Hey guys! Sorry for taking ten days to update...but this is a lonnnggg chapter and I didn't want to break the flow.

Special thanks to:

RandomGirl25, KateElizabethBlack, AquaEmpress, SnowBarry11 for the wonderful reviews! :)

and a huge thank you to the guest reviewer for leaving an insightful and encouraging review the other day :)

Chapter 6

Elena's POV

Freakinggoddamnhell! Fuckinghellofholyfucks! Fuckingtwisteddamnedlife!

I hit the gas pedal with progressive force at the end of each profanity! And considering the long list of fucks and goddamnhells I have covered so far, I am sure as hell way past the illegal speed limit but as I said…. I am way past giving fucks right now.

Needless to say I can't show up at my apartment in a murderous rage where my oblivious best friend sits sipping my favorite wine, waiting to get on my nerves for entirely different reasons than SHIELD. It's not that Al is entirely in the unknown about what I do, he had known the previous occupant of the apartment (also a SHIELD agent) and the one before her (SHIELD agent again) and when I say known I mean known with wink-y face wink-y face. Therefore, he has some idea that wherever I work, whatever I do it's definitely not everyday menial job and he also knows it's certainly not for him to know and is undoubtedly dangerous.

I remember the day when I had just gotten back home with a pretty raw shoulder injury; he knocked on my door (yes, knocked. Guess we weren't that close then), anyhow when I cracked open my door…. there he was…. all sweat pants and puffy eyes, a tangle of messy bed hair and a hint of stubble, guess he had just woken up. He came in before I could protest otherwise, went straight to my kitchen, stood leaning against the fridge while I sat on the stool near the kitchen top, trying with all my might not to wince. I wasn't a field agent then, just happened to be an unfortunate victim of the crossfire. He didn't say anything for a long while….and I didn't pretend to be oblivious to the fact that he knew something was going on. The professional part of me didn't want him to know but me….well, there was nothing that I wanted to hide from this guy…who was the only one who got me, who could see through my bullshit. After what felt like a lifetime I was lucky enough to have a friend, someone around whom I didn't have to pretend, I guess I just wanted to keep it that way. So I kept mum. He didn't say anything either, just kept staring at a spot somewhere above my head. Then, out of the blue in the clean silence of early morning he spoke with hesitant urgency.

"Legal?"

"Absolutely."

I answered before he could finish his monosyllabic question….

Me, who had been chewing on the inside of my cheek and probably had drawn blood, was just too ready to make sure…to do anything….to convince him that he won't get in trouble because of me…ever. Because that's what people normally are worried about when it comes to people like us…..people with two lives. He must have read my thoughts then, like he always does because in the next beat he was pushing himself off the fridge and walking towards the door where he paused only for a second and said the last words we ever exchanged about my job over his shoulder.

"If you die on me, I get the apartment next." And with that he softly closed the door behind him and was gone for the rest of the day. I didn't see him until later that evening, he brought Chinese take outs and we ate in compatible silence while watching reruns of friends. We have been getting stronger and stronger since then.

Coming back to the now, I notice with familiar delight that my car has slowed down considerably and I can feel for the first time ever since morning a clarity seep into my thoughts. Al, that's what he does, I think fondly.

I park in front of what looks like a deserted chemical plant, vast and eerily quiet, on the unsuspected land of the outer skirts of the city with hardly any establishments in vicinity, save for the old inn cum bar at the end of the road. I sit for a long time in the car looking at the slowly fading sun, bathing everything in warm orange glow. It reminds me of the paintings in the foyer; however it's not as beautiful as the scene with the cliff.

I slowly see the lights of the inn's hoarding come on, it's quite an old place, and even the lights seem to be struggling to remain on for a couple of minutes at length. In honesty though all this doesn't matter, the woman who owns the bar and after whom it's named, Martha, is a wonderful lady in her late fifties. She is my kind of funny, sarcastic with a cutting edge, knows how to shell out jabs as well as she knows how to take them sportingly and the best part… she never nags. If you want to tell her something she will be all ears but if you want to have some quite time by yourself she'll offer you privacy like no other place while magically pouring out drinks at the exact moment you want them.

But today I don't even want to go into the bar which otherwise would have been my first choice. So I get out of the car, go around the front towards the vast field at the back, let the security know that I am on the premises and since they are familiar with my frequent visits here they don't' ask too many questions. Probably the first good thing to happen today.

