This was the first time Loki had seen Ben Grimm discernibly excited. If one could call it a bounce, that was what one might find in his step that morning. If he didn't know any better, he might assume that Ben was excited to be doing something for the betterment of this world. Even if he said nothing on the matter, the creature hadn't once shot a glare his way, nor had he tried to grind Johnny into a wall after the latest string of barely concealed insults. Johnny Storm practically glowed too—and he wasn't covered in a single flame.

Over breakfast that morning, Sue and Reed were tense—she had constantly looked to their children, and he had seemed to be itching to get back to the laboratory. For the most part, they had been silent, whereas Johnny had been annoyingly chatty, Peter had been fidgety and clumsy (as noted by the various stains on his t-shirt from breakfast alone), and Ben had contributed more to the conversation than Loki had ever heard him do in the past. Max, on the other hand, was calmer than he had seen her, but she was only present for the later portion of the meal, and he had felt the distance between them despite the fact that she sat directly beside him.

He'd felt the space since the previous night, and he expected it to narrow as time went on. When it didn't, he found himself frustrated. Why should he be punished with stony silence for making a good decision? He wanted her out of harm's way. He wanted her safe in the tower—free from all the dangers out there—and he thought he was being completely selfless in the act. Rarely did he bother to consider the fates of others, and yet when he did, she seemed extremely unimpressed with him. He'd tried the best he could to convince her of his perspective—tried to turn her to his way of thinking. However, when her stunted one-word answers finally wore on his nerves the night before, he retired to bed, not caring whether she joined him or not.

In time, she would see that this was the right decision for her. He could take her annoyance if it meant she lived to see another day with him.

He wrinkled his nose when his foot sunk down into a hole, sloshing water up his leg. It was bad enough that they needed to burrow beneath the city like vermin, but they could have at least chosen a tunnel that wasn't in shambles. Bits and pieces were missing from everywhere, and all three of them had almost fallen into the murky water several times thus far. Teeth gritted, he leaned a hand on the slime-covered wall and yanked his foot free from the hole, nearly losing his borrowed shoe in the process. At first, they had thought to dress Loki up in his fake ceremonial garb and send him parading down the street to attract a Pagurolid or two, but he quickly vetoed the idea.

He had no interest in looking like a fool for this mission. At the moment, the retrieval of Pagurolid samples rested in Johnny's somewhat capable hands, while Ben and Loki would secure them once they were dragged down into the sewers. If the need arose, Loki offered to send a duplicate into the street, but he had to agree with Max's previous concern: he didn't want the Pagurolid overlords to know he was somewhere in the city. They had traveled a great distance from the tower to make their collection, but he had no interest in putting the dogs back on his scent.

That had been Sue's thought process too, and before they had fled into the bowels of the tower that morning, she insisted that they make their collections as far away as possible. Two hours of mindless walking had passed as a result, and Loki was not looking forward to dragging semi-conscious Pagurolids back through the wet darkness—particularly in the areas that he had to crouch in.

Still, no one could deny that he was putting an effort into the fight. He was up early like the rest of them that morning, and he was down in the gutters with them by midday—this would be remembered.

Their surroundings started to open up somewhat, and Johnny and Loki were able to hop up onto the stone walkway by the wall. Ben, unfortunately, remained too wide to make use of it, though Loki assumed the water wouldn't be a bother to the creature's stony outer shell.

"There we go," Johnny said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at Loki as he pointed at a metal ladder in the distance. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness long ago, and he squinted a little at the streams of light filtering in from above. "Our first stop."

"No, it ain't." Ben sloshed noisily beside them, catching up quickly. "That's West 25th Street… We want 24th Street."

"No, it's the right one."

"It ain't."

"Look, we crossed over 9th Avenue, and now we're on 24th—"

"We didn't go far enough," Ben argued, at which point Loki let out a lengthy, pointed sigh.

"Gentlemen," he said smoothly, "does it really matter which street we're on? I think we've traveled far enough from the tower."

"Reed says the tank's route goes up 25th Street," Ben told him, shooting Johnny a look, "so we should steer clear."

"Good thing we're on West 24th then, isn't it?" Loki watched the man dart ahead, grasping the ladder's noticeably wet railing and swinging up onto a rung. Ben grumbled something under his breath, his voice too garbled for Loki to make out—he was sure it was something unfavourable toward Johnny.

And so the spell was broken.

