LJOTA

"Not for long."

I looked up at the achingly familiar voice, hardly daring to believe it was him. But it was him, and once I had acknowledged that fact, I had to come to terms with the rather more worrying fact that he was apparently about to kill us. Still, the only thing I could say was a feeble, "Vater?"

He glared. "What — what trickery is this? Do you take me for a fool?" He began striding back and forth angrily, never taking his eyes off of us. "Thor Odinson, my brother" — he spat the word — "and the granddaughter of that cosmic idiot, the Doctor? You are illusions, nothing more — and by no means any relative of mine!" He drew a dagger from inside his coat with a swift, practiced motion, his expression void of anything but hollow fury.

I admit, it wasn't entirely what I'd envisioned. After years of separation, I had expected — well, hoped for, at any rate — a somewhat warmer welcome. Especially considering I had just nearly died in order to find him. The whole thing made me want to cry, but I was at least self-possessed enough to avoid that. I couldn't contain the quiet gasp of shock, though.

"No!" I exclaimed, more emotional than I should have let on in front of him. "Vater, please! I'm real — so are they — you must believe me! I've been searching for you, we all have —"

He cut me off scornfully. "Impossible. As if anyone would search for me. I, who lost everyone. My mother died, my father and brother hate me. And then . . . and then her" — was he talking about my mother? He clearly wasn't much better off than me right now — "and now my daughter, too. I should have learned long ago that I could never keep anyone for long. And you," he glared around, "why should I care for any of you? You dare to mock me? Then know the cost." He raised the dagger, and I could tell he was ready to murder us all then and there. My father didn't make empty threats.

Violet came to our rescue again, and it was a good thing she did, since my father had clearly hardened himself against my pleading. "Loki!" She lunged at him, tensing as if she was going to fight him — which would have been a very, very bad idea — but instead, she ducked past his guard and grabbed at his face, fastening her fingers around his temples. Mind-meld again. Of course. These Time Lords. "See?" she continued. "Look at her! That is your tochter," — oh, she had picked up on my use of the word vater, and extrapolated, clever — "clear as day! She's missed you for ages — I see it in her eyes, your eyes, every day in our adventures! You — you can see my own memories, too — see —" She grunted. I supposed my father was fighting her invasion of his mind, or perhaps turning the connection back on her. "See? I am her friend, and she has missed you dearly!"

I had to smile at her description of herself as my friend — she was the only one who had ever claimed that — although I was less pleased by her public assessment of my emotions. Nevertheless, I took the opportunity to resume pleading.

"Vater, please. You can see it. It's me, I promise." Apparently struck by Violet's memories, he paused — but didn't lower the dagger.

"It — Ljota?" he said cautiously. "But how do I know this is not all some elaborate trick?"

"I don't know. Trust?" (Though he and I are both, of course, well-known for deceit and trickery, we never lied to one another.) "Please, Vater." Deciding that her mind-reading work was done, Violet stepped away from him.

Thor decided to finally speak up for us. "For the love of the Yggdrasil, Loki, stop this. It's us. Why is it so hard for you to accept that? These are mere children. What reason could they have to deceive you?"

This, unfortunately, got us nowhere. "What reason, Thor? Oh, perhaps you? Or Odin? Everyone seems to bend to his will —"

Although I had to accept his point, I was glad Violet argued back with, "But, Lord Loki, not we. You saw my memories, and you, master of both magic and trickery, should know I could not have faked that. Your tochter misses you. Listen to her."

At the risk of inflating Violet's ego to breaking point, I will say that her little speech was masterfully composed and perfectly timed. My father was already growing weary of arguing with what he deemed to be illusions, and her careful flattery — together with her addressal of him as "Lord," which was a title many begrudged him — took the last edge off of his desire to murder us on the spot.

"Fine," he sighed. "Imagine for a moment that I believe you. How did you find me?"

Incredibly relieved that he was no longer trying to kill us (which, I acknowledge, is probably not a feeling typical of a healthy father-daughter relationship), I explained. "You said you know of the Doctor. You know that Violet is his granddaughter. The technology she used to track you was Time Lord. We used this to find your signature," I added, gesturing to the Scepter still in Violet's grasp.

