Max awoke with a stiff neck and tears in her eyes. Breathing heavily, she sat up and wiped the wet streams away, groaning when she realized she had fallen asleep with her head propped up against the wall, her body splayed across her new bed. The mattress was probably harder than the metal piping she had slept in the day before, but at least it was indoors and rat-free.

Her dreams had been awful. After Reed showed her and Loki to their floor, Max was just about ready to collapse—and she wanted to do it alone. Loki had already spent all this time looking after her, and when she realized she was in the verge of a full-tilt mental breakdown, she closed her door and locked herself in to the dark room. It was there, as she sat on the edge of that hard mattress, that she really took the time to process everything. Aliens. Death. Lost friends. No phone. No connection to the outside world—no Nolan. They were all thoughts she had been suppressing so far, ones that she had tried not to think about, but the mental wall she threw up started to crumble once she was alone.

She hadn't cried so much in a long time. Even the aftermath of Nolan's death felt like a bit of sniveling compared to the shit-storm of tears and snot and hyperventilating that came when she was finally free with her thoughts. When she couldn't cry anymore—who knows how long that actually took?—Max collapsed onto her bed and passed out, dead to the world and engulfed in dreams that were even more horrible than her reality. For a while, she watched a bullet obliterate Nolan's face while the men she met in the tunnel laughed in the distance. The rest were images that she couldn't remember, and she certainly didn't want to try—there was enough terror in her head for a lifetime.

After climbing to her feet, using the wall for support, she winced and hobbled toward what appeared to be a heavy set of curtains. Sue had done a good job at wrapping her feet, and she was as surprised as anyone to find that the cuts under the bandages weren't infected. So, while they were sore, aching with each step she took, Max knew they weren't life-threatening in the slightest. The rest of her body was stiff, and her cheek still felt swollen from where the butt of a gun hit it. However, for all the hassle her body went through, it was in a much better condition than her mind.

She could have done with some light. She understood why there was a rule to keep the lights in their current condition, but Max couldn't take the darkness anymore. As she approached the window covered in thick cloth, she could hear rain pounding against the pane, and when she yanked the curtain back, she saw an impressive thunderstorm in process. White streaks of lightning lit up the black sky, and fat droplets of water slammed against the window. She peered down toward the street level, and for a city that usually never slept, it was quiet. One car rolled by in the ten minutes that she waited, and it cruised along like it was on patrol—no joyrides by teens or taxis full of drunks tonight.

This morning?

She had no idea what time it was, but she assumed she hadn't been asleep for long. Sighing, she let the curtain fall, blocking out the flickering lights of nearby buildings and street lamps, and then turned toward the bathroom door. She hadn't done much investigating of her room yet, but it appeared empty aside from the bed—Reed said they were still in the process of decorating all the tower's floors. However, she had seen that she and Loki shared a bathroom again before she shut him out, and it was the bathroom that she needed desperately now.

The door creaked noisily when she opened it, and she could see directly through the small room to the other side. Loki appeared to have a curtain-less room, and the bright city lights gave the space an otherworldly glow. As Max inched forward, taking her time for the sake of her soles, she spied Loki's impressive outline in front of a window, his back to her and hands clasped. Only when she started to close his bathroom door did he glance over his shoulder, and it was barely a half-turn before he resumed staring out the window.

Using a bathroom in a pitch black room always reminded her of camping when she was a kid. Wandering out of her shared tent with Nolan to find the sad outdoor bathroom hut—it wasn't real camping, but close enough—when her tiny bladder couldn't wait until morning was always an experience, and it would be forever seared into her brain when she searched for a toilet at night. Thankfully, this bathroom was not crawling with bugs, nor did it smell like a hundred other people had just used it. In fact, it all felt new: the toilet handle stuck when she pushed it, as if no one had used it in a few months.

The taps were roughly the same experience, and Max waited for a few moments for warm water before giving up. Instead, cold water splashed against her cheeks, and it was more comforting than she expected. She gritted her teeth when she touched her face, but a few more careful pokes indicated that it probably looked worse than it felt, and hopefully there would be no pain in a few days. Her eyes were swollen and probably red, but the icy chill of the water made them feel better. There were no towels anywhere, so Max dried her hands and face on her borrowed sweater.