He sauntered forward, hands clasped behind his back, and steepled his eyebrows as he watched Johnny push the manhole covering up. The man almost did a full circle with the metal plate resting atop his head before he ducked back down, the cover clattering noisily into place.

Johnny pursed his lips, and then gave a little grin.

"Tank."

The covering rattled somewhat, and Ben groaned noisily.

"Doesn't matter," Johnny said quickly, tapping the metal covering with two fingers. "We'll just wait for him to move on."

"But I was right."

"I think I saw a few pigs flying, actually," Johnny chuckled, and Loki barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. The rumbling grew noisier and noisier, until finally it tapered off, leaving the dark sewer in a precarious silence. No one moved, not even Johnny, until a good three minutes of silence had passed. Then, as if there were never any danger at all, the man popped the lid back open and stepped up two more rungs.

Loki observed from the bottom, careful to not exert too much effort into all this. However, when Johnny whistled noisily and seemed to make a waving gesture with his arm, he wondered if he ought to step in.

"Hey!" the man shouted. "I'm stuck… Want to lend a hand?"

"We had a script," Ben grumbled. Water slopped up onto Loki's shoes as the creature rushed forward, sending small tidal waves up on either side of him, and he took a disgusted step back—not like they had even begun to dry, but he had no interest in dampening them again so soon. "Use the script!"

"Yeah, you, hello," Johnny called. "I just… Come here, friend."

Loki rolled his eyes: this was going to be a long afternoon if this was the tactic they were going to take.

"Don't just… Don't just talk to them like that," Ben said irritably. He looked back to Loki, perhaps for reassurance, and then let out a low rumble when he held his hands up—Loki had no intention of telling anyone how to do their job. He had two tasks that he intended to perform admirably: blooding and holding. For now, Johnny Storm could do whatever he pleased.

"Yeah, my… my pants are stuck on the ladder," Johnny continued—Loki practically cringed. "Can you just help me out?"

His ears twitched when a response sounded from the ground above, and he leaned forward, eyebrows up as he glanced along the ladder's dirty rungs. Moments later, a woman was tumbling down—shrieking to the high heavens. Loki lurched forward and grabbed her, catching her before she cracked her skull open on any number of hard surfaces around her. He pressed a hand to her mouth and slammed her against the wall.

"Don't break her," Ben grunted. He paid the creature no mind, but did manage to lessen the force he exerted on her. Johnny replaced the lid on the manhole within seconds, and Loki took a moment to stare into those eyes that weren't quite right—the ones that humans should have noticed years ago. He shook his head, disgusted, and handed her off to Ben.

As the creature held her limbs, Johnny pulled out two pairs of metallic cuffs, clasping them on her wrists and ankles. They also taped her mouth shut for good measure. Loki would have liked to give her head a few good bashings, but Reed wanted the specimens in near-perfect health.

"Whatcha think?" Johnny asked, hands on his hips as the trio observed her. "She seems to fit the list, right?"

She had dark skin—darker than Loki had seen in quite some time—with bright blue eyes. Overall, she was somewhat shorter than Max, though roughly the same size across the midsection. Her hands were small and her hairline seemed receded across her forehead. He offered a half-hearted shrug when Johnny looked his way.

"She appears to be in good health," he noted. "I see no visible marks or blemishes that would indicate otherwise."

No signs of sickness. Two men, two women. Healthy—a mix of races, if at all possible. Those were Reed's qualifications for this "study", and they seemed to be off to a good start.

"Okay, down to West 17th and 7th," Ben started, sloshing through the sewage once more. The woman whimpered, but no one seemed to notice her distress. Loki held up a hand.

"A moment," he said, stepping down into the water to get at her eye level. This time, he had no qualms in getting his shoes wet. He ran his hands up and down her form, and then, when he reached into her jacket, he found what he was looking for: a silver dagger.

"I had hoped the groping was for a purpose," Johnny chuckled, and Loki shot him a look over his shoulder.

"They should all be blooded," he reminded the pair. He took the woman's elbow and slashed at the sensitive skin underneath—hard enough to make her bleed, but not enough to cause any serious damage. She screamed into the grey across her lips. Sure enough, thick black liquid oozed from the wound, and he pulled her shirt's sleeve down to cover it.

"Definitely an alien."