He frowned at the mention of the Doctor — clearly, the two weren't on the best of terms, which was only to be expected — but seemed surprised when he realized what Violet was holding. "How did you get your hands on this? That is mine," he said, but not angrily, and when he reached to take the weapon from her, the gesture was not as violent as I had expected. "Do be careful with this," he whispered, more to me than her. I wanted to hug him, but my better judgment — and long experience — warned me against it. "Where did you get that?" he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Violet, too, seemed intrigued by his gentleness, but said nothing of it. "You left it in your closet, my Lord," she told him. Again with the flattery. Ah, well, at least it worked. "I knew that it would be the only way to find you — only safe way, in any case." Safe. That was a laugh. Fifty-fifty chance that all three of us die? Quite safe, yes. Then again, I wasn't known for my caution, nor my honesty. So I couldn't fault her. "Lokilein — I mean, forgive me, Ljota — almost burned up looking for you, sir. And don't worry about the Doctor. Any friend or family of Ljota's is that of mine, cross my hearts."

I was convinced that she slipped the apparently accidental "Lokilein" in on purpose, to soften him further. It worked, too.

"Lokilein — "little Loki" on Midgard, yes?" he interpreted. He was, to my amazement, almost grinning. (Key word: almost.)

"Yes," I confirmed, "in German. Violet made it up." There was no "almost" to my grin. It probably looked as though my face was two-thirds teeth and one-third other things. That's certainly how it felt.

A frown settled back into his brow as a thought returned to him. "What happened to you, Ljota? Why didn't you come back at the end of two years, like we planned? We looked everywhere for you. Well, I looked everywhere," he added in a resentful mutter. It seemed Asgard had not put a great deal of effort into finding me, not that I was surprised.

"Oh," I said awkwardly, "yes. About that. I tried, but the Bifrost wasn't opening for me. I don't know why, but I couldn't get in. So naturally I shielded my presence, since it could as easily have been intentional as accidental and I didn't want anyone to find me if they weren't letting me back on my own terms. I only got back to Asgard with Violet's help. Then we heard you were gone — for weeks — ever since they gave up on finding me —" I went to him, throwing the greater part of my caution to the winds, and took the hand that wasn't holding his old Scepter. "I'm so sorry, Vater."

He smiled, which threw me off somewhat. It wasn't the expected reaction, considering that he's been threatening death only minutes before. But then, he is a hard person to predict. "Violet, is it?" he asked, turning to her. "Come here."

I could read the wariness in my friend's eyes, but she approached him anyway.

"You have reunited me with my daughter," he said, "breaking several rules in the process. I like that!" He held out his hand, and Violet took it.

I, of course, could tell he wasn't being honest — but before I could say anything, we were zapped through space and time once more. When I looked around, we were in an underground duct somewhere. Violet was looking back and forth between her necklace chain — now bare —and my father.

"You stole my Vortex Manipulator!" she exclaimed accusingly. He smirked.

"You trusted me," he reminded her. Then, suddenly, he had his dagger out again and was holding it to her chest. I was confused — he had been sincere earlier, when he began to believe us. What was he doing?

Violet knew enough to recognize that she couldn't fight her way out of this one, so she stayed put. "Okay, okay! What do you want? I helped you!"

He nodded. "And I thank you, I really do. But I am of the opinion that Thor, now stuck on Jotunheim, will begin to search for me again. And he will never look on Midgard!"

It still wasn't adding up. "Why would you do that, Vater?" I asked. "I know you're not on the best of terms with Uncle Thor, but is that really a good enough reason to abandon him like that?" (I was, it is true, temporarily forgetting that my father is the Prince of Overreacting and Holding Grudges.)

"Oh, it's nothing personal. I merely wanted to escape the eyes of Asgard for a while longer. I grow weary of the Aesir."

Violet glanced around, taking in our surroundings. "You reversed the polarity of my Vortex Manipulator using your magic?"

"Well, obviously," he smirked, then leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Honestly, Midgardians . . ."

"Play nicely," I chided.

But Violet interrupted. "No, no," she said, "you knew how to use the Manipulator. I saw it in your mind — oh." She had the 'brilliant-deduction-I-get-it-now' face on. "You want to speak to my father."