I sit on the old rusty bench that overlooks the expanse of this sparsely green field and let my muddled thoughts sort themselves out. Recalling everything that has happened since morning I finally stop to think about my meeting with Fury.

To say it was catastrophic would be overstating things but to say it went badly would be to downright insult the tremendous awfulness of the whole ordeal. Turns out I was right, there are ulterior motives to this mission, though why would I be not told of them is not secret anymore. They think I am not ready, fine maybe I am not but then why do they think I am ready to handle an alien-psycho with god-complex.

I could learn to live with it, the fact that I was even considered for a mission that is just supposed to be for the inner circle is an honor in itself. I am not blind to that. But what's bothering me is the nagging thought that I have just been involved so that I can get Mr. Moody on our side, or at least make him a tad bit co-operative. That I am just being allowed to attend the sessions, where Loki will be giving his insightful help on account of being his babysitter! I wanted to work on a mission of this stature, I mean who wouldn't but I wanted it to be because of my talent not because I was tailing along with a narcissistic lunatic who no one likes!

And I hate to admit but I don't really savor the thought of manipulating someone, even him. Sure enough there are people who excel at this kind of thing, hell! It's almost a pre-requisite for being a field agent. I just never thought I will have to do it in my very first important mission. This was my second stupidest thought of the day, the first being telling Fury all that had plagued my thoughts since this eventful morning. Fury being Fury made sure he had the whole picture clear before me, that this was much bigger than what I could imagine and that he needed everyone to play their parts with absolute perfection in order for things to turn out well.

And when I showed a little dismay at not knowing the whole plan and my distaste for befriending someone only to manipulate them, he became the director everyone feared right before my eyes. He told me with deceptive calmness if I had so many reservations about a mission that needed my undivided attention, If I could not understand the importance of following orders, something that is so crucial to the foundation of SHIELD, I could very well go ahead and apply for a job anywhere else and he would grant me a glorious recommendation.

And though I was livid with anger some ten minutes ago thinking how dare he doubt my conviction towards this organization's cause? The organization that saved me in so many ways…. Now…..here…. in the calm isolation of this quiet evening I can't help but see his perspective as well. He is burdened with saving so many people; one wrong decision and everything could fall apart. And with the understanding of his predicament comes the soul crushing reminder that I had disappointed him. The one person, apart from Maria and Phil, I wanted to show that I had it in me.

I am so bone wary with this day that I just want to crawl into my bed, close my eyes and push it towards an end….by any measure seems like it can use some help. I feel the familiar buzz of cellphone vibrating against my sternum, pulling it out from the inside pocket of my jacket I remember the text from Al that I never got around to reading. The call is from Al as well. Okaaay.

"What?"

"Well, aren't you all chipper."

"Not in the mood, Stewart." I never use surnames so that should tell him to drop the usual sarcasm to a tolerable level.

"oooohhh, what happened my little Cinderell-y? Did someone take your lunch money?" and yeah I forgot to mention Al can never take a hint! Also his imitation of a toddler is downright pathetic.

"That's it. I am hanging up."

"Come on! Okay...wait…wait….I'll behave, promise." That draws out a tired sigh from me, I am so fatigued….I tuck my knees up and rest my chin on them while listening to the humming voice of my best friend who doesn't have to deal with grumpy grown up alien-men or overbearing-but-kind-of-in-the-right bosses.

"….and so I said I can't make it but they tell me it's really important and that there will be a lot of press and that could work in favor of my next calendar launch. I texted you but got no reply. And it's almost 7:10, you are not here and I just thought I should call, make sure you ate."

Turns out Al's agency has invites to a big event tonight and they want him to go, there would be no problem with that whatsoever, if he wasn't burdened with….well me. I work so late almost every day that I hardly have time to stock on groceries and the fact that I hate cooking and am too darn lazy to fix anything for myself, make the case even more deplorable. Therefore I sleep without eating anything at all, if left on my own. So Al plays nanny. Either he orders take out for me or makes something himself and comes over with a hot platter of steaming something once I have finished showering. Not to mention his timing and culinary skills are unmatchable. Something else that is unmatchable too is his guilt, it's as if he was charged with an array of duties all centered around me…feed me, keep my wardrobe full but not outdated, make sure I let lose once in a while, make me laugh, watch the stupidest shows with me on the days when I have an off etc. etc.