"They use the knife to get inside their newest shells," he said conversationally, holding the bloodied dagger up for all to see. Head cocked to the side, he wiped it on his shirt and then pocketed it—it was bound to come in handy at some point. "Keep an eye out for them… I believe the blades are usually tainted with something to subdue you."

Both Johnny and Ben shot the woman a wary glance, and Loki patted the belt loop on his pants that held the dagger's handle in place. No creature was safe from the venom, and while Loki had no intention of crawling inside another being's flesh, he figured that the weapon may be useful in the future—and today, he intended to add three more to his personal armory.

"Onward, gentleman," he said smoothly, hopping up on the damp walkway. He shot the woman another look, and then added, "And Pagurolid."

She grunted, her eyes narrowed, and he shot her a predatory grin before carrying on into the darkness.

"Hey, was that the Spiderman?"

"Where?"

"Over there!"

"Well, holy shit, it is!"

Max smirked as Peter ducked out of the flickering light of the subway tunnel, preferring to stick to the shadows. Three hours into their adventure and they were both ready to be back in the tower—someone got them lost in the sewers, however. So, in order to reorient themselves without having to duck into the outside world, they managed to find their way into the subway. From there, it was easy to figure out the quickest way back to the tower. Peter still carried the majority of the load, but after all the harrowing experiences, Max wanted to do nothing more than crawl into bed after a hot shower.

Unfortunately, the summer heat was starting down there already, creeping through the poorly ventilated underground systems like a rapidly spreading disease. They had seen countless groups of people, and not all of them were like the gang of ruffians Max and Loki had initially dealt with: ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. Pushing shopping carts and lugging suitcases, they were going to roast down there if they had to live the summer underground. She wanted to do something for them—for everyone, really.

However, Peter's words rang true now more than ever.

"How are we supposed to make everyone comfortable?" he had said when she voiced her opinion. "And for the handful that we could put in the tower, how do we choose? Are some more worthy than others?"

It was a lot of wisdom coming out of a twenty year old, and she hated to admit that he had a point. Still, there were a lot of empty floors and rooms in the tower, and she thought it might be nice to lend a few out on a temporary basis.

"Sue and Reed barely tolerate us as it is," he had added quickly. "I mean, they like us just fine, but in all the time I've known them, they're very possessive about their personal space."

At the time, she had nodded and said nothing more about it. She could understand Sue and Reed's fanatical devotion to privacy: they were almost always in gossip magazines, and that couldn't be easy with two young kids to cart around. But there were different circumstances these days—a paparazzi's biggest concern would be survival, not snapping a picture of Franklin and Valeria.

Still, she had learned her lesson the first time: don't push for things outright. If she really wanted to start helping the people in the subway, she'd have to suggest it discreetly to the people who could make it happen, and then go from there.

"How's the face doing?" She heard Peter's voice over the dripping of water, but she was too busy concentrating on hopping across dry patches to reply. Once she was through, out of the last leg that would connect them to the subway system, she straightened up and sighed.

Which reopened the damn thing.

"It was starting to clot," she mused. At this point, her hands had touched too many dirty things for her to dab at her face, and her sweater wasn't in much better condition. So, she would have to let the shallow wound bleed until she found something more sanitary to stop it.

"We'll be there soon," he said, carrying on ahead without stopping to check on her. Not that she needed someone to fuss over her—she thought she was handling things just fine. Still, with each step that shower was more and more appealing.

The more they walked through the dark, wet sewer line, the more she started to vaguely recognize. Before long, they were in the massive open area where she and Loki had first spotted Peter's webbing a month ago, and they were soon scrambling across the wires, both ducked low. Peter moved far more gracefully than she could ever hope to, but she only stumbled twice—quite the accomplishment indeed. When they reached the spot where she and Loki had been originally ambushed, Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and leapt through the hole in the wall, landing delicately and setting her on her feet.

"Smooth sailing," he said with a laugh, smacking her arm. She winced, but managed a grin. However, the grin started to fade when faint voices echoed down the dimly lit hall, and she shared a look with the expressionless mask.

"Should we—"

"Sounds like Johnny, actually," he said abruptly, waving at her to follow. She took off hesitantly behind him, worry niggling at her—if there was Johnny, there was surely Loki, and she had hoped to avoid him until she could clean herself up.

