A/N: Another chapter! This one took a while, sorry. Lots of different emotions and feelings in this one, both from Loki and Alana.

Please leave me a review. They will be snuggled and kept warm and happy. :)

THIRTEEN

If I gave you the truth, would it keep you alive?

Though I'm closer to wrong

I'm no further from right

And now I'm convinced on the inside that something's wrong with me

Convinced on the inside, you're so much more than me, yeah

No, there's nothing you say that can salvage the lie

But I'm trying to keep my intentions disguised

And now I'm deprived of my conscience and something's got to give

Deprived of my conscience

This all belongs to me, yeah

- "Truth," Seether

Loki.

It was a whisper in his ear, a thought.

Remember the N'itouri.

A smile flashed before his eyes, cruel and merciless, a pair of eyes, cold and blue.

They are coming.

He sat up on the couch, pulse racing. Had he dozed off? It was the only explanation, but it was nothing, could have been nothing more than a dream.

He was sure.

It was late when she returned, and she was so tired that she could barely see straight.

Loki stood up as she entered the room, slamming the door behind her a little too hard in her anger and exhaustion.

"Alana – " he started, but she held up her hand. " I don't want to hear it," she said.

She wearily trudged upstairs towards her room, but Loki's soft whisper stopped her in her tracks. "Please. Let me try to explain, Alana."

"Explain what?" she said, turning back around to face him, at the bottom of the stair. "Explain how hundreds of people are dead because of you? How can you even – how could you begin to explain that?"

"You don't know the whole story."

She sighed. "Do I need to, Loki? You're a killer. I'm a killer. My parents, my brother… and now all this blood is on my hands too. All those innocent lives. You killed them because of me."

He closed his eyes. "I cannot deny my actions. I know what I have done, and Alana - would you believe me if I said that I regretted them?"

She just looked at him, shaking her head. "How many lies are you going to tell me, Loki?"

"It was my fault. It was. I was angry, I was afraid, and he – he twisted me, Alana, but the rage was there before, and I accepted his offer."

"What offer?"

"In return for the Tesseract, I would rule Earth. And I thought – if I was king - I could find you, save you somehow."

She shook her head slightly. "The Tesseract? Loki – this sounds like it's going to be a long conversation that I don't want to have right now. I need to sleep. Just… don't come near me."

With that, she turned and walked into her room, shutting the door. He could hear the click of the lock even from the bottom of the stairs: it echoed in his mind, ringing.

How could she ever trust him now?

She was scared.

And though her mind was telling her that nothing had changed, that she would still get her memories back, he would still leave, it was a lie.

Everything had changed.

A murderer was sleeping across the hall from her. A mass murderer. A mass murderer who was in love with her.

How many children had died that day? How many mothers, and fathers, and brothers?

And all because of her.

She punched the wall, then winced, shaking out her fingers.

She was so tired. Physically, yes, she was drowsy, but she was weary of all the lies, all the pain, all the death that seemed to trail behind her in a dark cloud.

And the look in his eyes in Germany kept haunting her, the insane, demonic gleam that made her want to cower in fear.

Something kept niggling in her mind, though, something from the video, something that was wrong.

Wrong? Like the fact that I'm sleeping across the hall from a psychopath?

But it kept bothering her, so she grabbed her laptop: the video was still open.

She muted the video – don't want to hear the screams again – and paused, again, on his face.

His eyes were blue, a devastatingly cold, icy blue.

She rubbed the heel of her hand over her forehead.

Whatever that meant, she was too tired to try to figure it out.

"Do what you're told, Miss Cooper, and he'll stay alive."

She has no choice but to follow them out, as Oliver and her are placed in different black cars, as she is bound and gagged and blindfolded and driven far away.

And then the car stops, she is pushed out at gunpoint, and the blindfold is removed and she sees him, standing there in front of her, and his cold blue eyes are staring at her, a hand turning her face, pale fingers lingering on her cheek, seeing the handprint marking her.

He turns to the guards. "Who did this?" His voice is soft and deadly.

The leader of the group points at one of the men. Loki takes three steps towards him and stabs him in the stomach. The man screams, and Loki hisses, "You don't touch her. Ever."

The man slumps and grows quiet, and he walks over to her again.

"Oh, Alana," he says, holding her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers, "I'm so glad you're here."

Her eyes flicker open.

Nightmares and memories and dreams… all of them are blurred in her mind, for a moment.

No. Loki did not kidnap her. It had been a nightmare.

She preferred the memories.

