"Can I borrow a twenty?"

Johnny groaned and stuffed his face under his pillow. How he had managed to completely trash a room in less than two weeks was beyond her, but as Max stood in the midst of dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, and crushed beer cans, she wasn't all that surprised given the state of his previous bedroom.

"Johnny, come on." She took a deep breath and waded out into the mess, checking random pockets in pants for a wallet. "I don't have any credit cards or money or anything, and I really need a cheeseburger."

All she'd been able to think about was a glorious, greasy patty layered with cheese and ketchup and mustard and pickles and more cheese and… Ugh. Loki had made a valiant effort last night in rummaging up a bowl of cheesy stuffed-pasta, but while it had satisfied her hunger, her cravings hadn't gone away. She'd had cravings before—most women had. This feeling, however, was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Every time she pictured a cheeseburger, her mouth was flushed with saliva, and for once, the thought didn't make her want to vomit profusely.

She needed. A fucking. Cheeseburger. Now.

"Go away, Max!" He rolled over, dragging the covers with him and giving her a nice flash of butt.

"Oh my god." She stepped over an open pizza box with a few cold slices in it, then covered him up. "Ugh."

"You know you like it," he said dreamily, wiggling his hips beneath the duvet cover. She stood up with a sigh, hands on her hips, and surveyed the rest of the room. It was a little smaller than the one she and Loki had been given, but despite the change in colour scheme, the layout was pretty similar. There was a whole spectrum of blue hues across the walls, flooring, and furniture, and she swore she heard a fountain gushing somewhere—maybe the bathroom?

"Look, I just want to go to McDonald's."

Loki was gone for the day: apparently his presence was needed at a new facility near the UN building, one in which people would file reports on the loved ones they were missing, and volunteers would run the name through databases to see if that person was listed anywhere. An invite had been extended to Max, as Thor, Sue, and Reed were also supposed to make an appearance, but she'd woken up feeling nauseous and grumpy, so Loki insisted she stay behind. In theory, that building would have been the perfect place for her, but at the time they were all leaving in one of Stark's stretch town cars, she couldn't imagine getting out of bed.

That was an hour ago, and the morning sickness passed without climbing out of her stomach and up her throat. There was only room for hunger and cravings now, and she'd get her mouth on a cheeseburger if it killed her.

"What time is it?" Johnny lifted his head as Max searched through a discarded black backpack, and she wrinkled her nose when her fingers touched something sticky and wet. Throwing the bag back down, she glared at him.

"Eleven."

"Too early—"

"Johnny, please!"

One of her goals for the day was to get onto a computer and check her bank account, which she had neglected to do since the invasion hit. If it was mysteriously depleted, she wasn't sure she would have reacted back at the Baxter Tower—there was too much going on at the time to think about money. However, she knew she needed to start taking adult steps to fix her life, and tackling financial responsibilities was just one of the things she had to do sooner rather than later.

Still, before all that happened, the cheeseburger was a must, and Johnny was literally the only person in the tower who she felt comfortable taking anything from. Jane Foster and her friend Darcy were in the common kitchen/living/dining area a few floors below theirs, and while they were sympathetic to a craving, she didn't feel comfortable asking either of them for money. Sue and Reed were with Loki and Thor, and Ben had taken the kids out for the day. Stark was gone—according to the British voice that randomly came out of various speakers around the building—and Banner was out of the question. So, that left Johnny.

"Fine… Fine," he grumbled. He pulled his hands out from under the covers, and Max stopped two five dollar bills clutched between his fingers. "Here."

"Eww." She took the moist bills hesitantly. "Where were these?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Nope, I'm good."

She was almost out the door when she heard him groan. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine."

"Is Loki taking you?"

Max folded the money and stuffed it in her shorts pocket, biting the inside of her cheeks for a moment to keep from snapping at him. Once composed, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "I can take myself."

"Just trying to be a gentleman."

