare.

Thor turned back to Loki, his tone teasing. "And here I thought The Lady Sif had grown more forgiving."

"It appears you're wrong," Loki griped, twitching his foot to make Sif's job more difficult.

She grabbed the defiant foot with a stilling grip. "I think I've shown adequate forgiveness." She finally met Loki's eyes. His glare was both chilling and pleading. She raised a single brow in response, deciding then to back off, at least for the time being "Otherwise, you would not trust me to treat your wounds."

Thor smiled, shifting his glance between the two of them. "Loki, if I hear you whine about your condition again, I will sew your lips shut. You do not realize how good you have it."

Sif felt her cheeks threatening to redden. Thor continued, "I trust you to take good care of him Sif, for once he is well, there will be a feast in his honor. He needs to look his best."

Loki looked at Thor, unimpressed. "Is that the extent of your kingly decrees so far? Feasts and revelry?"

"How...?" Thor canted his head. "How did you know I was King?"

"Father has yet to show himself to me," Loki explained coolly. "I can only assume he sleeps again, given the recent events he has suffered."

It was both infuriating and impressive to Sif how easily Loki had talked his way out of that slip.

"Yes." Thor dropped his gaze, buying into every word. "Father's grief was too much for him too bear."

There was another stretch of silence save for Sif shifting her seat at the edge of the bed. She had finished with Loki's feet and lower legs and was scooting up in order to address his arms.

Loki watched thoughtfully as her thumbs spread the soothing balm over the raw skin of his seared palm. When he finally spoke it was directed at Thor. "How does the throne feel?"

"Overwhelming," Thor replied. "However the people have changed their tune since your return. Demands for reduced tariffs have become cries for celebration. The entire kingdom wishes to honor the return of their courageous prince."

Sif felt Loki's muscles tense under her touch. "Is that really the talk of the town?" he asked skeptically. "Or merely the voices in your head?"

"Do not underestimate your people's opinion of you, Loki." Thor spoke genuinely, his patience for Loki seemingly infinite. "Asgard is not the same place it was during your brief reign of it."

"I certainly hope not," Loki countered. He then eyeballed Sif. "Insurrection was running rampant then."

"I regret nothing," Sif defended, her words a sharp contrast to her gentle touch upon Loki's gashed forearm."

Thor chuckled, looking fondly upon them both. "It appears I have stirred the hornets' nest. Perhaps I should make my leave now before my words do more harm than good."

"Trust me, Thor," Sif spoke with little thought, "your tongue is the least offensive one here."

Loki shook his head and Thor laughed. "All the more reason for me to leave the room," Thor said with a wink then moved toward the door. "See that you allow him rest, Sif."

And then he was gone, leaving Sif vulnerable to Loki's assumed amusement as she blushed profusely.

"It didn't take him long to play matchmaker again," Loki said, surprisingly civil. "You must have spoken very highly of me while I was gone."

"I did not slander you." Sif didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on treating the blistering burn across his shoulder and neck. "Even though I should have."

She expected Loki to retaliate with some clever jab but he stayed quiet, growing distant despite the small distance between them. He was so hard to read, his mood shifts so unpredictable. Sif could only figure that whatever had happened to him in Helheim must have left marks deeper than his flesh wounds.

She moved to the head of the bed, urging Loki to shift down and allow her access to his back. He did so and she scooted in behind him, folding a leg beneath her. Her breath hitched at the horrors upon his flesh, lacerations blistered by burns, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Beneath the bandage was the lethal stab wound, the actual torn flesh and not just a fancy diagram of it. She closed her eyes as a shudder coursed through her.

"What's the matter?" Loki looked over his shoulder. "Surely you have seen worse on the battlefield."

Sif collected herself with a deep breath. Loki was right, she had seen much worse carnage than this, too much to keep track of. But in those cases, she had always known the blows were dealt by a known enemy. It was an entirely different story when mystical creatures and dark magic were at work, and when beings who were supposed to be Loki's family allowed this to happen to him. Even though this had all been part of his plan, Sif found herself pitying Loki.

"Lean back," she whispered, placing the balm aside on the night stand.