She rolled over and checked her bedside clock. It was six A.M. and she was hungry.

But she wanted to stay in bed forever, pretending that he wasn't there, pretending not to know what she did, pretending and lying to herself.

Was that what he did? Did he lie to himself? Did he lie to himself so often that he ended up lying to everyone else?

It didn't matter.

She pushed off the covers and got out of bed slowly.

Time to face the day.

The water poured over him, washing away the sweat from the nightmares. Last night's had been the worst in a while, ending with her lying, bruised and broken, in his arms as the Chitauri ships sped by above.

He turned the water pressure higher, the jet drumming into his skull until he (almost) couldn't think anymore.

Today was not a day he had been looking forward to.

He knew that she would find out eventually, but he had hoped, rather selfishly, that it would come after she had all her memories back. Once she could perhaps think of him not as a stranger but a friend.

What could he say? What excuses were there? Away from the darkness and the cold of Thanos's fortress, away from the hypnotic influence of the gem, he could not spin one tale that would cause her to forgive him.

No, he would not lie. He would tell the truth, as maimed, injured, and horrible as it would sound, he would tell the truth.

Silvertongue. He scoffed. Lies were his talent, lies and illusions, and what did that make him? What was real about him?

But the truth… it took a far braver man than him to tell the truth.

He had to be brave now, foolishly brave, like Thor was, once, journeying to Jotunheim. Flying headlong into danger, without cause of the consequences.

He shuddered. He never thought that he would envy Thor for his stupidity.

He walked downstairs, his hair wet and cold against his neck, and could see her stiffen as she heard his footsteps. He sighed a little.

"Good morning," he tried, slipping into the seat across from her.

She gave a noncommittal jerk of the head and quickly got up to get some more coffee, even though her mug was still a quarter full.

"Alana, it's still me."

She turned around. "Let's get something straight," she said, a tinge of anger in her voice. "You are going to sit there and tell me the whole story, and I am going to listen. You will not call me 'love'. You will not call me 'darling'. You are going to sit there, and after you're done, I get to decide if you're leaving tonight or tomorrow. Understand?"

He nodded. "It is only fair."

"And I want my memories after you're done. All of them."

His heart dropped, mind came to a jarring halt. "Alana, you'll die."

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. It's not your problem if I do."

He stood up, hands white-knuckled on the table. "It's not my problem if you die in my arms? If it's my fault?"

She looked at him fiercely. "No. It's not. And I'm not going to be dying in your arms, Loki. You're not going to be here."

"I will not give you your memories as a condolence prize for leaving you!"

"A prize? A prize? They're my memories, Loki! Mine!"

She stopped, hand in front of her forehead. "Okay. Okay. I'm – we're going to sit down, and you're going to talk now, and I'm going to listen, and we're gonna have this conversation later."

She slipped back into her chair, and motioned for him to do the same.

He did, slowly, watching her carefully, and she flinched, almost imperceptibly, when his hands came to rest in front of him on the table.

"I was angry. After your mind was erased, I couldn't think about anything but revenging myself against S.H.I.E.L.D. for doing this to you, to me. They had me again, and I had little hope that they would ever release me."

He took a breath. After so long, the truth was difficult to untangle, it was hard to expose the reality of his actions. But at the same time, it was easy – not like the lies, which he had had to remember constantly.

"They moved me out of my cell at the same time you were being dismissed from the hospital." He smiled slightly. "You saw me that day, getting into the car."

He could see in her eyes that she remembered. "En route to my new prison, I escaped from S.H.I.E.L.D. It was difficult, but once I was away, I was tempted to go back to your house, but I didn't have a clue where I was and I couldn't take the thought of you not recognizing me.

"I managed to conjure up a portal, though I did not know where it would lead me. It could have led into a black hole, into the heart of a star, but instead, it led me to him. Thanos."

The Titan's eyes flashed in front of him for a moment, and chills went down his spine.

"He took me, remade me, into a… thing of fear and anger and hatred. All the pain I felt from your loss was amplified, written over, and he led me to believe that the only way I could save you was through the conquering of the Earth. And it was not only him. The scepter…" and here his voice trailed off, collecting himself.

"The Infinity Stones are some of the most powerful forces in the universe. The Tesseract was one. The stone in my scepter was another. The Mind Gem. It has the ability… to change you, bend you to the owner's will. He gave it to me… but only after he used it on me."

Her face remained impassive, though her eyes softened a bit.

