"So," said Gwen, sat back in her desk chair in the Burrow, clean and showered and feeling much the better for it, "what have we learned from this?"

"That I am to notify you in advance before sending you into dangerous situations," Loki said with a crooked grin.

"And that I should wait for people to stop chasing us before I start having a go at you," she countered. "Not that I didn't enjoy myself. Is that weird? It seems weird, but it was just… nice, y'know? Running away, only having simple problems. Being able to forget my old life."

"I know the feeling," Loki replied, "but new lives become old quickly, and you end up stuck in a cycle of endless running. Which is hardly fun."

"Guess so." She ran her hands through her hair, which had gone a little greenish from the yellow goop. She would have to re-dye it in the morning. "Knowhere was nice, but it was temporary. I feel old, Loki. Old and wise, and I don't like it."

"Said the mortal to the god," he said.

"But seriously… everything's different now, isn't it? We're not just pissing about anymore. Knowhere was our goodbye to all that. I don't feel like a kid playing at being an adult anymore. I have…" she shuddered. "Responsibilities." She looked at him, his unusually serious face. That was a kingly face if ever she saw one. "And that's not all, is it?"

Loki took a fountain pen from her desk and spun it between his fingers. "No. Gwen, there is a war coming that could very easily bring this universe and every realm within it to its knees."

"I know," she said, "Thanos, right? The infinity stones? The Relics? Heimdall told me. And there was the aftermath of one in the museum, too. Tivan didn't even have the one you gave to him on display."

"That and more, I suspect. It seems as though Hel itself is rising... I cannot guarantee your safety on Midgard. You have your Avengers, but they will be nothing against the forces rising."

"See," she said patiently, "this is the thing. I don't want you to guarantee my safety, Loki, because I am not a fucking child. I can look after myself, and besides, it's not just myself- it's the Rats, too. I have a family to take care of."

"I'm never going to convince you to leave this forsaken planet, am I?" he asked wretchedly.

She shook her head. "Besides, I should be looking out for you, not the other way round. King of Asgard's gonna be a pretty big target, I imagine."

"I should have been dead twice over already," he reassured her, "thrice, if some of your mighty heroes had had their way. I'll survive this."

"Like a cockroach," she joked, but her heart wasn't in it and he noticed.

"I'll make you a deal," he offered, which resulted in a raised eyebrow.

"Our entire relationship started because of a deal. I'm listening."

"If the Nine Realms somehow survive this, if everything returns to normal, then so do we," he explained, "but if I lose Asgard, or you your Rats, then one seeks refuge from the other. If we both lose everything, we run. Together. Although I do not think Knowhere would be a good place to return to."

Gwen almost laughed, but then she realised that the usual light that was in Loki's eyes when he joked was absent, replaced with a gravity that was rare but not unwelcome. He really cared, she thought. He cared enough about whatever this was to talk about something like an escape from the throne he had technically given his life to achieve. "That's one of the nicest things you've ever offered to do," she said. "You really do like plan Bs, don't you?"

"I need them more than any man ought."

"I guess..." She nibbled on her nail, her eyes following Algernon on his pointless journey around the desktop. What do I have holding me down, apart from the Rats? she mused. A daughter I can never see, and a valet I've dragged into an awful lot of trouble. And Loki, of course. Always, inescapably, Loki. He was, after all, the reason she was no longer a nobody pickpocket. And, of course, there was the fact that he was most likely the only person in the world who loved her.

If the Rats were gone... hell. What else would I have to lose?

"Deal," she stated, knowing as soon as she had said it that she would never have disagreed anyway. "So long as we don't, like, settle down or anything. That would be boring."

"Agreed."

"And…" she paused for a moment, running her thumb along her jaw as she struggled with what she was about to say. "I hate to remind you of any of my faults, but you have to remember I've probably only got another fifty years in me," she pointed out, hating to admit any weakness. "You have that a hundred times over."