"Go back to sleep, Johnny." And despite the fact that it was almost noon, she figured he would indeed go back to sleep. Shutting the door gently behind her, Max sauntered back to the elevator, only then realizing that she had left her sweater up on the shared floor. Dressed in a pair of jean shorts, flip-flops, and a grey tank, Max would have been fine to wander downtown Manhattan. However, there were some gray clouds hanging over the city today, and she vaguely heard a weatherman reporting a cool day for much of the country.

Although, she'd learned a cool day in the city wasn't a cool day anywhere else. From the two summers she had spent in Manhattan, she knew it was ridiculously hot from June to late August, and there was no getting around it. The sweater, however, covered her small baby bump—one that wouldn't have been noticeable to a passerby, but might catch Loki's eye if he looked close enough. She'd noticed it was a little bigger that morning (if that was possible), and went through her small wardrobe from Sue and set aside everything baggy for future use.

"Did you find him?"

Max walked in on Darcy and Jane rooting through the fridge, setting out all that was needed for sandwiches.

"Johnny? Yeah, he was asleep." It was Darcy who'd asked, and even though Max had only met the woman last night, she decided she was going to like her. Jane seemed much more introverted than her friend, holding back in group discussions unless the topic was something specifically related to her.

"We saw your video again," Darcy continued, pointing at the massive television across the room. Several leather couches were placed around it, and from the scattered DVDs and magazines, Max assumed the duo were settling in for the day. She nodded at the mention of her video, but said nothing: she wished they'd stop playing it. No one she knew liked to see themselves on camera, and Max had seen her face on a television screen more than she'd ever wanted to in her entire life. Sure, some people probably craved the limelight, but Max hated hearing herself speak, hated listening to newscasters dissect every piece of it.

"I wish they'd stop playing it," she said as she dragged her sweater over her head. She could feel Darcy staring at her, and Max wasn't sure what else she could say about it. "I'm going to McDonald's… Do you guys want anything?"

Darcy's face lit up at the question, but Jane spoke for both of them. "No thanks. We're fine with what's here."

Max shrugged. "Yeah… I just really want a cheeseburger, you know?"

The trio exchanged farewells, and as Max stepped onto the elevator, she half-expected Darcy to come running after her. When the doors opened to the ground floor, she was surprised at how busy the lobby area had become in a day. While it had been empty when she arrived yesterday, it was now bustling with people—people who weren't just security details. Men and women in pricey suits waited for the elevator, and Max shuffled out, arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed what could only be described as organized chaos.

A cluster of individuals were arguing with the man and woman behind the expansive front desk, their voices echoing deafeningly.

"Good morning, Miss Wright."

She jumped at the voice in her ear and soon found the source: a security official she had seen previously. While his smile wasn't exactly the most welcoming, at least his eyes weren't cold.

"Hi."

"Are you looking for someone?"

She gestured half-heartedly toward the front door, in front of which there was still a swarm of press.

"I wanted to do a…. a McDonald's run." It felt silly to say it out loud to someone who had never spoken to her before.

"Alone?"

Why was that such a strange concept to the male species that morning? "Yes, alone."

"Might I suggest taking the back door then?" He took her by the shoulder and led her away from the lobby. They moved through a series of smaller corridors, until he finally stopped at a less glamorous doorway. "I can meet you here when you return. The press want Mr. Stark's blood, and they're ruthless to everyone coming in and out."

"Oh."

Holding the thick metal barrier open, he nodded toward the street.

"Don't be gone too long."

She pursed her lips before stepping out, biting back what she really wanted to say. "Thanks."

The door slammed shut behind her with an uneasy sense of finality, and Max tugged her sweater down as she navigated her way through the alley, bypassing the garbage dumpsters and recycling bins, to the main street. She'd still need to walk by the front entrance to get to her cheeseburger, but she quickly realized fewer people stared at her when she wasn't walking with Loki. In fact, as she power-walked the familiar sidewalks, moving around individuals and groups who weren't going at the same pace, it almost felt like this whole two month stint hadn't happened. She was seldom in this part of the city for long, but it wasn't totally foreign to her.