"Peter…"

"Well, there's a familiar face!" Johnny bellowed, and Max came a stumbling halt in the shadows. He, Ben, and Loki were gathered around a quartet of people beneath a flickering light bulb. They appeared to have met all the stringent qualifications Reed set out for his test subjects: two males, two females. It wasn't all that surprising that they managed to find a different race for each subject—New York was teeming with just about everyone and everything.

All four had their mouths taped shut and their wrists and ankles bound. They were currently seated on the ground, their backs to one another, and the three familiar men stood around them as though they were debating something.

"Did you remember to get the milk?" Johnny asked as Peter approached, and Max realized that she would genuinely look like she was hiding from Loki if she stayed where she was for too long. So, she stepped forward, her arms at her sides and the gun tucked neatly back in its holster. Johnny's smile faltered somewhat when he saw her, and it wasn't long before she felt a familiar set of eyes flit toward her. She met them shortly after in the silence that followed, and her arms folded instinctively across her chest as he stalked toward her, grim-faced and serious.

"It's fine," she whispered, pulling her head away before he could touch her cheek. "It's not that deep."

She saw his jaw clench, the sharp contours of his face jutting out angrily in the shadows. He stared down at her for a moment, and Max swallowed thickly, waiting for it—whatever "it" might be. But it never came. Loki let out a small puff of air before turning and stalking back to the bodies. He bent down and hoisted one of the men over his shoulder, taking no care to the way the man's spine arched, and then marched in the general direction of the tower.

She exhaled shakily: she hadn't expected silence. She wasn't sure if he would yell or hiss or sneer, but she thought he would say something to her. Still, maybe this was better. He looked angry enough to want to hit someone, and as she shuffled toward the others, she wondered if it might have been better to wait until that feeling passed.

"You okay?" Johnny asked. Ben had thrown a body over each shoulder, leaving a slim woman for Johnny to manage. She nodded, feeling three sets of eyes on her, and then tried to force a smile—which was hard to do when she felt like she was going to vomit again. Adrenaline was a blessing and a curse.

"Yeah, it's nothing," she said breezily, and Johnny arched an eyebrow.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"We checked it out already," she added, zipping and unzipping her sweater a few times. "It's a shallow cut… I bet it just bled a lot."

"It's all down your neck," he told her, pointing at the top of her sweater. "You should talk to him."

"I…" She pulled her sweater out and sighed when she saw the dark red stain. "Yeah, I plan to."

She noticed Peter studying her, but it was still impossible to make out his reflection behind the mask. However, she wasn't the only one to think that.

"Take the damn mask off," Ben rumbled. When he turned back to stare pointedly at Peter, the two alien-humanoids on his shoulder had their limbs flail, like they were scarves caught in the breeze. "No one's lookin' at you down here."

Peter hesitated for a moment, but then pulled the fabric off with a shrug.

"Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it."

He looked exhausted, with lines of weariness down his cheeks and heavy circles under his eyes. The odd lightning in the tunnel undoubtedly played a part in it, but as Max watched him move, she realized he was probably just as eager for a hot shower and a bed as she was. Even superheroes got tired, it seemed.

Johnny shouldered the final Pagurolid, and the three of them set off after Ben.

"How did everything go?" he asked, his tone less jovial now. Peter grinned, nodding his head a few times.

"We got everything."

"Nice."

"We got ambushed by a pack of roving janitors," Max added with a slight roll of her eyes—like it was no big deal. "We had to jump out the window to get rid of them."

Johnny's grin was lopsided, as if he wasn't sure he ought to smile or not, but when Max let out a tired chuckle, the expression grew into something bigger.

"And that's the only injury you have?"

"So far."

"Impressive, Max Wright," he said. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will be calling you up before you know it."

She arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"The secret spy agency that all the Avengers work with."

"For," Peter clarified, and her eyes darted to him quickly. She smirked.

"Well, I did puke in the sewer once we were in the clear," she chuckled, absently smoothing the sleeve against her side with the remnants of bile on it. "I bet that's precisely what they're looking for."

"That's basically your star quality for the interview."

She nudged him, but her smile faltered when the woman on his shoulder looked at her, her too green eyes swiveling in Max's direction. They then lapsed into an easy conversation about Johnny's day: the pick-ups, the sewers, the locations, the roving tanks. Ben interjected a few times, usually whenever Johnny seemed to embellish some part of a story, but both of them seemed to be in fairly good spirits.

Maybe Loki had been too—before he saw her, that is.

