.10.

Nidavellir, Jane found, was a world that commanded respect.

Anxious to keep pace with Loki, believing entirely that the threat he'd uttered had not been made in vain, Jane strove to regain command over her own body. He'd set a brisk pace which was an intentional decision, she was sure. Eventually her limbs began to respond without the shakiness that had overwhelmed her body and she felt more sure of every step she took. It was only then that she could remove some of her focus from simply keeping Loki in view and turn it to her surroundings.

The land around her was desolate, craggy, forbidding in its rough peaks and thick stands of conifers. The path Loki walked was not an easy one; large boulders and fallen trees littered the way, slowing Jane down considerably. There was a stillness similar to what Jane had known at her home, the absolute quiet of an empty wilderness. Daylight was muted by the heavy banks of gray clouds that hung overhead, so thick in places that some mountain peaks were entirely obscured from view. There was a chill to the air that carried with it the possibility of rain. Jane, clad only in the hooded sweater, jeans, and hiking boots she'd been wearing when she'd vanished from her room at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base, found room in her crowded brain for worry over how exactly she'd fare in bad weather.

It didn't take long before exhaustion tugged at her every movement. The process of traveling to another realm had worn her out. Striving to keep up with Loki had rapidly diminished what little energy she'd had left. Still she trudged on, with a grim resolution. He had brought her here without her consent. The fact that she'd been on the verge of giving consent no longer mattered. She was not going to let him leave her behind. But how could she stop him, a man that could leap from world to world as easily as he could go through a door from room to room? Jane was not at all oblivious to the fact that she was even more helpless here than she'd been on Earth. Her wellbeing—her survival—now depended solely on Loki's goodwill.

And currently, his goodwill was in short supply.

The route Loki had chosen initially had been uphill, winding through large chunks of rock and scattered copses of trees, on a gentle incline. Eventually it straightened out, much to Jane's relief, before turning into a slight descent. Going downhill was easier on her tired limbs than marching uphill, and so she had more time to study her surroundings. Loki had led her into a depression, what she guessed to be the remains of an ancient stream bed. It was easier to walk here, with little in the way of obstacles. The trees, which had been growing in small groups originally, had gradually thickened into a forest around them. The only sounds that were audible to Jane were those of her own footsteps, as Loki ranged far ahead.

For a time, she simply focused on watching him. Watched as he walked, surefooted and confident, striding forth smoothly in areas where Jane tripped and faltered. He hadn't looked back once since he'd begun walking. Jane's earlier desires to know his touch had been replaced entirely by the desire to throw heavy rocks at his head.

The daylight was beginning to wane when the path dropped into a steeper descent. They'd left the stream bed behind and were treading now through the forest proper. The trees, ancient beyond her reckoning and high enough to rival the coastal redwoods on Earth, rose all around her like silent sentinels. When the path grew steep enough, Jane had to clutch their trunks for balance as she passed, inching her way downward and all the while trying to keep Loki in her line of sight. Loose clumps of dirt dislodged by her steps rolled down the hill at a velocity that was alarming. Jane began to move very carefully, her hands hurting from gripping tree trunks so hard, her legs burning from the amount of effort it took to control her descent. Eventually she became so focused on not falling and tumbling downward that everything else became an insignificant blur.

When finally she did fall—an inevitability, given the terrain and her weariness—she was startled when her momentum was halted almost instantly by Loki's hands on her arm and waist. Dazed and breathing hard, her sweatshirt damp with sweat and her hair falling in loose tendrils about her face, she looked at him with mingled relief and anger.

"… thank you." She forced herself to say it, hating that she had to.

He said nothing, but supported her still as she half-walked, half-slid to a place where the ground became slightly more even. The slope they'd just traversed ended suddenly in a cliff, and Jane was disconcerted to see that she stood only several feet from it. Tired, aching, she shook off Loki's touch with an irritable shrug, unable to stop herself from glaring at him. His expression as he met her eyes was unreadable. He held her gaze for several seconds before turning and beginning to walk again, his path parallel to the cliff's edge.