I sometimes feel as guilty as he does in these occasions but my reasons are different….I rely too much on him.

"Hey! It's fine, absolutely. I swear to god I'll pick something on my way. You are not my nanny Al. I mean you sure look like one but really…you are not." He gives an exasperated laugh at the other end.

"I'll be back soon, sniffing for fresh take out boxes in the trash can. Don't forget you can't fool me, 'Lena. So do us both a favor and do what you are told." He's cute when he tries to be intimidating. Tries being the operative word.

"I wouldn't dare think of anything otherwise." I say in the best mock-frightened voice I can manage.

I get up after hanging up and stashing the phone back in my inner pocket. I feel a little better, knowing that no matter how shitty the days are I'll be coming home to my best friend.

The drive back home is calm and more importantly under a legal speed limit, I would say that is because I am finally in control of the situation and have sorted things out but in all honesty the entire credit goes to Al and the melodious sound of Gabrielle Aplin's Start of time filling every nook of my car and not to mention my being.

The building I stay in is an old establishment of red baked bricks in a relatively busy neighborhood, there are a couple of restaurants scattered around the lane which keep the hustle bustle alive for almost as late as three in the morning. On the rare days when I have my off and can afford a break from sleep and (the nightmares) I stay up late, sitting in my balcony sipping wine and watching the buzz of the street slowly die out, the sunset that follows after that seems all the more special, more serene and bright….those mornings are my favorite….they smell of the calm after an intense rainstorm.

My apartment is on the second floor, it's not anything fancy but it's cozy and…. I don't have any other word to describe it other than me…. It's very me. Soft green walls with dark hardwood floor, large windows with charcoal grey curtains and plush chairs and cushions and couches scattered around the apartment in tasteful manner. It wasn't always like this though. When I moved in, it was absolutely sterile, the walls were a sickly white stripped bare of any sign of the previous occupants, the only thing welcoming was the polished hardwood floor. I fell in love with it instantly, mainly because it was so much like me even then….devoid of life and looking for a way to remodel….start over.

I had barely anything to move into my new apartment, just a couple of books, some clothes and a small cardboard box full of memories that I was trying to bury. Maria helped me a lot, needless to say. I tried to pay her back when I got my first paycheck….which was by all standards beyond my expectations. I mean SHIELD pays you a lot.

Looking at the interiors of it today, I feel a small smile creep on to my lips; we both have come a long way. Sure, I still battle with my demons but this place has never been a trigger in that. Even though I stay alone and that should elevate the horror of the whole situation, somehow when I come to my senses and see that I am here, in the place that I made home, I feel inexplicably safe. Placing the take out boxes on the kitchen top, I open the balcony doors and breathe in the humming energy of this city that never sleeps.

After a quick shower and awfully bland dinner I finally get underneath the covers and settle in for the night, hoping desperately that I will get at least few hours of continuous sleep before the assault begins anew.

I wake up with a start, something doesn't feel right but there is too much darkness to discern anything, I fumble for the bedside lamp but all my hand comes up with is what feels like dirt. I can hear something in the distance, like the clipping of some kind of instrument. I strain to hear again but there is absolute silence, I try to get up but there is something clamping down my legs, the more I breathe the more I can feel the damp dirt soiling my skin and getting matted in my hair. I am freezing cold and….bare. I try to shout but no sound comes out. Something is terribly wrong I can feel it.

An ear piercing shriek penetrates the air, the sound that would wreck the strongest of souls weak. A gut wrenching sound of absolute pain. What's worse it sounds like a child. A boy.

Please….pl…please….plea….please….

The sobs are becoming more insistent by the minute; the intensity of it all renders me horrified and immobile for a moment.

Noooooo, help…..hel…somebody….please…..

I have to do something, I try and wriggle out of what is holding me down and feel a sharp bite of teeth dig into my ankle, the pain is excruciating and I can't help the cry that escapes my mouth.

Looks like the little bitch is awake after all, what do you say, should we get her to see the show?

Cold sweat beads break out all over my body….I know that sound, I have to get up! I have to get out! He needs my help! I start thrashing around violently and the more I move the deeper the teeth dig. I can hear the crunching of dried leaves under someone's soft footfalls. All of a sudden whatever was covering me is gone and the dark silhouette of a lean man is bending over me, his face inches from mine and yet I can't see anything, no features except his crazed pitiless onyx eyes….that and the toxic smell of vanilla and blood; a helpless scream escapes my mouth.