She found him again in the basement level of the tower, waiting for the rest of them at the bottom of the vacant elevator shaft. His alien sat by his feet, hunched over and grumbling against the tape. Ben deposited his two kidnaped subjects there too, and once Johnny set his woman on the ground, he gestured between Peter and elevator.

"Tow service?"

"Yup." Peter made a wide arc around Loki to get to the elevator shaft, shooting him little looks here and there. Loki, however, was staring at the wrangled Pagurolids—he didn't look directly at her once. Licking her lips, Max took a hesitant step toward him once Peter disappeared. However, before she could touch his arm, he moved forward to help the others transfer the bodies into the shaft, and before long, Peter's webbing was wrapped around the four subjects.

Without looking back, Loki clambered onto the cluster, tagging along for the free ride up the elevator. Johnny and Ben looked back at her—she could feel their eyes on her face—while she stared at the spot where he once stood.

"Send Peter down for me, would you?" she asked weakly when she saw Johnny's mouth open. He let out a small puff of air, and then nodded before darting up the shaft himself. She listened to the rattling of the cables as Ben started his climb, his strong arms heaving him upward, and for the short moment that she was alone in the basement, she felt incredibly insignificant.

"Hey!" Peter greeted her with a warm smile when he bobbed into the doorway, hanging upside-down on his webbing. "Want a lift?"

"Please," she said, her voice trembling a little as she stepped forward. He righted himself and lowered his body down so that she could climb on his back.

"He seems pissed."

"He really does."

He was quiet for a moment while they made the climb.

"He'll get over it."

She couldn't think of anything to say to that. He'd never been silently enraged at her before—not for long, anyway.

The main hallway was bustling with people when she finally made it up. Reed was examining each individual with rough thoroughness while the other three waited off to the side. Loki still wasn't looking at her, nor did he look up when she arrived. Her stomach started to knot uncomfortably, and she wondered if she'd be sick again.

"This is good, this is good," Reed said, slinging the black bag with the spare ingredients over his shoulder. "Let's get them up to the lab… Sue and I have examination tables ready for them."

The creatures put up more of a struggle this time, perhaps only just realizing what was in store for them. However, it was quite easy for the superhumans—and Loki—to hoist them up, and Max trailed behind the group in the stairwell, suddenly feeling sick and beat. She could have kept going up to her room—the bed and the shower were singing such a sweet song. The rest of them didn't necessarily need her at this point. However, she wasn't going to duck out early: she had been out there too, and she wanted to see the day through.

The lab was alive with machines and screens and microscopes that spoke. As Loki and the others dragged their Pagurolid over to a metallic examination table, complete with limb restraints and a tray of needles, Max heard Sue exclaim her name.

"What happened?" the woman demanded, cutting across the lab and coming straight for her. Max winced when Sue cupped her face, turning it so she could see the wound in the light. "What were you thinking?"

"I… It's nothing," she said. She wasn't going to explain herself to anyone before she did to Loki, who continued to pointedly ignore her.

"Sit," the woman ordered, pointing to a small stool on her left. Max did as she was told, and as the men sorted their captives out, Max watched Sue grab a First Aid kit and start dabbing the cut on her cheek.

"It's not that bad," Max muttered, fidgeting with the bottom of her sweater. The Colt was starting to press painfully into her side, and now that she wasn't moving anymore, it was much more noticeable. Wincing, she reached into the holster and pulled it free, letting out a sigh of relief when the pressure ceased. Sue, however, spotted the gun immediately, and her eyes widened.

"Johnny!" she snapped, snatching the gun from Max and stalking back across the room. She shoved it into her bewildered brother's hands, who then shot an anxious look in Loki's direction—though he tried to play it off as though nothing had happened. When she returned, Max was happy to see that her anger wasn't directed at her, but Johnny was probably going to get an earful of it later. She winced when Sue resumed patting the cut on her cheek, somewhat more forcefully than necessary.

"Hold that," Sue said, shooting her a bit of a look as Max held the antibiotic-doused cloth to her face. "It could have been much worse."

"Yeah." Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Loki turn and march toward the door, not saying a word to anyone. She swallowed thickly. "Loki…"

Nothing. He kept going, as if he hadn't heard her, and showed no signs of stopping when she said his name again. Frowning, she hopped off the stool and took off after him. Something about this storm off felt different—like she needed to pursue him and sort this out now rather than later.

