Hello, hello, I didn't fall off the planet! Sorry it's taken so long for this update. The next shouldn't take anything like that long. Love to everyone who's following, I live for reviews, so enjoy! Mwah!

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After a brief and, she feared, mostly unsuccessful attempt to smooth her hair into some sort of order, Taryn followed Loki from the room and back out into that damp, bare hall. "We're underground, aren't we?" she asked, looking at the condensation on the walls and the industrial-style lights hanging from the ceiling.

"Yes," he replied, still holding her hand as he led her in the same direction that the armed guards had gone earlier–it felt like a lifetime ago. "A bunker in Germany which I've appropriated for my little project. Quite secure down here."

Not really what she wanted to hear–after all, she still planned to escape at the first opportunity.

They turned a corner and entered a much larger space–a cavernous room filled with equipment. She stopped despite herself and gaped at the scene before her. Groups of lab-coated men fussed over computers while more black-clad guards stood at the periphery, cradling automatic weapons. At the very center of it all was a small square clean-room constructed of thick, clear plastic panels. Within it, an older man bent over something that glowed with a cold blue light.

"What is all this?" she breathed, dumbstruck. Then, guessing, she added, "What are you making here?" because she couldn't imagine it would be anything good.

To her further surprise, Loki didn't hesitate to answer her. "A doorway to another universe. If you like, I'll show you."

But she hesitated to follow him into the room, once more aware that she was rumpled and quite probably smelled of vomit and sweat from the ordeal of his memories. And speaking of those memories and the universes she'd seen in them, she desperately needed a reprieve before she experienced any further weirdness. "If I ask to have that shower first, will you show me when I'm done? I'm not exactly in a condition to meet people."

"Of course," Loki agreed easily. "Your pardon. Come, we will go to your new suite now."

He led her down another corridor and she couldn't help but ask, "Suite? Doesn't sound very bunker-ish."

Loki laughed–it was a nice sound, she conceded, warm and open. Nothing like the mad laughter she'd heard in her mind, and she realized now that his madness seemed to come and go like the tides. She didn't doubt what she'd seen in his gaze when he'd first arrived in her lecture hall and had caught glimpses of off and on since. How could he be insane at some times and not at others?

Yet another puzzle for later, because he was answering her now. "This was built as a secret military installation. There are barracks for my men, and far better quarters for those of rank. You, my lady, have the highest rank of all. Do not worry. I am certain your quarters will be adequate for now. And you will only be here for a few days at any rate. Soon you will have a palace of your own, if that is what you wish."

She didn't touch that offer. Again she felt the pressure of being the one who would save him from a life of pain and grief–at least in his mind. "As long as it has hot water, soap, and clean clothes, I'll be happy."

And freedom, of course, but she didn't think she'd get that if she asked for it.

Another turn showed a much different corridor. While the walls were still damp with condensation and the bare, flickering bulbs overhead hadn't changed, the floor beneath her cold feet was now tile instead of plain concrete and the walls were painted a cool blue. Loki gestured at the first door they passed and said, "These are my rooms. You may come and go as you like."

Again, she wasn't going to touch that offer, and he stopped at the door across the hall. "These rooms are yours, Taryn. Clothing and toiletries are within. Also, be assured that no one will enter without your leave unless you become ill again. You will have all the privacy you wish."

She was glad he'd said that because she'd been trying to think of a way to tell him that she'd rather he not come and go as he pleased in her rooms, and hadn't been able to come up with anything that didn't sound pretty rude. She tugged her hand free–again, he allowed her retreat, but frowned a little–and opened the door. "Thank you. I'll be fine from here," she said with a smile, not wanting him to follow her inside.

Also, she wanted to know if his promise of privacy extended only to his men or if he would also abide by that.

Loki inclined his head, an old-worldly little bow, and stepped back. "Do you remember how to return to the main room?" She nodded–the halls were mostly straight and there had been only one turn. "Then I will await you there, if you still wish for that tour. Until then," he said, and turned and strode back the way they'd come.

Only once he'd turned the corner did Taryn actually enter the room and turn on the lights. Her eyes widened–no matter that he'd said these were quarters for high-ranking commanders, she hadn't expected this.

A tall, king-sized bed dominated the room, which was far larger than she'd expected. A dresser flanked it on one side and a carved wood wardrobe took the other wall. The icy floors were covered in plush carpets, soothing her freezing feet. There were even paintings–one of a sunlit forest, one of sunset on a rolling plain, another of the night sky–to stave off claustrophobia at being below ground. A small table–complete with white linen tablecloth–and chair stood to one side. Three silver domed plates of different sizes were flanked by a tall glass of iced water and two glasses of wine, white and red, which she had absolutely no intention of drinking. But by far the best feature of all was the door she'd just closed behind her, whose skillfully-painted wood finish couldn't hide its steel construction, and the pair of heavy deadbolts on it.