I wake up gasping. Looking around violently. The lights from the Thai restaurant across the street slowly filtering through the curtains into my room. The only sound is my heavy breathing.

I can't bring myself to move, to speak, even to cry…..all these years and still this incident has the capacity to leave me almost catatonic every damn night!

There is nothing that helps, nothing that soothes the pain, so I do the only thing that I do know will work. I sit. For minutes or hours I don't know but I sit, letting the dream play over and over again. There is no sense in blocking it because that will just make it come back with a vengeance. I let the memories assault me.

I have no idea how long I sit there on my sorry bed drenched in sweat but after a while I feel my breathing slow down. I get up gingerly; it's still dark out there. I step towards my bathroom but stumble and fall because of something lying on the floor. I feel for the light switch and when I switch it on I just sit there against my bathroom door staring at the floor, where the bedside lamp lies shattered.

Well, that's something new.

Glancing towards the digital clock that sits precariously at the edge of the bedside table I see that it's only 3:40. Don't know why but I wish I had knocked that hideous thing down!

Well, sleep is definitely out of question and it's too early for a run. Let's just go one step at a time. Therefore I haul myself up noting that I have a gash in my palm probably from the bulb lying shattered on the floor. Great!

Once I have cleaned the cut and wrapped it in bandage as best as I could with one hand, I clean up the mess. I go through the motions almost mechanically, don't think, don't wallow. One thing leads to another and by five I have cleaned the entire apartment. Not even a speck of dust left! At least something productive came out of it.

I go to the makeshift gym in the basement of our building, it's not as well furbished as the one in SHIELD where I work out after my shift most days but it's the best I can get at this hour. The fact that it's absolutely deserted is just an added bonus.

I start kicking the boxing bag with as much force as I can muster; this is another productive thing that has come out of the nightmares. I get up so early that I have more time to practice. I have been getting better or so says my instructor Claud at SHIELD. I practice for what feels like an hour, at around six I go for my run. The streets are not as empty as I would like them to be but they are not crowded either, it's a clear morning with light breeze, I feel myself relax and come back to normal.

I get back around seven; Al should be up by now. I check his door, it's locked. Although I have a key but I know what this means…before I can turn in time I catch the moans clearly coming from the living room. I can only smile and shake my head. Al and discretion have never been friends.

I quickly get ready, donning my dark wash denim jeans with a navy blue Henley t-shirt, I leave the top two buttons open, not enough to show my cleavage but open enough to not make me feel suffocated. I know it's a bit of an exaggeration but I hate buttoning it up to the top. Sneakers have always been my go to choice and though many people feel I dress up way too college girl like, this is my choice. Also in my defense I am only twenty two and yes, maybe I didn't go to college but that doesn't mean I have to be like all grown up.

Grabbing my tan leather jacket, keys and laptop backpack I step out. I quickly dash into Al's apartment but not before I have checked for sounds coming from the living room, fortunately they have moved to the bedroom. I scribe a note, telling Al that now I know why he couldn't miss last night's dinner and that he is cooking tonight as compensation, sticking it on the fridge's door and stealing an apple from the dining table I finally get off to work.

Once I have logged into the system at the entrance I move directly to his floor. Surprisingly since I had left the building yesterday, I had not thought about him even once, but as the elevator mounts the various floors my temper increases with every stop. I remember how he lashed out without any preamble yesterday and that mixed with the terrible episode of this morning makes him agitated on the highest levels towards him.

Taking a deep breath I get out of the elevator and flash my badge at the entrance. I had the good sense of getting coffee for William and John, one of whom must have had the misfortune of spending the night watching the evil baby snore in his chamber. I walk in to a scene that I wasn't quite expecting, there is a plump lady probably in her forties with dark hair and olive skin laying down the breakfast table.

"Excuse me? May I ask who are you?" at that she looks up from the task she was doing diligently.

She smiles an amiable dimpled smile and rushes forward hand extended, "Hello, I suppose you are Ms. Elena. I am Mrs. Rosemary Donovan. Nice to meet you." She is very courteous, like those housekeepers you read about in the Victorian novels, I mean she's even got a name like those!

"Same here. Ahem, Mrs. Donovan, May I ask what are you doing here?" I ask clearing my throat. I don't do well where too many manners come into picture.