I looked at him, but he didn't reply — which, of, course, only confirmed Violet's supposition. "Vater?" I asked. "What's going on?"

"Just trust me, Ljota," he told me, and strode off, his clothes morphing into Midgardian attire. Violet still looked suspicious as we followed behind, and stole back her device. I am sure he noticed, but my father didn't try to stop her.

"Lokilein," she whispered to me, "this is a secret route to Baker Street — I told you. How does your father know how to get there?"

"Well, did he read your mind during the mindmeld back there?" I inquired. Of course he had, my father wouldn't let an opportunity like that go to waste. Violet sighed.

"I thought I had more control over the meld than that — but I suppose you are right, he is quite powerful. Confound it! There really is no way to warn Mum and Dad . . . we're just going to have to go with it, Lokilein . . ."

I could hear the grin in my father's voice when he spoke. "I can hear both of you, you know. Ljota, you of all people should remember that."

Of course I did. It was just that I didn't care. "I know, Vater. But it's not as if there's anything I can do about it. Or as if you're going to skin me for pointing out that you could have manipulated the meld. Or Violet for worrying." I grinned. "You're really not going to do anything to either of us."

"How certain are you of that?" he asked, smirking playfully over his shoulder.

Violet smirked back. "As sure as you are that you love her more than anything in Creation. See, my Lord Loki, I did still see into your mind. Looks as though we both have to be careful."

He frowned, mock angry. "Maybe so, Midgardian, maybe so. This is your door." It wasn't a question. We were standing in front of 221B by now.

"No use denying it," Violet admitted. "The whole world knows it, and now so do you." Unlocking the door, she led us up the stairs. My father and I walked behind, side by side.

"I'm so glad we found you," I said quietly. He smiled very slightly but didn't say anything back.

Violet turned, looking slightly confused. "Okay, Loki, Lokilein — my Mum and Dad are in there. I've told them they have a client, so Dad is just dressing."

Dressing for a client? That's out of character, I mused.

"Fine," said my father, but fidgeted impatiently while we waited.

Eventually, a voice came from inside and Violet opened the door to reveal her parents sitting in the flat. Sherlock stood up when he saw who was with her.

"Well, you didn't tell me that you were bringing Loki here, Violet!" he exclaimed, casting concerned glances at Molly. My father smiled.

"I brought myself, really. Your daughter merely opened the door." Defending people wasn't like him, either, but I suppose he felt he ought to do it for my sake, considering the fact that we had just been reunited after years of separation. I was proud of him for it.

Leaning around Violet — she's always been taller than me, and it does get annoying sometimes — so that I could see Sherlock, I joined in. "He's telling the truth, Mr. Hol — Sherlock, I mean. For once. He stole her Vortex Manipulator and forced it to bring us here. It's really not Violet's fault." I realized as soon as the words had left my mouth that I'd forgotten to call in a 'device' that time. My poor brain.

Sherlock looked Loki up and down; I could almost see the deductions forming in his mind. Clearly not pleased by what he perceived in my father — which made me a little angry at him — he whispered something to Molly, who hugged Violet, glared at my father, and walked out the door. Sherlock then returned his attention to us.

"Please, sit," he invited, ushering us in.

My father didn't move. "What are you planning, Holmes?" he asked, eyes narrowed, mistrust written in every detail of his expression and posture.

Sherlock, however, looked legitimately surprised at the accusation. "Me? I am planning nothing. You wished to consult me, so I was being polite. No, if anyone is to be suspicious, it is I of you, God of Mischief!"

(I am forced to admit that he did have a point. Trusting my father has rarely gotten anyone anywhere.)

Violet seemed to decide that she ought to do something about the imminent and potentially deadly row between our fathers. "Dad . . ." she said quietly, trying to rein in his temper.

It didn't work. "Well, it's true, isn't it? He stole your Vortex Manipulator? He's not exactly the most trustworthy person in the room, with all he's done to Earth, Violet!"