She hurried into the stairwell, hearing his footsteps like the throb of thunder, but when she looked up, he was nowhere to be found. The sounds caught her attention again, and she realized he was going down, not up.

"Loki?"

Nothing. She licked her lips and hurried after him, wincing when the bounce of her descent made her face sting. Max caught up soon enough, and when he bypassed the main floor with the kitchen and living room, her frown deepened.

"Where are you going?" It hurt to speak, her throat tight.

"Leaving."

She staggered on the step, needing the railing to catch her balance.

"What?" He continued with his descent, and Max stepped down two more steps, her eyes on his back. "Why?"

Nothing again. Anger surged through her, and it was laced in her voice when she spoke again. "Why?"

"I'm here for you, Max!" he shouted, whirling back to face her. His features were almost contorted, seeped in rage and frustration and disappointment. She stumbled up two steps, catching her ankle on the sharp edge, when he stalked toward her. "Can you not see that?"

"But then—"

"The only reason I've stayed in this tower with these people is for your sake," he continued, his raised voice bouncing off the walls around her. Her throat felt tighter now, her hands clammy, knees practically knocking. "Everything I have done is for you, and yet you cannot give me the courtesy of listening to me just once!"

Her vision was starting to blur, shrouded by painful tears.

"Why should I stay and waste my time here when it is clear that what you do is never for my benefit?" he demanded, lips curling up into a sneer. "Why should I bother with you when it's clear I am the last of your considerations?"

She covered her mouth when she gasped involuntarily—a sound that seemed to open the floodgates. Trying to stand tall and aloof grew more and more difficult with each passing second, but she was determined not to stand there and bawl.

"We…" Her arm dropped to her side, but her lips continued to tremble. His expression had softened a fraction, but not enough to do her any good. "We're p-partners. You can't just leave."

"Partners?" He let out a cruel laugh, shaking his head and stepping down a stair. "Partners consult one another. Partners do not sneak out and hide things and confide in others about important matters."

"They also don't boss each other around and expect blind obedience," she snapped. She hiccupped under his scrutiny, shaking now as a steady stream of tears rolled down her face. "I never said we were good partners."

"Well, therein lies the problem," he said tightly. Her jaw dropped, but she forced it closed again, taking a few deep breaths. She hadn't ever thought it would hurt so much to consider it—that they were dysfunctional together, that they didn't work. Breathing steadily now, Loki turned and stalked down the stairs again, leaving an emptiness inside her that started to ache. She shook her head—no.

"You can't leave me here," she insisted, skipping down the stairs two at a time so that she wouldn't lose him. "Please, don't leave me here all by myself."

He stopped at that, a hand on the railing, and then half-turned back. Head bowed, his profile showed the deep frown on his face—his eyes would tell her more.

"I can't do this by myself." Max took a shaky breath. "I need you… here. You make me brave enough to do this." She swallowed thickly, gesturing out to the empty stairwell. "To do any of this."

He turned fully now, but his gaze stayed stuck to the floor, hovering around her feet. She almost felt like she could relax a little.

"I know you're angry, but please don't go," she said, nearly stammering through each word. "Please don't leave me again."

She was angry too—angry that he would do this as a tantrum. But the overwhelming panic of him actually going seemed to win over anything else, and it wasn't because she thought she couldn't get through this without him—it was because she didn't want to.

"Please," she whispered. She then realized that she was practically shoving the antibiotic cloth into her cheek, which hurt now more than ever, and she lessened the force behind it. Loki's eyes flickered up to her face finally, and she saw a heaviness behind them that she hadn't noticed before. Now that the white hot anger had dissipated, it was easier to see him.

He seemed hesitant for a moment, but when he finally set one foot on the next stair, Max's shoulders slumped, her stomach unknotted. One step after another, and soon he was just one below hers. She noticed that she was still shaking, her body undoubtedly done after everything it had been through that day, and she inhaled a sharp breath when he leaned up and ghosted his slightly parted lips along the clean side of her face. They traveled along her cheekbone and to her ear, and when he nestled his face down into her neck, she threw her arms around him and dragged him closer.

"I'm sorry that I made you worry," she whispered, knowing that his frustration came from a genuinely good place. His arms tightened around her torso, almost to the point of discomfort, but she said nothing about it.

"I tell you what to do because I care." She barely heard it, the words mumbled into her neck, but she let out a sigh all the same.