"Oh dear, I suppose you were not informed about me. I am the support staff, for cleaning, cooking, laundry and anything else that the guest might need." That's it! I am going to have a word with Maria, this is not how we treat people who injure and kill our own! I reign in my temper quickly and try to answer in as cordial voice as I can.

"I suppose it slipped Agent Hill's mind. What are your working hours, Mrs. Donovan?" Well one way or another I am going to get information as to what is going around and how many privileges that moody ass evil prince is going to get! This is another thing that I need to take up with Maria, why am I not being informed of stuff like this.

"You can call me Rose my dear. Mrs. Donovan can be pretty tiring and it's my mother-in-law anyways." She flashes a smile and resumes setting up the table while answering my question. "I am supposed to be here by 7 in the morning and I leave around 5 once I have prepared the meals and made sure the guest has everything they need."

The word guest is getting on my nerves…..

"Oh, okay good. I assume you are not from SHIELD Rose?" I like this lady but the fact that I may have an outside civilian in close proximity with that nut job is not sitting well with me.

"No, not really. But my husband is." She turns towards me giving me a motherly smile she lightly touches my arm while speaking in a loving manner.

"Maria told me about you. And I can see she was right. I will be perfectly fine here, no need to worry about me. I have been on assignments like this before and I have an idea who I am dealing with." I don't exactly get what Maria told her but the fact that she knows a little bit about what she is up against here and that she has experience calms me a bit.

I take a deep breath and mouth an unconvincing okay. By that time my other senses take over. The food she has prepared….oh god! Just the smell is making my mouth water and the fact that I had only had an apple and coffee isn't helping my case either.

I hear her laugh a small fond laugh.

"I made plenty; you can have some if you like. Believe me I like nothing more than a girl who eats!" she says winking at me.

"Well then you are going to loooveee me!"

I quickly place the coffee cups on the table and grab a plate, scooping some eggs and bacon on it, I go sit on one of the sofas in the center of the hall…..I finish the food in a few bites.

"This stuff is so good it should be illegal!" I say once I have wiped the plate clean, clearly basking in the glow of a good hefty breakfast.

"I am glad you liked it." She says handing me a glass of orange juice and sitting on the couch adjacent to mine.

"Where are Agent Fischer and Collins? I suppose one of them must have been here when you came in" I ask while placing the plate on the dining table from where I picked it up.

"Yes, William was here, poor lad he looked exhausted. He had left minutes before you came in. John is upstairs with the guest."

"Well in that case you can have one of these." I hand her one of the go-to coffee cups. "It's not as good as your food. But it's caffeine and that's THE most important part." I say exaggerating each word. I am back to my previous position. She must have been a gorgeous woman in her time. She has a heart shaped face with deep brown eyes that sparkle every time she smiles. She is one of those people that you meet on a train and when they ask you about your troubles you don't mind telling them what all is going wrong with your life, even though they are complete and total stranger!

"Rose, he is not a guest, you know. He is under our watch and a criminal. SHIELD is giving him all this because we are getting something invaluable in return. It's all a deal which in no way undermines the horrible things he has done." My tone is reasonable but it also betrays the fact that I am agitated with him.

Rose who was up until now looking at the surrounding admiring the beauty of it, hearing my words looks at me a moment and then turns her gaze towards the glass wall on her right and starts speaking in the tone that people use when they are lost in something that happened a long time ago.

"I have been around quite some time Elena and I'll let you in on a secret, this lot…this fleet of evil men that we see around us every now and then, they are not trustworthy. But once in a long while you come across someone who may have done a lot many horrible things, who may put up a front of absolute unadulterated malice and who may be so convincing in his or her act that you almost believe them….will also be someone with a great potential for change. These men, evil as they maybe, have great intellect and potential hidden in them. I am not saying that all of them are redeemable because god knows most of them are not but those who are…. they have the capacity to bring about a change that can not only save millions of lives but someone's soul as well." She turns and looks me right in the eye when she says the last line, her smile…. so soft and despondent that I immediately avert my gaze, lest I invade a memory that is clearly personal to her.

"Giving someone the benefit of doubt is not that hard a task. And unless you give them a chance you will never know. And something tells me you don't do very well with not knowing." She finishes with a warm smile and goes into the kitchen for her further chores.

I look towards the stairs that lead to his room….well I am clearly agitated, Rose's speech was in essence what I was trying to do yesterday but it didn't go quite well. And no matter how reasonably someone sits me down and asks me to deal with this in an understanding and mature manner I can't get the anger to ebb.

