A month passed, and four visits to Midgard later Loki found that he quite liked Gwen. It was certainly refreshing to have someone who didn't bow and scrape to him, and her manner in this regard reminded him of his mother, whom missing felt like a physical wound whenever he thought of her. But Gwen was alive, albeit barely when he first met her, and unlike Frigga she had absolutely no respect for him.

Meanwhile, the longer he knew her, the more his respect for her grew. It was mainly because she was quite literally the only person he could be himself around, and he would have been inclined to like a Jotunn if it were to call him by his true name at this point. But a Jotunn he could not have been able to tolerate for more than a few minutes (besides himself, of course) while she had just enough redeeming qualities to balance out her many despicable ones.

He knew many Asgardian women who would have died of grief if their child had been taken away from them, let alone at such a young age, and had to grant that she was hardy for a mortal. Not only that, but she was surprisingly clever in certain (mainly illicit) areas, and she was only as proud as he was. She was inarguably rude, had questionable habits and wasn't anywhere near the attractive women he was used to, but overall she was excellent company- for a Midgardian.

The realm had earned his grudging respect when a handful of its more colourful inhabitants had managed to best him, which was why he permitted himself to like her- perhaps they weren't all as useless as the common average. He came to feel that paying for her upkeep was not enough in return for the information she brought him about his brother, as well as her general companionship.

For once, she was in when he appeared in the hotel rooms, and he was glad of it. "Get a coat," he said brusquely, and she scooped up her mouse as she stood up.

"Why?"

"Because I believe England is quite cold at this time of year."

Her face slackened, and she glanced at his Midgardian garb. "Loki, how-"

"I have my methods," he said. In reality, he had asked Heimdall to find who he was looking for, and when the gatekeeper had asked why the apparent palace guard was interested, he said it was on behalf of one of Thor's mortal friends. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Take my arm," he said, crystal in his other hand. "And hold on tight."

She did as she was told and the walls flickered and warped around them; Loki felt the now-familiar jolt in the pit of his stomach as they were dragged across space to the crystal cave. When the world came to a halt, Gwen staggered away into a corner and he heard retching.

"If you're quite finished," he said distastefully, "we need to move on."

"Where are we?" she asked, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"Asgard. It was easier to go via this route than straight to England." He yanked another crystal out of the dwindling supply on the wall. There was enough for a good century's worth of weekly travel for just one person, but no more; hence why the place was a secret, the resource was so finite that other routes were far easier. That, and they needed magic to be used. "Come here, it's easier the second time round."

She nodded, blue-tinged lips pressed tightly together, and gripped his arm again. The cave vanished and they world reassumed itself in the shape of a cloudy, lonely playpark. A few children in bright, puffy clothes ran around the warped metal constructions, and beside him Gwen bent down with her hands on her knees.

"You lied about it being easier," she groaned, and Loki rubbed her back between the shoulderblades.

"It'll pass in a couple minutes," he said, and she gave him a thumbs-up. "She's not here yet."

"I know," Gwen murmured, "I'm just gonna sit on that bench over there until the world stops spinning."

He followed her to the seat and stood beside her, wearing his old Midgardian glamour should any parents recognise him. He watched the mortal spawn- he made a note not to call them that aloud while Gwen was around- climb and slide and swing, wondering what the appeal was in them. Then another set of parents arrived with two more kids, one tiny and the other slightly taller, with a pale pointed face and dark eyes.

"Gwen," he said quietly, and her head shot up. "Is that…"

"Yeah," she murmured, "that's Lucy."

The elder of the two girls went and sat on a swing by herself, kicking herself into a swinging motion by the heels of her muddy shoes. Next to him, Gwen pressed her hands to her mouth and he heard a muffled sob.

"She's okay," she whispered, "oh my god, she's okay."

"Go and talk to her," he said, and she shook her head.

"And get arrested? Not likely."

"Her…" he was going to say parents, but thought better of it. "The adults with her are paying attention to the younger one, and no one else will care. Go."

"But-"

"I haven't gone through all this effort for you to sit here and cry, mouse," he told her coolly, "go or I'll leave you stranded here."

She took a deep breath. "Look after Algernon for me," she said shakily, and Loki reluctantly took the animal and dropped it in his pocket. She went and sat on the swing next to Lucy, and although he could just hear their voices he couldn't make out the words.

Ten minutes later, when Loki was bored out of his skull and staring up at the uniform grey sky, Gwen came and sat back next to him. "Well?" he asked, without looking at her.

"She wants to be an actress," she said quietly, "and her favourite singer is Taylor Swift, she likes purple and sour sweets, and, um, and she has a pet mouse called Angelina."

Loki raised his head to look at her. "The irony astounds."

She nodded. "She goes to ballet on Thursday, and theatre club on Saturday, she's a Hufflepuff, her favourite book is The Wee Free Men and… she's perfect, Loki, she's perfect."

She didn't seem all that much to him, but he supposed beauty was in the eye of the beholder as ever. "Does she know who you are?"

She shook her head. "Can I go home now, please?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He handed her back Algernon and they flitted from the park to the cave back to the hotel, where Gwen curled up in a chair and stared at the wall, the only movement being her finger running across her pet's back. Loki sat and watched her, and after half an hour her eyes shifted to him.

"Thank you," she said in a hoarse voice, "I guess you aren't as much of a twat as I thought."

"I shall take that as a compliment," he said. "And don't expect the same kindness from me in the future." Being nice was tiring, he had got nothing from it, and Gwen was now nowhere near her usual self- in short, she had become another snivelling Midgardian. Typical.

"I don't think I can do that again," she whispered.

"You are under no obligation to."

"It hurt." She closed her eyes. "How did it feel when your mother died?"

Loki didn't recall ever mentioning Frigga to her, but she must have heard while tailing Thor. "Like every instance of pain in my life had returned all at once," he said, "and every one from the future. There was a moment of choice, like I thought I could opt out of it, but then…" he didn't need to finish; they both already knew. Perhaps her mood was acceptable, in the circumstances. "Mouse," he said gently, "sleep."

"No," she mumbled.

"Why not?"

"Because when I wake up nobody'll be there." She buried her face in her hands, and Loki found he could not remain silent. She was still Gwen, after all. Still the impudent, morally grey woman he liked to have around.

"I will be."

She fell asleep on the sofa within minutes, and Loki quickly began to regret his decision. The moving picture screen on the wall held no interest for him, nor did the reading material supplied by the hotel. With a lack of anything better to do, he went to Gwen's small pile of possessions and picked up her battered old book. Catch-22, the cover declared, and with very low expectations he opened it to the first page.

%

When she woke up ten hours later, Loki had read the book back-to-back twice and felt like he had been somewhat underestimating Midgardians his entire life. Not much, of course, but a little.

Gwen propped herself up on her elbows and looked blearily at him. "You liked it?" she asked, nodding at the book.

"I… it's very odd," he said, and she sniggered her usual snigger.

"Among other things."

"This is really your favourite book?" he asked her.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it just… it's very odd," he finished lamely.

"So you said." She yawned. "I didn't expect you to actually stay. You're being uncharacteristically nice to me, y'know."

"Don't expect it to last," he warned her, "and I want you to return to your work today."

"Yeah yeah yeah, let me wake up first. Don't suppose your nice streak'll stretch to making me a cup of tea…"

"You should be so lucky," Loki smirked, standing up. "I shall see you next week."

He just caught sight of her mocking salute before she and the rest of the room disappeared.

A/N day late, sorry. FTR Gwen's entire (very small) library consists of books set during various historical events, and Cicero.