Despite her ire, she was heartened. He hadn't let her fall and tumble off the cliff. He'd been aware of her, after all. Which meant, she was certain, that his coolness towards her was a result of his own anger, his disappointment that she'd hesitated in giving him what he wanted. He was still walking at a steady pace that she was hard pushed to match, but she was fairly certain now that he wouldn't leave her behind. Of course, Loki was unpredictability personified. Assuming anything as far as he was concerned was likely a bad idea.

Ahead of her, he'd come to a halt. She could see that he was standing almost at the very lip of the cliff. As Jane neared, he half turned to watch her, but made no effort to begin moving again. Hesitantly she drew alongside him, her eyes moving from his face to the open expanse that yawned before them both. And then she caught her breath, astounded at what she was seeing. From the corner of her eye she was aware that he was studying her still, but her attention was fixated completely on what she viewed.

Where the cliff dropped away there was nothing but open space; what lay at the bottom she couldn't tell as thick fog blanketed it from view. There was a dull roar that rose from that depth that hinted at a mighty, roiling river. Across the great chasm, rising up as though out of nothingness, was a fortress that was startling in its immense size. It took Jane several seconds to realize that the structure was hewn out of a mountain, that its every tower and wall and crenellation were made of the same ancient stone as the peak that loomed overhead. It dwarfed any castle still standing that Jane had ever seen on Earth, rising so high that Jane had to crane her head back to see it in its entirety. The walls and roofs that rose and fell were forbidding in their linear structure. The atmospheric austerity was punctuated only by the wavering orange torchlight that adorned the windows and walkways, small specks of warmth amid so much that was cold and unwelcoming.

"The main stronghold of the dwarves of Hreidmar," Loki said at length, his words carrying into the stillness despite the softness with which he said them. "Beyond those walls, within that mountain, their city extends for miles into the very earth."

Jane, unable to tear her eyes away from the architectural impossibility that loomed from across the chasm, asked, "Have you ever …?"

"Been inside? No. As I said, the dwarves do not receive visitors well. Or at all."

Jane, feeling awed and insignificant and severely humbled, finally tore her eyes from the fortress. "Thank you for showing me this," she told him earnestly. Because she knew, somehow, that this was not the destination he'd originally had in mind.

His smile was slight, fleeting. He merely inclined his head before turning. Jane, who'd returned her gaze to the view across the chasm, reluctantly stepped back from the ledge. Loki stood waiting for her a few feet away.

"I can't go much longer," she said as she neared him, feeling an aching weariness that penetrated every bone in her body. The words left her with no small amount of uncertainty. Would he leave her behind? She still wasn't sure.

"The destination I have in mind is not much further."

Jane's relief was so intense that she was sure it was a tangible thing. Instead she nodded, and when he began to walk again, she was following closely behind.

.x.

When night on Nidavellir had fallen, Jane and Loki had taken shelter in what he explained to be an abandoned outpost of the dwarves, a remnant from a war that had transpired in eons past. Situated at the bottom of a very steep stone staircase carved into the cliff, it was really nothing more than a room carved into the rock face. Jane had proceeded down the steps into the outpost white-faced; though heights were not really a fear she had, the abyssal drop that loomed only a foot away was more than enough to render her terrified. She'd crossed the threshold into the outpost with a relief that threatened to spill over into tears of exhaustion. Instead she'd focused on breathing deep and keeping the panic at bay.

She watched as Loki manipulated a series of tiny stone panels set into the stone wall near the entrance, watched with not near as much astonishment as she should have had as a large stone slab on the other side of the entrance swung shut, effectively acting as a door. Immediately the outpost was submerged in darkness. She stiffened, feeling new panic push at the very edges of her mind. Knowing it was irrational, she resolutely shoved it back. Somewhere in the blackness she heard Loki moving; a few seconds later light blazed into being in the center of the room. Somehow, with the powers she was still trying to comprehend and know the limit of, he'd created a fire. It crackled and flickered within a circular indentation in the floor. He was crouched on the other side of it. He slanted a look up at Jane, the firelight painting his face with an intermittent glow. She read his amusement clearly and knew he'd been aware of her momentary panic.