As she skirted the front of Avengers Tower, which was covered with loitering paparazzi and regular people, Max's head spun, and she wandered down the street in a daze. The whole experience felt surreal to her, like it wasn't happening—like she wasn't really there. Once she hit the McDonald's two blocks away—a smaller branch jam-packed with people—and stopped at the entrance, she realized she could go anywhere. She could hail a cab and use Johnny's money to take her home.

But she didn't. A whiff of burger and fry aroma wafted out when a woman left with a screaming toddler in tow, and Max drifted in, mouth salivating and stomach gurgling. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of a peppy teenager at the cash, her bills clutched tightly in her fist.

"What can I get for you today?"

Eyes fixated on the picture on the order board, Max cleared her throat and said, "Six cheeseburgers."

The teen hesitated, but a narrowed look from Max made her start punching the order in.

"Are they meals or just—"

"Cheeseburgers." She set her money down on the counter. "No fries, no drink. Please and thank you."

"You got it."

It was all so… ordinary. She took the receipt handed to her by the cashier, and then stepped aside to the waiting area. What she really wanted to do was ask precisely where that cashier was during the invasion. Was she in the sewers? Was she even in the city? Where were any of these people? Max studied the lines beside her, brazenly looking people over and not caring if they noticed or not. The more she looked, the more she realized some looked a little worn out, their skin an unhealthy hue or their bones sticking out. Still, they were dressed fairly well, and most had wallets or some form of money in hand.

Why hadn't she kept her valuables on her? There was no way they'd still be in her locker at work. Maybe she'd ask Loki to come with her tomorrow to look. If she was going to go back to that building, she was probably going to need some emotional support. When Max zoned back in to the restaurant, she realized her hand was resting on her stomach, and there was a man and a woman staring at her and whispering to one another nearby.

"Did you want that to go?"

"What?" Her response was almost automatic when she heard another employee talk to her, but before he could repeat the question, she nodded down at the tray, which was loaded up with her six cheeseburgers. "Yeah, sorry, I should have said something."

He shrugged and began loading up a large bag for her.

"Have a good one."

"Thanks," she muttered, tucking the bag under her arm and pushing through the horde of people between her and the door. Once she was outside, she opened the bag and stuck her nose in it, inhaling deeply and groaning. In that moment, the smell of six artery-clogging cheeseburgers was the best thing she had ever smelled in her life. It was so wonderful, in fact, that she walked the whole way back to Avengers Tower with the bag open, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to grab one of the burgers and unwrap it there on the street.

Unfortunately, she was so distracted by the prospect of delicious, delicious cheeseburgers that she wandered back to the front entrance of Avengers Tower, right into the bowels of the press beast waiting outside. The first camera flash took her out of the bag, and the next few sent her shrinking back.

"Max! Max, over here!"

How did they know her name? She squinted as a cluster of photographers barreled down on her, and she used her bag of cheeseburgers as a shield—not that it did her much good. There were small mercies in the world, however, because just as she reached the curb, unresponsive to the jumbled questions thrown her way, a flashy sports convertible whizzed up beside her. The real star of the show hopped out moments later; Tony Stark seemed totally unfazed by the photographers, though the short, beefy security guard with him was able to keep the crowd back.

"I meant to go in the other door," Max stammered as Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I… I just…"

"That smells good," he noted, nodding down at her McDonald's bag. "I can get them to deliver, you know?"

"Seriously?"

"You betcha." She caught a hint of alcohol on his breath as he spoke, and she actively concentrated on not wrinkling her nose. "You ever been the center of attention before?"

"I don't really think… I'm the center of attention—"

"No, it's all for me," he mused. Waving to the crowd, he smiled. "You could try to look less horrified."

All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and eat her damn cheeseburgers.

"Makes for better pictures," he added after a moment. Once the security officials inside had cleared a path for them, Tony's personal bodyguard was back by their side.

"Hi," he said, his hand on her lower back as he walked her toward the tower. "Happy Hogan, head of security."

