Dear Miss Wright,

I hope you don't think me forward, but I thought we had the most delightful conversation at the Manhattan Prestige Gala this past Friday. I acquired your home address via S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database for the sole purpose of sending this thank you card.

You are a delightful, kind, and spirited young woman. Thank you for taking the time to converse with me, no matter how briefly. You are a veritable plethora of interesting information.

I do hope we will meet again in the future—and possibly pick up where our conversation finished.

Yours,

Klaus Albright

Max stared hard at the notecard in her hand, its envelope ripped open and tossed haphazardly on her already cluttered desk. Eyebrows furrowed, she stared at the beautiful calligraphy, reading each word a few times over before letting her arm drop.

Klaus Albright?

Taking a deep breath, she tried to think back to her time at the gala last week, but the only thing that came to mind was Loki—Loki and the sauna. Cheeks pinked, she raised the note one last time and gave it a final hard look before realization washed over her.

"Oh, right…" She muttered the words under her breath, admiring the exquisite cursive writing for its beauty rather than the message behind it. Before she'd left the gala with Loki, unable to keep their hands off one another, she was accosted by a gentleman in his late forties. Pudgy and balding, he had an eccentric mustache and a top hat stuffed under his arm. He seemed to know precisely who she was, as many around her did, and dove right into an inquisitive conversation about her work life.

At the time, she'd only been half paying attention. Loki had hurried off to fetch them something to drink, both parched after their encounter in the sauna, and she was basically counting down the seconds until he returned. Smiling, nodding, she did her best to answer the man's questions with as much focus as she could muster, but he didn't seem to notice she was distracted. The conversation had eventually bounced to Loki and Thor, and that was when the man's gaze sharpened—and Max took notice. He'd asked about their origins, their abilities, and, if Max wasn't mistaken, their weaknesses.

"I don't really talk to the press about that kind of stuff," she'd insisted while scanning the huge space for Loki. "Sorry."

"Ah, but I'm not the press, dear girl," he'd told her, gently touching her arm and holding her gaze. "I'm a scholar, historian, patron of the arts, and a… collector, I suppose."

"Oh, that's nice."

It had been then that Loki returned, and the mysterious Klaus figure slipped away. Max hadn't given him a second thought all night—there were better things to preoccupy herself with in the elevator, and the hallway, and Loki's bed. She hadn't even considered the conversation in the days that followed: work and Loki continued to take up her time and attention.

But there she was, sitting in her room Wednesday morning, staring at a handwritten card with no address on the envelope. Someone must have dropped it off that morning, because she'd found it sitting on the little carpet she and Pat had by the door. Unnerving. Lips pursed, she pinned the card to her corkboard, deciding that now wasn't the time to think about Klaus Albright and whatever weirdness that went with him. Still, if he was a historian, there was bound to be some information on him online—maybe someone at work might know him too. She made a note on her daily planner to read into it later.

Lately, she'd spent almost every night at the Avengers Tower with Loki. After they'd reconnected on a more intimate level, she found she didn't want to be away from him at night. The blissful beginning stage of a relationship was over pretty fast when a couple had as much baggage as they did, and she realized that they were both happier in the more comfortable cohabitating stage.

However, today was different. She was supposed to go with Tiffany for her final ultrasound—theoretically—before she had the baby because Garret couldn't get the time off work. So, rather than waking up early and hailing a cab to take her through Manhattan during morning rush hour, Max spent the night in her apartment and decided to walk to meet Tiff. Her friend was so very pregnant that Max would probably have to drive to her appointment, which she was fine with.

Since she hadn't been scheduled to work, she'd also accepted Johnny's invite to film a short promotional video after Tiff's appointment—and then it was back to Avengers Tower to crawl into bed with Loki. A busy day, but, in theory, a happy one. Her mood was bound to lift once she got out of her apartment. With all the tension between her and Pat, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be there.