In an attempt to regain some self-composure, she posed a question. "How sure are you that the … dwarves … don't use this anymore?"

"Very." Loki rose to his feet and looked around. "I have sheltered here and in other similar outposts during my visits on this world. Never before have they been occupied or shown any sign of recent inhabitation. They have long been abandoned and forgotten."

"And you've seen them? The dwarves?"

"From afar. Even I know to respect certain boundaries."

Jane thought on this, turning on the spot to survey the small confines of the chamber they both occupied. It was small enough that the fire cast light into all corners. Jane took a deep breath, feeling an unwelcome sense of enclosure. She'd never been good with small spaces. It wasn't outright claustrophobia, but it was something similar.

A sound pierced the stuffy stillness that had fallen. It took Jane a moment to realize that it was her stomach growling. In a belated, ineffectual attempt to mute the sound she wrapped her arms around her abdomen. Loki, who'd dropped to one knee beside the fire again, glanced at her with a low chuckle. She felt heat suffuse her cheeks and hated it.

"I haven't eaten since …" The indignation in her tone faded as she tried to figure out just how much time had passed since Loki had spirited her away from Earth.

"That shall be remedied shortly," he said in reply, turning his attention back to the fire. She was irritated to see that his smile remained.

She watched him for a few minutes as another silence fell. With both hands he encouraged the fire to grow by means that Jane couldn't fully fathom, coaxing forth larger flames that burned easily despite the fact that there was no fuel that she could see. When finally it blazed bright enough to meet his satisfaction, he rocked back on his heels and looked up at Jane where she stood.

"I will need to leave for a short time."

"Leave where?"

He gestured toward the stone door with one hand. "Without. To find sustenance for us both."

"How?"

"In the most traditional of manners, Jane." He rose easily to his feet. "The fire will continue to burn. In my absence, I suggest you try to rest. We will continue on tomorrow."

"Where?"

His smile was free and easy, completely alien for Jane to see. "Anywhere," he said.

She said nothing as he strode to the door and manipulated the ancient lock as easily as she'd insert a key in a door and turn it. The stone slab swung open again, bringing with it a rush of chill night air from without. He paused on the threshold, casting her one last glance before stepping outside. A moment later slab swung shut behind him, sealing Jane within.

Her gaze dropped from the door to the fire where it burned stable and high. Even from where she stood some several feet away she could feel its heat. Her eyes moved to the door again, considering Loki, considering his words. Everything felt disjointed between them. She was used to his conversation, to the way he so effortlessly spun words and cast them at her in long, seamless barrages. The manner in which they'd spoken so recently was awkward, abrupt. From there her brain found new paths to concern itself with, considering everything else that happened to her in such a short span of time. Doubts pulled relentlessly at her. What if Loki's assurances that the dwarves didn't come here proved false? What if they stumbled upon her in his absence? What if Loki himself didn't return?

She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar weighty pull of weariness. She could panic inwardly all she wanted, but she had absolutely no power to change any aspect of her current situation. Loki's advice had merit; she was tired. Even if she wasn't safe here—and she very much suspected that to be the truth—there was nothing else she could do. She turned, took the four steps needed to be at the rough-hewn wall of the room, and sank down with her back to it. She leaned her head back and tried to relax only to find that the stone's unevenness was not conducive to rest. After a few minutes of fidgeting and adjusting her position, she lay curled on her side on the floor, staring at the flames. Relatively comfortable, she watched the fire and allowed it to consume her thoughts until her eyes grew heavy.