It was then she had a decision to make. She could go back to her bedroom and curl up on that rock of a mattress, all the while praying that she would have a dreamless sleep. The alternative was immediately more attractive, and Max hobbled over to Loki's door once more and slipped into his bedroom. The rain had yet to let up any, slamming against his windows with such force that Max expected the glass to rattle.

Loki didn't turn back this time. He stayed in front of the window, stiff and still like some marble statue she'd find in her dream museum. For a moment, she stared at his back, waiting for him to say something—anything. Instead, they lapsed into silence, and she stalked across the room and clambered onto his equally hard bed. As she situated herself against the wall, tucking her legs beneath the thin blanket, she noticed he had a few more furnishings than she did, including a desk (but no chair) and a dresser. Her eyes darted toward him—like he would ever need a dresser again. Both of their clothes were hanging to dry somewhere in the tower, and Max assumed he would rather live in his one outfit than continue to borrow clothes from Reed Richards.

She hadn't expected superheroes to be so painfully ordinary. Hell, the pizza they had had for dinner was from a box. It was probably the same brand Max bought for her and Pat to share less than a week ago. Loki was right to shush her when she questioned their ordinariness, their inaction, but she couldn't sit around in polite silence for long. She'd speak up again, whether they liked it or not.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, highlighting the heavy raindrops on the windowpane, and Max counted the seconds before the thunder struck—four Mississippi beats.

"Does your brother make the thunderstorms?"

She leaned her head back against the wall, her voice thick and heavy, and she watched Loki's profile. His eyebrow shot up and he blinked rapidly, as if he had been in a trance before, and then shook his head.

"Only when he's bored." His jaw clenched, eyes drifting down to the streets below. "Don't call him that."

"What?"

"My brother."

She wanted to argue that he technically was the man's brother, even if Loki lied about it and twisted the definition. Fortunately for them both, Max didn't have the energy—or desire—to pick a fight with him. So, she exhaled deeply instead, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her baggy sweater.

"Okay."

Blinking slowly, Max studied her companion for quite some time. He stood there in normal clothes—relatively normal, mind you—and right there he was both everything and nothing like the man she had lived with two years ago. He looked similar, though she could see how lean he was now, the way his cheeks sunk inward. He was Loki and yet he was also Loki, Asgardian and super-human. Although they were familiar with one another, it was like she had a whole new person to explore now, to inquire about, to discover. It was both heartbreaking and exciting, though she couldn't decide which feeling was stronger.

Max knew almost everything about his time with her in Masonville, and yet she knew nothing about the rest of his life. Barely anything he told her had been true—as far as she was concerned, anyway. It was almost easier to pretend he was still that person, still her roommate and boyfriend. But times had changed, as had she and he, and there was no going back to any of it after this.

She continued to look at him, even when he turned back and sauntered toward her, arms hanging loose by his sides. There was no shame in her stare, and her eyes followed him from the window to the bed to the spot directly beside her. His long legs hung over the edge of the mattress, crooked and bent as he shuffled down so that they were the same height. Backs against the wall and hands in their laps, Max tilted her head to the side and continued to study him.

"You're looking at me."

He finally glanced in her direction, an eyebrow arched and his lips curved upward. Max returned the smile weakly, though it was a fleeting expression.

"It feels like a long time since I've been able to," she told him. "It's like I forgot what you looked like."

"Time will do that."

"Yeah."

She shifted onto her side, tucking her legs and bandaged feet under her, inching closer in the process.

"Were you a prisoner the whole time?" she asked. "I mean, since I last saw you."

He glanced down at his hands for a moment, as if to study them with some interest, and then nodded. A soft puff of air slipped through her lips, and before she realized it, her eyes were watering.

"I thought you just left me," she whispered. Loki closed his eyes slowly, creases settling across his forehead. "You just… disappeared, and I thought you left me."

Using the cuff of Johnny Storm's grey sweater, Max wiped her nose and eyes, sniffling noisily. For the longest time, she couldn't help but feel abandoned—like she wasn't good enough for him anymore. Never once did she express it to anyone, because she knew she was good enough for anyone she wanted to be, but it was a feeling that she couldn't help.

"Do you want to know what I was doing when they took me?" She nodded quickly when he looked at her. He spoke so quietly that she strained to hear, and when he closed his eyes again, she shuffled closer. "I was going to that… yoghurt shop. I thought I would wait there until you stopped being angry with me."