My father had the grace to look vaguely remorseful at that point, and did his very best to be courteous. "Forgive me, Mr. Holmes," he said with only the slightest of smirks. "You must understand that I have grown to expect deceit from almost everyone." He glanced at me, and I smiled. Almost everyone, meaning everyone except me. "Even Thor lied to me once. I'd never have believed he could pull it off."

But Sherlock Holmes was not to be calmed down. He, to my horror, and I suppose the dismay of his own daughter, started to make deductions.

"Oh. I see. You are trying to make up for your past! How many years was it until they told you what you actually were — a few centuries? So for that whole time, they made you believe that you of all people could be king if Odin threw Thor out. You thought that — it is written in the way you hold yourself. So you lived in Thor's shadow. He becomes more and more loved by Odin — and you? You are left alone. You think your powers help, they would make you friends, but they only scare people. Not even your friends like you anymore, because of the greatness of your 'brother'. You snap. Only your daughter loves you now, no wonder —"

That was too much. My father gave up on trying to be polite. "I CAME HERE FOR HELP, TIME LORD — NOT HUMILIATION!" he roared, no longer caring who heard. It must have been frightening, because Mrs. Hudson never even came out to see what was going one. "I LOWERED MYSELF SO FAR AS TO SEE OUT HELP ON MIDGARD — OF ALL THE REALMS — AND THIS IS HOW YOU GREET ME?"

Sherlock wasn't cowed. I congratulate him for that, since there are few who could withstand the full force of my father's rage at such short range, and still have the courage to argue back. "WELL, FROST GIANT, HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CONTAIN MY THOUGHTS? WE COME FROM THE SAME BACKGROUND, DO YOU NOT NOTICE?" He continued, more quietly but with no less deadly anger. "No. No, you do not, because you think that your magic will make me pity you, even though I have every right to call the Proclamation on your waste of skin right now! The only reason I have any shred of pity for you is because you deigned 'low' enough to look for your daughter, the only one who loves you — which is confusing in and of itself, since you abandoned her for half of her miserable life —"

"FATHER!" Even Violet seemed shocked at his vehemence, but I was already yelling and I'm not certain Sherlock even heard her.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY FATHER LIKE THAT!" I shouted, my self-control slipping fast. "It's not as if it was his fault Odin imprisoned him on a whim every other week! He was all I ever had! And don't you dare try to tell me I deserve better, because my father has always — always — done everything in his power to give me everything Odin denied him! Honesty!" (All right, I get the irony. But as I've said, my father always made sure he never lied to me, and I returned the favor.) "Family! A life that meant more than a — a bargaining chip, or a mistake!"

I would have kept going, but my father pulled me back. "Sh," he whispered. "Leave this to me." Turning back to Sherlock, he took over. "Gently now, Time Lord," he chided. "You are distressing the children. And don't forget that it was your insolence that started all this."

"My — my insolence?" Sherlock looked understandably affronted. "I was just concerned for my daughter — she's been hanging out with murderous psychopaths!"

Violet tried to calm him down again, but she didn't look hopeful that it would work. "Father, relax. I am not a child any longer." (She never called him Father. I'm still not sure where that came from.)

Sherlock harrumphed. "And yet you are acting like one!" He continued in a whisper loud enough for us to hear, "Why is it that you insist on helping the Frost Giants —"

"Dad —"

"The elder is of the quality that we lock up, Violet, and the younger is quickly following in his footsteps!"

I was ready to scream all sorts of abuse at him for that, but my father beat me to it. "DO NOT SPEAK OF MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT! SHE IS NOT ME! I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING TO KEEP HER FROM BECOMING LIKE ME!"

Even though I was almost as furious as he was, I had enough reason left in me to recognize the signs of imminent destruction, and try to stop him. "Vater! Please. Don't kill anyone." I kept glaring at Sherlock, to make sure he knew how close I was to murder, too.

He seemed well aware of the dangers of our combined rage. His hand crept toward his pocket, though I wasn't sure whether he was going for a gun or his Sonic — the latter, I had never even seen.

"Father," Violet begged, "calm down!" (There it was again — "Father." Perhaps Violet will explain that occurrence.)