Loki's reaction was unexpected, to say the least. His face hardened into something tougher than stone and, had she had a weaker constitution, Gwen would almost have been scared. "You think I haven't thought of that?" he asked incredulously. "Me? That I'm going to have to watch you grow frail and whitened, until you can barely walk and your eyes are clouded over so I'll never know what it's like to have you look at me again? That you'll die an old crone, and I'll have barely aged a day? Humans tend to die an awful lot, and I am acutely aware of that. I almost lost you on Knowhere, and… Gwen, it's going to hurt me like Hel. Not to be selfish, but I come off far worse in this deal than you do. You're the one who gets to love a god, after all."

"You're not a god," she retorted, "you're an alien."

"Do people not worship me? Do they not fall to their knees for me? You certainly do-" he ducked the knife that went flying in his direction.

"Don't be lewd," she chastised him. "I liked it better when you were being serious."

"Then I'll go back to that, then. I have no desire to watch you die, mouse."

It was difficult, even for Gwen, to know when Loki's sentiments were genuine, especially since an iron wall had slammed down behind his eyes as soon as she had begun to talk about him losing her. But he had said that last line with a brittle, fake lightness that had convinced her it was the truth, and with a sigh she poured him a drink from the bottle of scotch on her desk. "Can I ask you something?" she said, holding out his glass and filling another one for himself.

He took the drink with his elegant fingers forming a cage over the brim and swirled the golden liquid around inside. "Need I answer it?" he replied.

Gwen took a mouthful of the whisky and winced as it burned the back of her throat. "Why didn't you leave?" she asked. "When you found out that I was carrying your kid, why didn't you just ditch me and go back to Asgard. I couldn't've stopped you."

He gave her a look. "Odd question."

"Lucy's father left. Well, he – he didn't stay, anyway. And you, you have this whole life apart from me. It would be so easy for you to just, like, stop coming to Earth and pretend I don't exist. I mean – objectively, you've done worse than that. And I wouldn't blame you, either. If you wanted the kid, you could've just turned up when it was full grown and claimed it as your own without having to deal with any of the actual parenting stuff. The old legends are full of that happening – Loki, you had no good reason to stay, no precedent. It's not in your nature to be faithful. Why?"

Loki shifted in his seat, pulled one leg up into his lap and rested his elbow on his knee. "I –"

"And don't lie," she said, "please."

He nodded. "Because Midgard is becoming increasingly important in affairs of my domain," he said, "and I would be a fool to sever my most beneficial connection to it. Because I would much rather have your sympathy than your hatred. Because, shockingly, I care what my mother thought of me, and I have no doubt she would be horrified to see me abandon my kin. Because - what is it you call it? - noblesse oblige. Because I could not leave a human-Jotun hybrid unattended."

Gwen nodded. "Those are good reasons," she said, "I suppose."

"And because I love you," he added, and she raised an eyebrow. "Do you really not believe me? After all that has happened, you really think that I could leave you to carry such a burden on your own? You think I could ever turn my back on someone as magnificently bloody-minded, and acerbic, and oddly attractive as you? Why, Gwen? Is it because you think so lowly of me, or the same of yourself?"

Gwen's cheeks were hot, her eyes prickling. "Little bit of both," she mumbled, and with an exasperated sigh Loki stood up and walked around the desk, leaning on the edge of it next to her seat. He took her hand and turned it upwards, tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb.

"Lucy's father," he said, "left you with a variety of fascinating and inconvenient complexes."

"You should see the damage my parents left on me."

He smiled. It wasn't a malicious smile, and Gwen rather liked it. "I will not abandon you, little mouse," he said, with a warmth that a frost giant should have been unable to achieve. "Not now nor when you are ancient and haggard. Should our empires fall, I would be happy to run away with naught but you. It's quite selfish, really. If nothing else, know that I will always stay with you for the simple fact that you bring me pleasure."

"Finally," said Gwen, "something I can believe."