Sighing I get up, he wants an argument, a reaction….well he is not going to get one from me. Silent treatment. I have always been a master at that.

I climb the stairs one coffee still in hand, outside his room I take a deep breath and knock.

John opens the door and visibly relaxes on seeing me.

"Good Morning! I come bearing coffee." I say with a cheery bow.

"I have never appreciated anything or anyone's presence more in my life!" He says taking the cup.

"That bad, huh?" I say quirking an eyebrow. I know how he feels.

"You have no idea."

"Well why don't you go, have your coffee in peace, I can take it from here."

"You sure? I mean I came a short while ago I can stay if you don't want to ruin your day so early on." That gets a laugh from me, not because it's funny but because I know somewhere in there Mr. Grumpy can hear all this!

"I'll holler if it gets too much for a poor damsel like me." I mock whisper.

"Well then, here take this. It needs to be activated today." He says handing me the tracker device. It's a silver bracelet with a small green light in the center that is not on yet. It's surprisingly light.

"It will track his motions anywhere he goes, not only the campus but anywhere else as well. To activate it, you'll have to call the IT department; they will record a password of your choosing in your voice. Once they give you the clear you bring this green light close to your mouth, say the password, the latch at the bottom will open, you then slip it on him and resay the password close to the green light and the latch will lock right back into its place. After that only that password and your voice will be able to disengage it. Of course there is always the option of director override."

"Got it. Thanks."

I see John going down the stairs and instantly start dreading the temper tantrum that is surely waiting for me inside.

With a deep breath I step into the room, closing the door behind me. He is nowhere to be seen. I am about to call John when I hear the shower running in the bathroom.

I go over to the seat where I was sitting yesterday and make the call to the IT department. Apparently they were waiting for my call because I am instantly put through to the engineer who will guide me through it. As if a process as simple as this needs guiding through. An eye roll is all I can do about it.

"Yes, This is Elena…."

Before I can finish my sentence the guy on the other end is explaining all that John just told me.

"Listen to me, I have got the details about how it works from Agent Fischer, Can you please just proceed to the password part."

"Yeah, okay, Sure Ma'am. You are supposed to assign a password; it cannot be more than two words. You have to punch in the code #912 in your phone and you'll hear a beep after which you can say your password and I'll give you a call or shoot you a text when the process is through."

"Understood, thank you." I say and hang up. I punch in the code, having already decided the password….two words that I will never forget….simple. And bring the cellphone close to my ear. That is when the bathroom door right in front of me opens and out steps a towel draped, dripping wet, scowling fallen prince.

I know I should look away…..but I don't think it's humanly possible.

He has skin that can give porcelain a run for its money. He seemed so lean earlier but now I can see that it's not lanky lean, its muscular lean. He has a clean chiseled chest, with arms that are not bulky yet can be called strong and muscular; even from here I can see green veins visibly straining in his forearms and don't even get me started on the abs! His hair is a beautiful mess of dark dripping locks. His eyes…big and round, devoid of the cockiness that always fills them, a confused somber blue. He is so adorably confused right now that I can almost for an instant forget that this is the man who did all those nasty things, the man who insulted me so many times in one day.

The whole sight is almost enough for me to miss the beep on the phone but I recover in time and speak my password in a strained voice.

"Allen Stewart."

The computerized female voice on the other end thanks me and the call disconnects.

And then it's just staring. I am staring at him and he is staring at me. I can understand why I am staring and no one can blame me. But I don't get why he is looking at me like I am some sort of miracle sitting here on his chair.

"You mind putting some clothes on? Or is that how you people dress in the day on Asgard?" My voice comes out with a cutting edge. I am waiting for his obvious sarcastic remark on my ogling. But he wouldn't be Loki if he did what people expected of him.

"You are here." His voice is confused. What is going on?

"Great observational powers. You know who else has great observation? Me. And right now you are putting too much in front of me as subject matter."

That does the trick because he turns and goes into the walk in closet. I can't help the gasp that escapes my mouth when I catch a glimpse of his back. Every inch of it is covered in what appears to be wounds from a lashing. Sure they have healed but those kinds of scars; the belt must have penetrated very deep.

Who would do that to him?

Did it happen to him on Asgard as a punishment? It's not worse than what he did, comes a snarky voice from my sub conscience….. But still imagining him bound and being beaten does not sit well with me.