Loki looked questioningly at the vial. "Aren't you going to—"

"Just lean back," Sif insisted, urging him with a gentle pull on his shoulders. Loki did as he was told but remained tense. She pulled her leg out from under her and angled it at his side, creating more surface of her body for him to lean back on. Once their bodies became flush, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, supporting his weight, and tilted her head to lean into his. She then exhaled out any remaining frustration and just held him, waiting for him to relax.

Loki's muscles relented very slowly, one at a time. She could feel each one move, first his stomach, then his shoulders then his neck. When he finally resigned himself fully to her embrace, was when she chose to speak.

"What was she like? Your daughter."

Loki breathed deeply. "Where do I even begin? he spoke somberly. "She's the perfect choice to rule the underworld."

Sif knitted her brow. "What do you mean?" Her lips uttered the words gently just above his cheek.

"She takes delight in torturing the living," Loki said. "Yet she shows mercy to the damned, using her magic to...decorate the realm. She's really quite gifted."

"At decorating?"

"Decorating..." Loki lifted a timid hand and placed it on Sif's forearm, which spanned across his clavicle. "And torturing." Once his fingers settled, his thumb kept moving, petting her skin with a small motion.

There was a hitch in Sif's breath. "She did this to you."

"I was admittedly impressed." Loki attempted to make light of the situation, but his voice remained dark. "It's going to take me days to heal."

"Why would she do this?"

"She's very bitter," Loki admitted. "She blames me for her curse and assumes her mother spotless through it all, siding with her completely."

These tragedies were all beyond Sif's comprehension. She couldn't imagine, even having been raised an orphan, how such a broken family would make her feel. She had no verbal response, only this show of affection which she hoped told him to keep confiding in her, and know he could trust her. She tightened her hold on him, dropping her lips to rest on his bare shoulder.

He tilted his head, just enough to see her eyes. "Sif," he said in a near whisper. "I need to...confess something to you."

"You can tell me anything," she assured, her words murmured into his skin.

His eyes shifted in response and he stalled. His mouth opened as if to speak but he couldn't find the words.

Sif angled her gaze up at him. It was actually a endearing change of pace, the silver tongue stunted, his mind too exhausted to function at full capacity. She then found herself growing more concerned with his condition than what he had to say. He had literally been to Hel and back and badly needed to rest. She could see it in his reddened eyes. Whatever it was he was trying to confess was clearly taking a toll, on top of all his other injuries. He didn't need to tell her anything now, she decided. It could wait until tomorrow, or the next day. All she wanted from him now was one final...something.

She lifted her head to line up with his then closed some distance between their mouths. She wanted him to feel her words more than hear them. "Don't worry about it," she whispered. She then kissed him, deeply, pulling him as close as physically possible. He kissed her back, responding with a short noise, and then an eager tongue. He tasted alive and intense, despite his condition. Her body ignited with both a nostalgic lust and a dawning desire. She was liable to ravage him into critical condition, yet their imbalance of bodily strength kept her from doing so.

She could feel him quickly withering in her hold, physical limitations consuming him before she could. Regrettably, she needed to let him rest.

Taking his face in her hands, she slowly separated their mouths, stealing a couple more kisses before shifting out from behind him. He had closed his eyes and it didn't look like they would open again anytime soon. She moved her hands down his torso and guided his body to lay flat, tucking a pillow beneath his head. She then knelt at the bedside and pet his softening features with an undeniable longing. As quickly as she knew he could heal, it wouldn't be quick enough. She wanted to climb onto him in this very moment. Explain to him with her untamed body just how crazy he made her. Punish him for how deeply he mystified her, and how complicated he had made her life.

"How dare you," she whispered on an exhale meant to collect herself. She continued to stroke his hairline.

He managed the faintest of smiles, despite teetering on the brink of unconsciousness. She could tell he had one last thing to say, always had to have the last word, the cheeky snake. Sif watched with anticipation as his lips parted. She never would have predicted what up came out.

"Thank you, darling Sif."

Accompanying song: Can't Help Falling In Love, Elvis cover by Bono