Author Note: This chapter takes place roughly a year after Loki's fall. Yes, he is a gentleman and somewhat insufferably cute. I think it fitting (and he acts a bit like Tom, which made sense to me). He was raised noble, and noblemen treat their women with respect. Plus, since he doesn't remember his past, he it would lessen his…issues.

The name of the record store, Vertigo, comes from the record store downtown. I really like it and basically based the whole shop off it. Loki's name, John Walker, comes from the whiskey, but we'll get into that later And, yes, Wheaton Illinois is a real place. It's a college town.

Also, each chapter is named after a song that coincides with it.

The day Alice McCormick met Loki Laufeyson he was not going by that name. He had no memory of ever being the God of Mischief, or of Asgard, or any of his past life. In fact, when he walked into the small downtown Chicago shop that Alice worked in, he was celebrating the first year anniversary of him life as Jonathan Walker.

A little bell tinkled as he opened the shop door, making the girl at the counter look up from her book. "Good Omens" was the title. He liked that book; one of the nurses had brought it for him to read during the months he was in the hospital.

The girl nodded at him, a smile peaking out behind her mess of burgundy hair. Beneath the sleeves of her sweater, he could see the beginnings of tattoos that appeared to cover both arms, a common trait of women in the area. Admittedly, he was somewhat fond of them and the rebellion they were meant to signify.

"Hello," she greeted, pulling the sleeves down to cover her forearms when she noticed his gaze. "Welcome to Vertigo!"

"Hello," he said, wandering up to the counter, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. "I was wondering if you could assist me in finding an album."

"If it's a good one," she smirked.

He recognized this as sarcasm, something he still occasionally was not good at picking up on. The doctors blamed it on the head trauma he obviously suffered the night he lost his memory.

"Well, I should certainly think it is," he chuckled. "After all, I picked it."

Despite her giggling, she tried to give him a look of condescension.

"You question my taste?" he observed. "You know, you're quite snarky for a shop keeper."

"It's part of my charm," she smiled. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Jonathan," he replied, extending a hand with a winning smile. "Jonathan Walker; John, actually. It's a pleasure to meet you Alice."

"John." She repeated his name fondly. He really liked the way she said it. "You have a fantastic accent, John. Now, what is this record that you're looking for?"

"Well, I only know the one song actually," he admitted.

"That's a terrible way to decide if you want an entire album."

Annoyed, he rolled his eyes at her, which only made her laugh.

"You know," he teased. "I could just go to the music store down the street. They might not be so quick to judge, or help me find what I'm seeking at the very least."

"No!" she insisted. "I'm sorry. What's the song?"

"I believe it's called 'Boomboxes and Dictionaries'."

"The Gaslight Anthem song?" The disbelief in her voice was quite obvious. "I don't know if we have it, actually. See, it's kind of a rare album to find on vinyl and they aren't a super popular band. I can definitely order it for you if we don't. It might just be a little pricey."

"Money is no object," he shrugged.

"Figures," she snorted. "You talk like a noblemen. You're probably loaded."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Of course not. They never do."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

Biting her lip, she shook her head.

"No," she defended quickly. "Just a general observation."

Obviously she was flustered by her quick tongue and it seemed to embarrass her. However, he couldn't help finding it hilarious.

"What's so funny?" she challenged, coming around to the front of the counter and sweeping past him toward the rows of records.

"Oh, I just didn't mean to fluster you so," he smirked.

"It's a good album," she replied, brushing off her outburst and pointedly ignoring the real issue. "I really like it, but because the band isn't very well known, I can't really afford to keep it in stock all the time, you know?"

"Do you have any of their other work?" he offered.

"It depends on what you're looking for. I know we have some CDs, but vinyl is really the way to go, especially with their work."

"Vinyl is preferable," he nodded. "I am rather fond of having records."

Smiling approvingly, she led him toward one of the aisles toward the front of the store.

As he followed her, he caught himself staring, drinking in the way she walked. It wasn't even necessarily her looks that had him so attracted to her. She had a contagious energy, so full of life, so genuine and honest and opinionated. The way she bounced and waved her hands as she explained things was absolutely adorable. Yet, he couldn't help finding it odd. There were not many women who really stood out to him like she did.

It was then he realized she was still talking and he hadn't been listening to a word. She seemed to be going on about a shipment of records that was supposed to get to the store that day, but had yet to show up.

"I know for sure we are getting a few copies in this order," she blathered. "See, I haven't been here for like…a week, so it's been up to one of my newbies to do orders and stuff. And even though I've told her a few hundred times that we need to order this stuff, she doesn't really now how things work."

Admittedly, he wasn't following what she was saying. Then again, she didn't really have to make sense as long as she continued radiating that intense happiness of hers. It felt as though he could feed off it and live for centuries.

"Here we are," she grinned. "Gaslight Anthem."

For a moment she flipped through the collection of records, face brightening when she found the one he was looking for.

"Looks like you're in luck, Mr. Walker," she grinned.

"Please, John is just fine," he insisted. "And thank you."

"No problem. We also have their album 'The '59 Sound', if you're interested. It's got this cool Bob Dylan feel to it."

"Sounds fascinating," he smirked. "I would like that one as well."

The huge smile consuming her face was enough to make it well worth his money. They circled back around to the counter and she began ringing up his items.

"I have to ask," she said as she slipped the covers into plastic sleeves. "Where are you from? Your accent is fantastic."

For a moment he was silent, thinking hard to decide exactly how to explain his situation. The past year had all been rather confusing, being found in a ditch with five broken ribs, the memory of everything up until that point completely absent from his mind. He couldn't even remember his name; Jonathan Walker was a name one of the nurses had suggested.