Safety, at long last!

She threw both locks–they slammed home with a satisfyingly solid thunk–before going to explore the rest of her suite. A door past the foot of the bed opened into a bathroom which wasn't glamorous, but still included a large, deep, claw-foot tub in addition to the sink, stand-alone shower, and commode. A toothbrush, hairbrush, and tube of toothpaste were still in their plastic wrappers beside the sink, and the drawers held a hair dryer and all the little items a woman might need to make herself presentable. A smaller wood cabinet held a thick terry robe and several enormous, plush white towels, far thicker than any she'd ever seen before.

Taryn's father had been an officer in the military but she knew he'd never been assigned quarters like this. "German generals apparently lived the high-life," she mused aloud, shaking her head.

The mirror, however, she quite deliberately avoided. Better not to know just how bad the damage was.

Her mouth tasted vile so she used the toothbrush and paste first–oh, sweet relief–before undressing to shower. Even though she was starving, she felt too grimy and disgusting to eat. Taryn cast a regretful look at the claw-foot tub but didn't quite dare use it. As tired as she was and the way her luck was running lately, she'd fall asleep in there and either drown or need to be rescued, and neither scenario appealed. Instead she took the hottest shower she could stand, lathered her hair twice–the shampoo smelled wonderful, some floral blend she couldn't identify–conditioned, scrubbed her entire body until her skin was pink and tingling and the normality of it all made her finally feel like herself again. Only then did she towel off, wrap her hair in a turban, and slide into one of those fluffy robes to return to the bedroom.

True to Loki's word, she found undergarments in the dresser–also better not to think about how he'd gotten her sizes correct–and pulled out jeans and a thick green sweater from the wardrobe. Several pairs of boots, as well as her missing heels, awaited her at the bottom of the wardrobe and she chose the brown pair because they had the lowest heels. She might occasionally wear stilettos to teach, but that didn't mean she enjoyed torturing her feet.

Besides, she might need to run. She still remembered Barton telling her the way out of the bunker.

The meal beneath the dome was also beyond her expectations. Clearly Loki wasn't constrained by the usual fare offered in military bases. She found a gourmet salad of microgreens with a dressing that was tart, sweet, and too deliciously exotic to identify beneath the smallest dome. The next revealed a thick slice of some decadent chocolate dessert which she devoured shamelessly before investigating the largest dome and discovering filet mignon, salmon, and asparagus with a delicate, lemony sauce. Only when she couldn't hold another bite did she lean back in her chair, sighing with relief.

Only then did she dare to consider whether she should stay locked in here or meet Loki in that big room again.

Much as she wanted to avoid him–she really did need some time to process everything that had happened to her–that comment about a doorway to another universe nagged at her. At least he wasn't making biological weapons or something (a memory of the laughter virus haunted her for a moment), but the only reason he would need a door was to bring something through it.

And she couldn't imagine whatever that was being good for humanity and the Earth in general.

So she told her body that she wasn't really tired, turned her back on the bed and its siren song, and left the suite to find Loki once more.

Finding her way was as easy as she'd anticipated. She hesitated at the entrance to the big room, thought, not immediately seeing Loki. There were so many men in there and most of them were intimidating, body-armor-wearing, machine-gun-toting guards. No way was she going to ask one of them were Loki was. And the fast-paced, almost frenetic activity level was also intimidating.

But only a few seconds into her indecision, the middle-aged man she'd spotted within the clean room suddenly came up behind her. "Hello there!" he said, giving her a wide, open smile when she jumped a mile at his abrupt appearance. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," Taryn lied, willing her heart to descend from her throat. Still, if she had to get caught by someone, far better this man than one of the guards. "I'm Dr. Taryn Roswell." She laughed silently at herself for throwing in her title–something she did when nervous–as if it could make any possible difference here.

And in the instant between her words and his reply, she noticed the blue film of light over his eyes and knew from Loki's memories what it signified. This man was under Loki's complete control, his every thought turned to serving the god's will, physically incapable of doing the slightest thing of his own volition. It seemed a fate worse than death to her. Deep inside, was some part of him conscious of his captivity? Was there a voice in there screaming for release? She fought to hide a shudder.

But his smile was still warm and he didn't seem at all distressed by his loss of free will when he answered her. "Yes, I know. We've all heard about you, my dear. Dr. Erik Selvig at your service. And now, please, let me show you around our little project!"

Taryn wasn't sure quite what to make of that we've all heard about you comment. Did they all know Loki had kidnapped her? Were they aware of what he wanted from her? Or had they merely been noticied that she was here as sort of an honored guest? Most importantly, had Barton told them about her brush with madness? She didn't ask. Truth was, she didn't really want to know.

And she had enough to worry about as it was without stressing over what complete strangers thought of her.

"Yes, please. I'd love to know what Loki's planning," she replied instead, and followed him into the hive of activity.