It was the scent of something cooking that woke her. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking once, twice, as her brain interpreted the smell of food. Loki was crouched on the opposite side of the fire once more, holding a long branch skewered with several pieces of meat over the flames. As Jane stirred, Loki's eyes flicked from what he was holding to her and back again. She shifted upright slowly, wincing as her sore muscles protested. Rubbing tiredly at her face, she asked, "What is that?"

"I have not a name for it," he replied, rotating the skewer. "Though it is somewhat similar in appearance to the rabbits that inhabit your world."

"How did you … go about it?"

One corner of his mouth quirked upward as he transferred his gaze to her. "Are you so sure you wish to know the exact method of its demise?"

Jane ceded that point to him with a quick shake of her head. Bracing herself with one hand on the wall, she got to her feet, wincing as various parts of her body voice their complaint, unaccustomed as they were to a strenuous workout such as the one she'd gotten earlier. She pushed away from the wall and moved to stand near the fire, her eyes on the skewer Loki held. The aroma of cooking meat had ignited in her a hunger she'd never known and she knew that if not for the sizzling of the meat and the crackle of the fire, the rumbling of her stomach would be more than audible. She lowered herself to the ground, close enough to feel the warmth of the fire without it being uncomfortable. Loki continued in cooking in silence, and after a while, lulled by the heat, Jane felt her eyes begin to drift close yet again.

"Jane."

Her eyes snapped opened and she started. Loki had risen and skirted the fire and was standing at her side, skewer in hand. He sat beside her with the same easy grace with which he did everything, settling himself cross-legged. Without a word he held out the skewer to her, indicating that she eat from it. Hesitant, aware of his silent scrutiny, she took it from him. For a moment self-consciousness and hunger warred within her. The latter quickly won and she lifted the skewer to her mouth, tearing at the chunk of meat at the top. It was hot but not painfully so, and she chewed with the hearty enthusiasm of the truly hungry. Swallowing, she became aware of juices trickling down her chin. She brought her free hand up to wipe at them, casting Loki a sidelong glance as she did so.

His expression stopped her breath. His focus was centered entirely upon her with an intensity that made her heart skitter in her chest. There was a heat in his eyes that made it abundantly clear exactly what he was thinking, what he wanted. And what he wanted, she knew, was to consume her, body and soul, until she belonged only to him, always to him. She swallowed the last bite of meat, her mouth suddenly gone dry, and slowly held the skewer out to him. He accepted it without removing his eyes from her face. They traced a slow, deliberate, smoldering path over her lips before he returned his gaze to hers. Time hung suspended between them, a slow procession of seconds made potent by the strength of the desires that were almost tangible in the air. And then his eyes released hers and she looked swiftly away, taking a shuddering, inaudible breath.

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her. In the span of the past however many hours she'd been frightened, she'd been saddened, she'd been heartbroken, she'd been angry. And now, inconvenient and unneeded and unexpected, she was dealing with lust. Lust so strong it was nearly overwhelming. She struggled with it, with instincts she never even knew she had, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ever shifting flames of the fire. She was afraid to look at him, afraid to see that hunger in his eyes again. Of course she'd known what he wanted from her—he'd made it perfectly obvious. But for so long they'd both existed by different rules: he as mortal as she was, both of them bound by all the constraints of Earth. But things were no longer the same. He was a god again and she the mere mortal and Earth was nothing for her but a memory. So much had changed …

"Jane."

Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head to look at him. He was holding out the skewer. His expression was now unreadable. As Jane's fingers closed about the branch he stood, tossing something down to her that he'd detached from his belt. She reached for it with her other hand, lifting it to see that it was a waterskin. It was heavy in her grasp, an indication that it was full.

"How—?"

"There are many abandoned outposts and supply caches littering these mountains. Some still contain supplies. I am familiar with more than a few that do."

"Thank you," she said, and he merely nodded before walking around behind her, heading for the entrance to the shelter.