"Well," he mumbled. "I honestly don't remember."

"A mysterious traveler then," she surmised. "Very cool. But, seriously, even country would be helpful. I really cannot place it."

"Neither can I," he insisted, a little too intensely judging from the look on Alice's face. "I mean, I…the short version is I suffered head trauma and suffered a bit of amnesia."

"What's the long version?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think we have time for that right now."

"Right now, no." The smile that was beginning to take her lips turned mischievous as she added, "But we could go to dinner and you could tell me."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at her invitation. Girls were not usually so forward with him. For whatever reason, most found him somewhat intimidating.

"I would enjoy that very much," he agreed. "When?"

"Well," she shrugged. "I'm really hungry now. We could go get something from the coffee house on the corner. They have great sandwiches."

"I am quite famished myself," he agreed. "Shall we wrap up here and then you can allow me to escort you to dinner?"

"It sounds so much better when you say it," she chuckled.

He was tempted to disagree.

By the end of dinner, Alice was absolutely intoxicated by her new friend. He was charismatic, charming, and entirely too handsome for his own good. From the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, to the long dark hair, to his hands with their long spidery fingers, he was nothing short of beautiful. Not to mention he was tall and slim and had the most glorious emerald eyes.

But looks weren't really important. Not in the grand scheme of things.

No, the most attractive thing about John Walker was his intelligence. For a man who had no memory of his entire life up to the last year, he was smarter than a whip. On top of being well versed in literature and art, two of Alice's favorite subjects, he was equally as intelligent when it came to one of her favorite subjects, music.

Though not quite as familiar with the subject as she (not that she could blame him, most had not run their father's record store since the age of 16), his taste was just as eclectic as he had promised. Everything from classical to death metal graced his iPod (which he had offered up after a notable amount of debate, likely because he was ashamed of his soft spot for pop music).

"It takes a real man to enjoy Lady Gaga," she teased, earning an annoyed glare from him as he chewed on his sandwich. "You even have all three albums!"

"You are infuriating, you know that?" he grumbled, but she could see the humor in his face. "Sometimes one needs some feel good music."

"And yours is Gaga?"

"Can you just overlook that? There are some real classics on that device and you pick out the one guilty pleasure." He paused, smirking as she rolled her eyes at him. "Besides, you cannot honestly say you don't sing 'Bad Romance' when you're alone in the car and it comes on the radio."

Reluctantly, she conceded the point.

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I actually enjoy it," she groused.

"You are such a liar," he chuckled. "I can see right through you."

His gaze made her stomach feel like it was turning cartwheels and she tried hard to ignore it. Never before had she met a man that had done that to her, at least, not upon first meeting him.

Awkwardly, she pulled her sweater a bit more tightly around her shoulders. The thought of felling so open to someone so soon after meeting made her uneasy. It wasn't like her and she didn't like it.

When she looked back up at him, he was staring at her intently.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing!" he insisted defensively. "You're just…"

"An incredibly bad liar?" she guessed, smiling despite herself.

"I was going to go with incredibly passionate, but your deception skills are a bit lax."

"I'm going to go ahead and take that as a compliment."

"As you should. Few women share your enthusiasm about such intelligent topics."

Blushing, she shook her head and desperately tried to think of a way to change the topic.

"So, what do you do?" she inquired. "What are you passionate about?"

For a moment he thought, his expression unreadable.

"A great many things," he sighed. "I should think that anyone who isn't passionate about a great many things would be rather boring. We've already discussed many of my passions, but I suppose my greatest is art. It's what I do, after all; I paint."

"What do you paint?"

"Various things." Shrugging, he paused, running an almost agitated hand through his hair. "My dreams mostly." It sounded almost painful for him to admit. "I mean, for as long as I can remember I've dreamt of the stars, planets, long forgotten worlds, that sort of thing."

"That sounds fascinating."

"It's alright. I'm no Van Gogh, but people buy it, so who am I to judge?"

"I would like to see it sometime…I mean, if that's okay."

A smile broke across his face and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I would very much like for you to come see it sometime," he smiled. "I've got a few pieces at the Institute, actually."

"Like, in the museum?" she gaped.

"Yes. They're actually talking about doing a show featuring my work."

"That's so exciting! I can't believe you don't go around bragging to everyone you meet about it!"

Passively he rolled his eyes, brushing away the compliment.

"It would certainly be an interesting way to start conversation, but I try to save it for important occasions."

"Like what?"

"Impressing beautiful shopkeepers, is usually a good one."

Heat rushed to her face and Alice tried futilely to hide it.

"Usually it even earns me a date," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"It certainly seems to this time," she said, trying to sound flirtacious.

"Well, I'm certainly hoping it will."

"But it did. I'm having dinner with you aren't I?"

"This isn't a proper date!"

"It isn't?"

"Goodness no! A proper date consists of dinner and a movie and flowers, dancing if we're feeling really adventurous!"

"Well, we're having dinner and we could go back to my place and watch a movie. That's a start."

Despite being quite sure she was pushing the envelope of good taste with the offer, Alice couldn't seem to help herself. However, considering the grin John gave her, the invitation seemed to be acceptable.

"We should go see a proper film," he decided. "My treat. I know a place over in Wheaton that plays classics. I think they're playing Casa Blanca, if you're interested."

Shocked, Alice simply nodded, searching for the words to properly accept the invitation. However, all she really managed was, "Yeah, that sounds good."

"We better go catch the train then," he suggested. "I think it leaves soon."

Gathering her senses, she shook her head.

"No need," she insisted. "We can take my car."

Seeing as she was giving him little choice, he agreed.