"It was my fault. It was, truly. I blinded myself, I did it to myself, and people suffered because of my choices." He bowed his head. "You were right. I am a murderer, Alana. Thanos told me to get the Tesseract for him and he would let me rule. Promised me pain if I failed. But I thought I could find you, rule the Earth with you… I was a fool. From the minute I stepped through the portal I have wrought nothing but panic and fear. I turned Barton. I caused a massive earthquake. I escaped, went to Germany, and – well. You know what happened there. I fought the Avengers. I killed Coulson."

Here she froze. "You – what? You killed Coulson? Why?" He looked straight into her eyes. "He killed you, Alana. He wiped your mind, destroyed you without giving you a chance to argue. Yes. I killed him. And his is the death I regret least of all."

"You monster," she breathed. "How could you – he was following orders!"

The hot blood flowed through his veins, carrying the old pain to his heart. Monster. Perhaps I am. "He gave the orders, Alana."

"I can't believe this. How many people are you going to ruin because of me? Destroy because of me? You can tell me all you want about – about mind control and evil aliens, but none of that changes anything. The fact is, you did it, Loki, and I can't – I can't – " She broke off, tears in her eyes. "Don't you see, Loki? I don't know if Aesir - if Jotunns - feel the way humans do. How can you stand it?" And this she said sadly. "How can you stand the death, the regret?"

He paused, looking at her face. Did he regret New York? Yes, he did, and not only because she was crying in front of him.

"I lied to myself," he whispered. "Every day, every hour, I pretended that I was with you instead of wherever I was."

She shook her head, faintly. "Give me my memories, Loki."

"I can't, Alana. I will not be the cause of your death."

She smiled bitterly. "What's one more life to you, who've killed hundreds? Give me my memories and let me go."

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't. I would rather die."

"Than die with me. But I need them now, and I need them all."

He stood up abruptly, a hand running through his hair. How could she be so calm? How could she pretend not to be scared?

"Because I'm tired, I'm not scared. Look at me. I'm twenty-three and I'm already burnt out. If I live, I'll figure out something to do with my life. With my memories, with my future. If I die… well. Death's been following me around for so long that I'm not scared of it anymore. If I die, than so be it."

He turned to her. "How did you know that?"

She looked puzzled. "Know what?"

He crossed to her, looking in her eyes, the usual gray, perhaps a little watery, but normal. "I was thinking about you pretending not to be scared. And then you responded." A smiled twitched across his face. "You found it. You found your telepathy."

She looked a little blankly at him. "Try it again," he urged. Her eyes flashed green for a second and he smiled even wider. Her eyes reverted back to their usual color, and she looked a little shocked. "That was… that was… wow."

Her face resolved itself again. "Enough distractions. I need my memories."

"Alana – "

"Please, Loki."

And it was the use of his name, not Laufeyson, not Odinson, but Loki, plain and simple, not an epithet, but his name, from her lips, and he couldn't do this to her, but she was standing there in front of him, determined, so determined, his beautiful, impossible queen, and he couldn't kill her. He would not.

"Loki." The word was like a cool breath on the back of his neck, reassuring, soothing, a kiss in the dark, a whisper in the sunlight. "It's all right."

He approached her, softly, feet quiet on the tile of the kitchen. His hands came up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, touching her cheeks, her temples.

He closed his eyes, his nerve almost failing. "Alana – I can't – "

"Kiss me."

He opened his eyes, hers closed. "One last time. Before you give them back. So I can – so you can remember. One last time." And a tear slipped from her eye, she was scared, but trying not to show it, to be brave, one last time.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She nodded, and his hand slipped around to her neck and he was about to touch his lips to hers, but the tear streaking down her cheek had wounded him, and so he kissed it away instead, stroking her hair, kissing away her tears as they began to flow more freely from her closed eyes, small kisses on her lashes, her eyes, and he could taste salt.

She opened her eyes slowly. "Go."

"I love you," he whispered, pulling her close to him.

Her hands were trembling against his chest. "Please, Loki, do it now. Please."

His hands came up to her temples again; she closed her eyes. "Please."

And the memories streamed from him, to her, the kisses, the arguments, the sweet little moments passed together, and they all came together in a swarming rush, and he couldn't pull them back, no, no, please, no, and her lying on the white sheets and screaming and the her in his arms screaming as well, please, no, and he pulled his hands away from her and the screams stopped, silence ringing.

She collapsed into his arms, and he sank to the floor with her, stroking her hair, whispering her name.

Fight the darkness, Alana.

Please.