"You can't tell me what to do." Gently, she eased back and pulled his head up, pressing her forehead to his. "You can suggest… and you can suggest strongly, but I'm the final decider about what I do with myself."

"Max," he murmured, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "I know more about this than you do. You should heed what I have to say."

"Maybe—"

"No," he said, this time more forcefully. "You should heed it. You were lucky to walk away with… with…"

He trailed off as he stood back to look at her cheek. Her hand tightened around the damp, bloodstained cloth.

"I was fine."

"This time."

"It'll always be my decision," she said firmly, her hand sliding along his shoulder and to his neck. His pulse was slow beneath her palm, thumping rhythmically.

"If we truly are… partners," he said, wrinkling his nose at the word. Max arched an eyebrow, sniffling softly, and he sighed. "We should discuss… things."

She nodded. "Agreed, but you aren't always right."

Lips pursed, his hands dropped to her waist before he kissed her cheek—delicately, as though she might break.

"I am right most of the time."

"You're a bigger idiot about relationships than you give yourself credit for," she teased, her tone cautious. She wasn't sure how much she should push him. However, when she noticed an actual smile starting to form, she let out a tired laugh and added, "And for the record, you would have missed me if you left."

He observed her for a moment, almost a moment too long, and then kissed her again, this time square on the lips.

"I suspect I might have, yes."

"I don't think mine likes me very much," Johnny mused, dangling his fingers over the alien's taped mouth. She snapped up at him—or she would have if her mouth hadn't been covered, and he danced out of the way with a laugh.

"Don't torment them," Reed chastised, but his words were half-hearted—he never gave his full attention to anyone, not even Sue, when he had a live experiment on the go. The man was hunched over all the extra ingredients Peter had retrieved. There wasn't much else for Johnny and Ben to do, seeing as Peter had been roped into helping Reed and Sue with antidote preparations. Still, he was running on a high from the day, and he wasn't ready to crash yet.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door to the lab creak open, and much to his surprise, Loki and Max strolled back in. Their hands were clasped, and it appeared Loki was no longer ready to murder someone—which boded well for him and Peter. Both men had known what they might incite when they helped Max arm herself for the day, but that didn't mean they were looking forward to confrontation.

However, Loki ignored every single one of them as he strolled by. Instead, he sat Max down on a stool, a hand resting on her shoulder, and then began picking through the medical kit that Sue had left out. He noticed his sister start toward them, but when Loki grabbed some antibiotic wipe packs, ripped one open, unfolded the cloth, and finally began cleaning the dried blood off Max's neck, Sue stopped. Johnny watched her watch them for a moment, and she smiled fleetingly before turning back to her work.

Loki handled the woman with extraordinary care—tenderly removing blood, pushing her hair aside, carefully dabbing the narrow slit across Max's cheek. Apparently, they had made up. Max, in turn, seemed to be clutching his shirt, her hand fisted in the loose fabric by his side. Her eyes followed him at every turn, and she smiled whenever he seemed to glance up at her.

Johnny shook his head, frowning: love was a fucked up thing.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

HELLOOOO DARLINGS! Hurray for getting this out before 2014… I'm quite impressed with myself. My vacation has been slowing down as far as busy times go, and I've been able to get this done when I had some downtime around the house.

I've been excited to write this chapter for a bit now, and to me, it felt like unsaid declarations of commitment between our two idiots. I'll go further into Loki's thought process when he gets his next POV chapter, because his headspace was all over the place in this one.

I don't think I'll have another update ready until after the new year. I'm sort of busy leading up to it, and then I have to fly home and deal with jetlag AGAIN, so I think the next update will probably be in at least a week or a week and a half.

Someone left an anonymous review, asking about what the rest of the Marvel world is doing. I'd love to address mutants and other characters, because, yes, Marvel's universe is enormous and I'm only focusing on a few characters. However, I'm sticking to a tighter focus for now because of my interest in developing Max and Loki's relationship. Plus, communications are scattered, so while Reed may have some insight into what's happening out there, he won't have much else. More character (both Marvel and Masonville) WILL make an appearance in the latter half of the story. Just keep an eye out!

Anyway, I'm off! Beach lounging calls! I'm hoping my edits were better in this chapter… I'm still a little loopy from traveling and being on the go, but I caught as much as I could.

MUCH LOVE! HAPPY CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAYS/WHATEVER! HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND I'LL SEE YOU IN 2014!