She watched wordlessly as he worked the lock, as the slab swung open, as he stepped out into the night of a world entirely alien to her. For a long moment she did nothing. And then, out of sheer necessity, she raised the skewer and proceeded to eat what meat remained. She chewed slowly, thoroughly, without tasting what she consumed. When she'd finished, she washed it all down with a long pull from the waterskin, chasing it with a smaller sip before replacing the cap and laying it down on the ground behind her, a safe distance from the fire. She laid the skewer down alongside it before getting to her feet.

She deliberated for a time, her hands unconsciously tightening into fists at her sides as she stared at the entrance of the shelter. Finally, she made her decision and followed Loki's path out of the shelter.

It was brighter outside than within the small room, and Jane's eyes adjusted easily. Maintaining a wary distance from the cliff's edge, Jane looked around for Loki. She found him standing at the top of the stone staircase, his back to her, his head tipped back. Pursing her lips, holding firmly onto her earlier resolution, she carefully climbed the stairs. He turned as she neared. She searched his face as she approached, but his features were inexpressive.

"Thank you again," she told him, "for the food. And the water."

"We both must eat. It was simply a necessity."

She opened her mouth to acknowledge that fact, but he spoke first. "The sky, Jane. I think you may appreciate the view."

Obediently, she lifted her eyes skyward and lost herself in what she saw. Three moons hung bright in the sky, two of them full and one a crescent. The cosmic canvas of stars was breathtakingly vibrant. Near the horizon was an ethereal, glowing arc created by what seemed to be Magellenic clouds. Everywhere there was the light of stars, strewn through the blackness like an errant handful of diamonds cast aside. It was a panorama so lovely and so impossible that it brought swift tears of disbelief and joy to Jane's eyes.

They were both silent for a long time, their respective gazes riveted on the stellar canopy above. When Jane finally remembered how to speak, her voice was husky. "You can travel anywhere you want, through all of it?"

His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, as if he too were humbled by the visage the universe offered them. "If I am able to find a path, yes."

She understood, then, some of the reasons that Loki was the way he was. The freedom and possibility offered by what she looked upon was beyond all her ability to comprehend. It was marvelous. It was unreal. It was something that stirred Jane on the most basic of levels, filling her with awe and hope. Riding that euphoria, unable to resist it, she turned to Loki and reached for him.

He turned as he felt her hand on his arm, an inquiry in his glance. And then she was moving into him, pressing her body against his, burying her face into the mixture of leather and fabric that clothed his chest. His arms went swiftly around her, holding her as tightly as she'd hoped and wished for. She felt his lips as they brushed against her hair and in answer she tipped her head back, inch by inch, so that his lips grazed her forehead, her temple, the line of her cheek downward, ever downward, until they finally found her mouth. She surged up, rising on the balls of her feet, feeling a sudden desperation to know his kiss as she hadn't known it before. Her lips parted suddenly, willingly, beneath his own. His tongue slid against hers a heartbeat later in a sinuous, deliberate invasion and she made a sound low in her throat of unfettered, absolute want.

His hands had not been idle, lifting to frame her face and hold her firm beneath the onslaught of his kiss. And then one hand slipped free, sliding down so that it could wrap around her waist and pull her closer, until her body was tight against his. Any doubts she had about how much he wanted her were assuaged then, his arousal evident even between the layers of his clothing and hers. When finally they broke apart they were both panting, breath rising on the chill night air as small puffs of steam. Jane pressed kisses along the line of his jaw, her fingers tangling in the loose locks of his hair. He made a soft, deep sound before dropping his own head and then she felt his mouth nipping at her ear, tracing a searing path down the column of her neck.

"Loki," she whispered, and this time it was not a word meant to halt him.

He'd lifted his head, nipped at her lower lip, before releasing her and stepping back. She watched him distance himself, her distress clear on her face.

"Not here," he rasped, and she realized he was struggling with his control. "Though there could never be a more glorious background, a more appropriate background, it cannot be here."

"Why?" Her question was soft.