Conversely, she wasn't thrilled that she wasn't thrilled to be in her own living space. Avengers Tower wasn't her home—this apartment was. Her only saving grace was that Pat hadn't been around last night when she arrived, though listening to her roommate stumble in during the wee hours of the morning when she did get home sent Max's mood in a downward spiral.

Glancing at the clock by her bed, she figured it'd be time to go in fifteen minutes. She grabbed a peach-coloured sweater and threw it over her t-shirt, then grabbed her purse. After a final check in the bathroom mirror, she sauntered down the hall toward the door, ears perking at the soft voices coming from the television. Sure enough, she found Pat nestled under one of their shared quilts, a bowl of soggy cereal abandoned on the coffee table.

"Hey," she said, not meeting her roommate's eye as she pulled her feet into a pair of boots.

"Hey."

In the background, she heard something that sounded like the news, and Max straightened up with a frown. The news was an evening show—morning was for the Food Network and TLC. However, as soon as an interview of Tony Stark flashed across the screen, Pat's morning viewing choices suddenly made sense, and Max rolled her eyes.

"He looks good on the TV, huh?"

She glanced back from the sink, where she'd wandered over to fill her water bottle for a day out of the house. Pat's eyes peered over the back of the couch, staring right at her as she waited for an answer. Max shrugged.

"I guess." He looked the same as he always did—though these days she saw him more sober than inebriated, which was probably a good thing. Pat's eyes narrowed, and Max shrugged again. "What?"

"I'm so sick of your attitude toward him."

She stared at the blonde for a moment, flabbergasted that she'd pick a fight this early in the morning, and then turned the sink off a little too forcefully.

"I mean, you could at least make some sort of effort," Pat continued, sitting up so that Max could see more of her over the back of the couch. "He took you to your—"

"The fucks I don't give about Tony Stark could fill this entire apartment," she snapped, throwing her water bottle in her purse with a glare. "He's a nice enough guy, yeah… to me."

Pat huffed a little, her cheeks going red. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means." She went for her coat, which was hanging on a hook by the door. "He's decent to me because we're not sleeping together, and I don't have a problem with the way he treats me. It's the way he treats you that makes me angry. I don't know why you're fighting with me about that."

"Because you just come across as so superior whenever we talk about it," Pat argued, crawling to the end of the couch and sitting up on the armrest. "You make me feel stupid."

"Well, maybe you're being stupid about him—"

"Max!"

She pressed her lips together. She hadn't meant to say that. Sighing, she buttoned up her coat slowly and turned to face her roommate.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean—"

"You obviously did if you said it," Pat insisted, her arms folded and eyes misty. "I'm so done with talking about him to you."

Good! It took every ounce of self-restraint not to scream it at her. Maybe if Pat stopped talking about him all the time, they'd be able to get back to the way things used to be. She understood that her roommate was struggling in the aftermath of the invasion—but Max could only be so supportive about a relationship that was terrible for her.

"You know what I'm so done with?" She pulled her hair out from beneath her jacket, fluffing it out before placing a hand on the doorknob. Pat arched an eyebrow, prompting an answer. "I'm so done fighting with you about a guy who isn't even your boyfriend. We're in a fight over your fuck buddy, and I'm sick of it."

She gave Pat one last look, the exasperation plain on her face, before slipping out the front door and shutting it behind her. No slamming—no need for more dramatics. Hopefully that might have hit home enough for Pat to realize how ridiculous this all was. Hell, Max realized how stupid she was being fighting with her best friend over a guy who, in a few months, probably wouldn't even be around anymore for them to argue over.

The brisk fall air was enough to clear her head on the walk to Tiffany's building, and meeting up with her exceptionally pregnant friend pushed the last remaining thoughts of Pat and Tony Stark away for good. After helping Tiff get into her shoes, the two made their way down to the underground parking lot, where Max hopped in the driver's seat and Tiff glared at her protruding belly as she tried to buckle her seatbelt.