The laugh that slipped out seemed to startle both of them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to smother the few giggles that followed.

"That was your plan, was it?" she asked, shaking her head at him. "Eat some frozen yoghurt and wait for me to get over myself?"

"At the time it seemed like a very doable option," he admitted, smiling down at her when she nudged him in the side.

"For future reference, it's a really stupid idea."

"So I came to discover."

That managed to stop the laughter. Still, the tears seemed to have also stopped, and Max watched him lift a hand and set it on her leg. It trailed up and down the comforter, up to her hip and down to her calf, twice. It eventually came to rest on her knee, his fingers curving beneath the cap through the blanket. When she realized she was close enough, Max leaned against his shoulder. It took a lot of effort to keep from nestling up completely, and she kept her hands to herself—for the time being.

"What did they do to you?" She bit the insides of her cheeks when she finally asked the question that had been at the back of her mind. She wasn't sure if she wanted the gory details, but his time with them felt like a part of his story, like it was something she ought to know.

"Max," he sighed, stroking her leg with his thumb, "I'm not going to tell you what they did to me."

"Loki—"

"I don't want to relive it, Max…" He sounded much firmer this time, like it was a subject he wouldn't broach. She could respect it, but it wasn't enough to quench her curiosity. "Don't ask me again."

She brought her hand down to hesitantly rest on his, which stilled his movements. Trailing her fingers over the backs of his, she wondered if she ought to encourage this—was this really the right time? As she wrapped her hand around his, she realized something suddenly felt off, and when she looked down at their clasped hands, she noticed it: he had no fingernails. She stared for a moment in disbelief—how had she missed that?

Loki let her snatch his other hand, and those fingers were also missing their tips.

"They're growing back," he muttered. "Slower than I had expected, but…"

She gathered both his hands in hers and brought them to her chest, simply holding them there.

"Do not pity me." He extracted one hand and used it to tilt her head up, a finger under her chin. "Max, do not pity—"

"I don't," she told him shakily. "Not even a little."

He cupped her cheek, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, and she clutched at his wrist, heart racing.

"I missed you."

Her words were nothing more than a breathless whisper, barely audible to herself. But she wouldn't deny it. She wouldn't pretend to feel something different now that he was back in front of her. Loki's eyebrows furrowed when she looked up at him—he appeared to be frowning. She murmured his name, once, twice, and then grasped his shirt collar.

They pulled one another forward, she by his shirt and he by her neck, and her skin prickled when his lips pressed to hers. The kiss was soft for a fraction of a second, and then Max practically threw her arm around his neck, hauling herself up as their lips parted. He felt more solid—if that was possible—than she remembered him being, but he tasted and smelled the same, and the same eyes bore back into hers when they fluttered open.

Her legs were stiff when she straddled him. Her cheek hurt when she kissed him. Everything hurt, in fact, and Max didn't care. She raked her fingers through his hair as his hands trailed down to her lower back, slipping under the woolly sweater against her skin. Breaking away for a moment, Max started to work on the small white buttons of his shirt, popping each one open with unsteady hands.

"Max—"

She cut him off with another kiss, slating her mouth over his and willingly opening it when he nipped at her lower lip. He seemed to let her slide the fabric off his shoulders once she had finished with the final button, and they barely broke apart long enough for him to yank her sweater off. She winced when it caught in her hair—he pulled gently then, his gaze focused on the task. Braless, she was happy that Sue had a tank top to lend her to wear beneath, but it didn't hide the darkening bruises across her skin.

Neither of them seemed to notice for long.

She kissed him harder than she might have before, feeling as though her regular style might not be enough now. He gave no indication that he disliked it, and when she felt his arousal between her legs, she ground down against it and tugged at his hair when he groaned. She wanted this—the closeness, the comfort. As his lips trailed down her neck, teeth raking across the sensitive skin, Max reached between them and started to undo his trousers, yanking the zipper down noisily.