"Oh, hi—"

"You tell me the next time you want to go out." It wasn't annoyance she detected in his tone, but she almost felt as though her venturing outside and getting caught by the paparazzi was a burden on him. "I'll have an escort for you."

"No one cares about me," she snapped. A glance over her shoulder found Tony Stark pausing amidst the photographers, chatting with a few before hurrying after her. Suddenly, her hand was in his, and he smiled at the cameras.

"Better get used to smiling, sweetheart," he said in her ear as soon as they stepped inside. "This is just the start."

He peeled away from her as the men and women in business suits spotted him, and Happy shot her a brief smile, eyes covered by dark sunglasses. Once again, she was alone in the lobby, the muffled shouting of photographers and security guards behind her. She still wanted to crawl into bed and stuff her face, but as she stood in the elevator, she opted to alter her plans just a smidge. Instead of bed and burgers, she chose Darcy and Jane in the shared living room.

Plopping down on the couch next to Jane, she gave up two of her precious cheeseburgers when she noticed the duo eyeing them—and that earned her a one-way ticket to Movie City for the rest of the afternoon. Fuck adult responsibilities. Naturally, she was overly emotional and nauseous through almost every movie, regardless of the genre, but she realized it was better being with people than being alone. They wasted the hours away, alternating between movies and TV. Johnny joined them eventually, and she slowly made her way through the four remaining cheeseburgers in bliss.

Loki had thought there were a lot of grieving families at the hospital. On the rare occasion that he was forced out of Max's room for one reason or another, he'd see them everywhere: broken, weeping people hovering over a loved one's bed. The lines outside the building were always troubling, and he wondered just how many family units were scattered across the country during the invasion. Before he arrived at the rescue center that morning, he assumed there would be hundreds of people trying to get into the building to put in a missing person file, but a more appropriate approximation would be in the thousands.

When he stepped out of the swanky transportation Osborn had arranged for him and the others, the overwhelming hopelessness of the situation was difficult to ignore. There were people as far as the eye could see, and they all wanted a chance to tell their story to someone, for a person with real authority to listen. They—himself, Thor, Sue, and Reed—were met by a S.H.I.E.L.D. escort at the curb, and before they were privy to any of the building operations, they were forced to pose for photographs with people in the crowd. Thor went willingly, smiling that oafish grin Loki had a love-hate relationship with, while Sue and Reed gave their appearance out sparingly.

Loki, on the other hand, stood for no pictures. He did not want to smile and talk and pander to the crowd. Yes, he heard his name on the lips of various mortals, but it was always in conjunction with Thor's. He barely wanted to be there to begin with—they were pushing their luck by asking him to actually do things.

Once they were given the rundown of how the building operated, Loki could see the merit in it. There were hundreds of camps across the country, housing people from various locations at one time. This building, this centre by the United Nations Building, was a way to connect local families with their scattered loved ones. Having just opened a few days prior, there were still issues that needed to be worked out: all the roads leading up to the building were swarmed with people, giving very few vehicles direct access. The lines were horrendous: while Loki and Thor paused to speak with a small crowd, they learned that one man had been waiting over twelve hours in order to file a report for his wife.

Still, over the duration of his time there, Loki had seen a number of success stories. Men and women walked away from the booths inside the building weeping with joy, now knowing where their family was, that they were alive, and that they'd be in touch soon. It was a system riddled with flaws and slowness, but it seemed to be doing some good. He knew Max would have loved to have been there, both to file for her family and friends and to talk with survivors.

In fact, the initial memo that morning had explicitly called for Max's attendance, but with her feeling sickly, Thor persuaded Loki to come in her stead. Loki, for some reason or another, was listed as "optional" on the list, while the rest were mandatory. The very idea made his blood boil, and he needed very little prodding from Thor to go—he'd go just to spite them. In his absence, he hoped Max would recover, but he demanded that Jarvis device to inform him should she be sick at any point.