His eyes on her face were heated in their intensity, and the sound he made was very nearly a growl of frustration. "This world is no haven. It is merely a stepping stone in our path. They will be here soon, very soon, and by then we must be gone. Jane—there are other worlds. And when I am certain they follow no longer, when I am certain there all pursuit has been abandoned, we will continue this. Because there is nothing," he told her in a low, heated voice as he stepped closer and tilted her chin up with one finger, "nothing that I desire more."

He sealed that statement with one last, final kiss. Jane, breathless and dazed and struggling with her own control, stepped back, half-turned and raised her gaze again to the sky. She could find no words for a long span of moments. When she could, her mind had cleared itself of the haze of desire and practicality and logic had reasserted themselves. "They hunt us, then? Your brother's people?"

Her choice of wording did not go unnoticed; from the corner of her eye she saw the swift glance he cast her way. "They do."

"Because of Odin?"

Loki's sigh was nearly soundless, but she heard it all the same. "Yes."

Jane was silent, ruminating on that. Finally, she asked, "Will you ever set him free from wherever it is you keep him?"

She'd turned to face him as she'd asked the last question and watched as his expression became shuttered, as his eyes narrowed and his mouth compressed into a thin line. So familiar was she by now with his moods that she didn't feel unease or panic. She knew he wouldn't reply and he didn't. Instead he turned and began to make his way back toward the stone staircase. Jane moved to stand at the top of the steps and considered him as he easily made his way down them, reaching the bottom and vanishing into the outpost.

She could still feel the lingering traces of his touch, of his lips on hers, and recalling the urgency they'd both shared in that embrace made her heart start to race. There was so much between them that was wrong, she knew that. But what could be right between them could overpower all the rest. She knew what he was. She would never forget it. But in Loki there was something that called to her, that ignited her, a similarity so convoluted that she still didn't fully understand it. Her life had narrowed so quickly. Away from Earth, her responsibilities and priorities were far less than what they had been. There was only Jane and Loki, only survival or death. And out here, so very, very far from any home she'd ever known, she resolved to have what she wanted rather than waiting for Fate to maybe cast it her way.

She made her way down the stairs with far less grace than Loki had, cleaving to the stone wall, her eyes glued to the ledge that was far too close. Inside the outpost Loki was once again seated before the fire, drinking deeply from the waterskin. As she entered he replaced the cap and laid the skin in his lap, pointedly keeping his eyes trained on the fire.

Undeterred, Jane made her way over to him, sinking to her knees beside him. "None of it matters to me, Odin and Asgard and everything in-between," she told him then. "Not any of it. Everything that used to matter I left behind on Earth."

He turned his face to hers, the firelight creating dancing shadows that played over half his face. His expression was closed to her, his eyes cool. "And what is it that matters to you now, Jane?"

She opted for complete honesty. "Survival. I'm a human on a world not meant for humans. And I think that no matter where we go, it'll be the same. I'm completely dependent on you to survive, Loki. I'd be foolish not to realize how precarious things are for me right now. As for the rest," she continued, choosing her words carefully, "What matters is what makes existence tolerable. Enjoyable, even. It's not enough to just be, not anymore. And I think you know what I want by now."

In the wavering firelight she saw the ghost of a smile, one of utter masculine satisfaction, flicker across his face. He was recalling, she knew, what had just transpired outside. "I do."

"Then don't. Don't freeze me out."

She watched his thoughts and emotions as they rippled across his features in rapid succession. She recognized frustration as it furrowed his brow, saw uncertainty in the way his eyes darted momentarily to the side. Loki was by his very nature a man who acted alone, who existed in his own perpetual state of wariness, of watchfulness, of scheming. He wanted Jane and she knew it; what he was having difficulty adjusting to was the how of the entire situation. He was saddled with Jane now, at least for as long as he wished it, but she understood that this was something entirely new for them both.

"I would have chosen this even if it hadn't come about this way." She responded to his silence in the only way that she could.