"I feel like I'm going to burst," Tiffany groaned as Max tried to maneuver the bulky car out of the tight space. "I hate this. I hate pregnancy."

"You're just ready for it to be over," Max said, glancing over her shoulder as she backed out. There were too many cars squished into one area—she hated driving in Manhattan. Once she was out of the spot, she threw the car into drive and raced out of the lot, knowing they'd be cutting it close for the appointment. "I bet you'll think back on it fondly when the baby's here."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says." Tiffany shifted and held the seatbelt off her. "Everyone who hasn't actually been pregnant before, that is."

Max kept her gaze on the road. "Yeah, I guess."

She'd opted not to tell the majority of the people in her life about her pregnancy. Pat knew. Her dad knew. But it just didn't seem like a topic she wanted to share with the rest of the world, even if the rest of the world happened to be her nearest and dearest.

They eased into morning traffic, and after glancing at the clock on the radio quickly, she realized they'd probably just make it. There wasn't as much congestion on the roads as she was expecting, and they rumbled along at an easy speed.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Tiffany asked, turning down the radio as she slowed to a stop at a set of lights. "Let me live vicariously through you."

"Well…" She kept her eyes on the traffic, watching the cars pass through the intersection, foot pressed down on the brake. "We had that gala thing last week. Loki and I went to the Statue of Liberty on Sunday, and I've kind of just been staying with him all week when I'm not working."

"Still fighting with Pat?"

"She's being so stupid over fucking Tony Stark," Max muttered, shaking her head and moving the car forward once the light changed. "It's driving me nuts."

"Well, she's in a weird headspace," Tiffany said. Both women let out little squeals as Max slammed on the brakes, and she shot a death glare at the bike messenger who'd whizzed in front of her out of nowhere.

"Fucking asshole." She wanted to lay on the horn, but he was long gone. Sighing, she pushed forward, the driver behind her sitting right on her bumper. "I hate driving in this city."

"I always make Garret do it."

They exchanged a quick smile. The conversation stayed easy and light until it somehow worked its way back around to Loki, and Max bit the inside of her cheek when Tiffany asked the question she'd been dreading.

"So… What is Loki actually doing here anymore? Is he working?"

"No."

"Does he plan to?"

"I doubt it."

She flipped on the turning signal and eased into yet another underground parking lot below the doctor's building. Blinking rapidly to adjust her eyes to the dark, Max scanned for an open spot.

"Is he just hanging around… doing nothing then?"

"He does stuff." She cursed softly when another car stole the spot she'd been gunning for. "He's been helping Jane get her new lab ready."

Mostly because Thor made him—moving boxes of supplies and calling vendors were the last things Loki wanted to do, and yet he'd been doing them all week when she was gone.

"Doesn't he want to go home?"

Max licked her lips, ignoring the question until she'd found a good parking spot. Close to the doorway, in a well-lit area, it was every driver's dream. Sort of.

"He…" She trailed off, turning the key and listening to the car die. "I don't know. We don't really talk about it."

"Max."

She felt Tiffany's glare find its way to her face. "We're sort of just living in the now—"

"Max."

"I know, I know." Grabbing her purse out of the backseat, she shot her friend a smirk. "Okay, Mom, I'll have the serious talks sometime soon."

Tiffany stuck her nose in the air. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Let's go look at your baby."

Bringing up the baby was always a good way to distract Garret or Tiffany, but as Max sidled around to the other side of the car, she couldn't help but think that her friend was right. She and Loki needed to talk. It wasn't the same sort of pressure that she felt when she was hiding her pregnancy, but the days were stretching on, and the longer they ignored it, the heavier it would be when they actually talked about it.

She tried not to wince as Tiffany leaned on her, but the woman was like a massive boulder sitting on her arm. Thankfully, the building had elevators rather than stairs leading down to the parking garage, and they were able to whizz right up to the doctor's office with minimal discomfort for Tiff. As she suspected, they made it just on time, and after a few minutes of sitting in the waiting room, they were whisked off to one of the little offices.