By now, they had been at the building for just shy of five hours. Aside from speaking to people in the line and offering assistance wherever necessary, none of them had been given any explicit instructions for the day. Sue and Thor spent the most time in the crowd, offering sympathetic ears to whoever seemed to need them. Loki and Reed, meanwhile, hung back, though Reed was dragged into discussions more than he was: Reed had a more persuasive partner, unfortunately.

Had the day been nicer, the hall in which he found himself would have been quite pleasant. Shaped like a massive triangle, the side panels were entirely made of glass, giving what would have been a lovely view to the grounds outside. Meanwhile, the main floor was furnished with elegant furniture items (all pushed to the side) and numerous trickling fountains (many filled with bits of paper and trash). Loki spent a lot of his time on the grand balcony overlooking the entire ordeal with the rest of the staff. Filing cabinets, computer centers, and a table lined with phone operators took up most of the space, but there was a small section of nothing near the edge, and Loki had spent two hours leaning over it to watch the proceedings below.

However, even lurking grew tiresome after a while. Trudging down the dusty steps, his hands found their way into his pockets, and he picked out Thor amongst the noisy crowd.

"They should have some form of entertainment in the hall," Thor noted as he approached. His expression was grave with furrowed brows and upturned lips, and he shook his head. "Most of the people here are so forlorn."

Loki chuckled coolly and rolled his eyes. "Don't you know? We are the entertainment."

"I'd hardly say that."

"Then what purpose do we serve here?" Loki locked his hands behind his back, surveying the crowd before him. A few glanced back at him, but whenever their eyes met, the human always looked away first, red-faced and hunched.

"We are a boost to moral," Thor insisted. "Though I suspect Captain Rogers would have served that function better… I believe that was his job initially."

"The Soldier won't be well-liked now that peace is upon them…" He shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "No, he let these people down during the invasion, and no one likes a reminder of war when the fighting stops. I suspect he will be kept out of the public eye until all is forgotten."

Thor's frown deepened, and he let out a sigh. "It will be some time before they forget this."

"You give humans more credit than they deserve." He strolled along the never-ending line, Thor at his heels. "Osborn will give them something shiny to look at, and the Pagurolids will be nothing but a horrible dream."

They were the shiny things. If Osborn's agenda had any merit, he intended to dangle the Avengers in front of their adoring public until all was forgotten. Gossip would feed them now: he'd already seen an article in the paper that morning about the elusive Black Widow, her photograph obscured.

He waited for something from Thor, a remark to defend the thousands of people around him, and when nothing came, he glanced back to find the brute checking a small cellular telephone.

"Max is well," he said suddenly.

"What?"

Thor held up the phone, flashing the text at him briefly. "A message from Jane."

He suddenly wished he and Max had some way of communicating with one another when they were apart, and made a mental note to look into it at another time. "And?"

"Cheeseburgers and movies for the day," Thor recited. He continued to scan the device, which looked especially small in his massive palm, and then tucked it back into his pocket. "I am glad they are getting along."

Loki made a soft noise, one that might have been perceived as agreement, from the back of his throat, and then returned his attention to the crowd. At least she wasn't spending the whole day in bed. He knew very little of Thor's woman, but her friend was a little annoying—and he suspected she was the right personality to fit in with Max when she was in the mood. It pleased him to know she had people to talk to at the Avengers Tower, though he quickly realized he should never worry about that: Max had a natural tendency to make fast friends in various situations, whether she realized she was doing it or not.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice from behind broke his concentration, and Loki found a stocky, short, woman standing nearby. He glanced at Thor, expecting her to go for the blond oaf, and then raised his eyebrows when she continued to stare at him.

"Yes?"

"I… I don't know if you remember me," she started, stepping forward and sweeping some black hair from her face—her voice had a hint of an unfamiliar accent to it. "I was part of your unit during the revolution."

Loki cocked his head to the side. He didn't recall any women with him. "Were you?"

She nodded a few times. "I was wearing a hoodie and a mask, but yeah, I was there."

"You fought well then."

Her cheeks danced with colour, and he saw her trying to hide her smile. "Thanks. You were… You were really great. You helped a lot of people."