Did his own father, give orders for this? No wonder he would hate Odin.

I am lost in these thoughts when he re-emerges from the closet wearing the same green black leather outfit he was wearing yesterday. It's not the same one that much I can see, this one is crisp and new. But why wear the same outfit? He's bizarre, that's why.

I forgot in my mental dialogue that I am still looking at him and he is so not confused anymore, scowl back in place he is again the petulant grown up from yesterday.

Sighing I revert my attention to setting up my laptop on the coffee table in front of me. My eyes catch the glint bouncing off the silver tracker device resting beside my laptop and I remember I would probably have to explain the workings and implications of it to him.

How do I address him? I certainly don't want to take his name, I only refer to someone with their first name when I find them likeable, for those that I don't like I use their surnames, my own personal kind of lashing out. No one sees the sense in it but I don't do it for others, do I? But somehow calling him Laufeyson or Odinson for that matter sounds so damn ridiculous! So I do the first thing that comes to my mind, I cough and stand to gather his attention towards this part of the room. I know it's not ingenious but I am still kind of reeling from the towel-clad-back-slashed intro I had a few minutes ago.

His back stiffens on hearing me from where he was getting some book out of a drawer in the mahogany table that sits beside the door.

"I thought you were done with me. Seems like I was wrong, anyways your relentless pathetic efforts don't really suit you, you know." He says without turning, his voice laced with a hint of humor that only he can see, I am sure.

"Well unlike you we believe in freedom, so you are free to believe whatever that twisted brain of yours may like. I am here to do my duty and part of it, unfortunately, involves interacting with you on daily basis. There is something that needs to be explained to you, would you be kind enough to take a break from whatever mind numbing thing you are doing over there." I can't help the sharp edge and mocking tone that seeps into my voice whenever he is around.

"I suppose I can spare a few minutes." He turns around with ill-concealed amusement and a bounce in his step. What's got him so upbeat all of a sudden?

Rolling my eyes I move and meet him halfway almost in center of the room in front of the bed. Sunshine is falling in soft rays on the cream covers being filtered by the glass wall behind the headboard. There is a clean aura in the room. If it were not for the nerve wracking and infuriatingly unpredictable man in front me, I would love to sit here, take deep breaths and just relax….

It's too late when I realize how uncomfortably close he is standing; I would step back but that would imply I am affected by his petty tactics and I can't have that. At least that's what I tell myself.

He is considerably taller than me and adding salt to the wound, the proximity makes it mandatory that I have to look up at him under my lashes while pointing at the device and its various parts with my fingers as I explain. While explaining I keep my voice almost robotic and barely look up at him after the first few seconds. That is why it surprises me when I do look up.

He has a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips; it's oddly playful and sweet….boyish.

"Did you even listen to one word I just said?" I ask exasperated, already knowing the answer.

"Would it anger you if I say I didn't?" He says raising his eyebrows dramatically as if he is afraid. The whole thing is….cute. But I am not one to be fooled.

"Very." I say honestly and in barely any control of the agitation I feel towards myself for finding anything that he does as cute!

"Then Nope, I didn't hear a word of it." He gives me the broadest grin I have seen so far.

I remember my resolve that if a reaction is what he wants, he won't get it from me.

"Very well. I am not one to repeat things. So let's just get on with it." I get the cellphone out of my back pocket check it for a message from the IT department and surely enough I have the go from them.

"Give me your hand." I instruct in a disembodied voice.

"Oh, is that how it works here…fascinating! In Asgard it's the guy who asks for the hand. I always found it outdated and biased." He says extending his hand in the little space we have got between us. I stare impassively at him for a couple of seconds.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are not funny?" I say casually stepping back a little so that his hand has more room.

I bring the device close to my lips and speak the password, "Allen Stewart."

I hear a soft click and see the latch at the bottom has come undone and the green light has started blinking rapidly. The diameter has now increased enough so that I can slip it on him.

As soon as I touch his wrist to push back the sleeve so that I can slip on the device, I feel something inexplicably cold touch my fingertips and a sharp pain resounds throughout my arm, I retract my hand with a painful gasp and look up surprised.

He has a strange expression on his face, a melancholic smile with eyes that show infinite remorse just for an instant before shutting down and becoming lifeless again.

"I am sorry. I should have informed you about that, but in all honesty I almost forgot that it existed with its constant presence and all you see." He says while sitting on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, hunching forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and looking up at me with a sheepish smile.