This wasn't the first time she'd gone with Tiffany to an appointment, but each time felt like she was pulling a scab off too soon. Seeing all the pictures of babies, being around all the pregnant women… It made her throat thick with emotion, her chest tight. She did her best to hide it—Tiffany hadn't realized yet—and put on a smile whenever the doctor was around. It wouldn't have been fair to drag Tiffany down, especially when she was always a bundle of nervous energy waiting to get the all clear from her doctor. So far, it had been a healthy pregnancy, but there were always risks.

Always the potential for disaster.

But not today. No, today she sat next to Tiffany and watched as the amazing image of her baby appeared on the screen. Healthy. On schedule. They counted fingers and toes, and looked at its little eyes. The doctor skirted around anything that might hint at the sex: they wanted it to be a surprise. Ellen if it was a girl. Thomas if it was a boy. Love and happiness for either.

"Max… Don't cry."

She looked away from the screen and realized a small tear had slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away with an embarrassed smile. Tiffany also had watery eyes, but she assumed the reasons behind them were different.

"I'm just so happy for you," she said, knowing a half-truth was better than the whole. "He or she is beautiful."

"I know." Tiffany turned her attention back to the screen as the doctor waited in silence, giving them both this moment. "Most beautiful baby there ever was."

She sniffled and tightened her grip on Tiffany's hand. "Yup."

Selfish. The word bounced around in her head again as Tiffany chattered away with her doctor, asking some of the same questions that she'd asked when Max last came with her. Max was selfish to be emotional—she knew it. Selfish to regret and yet be happy with her decision. Someday, this would be her. She wanted it right now, but only sometimes. When she wanted it all the time, when she couldn't think about anything except expanding her family, then she'd be in Tiffany's place. For now, she let herself be selfish. She let herself feel.

Her phone vibrated in her bag suddenly, cutting through the chatter as the message alarm chirped. The doctor shot her a narrowed look, and Max met it defiantly. This wasn't a hospital. She could leave her phone on. Tiffany carried on without missing a beat, and Max turned away to fish the device out of her purse.

How are you doing?

Loki seldom texted her, and when he did, it was because they'd lost each other in a crowd. She stared at the words for a moment, her eyes watering again, and she tapped the screen to reply.

Coping, I guess.

She sent the text off with a small smile. He knew where she'd be that morning. He knew what the appointment was for. They hadn't talked about the pregnancy since the night of Sue's wedding, and the fact that he took the time to text her about it spoke volumes about where they were now. So very far from where they were then—finally.

Good. Call me if you want to discuss it.

The message flashed across her screen just as she was putting her phone away, and she quickly texted him that she'd see him tonight. And just like that, the weight had lifted. Her throat wasn't quite so thick, her chest not as tight. She took a deep breath and slid her chair back to Tiffany's side, and just for safe measure, they counted all the fingers and toes twice more before the appointment came to an end.

Max let out something mixed between a giggle and a groan as Johnny slammed into her for the umpteenth time that afternoon, his knee colliding hard with her leg. They both stumbled to a stop, and someone somewhere in the background of the studio cut the blaring music.

"Run to the left!" she shouted, playfully shoving him away, chest heaving. "It's in the damn song!"

"I'm sorry!" He cowered under her fists, which pummeled him lightly as she laughed. "I'm trying my best!"

The director's voice cut through the laughter like a whip. This was their… Well, she wasn't sure what take they were on, but the afternoon was dragging. "Let's take a five minute break."

Every time Johnny or Max screwed up the dance routine, they'd have to start again. Surprisingly, Johnny was the one to flounder over the steps the most, and she felt she could hold her head up high in front of the crew. For now, anyway. Her body was ready to call it a day, even with the few breaks they'd already had. Sweat glistened down her face, soaking her shirt back and front, and she'd already had to change into an identical, but dry, shirt three times since starting at noon. It was almost five now, and with them constantly doing the routine for the camera crew to get all the angles they needed, Max had a sinking suspicion she'd get to the Avengers Tower and fall asleep before saying two words to Loki.