"I tried to." He blinked down at her slowly, unsure of what else he was supposed to say.

"It was a real honour to serve under your command." His eyes traveled up and down her frame quickly, and he noted that she stood like a soldier: shoulders back, head up, feet shoulder-width apart.

"Well—"

"I hope it's not an imposition," she said, speaking over him just as he started to talk, "but my kid really wants a picture with you."

Loki stared at her for a moment, then looked at Thor, then back to her. "With me?"

"Yeah." She pulled out a thin phone, fiddling with it between her hands. "Yeah, he's really proud that his mommy fought in the revolution, and he's been telling all the kids at his day camp that it was with Loki. Do you mind?"

Over her shoulder, Loki spotted a thin boy shuffling around, eyes on the ground and hands in his pockets. Thor chuckled nearby as the woman watched him expectantly. He could read the hesitation on her face, the fear of rejection, and finally nodded.

"Of course not." He ran a hand through his hair. "I would be more than… I would be honoured."

Her cheeks coloured again as she gestured for the boy to come closer. Not quite knowing how to place himself, Loki crouched down as the child approached, his mother's hand on his back.

"Hello," he said, mustering as much warmth into his tone as he could.

"Sunny, stand nice and close to Loki," the woman instructed. "Big smiles, Sunny."

With a finger in his mouth, the boy sidled closer, eyes still down, until Loki set a hand on his shoulder. The touch seemed to wake him up, and before Loki knew what was happening, the boy had thrown his arms around Loki's neck and started to squeeze.

"Thanks for looking after my mommy."

Loki patted the boy's back gingerly, ignoring the way he smelled like sweat and jam.

"I think your mother looked after me too," he said as gently as he could. "You should be very proud of her."

The boy nodded against his neck, and when Loki looked to the woman, she was wiping tears away. The whole display made him a little uncomfortable, particularly with the way Thor watched on, pride in his eyes.

Breaking away, he slowly turned the boy around. "Come, let's take our picture."

"Look here, Sunny!"

Thor stood behind the woman and pointed to his mouth, smiling wide for Loki to mimic. He tried not to roll his eyes. Instead, he mustered a mediocre smile, lips still pressed together.

"Very nice," the woman praised, tapping her phone a few times. She then handed the device to Thor. "Could you take one of all of us?"

Loki straightened a little more at the request, chest puffed out, and put a tentative arm around her shoulder when she crouched down on his other side. Thor took several pictures, showing each one to the woman and the boy, and Loki held his pose and expression for all of them. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but the gratitude expressed by the humans on his left and right assured him that he was on the right track.

"Thank you so much," the woman murmured once she had her phone again. She held it to her chest, nodding a few times. Her voice was shakier now, her son wrapped around her waist. "Really, you're a hero."

Ignoring the final sentiment, Loki gestured back at the massive crowd on the other side of the roped-off area. "Are you here to find someone? Husband?"

"No husband," she said quietly. "My sister's missing. I'm here with her fiancé and their kids. We'll find her."

"I am sure of it."

She smiled one last time, thanked him again, and then disappeared into the herd with her son.

"That was very kind of you, brother."

"Well, I'm not as heartless as you think," he sneered as Thor approached, his hackles shooting up again in the man's presence. His tone did not get the rise from Thor that he had intended. Instead, he merely frowned at Loki, shaking his head.

"I don't think you heartless."

"Don't you?"

"Not once in our lifetime. Not ever."

Lips pursed, Loki struggled for some sort of witty retort. It was difficult to play against someone who sounded so damned sincere. Instead, he walked away from the situation, sauntering along the rows of people. Thor didn't follow, and when he glanced back, he found the man chatting with Sue. Had she waited until Loki left to approach him? Frowning, he carried on with his stroll, pushing his anxieties back to the dark places of his mind.

Sometime later, after Loki had walked the perimeter of the interior building once already, a voice caught his attention. It wasn't so much the tone or the speed, but the accent that he picked up on, one he had only heard once before in this realm in person.