"What was that?" My voice is a shocked whisper. Barely audible to myself but somehow he hears it. He looks down at his intertwined fingers speaking in a voice that has aged in a mere number of seconds.

"It's a device much more powerful than what you have in your hand, it tracks my movements, restricts my magic and…..constantly sends jolts of pain in my body to remind me what I have done." When he looks up his expression is defensive. Almost ready to take a lashing of harsh words that justify whatever is being done to him as right.

I know what his crimes are but if he expects me to relish in the idea of anyone being hurt like that 24 hours a day, even him, then he has got the worst impression of me than anyone else so far.

"The…the jolt I felt, is it like that for you?" I ask still reeling from what I have just discovered.

"It's far more intense, but yeah you get the idea." He says giving a nonchalant shrug.

"How often?" and for the love of god, why is my voice not coming back to normal!

"Every ten seconds or so." He is looking at me funny, maybe surprised by my curiosity.

"Ummm, okay. Let's tie this one on your other hand, it's totally pain-free, I promise." I say giving him a comforting smile. With that much pain I guess he can use a little bit less of my hostility.

I crouch in front of him taking his other wrist that he has extended dutifully in front of me. His expression is becoming more and more surprised. What is it?

His skin is cold too. Not as cold as the device I touched but more than any other normal person's and smoother too. I slip the device on and bring his tracker clad wrist close to my mouth, so that I can speak the password in the built-in microphone, I notice his hand stiffen imperceptibly when I do this but I ignore looking up or making a comment about it. Surprisingly all the anger and frustration I was feeling towards him has receded back, I am not pitying him but I am not angry anymore either.

"Allen Stewart." As soon as I say the words the latch locks back into place, comfortably snug on his wrist. And the light stops blinking, shining a bright red now.

"There done." I say getting up. My fingertips are cold from where they had touched his skin. He is running his fingertips over the metal surface of the new tracker.

"Fancy." His voice is so deep and rumbly. I note completely out of the blue. Snap out of it!

"That device…ummm….the pain…is it necessary for it's functioning, I mean to stop you from doing magic?" I say gesturing towards the state of the art circular bracelet that I can see now. It's beautiful; silver with green calligraphy covering it, in what I can suppose is the Asgardian dialect.

"Not really, the pain is more or less the fun part of it; it can work with or without it." I can't believe he is joking about it.

"Well if you don't mind it, Agent. Can I ask you a question now?" He says quirking an eyebrow.

"What makes you think you can do that?" I say with a smile in my voice resuming my position on the green couch. He shifts a little to face me.

"Well, if not then this would be an awfully imbalanced deal here, between you and me, where only you get to grill the poor ol' me….and here I thought you people were fair." He says with mock disappointment. I laugh. Very well….

"Fair point well made. Ask away." I say gesturing magnanimously with my left hand.

"Who is Allen Stewart?" He is uncharacteristically serious all of a sudden.

"Out of all the questions you could ask me, this is what you want to know?" I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it.

He just simply nods.

Okaaaayyyyy…..

"He is my….best friend, family, neighbor…he is almost everything I guess." Some people would say it's naïve of me to trust him with the knowledge of my personal life, I see it as a way to show him that this doesn't have to be hard.

His expression though hardens momentarily before relaxing back into its perpetual state of superciliousness.

Before either of us can say anything there is a knock on the door. How did I miss the footsteps?

John enters with a manila folder, stopping right in front of me, "This came for you from Agent Hill's office."

I take the folder but before I can open it he is telling me something more important.

"Director has requested him to be present at the meeting on the 37th floor conference room in fifteen. You are to take him." He is stoically ignoring the other male in the room. Boys, is all I can think.

"We'll be right behind you." I say stashing the manila folder in my back pack. I'll look at it when I am waiting outside the conference room.

Once John has left I turn to a very relaxed looking Loki, lying on top of the comforter, hand crossed behind his head, legs dangling off the edges, eyes closed.

I stand there looking at him, smiling for no apparent reason.

"You are staring again; I told you the first day it's rude." He says without moving an inch or even opening his eyes.

How did he do that?

"Come on! We have to get going and you still have your breakfast to eat, for which I am giving you exactly twelve minutes." I say slinging my back pack and moving towards the exit. I can feel him getting up and following with a softly whispered yes mother. However this time I don't take offend at the jab. It's going to be a long day.

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