He then lifted her and set her on her back, crawling between her thighs and running his lips along her torso, over fabric and skin alike. A beat of arousal pulsed within her, curling up from her abdomen and out through her limbs, and she lifted her hips obligingly when Loki hooked a thumb beneath the waistband of her pants. The material slid easily down her legs, though it gathered and stuck on the bandages. Max groaned a little and sat up to get rid of them entirely, but Loki's firm hand on her chest kept her in place. He then stretched the elastic bottoms of the pants so that they moved over her wrapped feet without touching anything, and they soon joined his shirt and her sweater somewhere on the floor.

His lips ghosted along her calves, her knees, her thighs, and Max tugged him back up—or at least tried to—when he nipped at her hipbone.

"Loki…" She licked her lips, begging without saying a word, and he soon settled against her, propping his body up with his arms. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders as she kissed him, lips barely pressed to his, and she let out a moan when he eased into her. She knew what she wanted—what she needed. She needed him. Her body, on the other hand, wasn't quite as ready as her mind was, and there was more pain than she would have liked.

He seemed to feel the resistance, and Max shut her eyes as he kissed her, her head cradled in both of his large hands. He took his time now, tongue darting in and out of her mouth, and ever so slowly, he continued to thrust into her. He slid down to the hilt when she wrapped her leg around his waist, and there he remained, still and solid, as she tugged him closer.

When he began to move again, the pain was gone. She almost felt stifled, like the togetherness ought to be overwhelming, but she continued to claw at his shoulders and back, keeping him near as he took her. He was gentle and steady at first, rocking their hips and kissing her. For the most part, his eyes remained closed, and when she felt a hand tighten in her hair, she knew his resolve was breaking. She cupped his face and gave him a quick peck.

"I missed you," she whispered again, and his grip continued to tighten, his pace quickening. She said it over and over, clinging to him as his expression deepened, appearing almost pained. Their kisses grew more frantic, more desperate, and Max came without realizing the pleasure was building. She whimpered his name, rolling her hips to ride out the exquisite sensation, and then locked her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

He continued to take her for quite some time afterward, his pace never faltering in speed or strength, and just as Max started to feel pain again, he groaned deeply in her hair. She used to think that his harsh caresses would leave marks, but they seldom did in the past. This time, as he carefully extricated himself from her grasp, she was positive that there would be some bruising tomorrow.

The mattress was somewhat uncomfortable for two people to fit on, especially when one was a god, but neither said a thing about it. Instead, Max stared at the ceiling, her hands shaking.

She had hoped she would feel better, but she didn't. She naively thought that a quick reminder of what they once had would be enough to take the real pain away, but it didn't.

Her lower lip started to tremble, and she rolled onto her side with her hands pressed over her mouth. The bed shifted as Loki mimicked her pose, throwing an arm around her waist, but he retracted it when he undoubtedly realized she was crying.

"It's not you," she whimpered, feeling instantly horrible for breaking down thirty seconds after sex. "I'm sorry, it's just… It's not you that—"

"It will pass, Max." It was the first thing he said to her in some time, and she rolled over slowly, arms tucked to her chest. He ran a hand through her hair, bringing it to rest on her shoulder. "I promise that it will pass."

Her breath stuttered out unevenly, but she managed to nod before curling against him, eyes shut and mind drifting as he pulled the blanket up.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

So! I had thought I would have this done tomorrow, but it's today! How thrilling so everyonnnne!

I found this chapter a challenge to write, but I think it's because I had such high expectations for myself. I feel like it's an important development in their current relationship, and I wanted to portray everything just right. I'm not sure if I accomplished it, but I'm happy with the final result. Like I've said in the past, I don't write sex scenes for shits and giggles. Generally, they contribute to the plot or character development, and I'm hoping this chapter contributes to Loki and Max's relationship in a big way.

Right now, Loki does feel a little soft to me, but I chalk that up to the overwhelming realization that someone actually missed him as much as Max obviously did. His stubborn self is going to make a comeback in some pretty big ways, so I will accept the feels for the time being. I HAVE SPOKENNN.

I need to write the epilogue to my other active Loki story, so that may take up the better portion of next week. Hopefully, if that gets sorted and I have lots of time to work on the next ghostwriting gig I get, I can start the next update sometime toward the end of the week, possibly the weekend.

So much LOVE to all my darling readers and lurkers out there! I planned the next six chapters in detail and finalized things in sequels… and I am debating making this series my only fanfiction while I work on original work. So. Just know how much I wuv this story and the characters and YOU.

SEE YOU SOON!