She wasn't sure when or how Johnny had become involved in Jane and Tony's education reform program, but somehow he'd managed to revive a foundation that pushed for more physical education programs across the state. There were several similar organizations already, so Johnny essentially used his name and star appeal to draw more attention to them. The gist of the filming today was to make a short ad to encourage kids to exercise in and out of school.

Ever since she and Johnny goofed around to Beyonce's Move Your Body on the last photo-shoot they did together, that was what most people associated with them. The original video somehow found its way on to Youtube and gossip sites, adding fire to the rumours that she and Johnny were an item. So, to capitalize on the initial video's popularity, they decided to remake it professionally. No S.H.I.E.L.D. demands that she be there. No huge paycheque. Just her and Johnny doing something good for an awesome program.

"I thought you were good at this kind of stuff," Max said as they wandered over to the side of the studio, going straight for the drink station.

"I used to be really good at gym class," he mused. He grabbed a bright orange drink and twisted the cap off. "I never said I was good at dancing."

She rolled her eyes, opting for a bottle of water instead, then leaned back against the table beside him. The studio space was gorgeous: white walls and flooring, it had a clean, professional vibe to it that Max liked. All the crew members had also been incredibly polite with her, even though she wasn't necessarily the star of the show.

"I'm surprised we're doing as well as we are…"

Johnny smirked at her, then took a swig of his drink. After she'd brought Tiffany home from her appointment, she swapped her friend's practical Honda for Johnny's motorcycle. He'd picked her up from her apartment, and she sped through Manhattan with her arms wrapped around his firm midsection, trying her best not to shriek into her helmet whenever he took an unnecessary risk.

And there were plenty of those. Too many.

"Catch me up on your life, Max."

He posed the demand when the director suddenly decided that they'd need to clean up the set before sending the duo back on. Apparently, their shoes had scuffed the white flooring, while their sweat left a trail that was starting to reflect the lighting.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

She laughed, her head tilting back in the easy way it always did around Johnny. Everything. Everything was both too much and not enough.

She was halfway through whining about her situation with Loki—"But I don't want him to just… wait around because of me. That's not living, and it's totally not far." To which Johnny nodded sympathetically—when one of the producer's assistants held up her purse.

"I think your phone's ringing."

Pushing off the table, Max hurried over and retrieved the shrieking thing from her purse, cheeks red as dozens of heads turned back to find the source of the noise. She didn't even look at the number before pressing the answer button, bringing it to her ear quickly.

"Hello?" she said, a little out of breath all of a sudden.

"Max?" It was a woman's voice, and even though it was vaguely recognizable, she still couldn't place it. Putting a finger to her ear, she stalked to a quieter corner of the set.

"Yes?"

"It's Elisa."

Her cheeks flamed at the realization that she didn't even recognize her own sister-in-law on the phone—that was how often they talked these days. But then again, technically the woman wasn't her sister-in-law anymore. Not really, anyway. From what she'd heard, Elisa had even ditched the Wright last name. Swallowing thickly, she smiled, hoping to sound cheerful through the earpiece.

"Hi!" There was a silence on the other end, and she cleared her throat. "How are you?"

"Look, I'm in Manhattan tomorrow to file some papers," the woman said briskly. "None of my family can look after Noelle, and I don't want to lug her around to sit in office waiting rooms."

"I'll take her!" Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought, the butterflies in her stomach flapping harder than they had all day. "Definitely. I can totally watch her if you need someone."

"Okay." She sounded less than enthused at the idea. "Just giving you a heads up that we're moving to Virginia. This is the last stop for me before I drive down with all our stuff."

And then all the excitement stopped. She nibbled her lower lip for a moment. "So—"

"And I don't want to drive Noelle back and forth all the time, so unless you come visit, you may not see her for a while."