"She had to remind him not to kill anyone, Violet!" Sherlock pointed out. Another valid point, Mr. Holmes. "And while the two of us can regenerate, the rest of Earth is not so lucky!" His hand emerged from his pocket — the Sonic. That was worrying. He glanced back and forth between me and Violet. "Loki, I do not want to do anything rash — not in front of our daughters. But do not make me, because I swear to Rassilon that you will not make it out of here alive if you become a threat to Earth."

My own father was breathing hard, teeth gritted — trying to restrain himself, but clearly having a hard time of it. "I would not destroy this planet for a petty fight, Holmes. Believe it or not, I have learned better than that." (Everyone always judges my father based on the worst moments of his past.) "You, on the other hand — I might kill you if you continue in this vein!" (Then again, maybe they have a point.)

"You see?" Sherlock said, glaring. "The unpredictability, the fury simmering constantly just below the surface — you could never be relied upon! It is a mystery to me why your daughter has such trust in you."

The urge to strangle him returned. I'm amazed he got out of that argument alive.

"Father!" Violet exclaimed. (Again!) "Calm yourself! Ljota is trustworthy, or else why would I be friends with her?"

That was when Sherlock got really low. "Not like you have many friends, anyway," he muttered. I think we were all too shocked to respond for a moment. Violet was the first to recover.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU, SHERLOCK HOLMES! I trust Ljota, because she is worth it, you idiot! YES, I did just call you that! BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT! Now, I suggest that unless we all want to kill each other, we SIT DOWN and TALK!"

I won't deny that killing Sherlock, at least, was a tempting option at that moment. But he and Loki, still glaring, sat stiffly down across from one another and tried to be civil.

"Well," Sherlock sighed, "Violet, Ljota, what do you propose we do? It is obvious that Loki wants to find refuge somewhere on Earth, away from Odin, even if he has to find it himself. He trusts me no longer, nor you, Violet, so he intends to take his daughter with him — and no one wins, as always, when dealing with Loki."

Violet looked at me. "You'd leave . . . I mean, I understand, but — do you not trust me, Ljota?"

I struggled to answer. Hard question. Really. "You're the first friend I ever had, Vi. Still my only friend, by the looks of it." I looked darkly at Sherlock. "But I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't even know if I can trust myself. Nothing is constant anymore. Only my rage."

My father gave me a strange look. "You truly are my daughter," he murmured, surprised, then raised his voice a little. "I will do what I must to protect Ljota and myself. When Thor returns to Asgard, the Aesir will search for us far and wide. We all know it is not safe for either of us in that realm. We must not be found." The "we all know" was a nice move on his part. Since we hadn't explicitly told the Holmeses what life was like for us there, it acknowledged the fact that they would have deduced it on their own, and we both knew that that family's weakest point was their pride.

Violet looked at her father. "Dad, please." (Back to "Dad" now. I relaxed a little.) "Please, just consider this. If not for them, then for me. We both know what it is like to be rejected. I beg of you — help them."

Sherlock's gaze turned distant, and it was clear he was no longer really present in the room. I wanted to know what, exactly, he was remembering, but I'm not a Time Lord and have no mind-reading skills, so there was little chance of that.

At length, he spoke. "Yes. I will. Okay, okay. Ah, Loki, I hate to say this, but . . . you and Ljota may stay in Baker Street for a while. We have a spare room for you in this flat, and Violet has one in hers . . . you may stay."

I was surprised by the sudden presence of tears in my eyes. I suppose that's what extreme relief and other varieties of emotion will do to one. "Sherlock. Thank you. Thank you so much, I — this means so much to me, really. I don't know how I can ever pay my debt of gratitude."

My father and Sherlock both looked slightly disdainful at my emotional display. Violet looked concerned for my psychological well-being.

Raising his eyebrows but saying nothing, my father turned to Sherlock again. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Holmes." He was still radiating mistrust, but at least he was being polite.

Sherlock must have recognized the lack of trust, but he didn't mention it. Instead, he said , "Okay, Molly, you can come out now."

Violet looked quite surprised as her mother came back through the door. "She was there the whole time?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. She was outside the door, ready to call 999 if need be — sorry . . ."

My father didn't take it as an insult. On the contrary, he seemed oddly pleased. "At least we are equal in our mistrust of one another," he said. "Perhaps that is a good thing."