"… got two of them myself. M'boy works as a weapons engineer, and my girl's going to be a curator."

Loki paused, eyebrows knitted, and searched the sea of people for the source of the voice. A voice that once told him to tell his girl the truth—before he broke her heart.

"See, here's some pictures." It tickled his ears, and Loki strained over the dull roar of the room to match the face to the sound. "Nolan's lost a wee bit of weight since this was taken, I suspect."

And then he found him. Speaking with two elderly women in line, Max's father had his back to Loki, though he knew it was him without a doubt. Still short with scraggly light brown hair, grey mixed in now, it was like Loki was sitting across from him at that Thanksgiving feast all over again. He moved in and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Max?"

The man turned sharply, flinching out of Loki's grasp with a surprise expression. However, the surprise melted away to recognition shortly after, and he let out a breath.

"Loki?"

"I have her," he insisted, unclicking the strap that held the line together and ushering him out. "She's with me. She's safe."

The man's lip wobbled as he stepped out of the line, and he hastily tucked the photographs in his hand into his wallet. When he looked up at Loki, there were tears in his eyes.

"She's safe?" Loki took him by his arm, holding him in case the news weakened his knees.

"Haven't you seen the television broadcasts? She's been on it daily—"

"We don't… No reception back home yet," Max Sr. told him, struggling to keep up with Loki's long strides as they made their way to the exit. "People told me they saw her, but I don't… It's hard to believe it until you see it."

He pushed through doors and passed people, eyes scanning the area for the car.

"We have her in Avengers Tower. High security, good food and company. She's been well-looked after."

"And Nolan?"

Loki couldn't look at him, lest his expression give the story away. Instead, he continued to search for the car, and upon spying it at the far end of the road, well away from the building, he plunged them both through the crowd. The man repeated the question a little louder the second time around, when Loki looked back to him, he simply shook his head.

"No. Your son isn't with us."

Max would want to tell him.

He found the driver reading a newspaper in the front seat, and once Loki instructed him to retun them to Avengers Tower, they were flying through Manhattan. For the most part, Max Sr. was quiet in the seat next to him, fidgeting and shuffling around on the leather seats.

"Is she really all right?"

"Yes," Loki said when they came to an abrupt stop. He frowned when he caught a gaggle of walkers strolling casually in front of the car. Once they were gone, the car continued onward. "She looks worse than she is. A few scrapes and bruises. We were in the hospital last week to make sure she was taken care of."

"What happened?" The worry in his voice was evident, and the small man started shifting about more. Loki noticed that his cheeks were quite sunken now, more so than he remembered, and there was a small cut on his forehead.

"A street scuffle, I'm afraid." He wished he could do something to calm the man's nerves, but there was very little he could say or do to accomplish that. "We were separated on the day of the… revolution." Was that what the world called it now? "She was protecting two children we were housed with during the invasion. She's fine now."

Aside from the frequent physical illness, but he saw no need to stress the man any further.

Max Sr. kept his eyes on the window now, though Loki could tell he was looking without really seeing. "And what happened to you?"

"Me?" He had no outer injuries to speak of.

"Last time I heard anything about you, you had disappeared and left her."

As the car pulled up on the press-riddled street corner, Loki sighed. "Perhaps that is a story for another time."

With the car stopped completely, Loki had to hurry out to keep Max Sr. from scrambling over him. Neither man paid the press any mind, though Loki did his best to hold the nosy vermin back, shielding the shorter man by walking behind him and reaching forward to shove people out of the way up front. As always, security rushed in too late, and soon they were alone in an elevator.

When would Stark do something about the mob below? Honestly, it was such a ridiculous display, and he couldn't help but wonder if Osborn had a hand in it.

As the elevator climbed each floor at an almost glacial pace, Loki realized he hadn't bothered to inquire much about the other half of Max's parenting team. "How is your wife?"

"They stopped her chemo," the man muttered. "She's… She's been better, I guess, but I guess we all have."

