A/N: Daliah Valley, you made my day. Here's another chapter!

7

If anyone should've been furious, it should've been me.

"This is not how I imagined it," I sighed bitterly, staring up at the ceiling as we lay stiffly under the sheets.
"What was wrong with the floor?" Loki said acidly.
"Oh, I don't know, wanna give it a try?"

Why did I have to share everything with him? I realized by now that he had almost full access to my thoughts I was doing a crap job of keeping them barred from him.

He snorted once, "Oh, that's likely." I had been thinking of spearing him through with the kitchen knife.

Was he really even immortal? He bled, he had injuries. They healed pretty fast, but a nasty wound to the head would've been as detrimental to him as it would be to me, wouldn't it?

He seemed to have caught wind of this thought as well and turned roughly onto his side, pulling the blanket right off me as he settled into an angry cocoon on my left.

"Give it!" I snarled, trying to pull back my half but he was an obstinate mule. I fell back on the pillows and thought I heard a low dry laugh.

Look at your life, look at your choices. Be quiet! He'll hear you. What of it? You've let on more than you should've already. Do you ever give it a rest? You're as bad as he is, you know. Oh I do know, and you know it too. What's that supposed to mean? I don't like your tone. I don't like your tone. Don't copy me! Don't copy me!

Two things dawned on me: First, I had lapsed into a childish quarrel with my own mind and second-

"IT'S FREEZING!"

I sat up, rubbing my arms for warmth. Loki was still bundled up next to me.

"Are you doing this?" I hissed. "Are you using your frost giant powers?"
No response.
"Stop it!"
My breath began to rise in clouds. I groaned and rolled over, hugging my knees, but I couldn't stop shivering. That's when I caught sight of the blue envelope on the cluttered nightstand. With frozen fingers I reached for it, propping myself up on my elbows and setting it onto my pillow. In the light of the moon that came in through the window, I could read the elegant cursive:

To Paton McAllister, 24 Travis Close, Rivers-

The rest had been blotted out by drops of water, or maybe it was whiskey. I wouldn't put it past my father to spend a few nights at bars. I'd done it too.

It was an unsealed envelope, no stamps either. I slid out the thin paper letter that had flowers down one side if you held it up to the light. It was all part of a set that would lie in a corner of my mother's dresser. A set Olivia had bought her before the car crash. Don't think about Olivia. I unfolded the letter - three crisp folds horizontally and one fold down the middle; compact. I wondered if Loki was awake. I looked over at him. He lay perfectly still, chest rising and falling, his black hair splayed over the pillows. Turning my attention back to the letter, I began to read.

Dear Paton,
It gets harder to write these days, but I do it anyway in the hopes that you'll reply eventually. You've always been obstinate like your father, but I like to believe you will eventually. I'm so sick of these hospital beds, Paton. The worse I get, the harder it is to escape them. I was so fond of taking long walks in the evenings, they have a lovely garden really. It was the only bit of freedom I had and now all I ever seem to see (when I can keep my eyes open) is nurses coming and going, this horrible IV that oozes night and day and of course your father, when they let him visit. It's not often I see him; he's almost always asleep in the chair when I wake. I sometimes see a young woman in the corridor walking by and maybe it's the chemotherapy scrambling my eggs a bit, but I always think it's you, come at last to put things right. It was always you, Paton. You who should've stayed and fought. You who should've forgiven us. You who should've buried Olivia. I still hope you'll walk in through these awful doors one day, at least one last time before I

But it ended abruptly, the 'I' trailing off, longer than any of the other letters. She had been interrupted. Perhaps a doctor with news. Bad news. Worse news. What could be worse? Knowing you were about to die? Or knowing your daughter would never come? I began to resent the hopefulness in my mother - the hopefulness that had let her down, the hopefulness that I never allowed myself to be crippled with.

I hadn't noticed my face was wet with tears. Sliding off the bed as quietly as I could, I tip-toed to the door, pulled it open and slipped into the living room. Greg McAllister was fast asleep, twitching and snoring. The keys were in a bunch on the counter, they made very little noise. I prised open the backdoor and stepped out into the night air. The blasted spacecraft was dark and immobile. The two Chitauri were nowhere to be seen. I went around the house and tucked the keys into my pocket before throwing my weight into the truck. Once I had pushed it some way down the street I got in and started the engine. The ran smoothly and quietly until I was past the pier, past Mr Delacroix warehouse office, past the patch of trees and then I drove onto the dirt path that ran along the river. The tar road swerved away from here because it would get flooded during the rains.

There was a small cove of sorts. I hadn't been here in a long while. But truthfully, I hadn't had a long while to myself just to sit and think. Wishing I had a few cans of beer with me, I left the car on the dirt road and made my way to the water's edge.

It was a calming sound, the slosh slosh slosh of the small waves, the gurgling of the pebbles and the silver foam at my feet.

I stood a long while before I was interrupted by a low velvety voice.

"You are much stronger than you give credit for, which is why I needn't be worried at this point."

Loki was leaning against the truck, arms crossed, watching me with his unreadable expression. The moon was doing wonders to his face.

I chuckled, "I should be getting used to this, not a moment's peace with you, is there?"
"I'm going to risk sounding like I actually care," he began, "by saying that I do."
"What?"
"I thought you might be doing something stupid."
"And you came after me?" I asked disbelievingly.
"Seeing as I don't have other lodgings, I have to exercise some care for my host, don't I?"
I smiled at the water in derision. Of course, he doesn't really care about you, Paton.
"Well, good for you."
"Are you returning?"
"I might be a while."
"I can wait."
"What for?"
"Till I'm sufficiently convinced that you're safe, for tonight."
I looked at him, studying his face. There's just no telling with this guy!
"Before this goes on any longer," Loki said. "I hope you know it wasn't your fault."
"We have only ourselves to blame."
"Don't be ridiculous," he shook his head, walking up to me. "Unforeseeable circumstances. That's always a clincher."
"You don't actually believe that, do you?"
"In my particular case, I believe it to be true, so why not for you?"
"Because!"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Because so many things could have been done so differently!"
"And it's wise to dwell over things in the past?"
"I don't see you doing any different."
"I look only to the future, Paton. And to you, now and again, for whatever assistance you provide."
I rubbed my eyes onto the back of my hand.
"Do you remember," he said slowly, "when I said we're not so different?"
I nodded.
"I think every day that passes shows me the truth of that statement."
"What if-if-" I began, not entirely sure how to word my thoughts. There were just too many of them milling around my head. I had to put them together somehow, Loki turned to listen. "What if I don't want to make things right again?"
"Well, there's only one thing to be done isn't there?"
"Yeah?"
"Look the future of course. There's still much to be done."