A part of her could understand Elisa's anger. After all, she was the reason Nolan had come back into the city. Inadvertently, she'd been the reason he died in the museum that day. Still, this was getting ridiculous. They were supposed to be family. They'd always gotten along before.

And why wasn't she calling her daughter "Nolie"? No one used her full name—it was almost a Wright family tradition.

"O-Okay," she managed after a brief pause. "Well, why don't we chat tomorrow?"

"Where can I find you?"

She recited the address for the Avengers Tower to the best of her ability, going mainly off memory. Elisa muttered each word after she said it, most likely writing it down in the little diary she carried with her everywhere.

"Is there anything I should have for her?" Max had a small cardboard box of toys and books she liked to bring out whenever she looked after her niece. It wasn't often that she did it, but that box was always there, nestled beneath sweaters and spare sheets on the top shelf of her closet.

"I think I can manage to provide you with all the things my child needs for four hours, but thanks."

Max pressed her lips together to keep some snapping back. If this really was one of the last times she'd see Nolie—which she just couldn't fathom, to be honest—then she wasn't going to ruin it by giving Elisa attitude.

"Okay," she said, her voice laced with fake brightness, its pitch a few notches higher than normal. "I'll just meet you in the lobby tomorrow then."

"I'll call you when I get there."

And then… dial tone. The conversation was over. Max stared at her phone for a long moment, glaring at the screen, before tightening her grip and stalking back to her purse. Luckily, her sour mood didn't stay for long. No, it eased away as soon as she spied Johnny attempting to juggle various bottled drinks with members of the crew cringing and protesting every time he wandered too near the expensive camera equipment.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed Elisa's attitude out of her mind. She couldn't handle any more negative emotions today—she'd swallowed down enough already. Instead, as she wandered toward Johnny, she focused on the fact that she'd get to see her niece tomorrow. A prickle of excitement shot through her. She'd show the little girl off around the tower, letting the others admire just how fucking adorable she really was. Maybe she'd find water-wings and take Nolie in the shallow end of Stark's massive pool. Crafts. Nap time. Snacks.

Tomorrow was going to be the best day that she'd had in a long time. It had to be. With a smile on her lips that hurt her cheeks, she made a beeline for Johnny to tell him the good news. However, before she could reach him, she was dragged away to have her make-up touched up, and before she knew it, she was back in front of the camera feigning athleticism for the greater good.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Fellow writers (fanfiction or otherwise): do you ever have those scenes that you're so pumped to write, only to get to the end and think… wtf was the point of this?

A little teeny tiny part of me feels like that with this chapter. This chapter set up a lot of things. A lot. Remember the name Klaus Albright. If you're still here for future stories, it'll matter then.

Also, Loki texting is one of my favourite images. And of course he'd use impeccable grammar.

Anyway. Not too much to report on my end. A few people have taken advantage of my oneshot for a review promo, but please note that I will only write the oneshot of your choice if you send me an active review link for my book. You can find all the details on my profile page!

Guyzzzzzzzzz, it's getting down to the end here! I think there's only 4 (?) more chapters left at this point? Yes. Maybe? I don't feel like double-checking. And do you remember when I used to write chapters that were this long? And not like 10,000 words? I do. It's been nice on my wrists. Don't forget that I'll be posting the epilogue of this story with the prologue to the sequel, The Long Winter, on the same day. No waiting. Just diving straight in.

As per usual, my work thinks I can survive on basically no hours (10 hours on just above minimum wage doesn't pay much rent, kiddies), so I have lots of time to write. I'm finishing up my second original book for the year, and am then diving into a ghostwriting gig that'll take me into December. I have three months to write it though, so I don't foresee it interrupting my updating schedule as much as the last one did.

Rightoooo. This author's note reads like I wrote it drunk. Professional to the end.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK, DARLINGS! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR TODDLER + AVENGERS MAYHEM.