His stare was penetrating, intense in its speculation. She met it head on, no longer having anything to dissemble about. Her truths were valuable now, no longer secrets to be buried deep and forgotten. Truths were what had led her here, with him. Truths were what would bring her what she needed in days to come.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to kiss him. And situated this close to her, she knew it was what he wanted too. She saw it in the way his fingers clenched in his lap. But Jane also knew the risks of their current situation, knew it was beyond foolish to indulge when they were both anything but safe. And so she studied him intently for a long moment, allowing her eyes to linger on every detail of his beautiful face, of the way the firelight lit his pale eyes, of the loose tendrils of inky hair that fell to his shoulders. She knew then that her emotions regarding Loki would always be in knots. She craved him and still feared him; she knew the terrible facts of his past and yet still wanted, in some ways, to be an aspect of his future. Loki and Jane together would always be a paradox, a conundrum offered up the universe meant to be eternally confounding.

She felt tired again, the last dregs of exhilaration and desire having faded away. Knowing sleep was an imperative for her she sighed and rose to her feet. She walked around the fire to the opposite wall of the chamber, feeling Loki's eyes following her as she did so. She turned and put her back to the uneven stone surface before sinking down into a sitting position, turning her attention to the fire.

Nothing more was said. Their bond was nothing if not tenuous and Jane was aware that for every positive reaction to what she said or did there were a multitude of possible negative reactions. It would take patience and firm resolve to navigate the troubled waters that loomed ahead of them both. She was surprised to find that she had no doubts, none whatsoever, that she was entirely capable of handling whatever came her way.

Sleep, when it came, was deep and uninterrupted by dreams.

.x.

When dawn came, Loki woke Jane by gently shaking her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and blinked fast, relaxing when his features solidified themselves out of the blurriness of sleep. He rocked back on his heels as she slowly sat upright, rubbing tiredly at her temples.

"I will be without," he told her, and she nodded.

She rose stiffly to her feet as he left the chamber, locking her hands together behind her head and rising up on tip-toe in a stretch that hurt as much as it granted relief. The fire, she noticed, was no more and had left behind it no scorch marks or ash as any other fire would have done. She reflected on that fact for a moment, wondering at what other powers Loki possessed that she was not aware of. Remembering that he was waiting, she began moving, wincing a little as every step she took made some part of her body ache and throb.

He was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. She climbed them slowly and carefully, her eyes fixed firmly forward. As she neared him, Loki held out a hand and she took it gratefully, allowing him to assist her up onto even ground. The day had dawned much as the one before it had been; overcast and grey, fog creeping everywhere in thick swirls. Loki didn't relinquish her hand, instead pulling her near. She didn't protest but arched a brow at him in silent inquiry.

"We travel elsewhere," he said by way of explanation, pulling her closer still.

She folded into his embrace easily, fitting herself against him as his arms wrapped around her. Beneath her palms pressed flat against his chest, she felt the stiff fabric of his clothing and the smooth, hard surface of his armor. He didn't move, was absolutely still, and Jane had the sense that he was gathering himself, gathering his power, in preparation for what was to come. Unease began to trickle through her as she relived the state she'd been in the last time they'd traveled between worlds, the panic and fear she'd been assailed with.

"It will not be the same this time," he said, his voice low and soft, his mouth beside her ear. "We do not travel as far as we did then."

Jane nodded, but said nothing as she recalled how her body had felt so alien and uncontrollable when they'd first arrived on Nidavellir. Her fingers found the outer edges of his collar and tightened unconsciously.

He laughed, a quiet exhale of air that sent strands of her hair fluttering. "Be calm, Jane. I assure you that you will come through this in one piece."

Striving for bravery when she suddenly felt anything but, she asked, "And if I don't?"

She could hear his smile in his voice, "I will find a way to put you back together again."

And then she felt his body tensing against hers, felt his power roll over her in a swift, tidal surge. Jane screwed her eyes shut and clung tight to him as the world became prisms of white and then splintered and fell away, thinking only that she fervently hoped he'd spoken the truth.

.x.