"Well, Max will be very relieved." The little bell went off when they arrived at his floor, and he motioned for the man to follow. "She's been so upset that she hasn't been able to reach any of you."

Unfortunately, she wasn't in their room, though her father helped him search in all the alcoves and closets. He ran into Jane near the elevator, and she informed him that his lady love was watching television in the common area, and Max Sr. was already waiting to go, nose practically pressed to the doors. When they reached the floor, Loki heard the television down the hall. He heard Max chuckling and wrappers crunching, and before her father could rush off, he grabbed the man by the shoulders.

"Remember," he muttered, his voice in the man's ear, "she looks worse than she feels."

Her father waited for a moment, as if to compose himself, and Loki followed him down the immaculate corridor. There she was: Loki spied her from the doorway, able to see her over her father's head. She looked happy. A little bruised and battered, of course, but happy. She'd attained her cheeseburgers somehow, and their wrappers were scattered across the small table in front of the couch. Happy and alone. When he looked down, he noticed her father was trembling.

"Max."

She glanced toward him slowly, tucked beneath a brown blanket, her hair in a knot on top of her head. And then Loki watched her crumble. As soon as she saw her father, her face screwed, hand flying to her mouth, and she wept as her father strode toward her. She looked very young in that moment, very small. Arms outstretched, they collapsed into one another, seated on the couch, sobbing.

Loki lingered in the doorway, unsure of whether he ought to leave or go. The scene felt so personal, so intimate, and he wasn't sure if he ruined it by watching. Max's watery eyes drifted over to him briefly, arms pressed tight around her father's neck and shoulders, and he knew that she was grateful. They murmured to one another, though Loki heard Nolan's name come up. He tensed. Max pulled away, wiping under her eyes, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. Her shoulders and hands shook, visible as the blanket collected around her waist. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry…"

Any other words she might have uttered were lost in her cries, and her father buried his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Their pain was evident, sorrow palpable in the air. Throat tight and eyes stinging, Loki watched her throw the quilt around her father's shoulders, and they leaned against one another, the room filled with incoherent sounds of misery.

That was where Loki left them. It was a family affair, and while he loved her just as she loved him, he wasn't her family. He wasn't anyone's family. Pushing off the doorframe, he drifted down the hall, his mind inexplicably wandering to Thor.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Helllllooooo darlings! So, two weeks since the last update. My B. I started moving last Thursday, and spent the next week without internet and surrounded by boxes and everything else that comes with moving. I thought I'd have more free time, but I spent 6-8 hours a day packing things up, moving them between apartments, unpacking, and cleaning. It's been rough, but things are finally settling. I also didn't really get much feedback for my last chapter. I had initially planned to push through the update before I got into the thick of moving, but I was just so tired and only a few people left me much feedback, so I just sort of put it off. It's a bit petty to do it, but I won't lie: reviews totally help fuel the muse, and when the muse is tired and grumpy and just wants to sleep, it'll do that when it gets self-conscious and thinks no one can be arsed. But the lack of reviews was a pretty small percentage of why there was no update last week—the moving was probably like 95% of the reasoning there. This isn't a speech about reviewing. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to do it because no one is ever forced to or obligated or anything like that. It's just. Yeah. Author feelings.

But I'm hoping to get back on my usual schedule soon! I'm working on another freelance novel at the moment, so that is cutting into my writing time too, but it's due mid-June, so I have lots of time to work on everything. I know from the few reviews I did get, people were a little miffed that Max still hasn't told Loki about the pregnancy. I know it's been almost a month for us in RL since the news dropped, but keep in mind the last three chapters have taken place over a span of two days. All good things come in time.

I was pretty excited to write the ending of this chapter, as it was one of the initial scenes I planned out for this story. I totally bawled my eyes out plotting it, and I got a little weepy when writing it. I'm a huge wuss about family things (LOKI AND THOR FEELS GET TO ME TOO, UGH), what can I say.

Anyway. Off I go! Lots of drama to unfold down the line, and hopefully I'll see you next week. LOVE YOU ALLLL!