The Avenging of Loki Laufeyson

by YouLookLikeFOOD

"So… the shadows are coming to life, we're all gonna die, and the only way to save three separate worlds is for Loki and the Avengers to quit whining and work together for once. And of course, I'm the one who, somehow, has to make that work out. Yep, sounds like a Tuesday. When's my coffee break?" Sequel to 'The Avenging of Natalie Frost'. T for violence and language.

21. Recovery

A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! They really make my day!

It took us a long time to see a Healer, to ask if my injuries could wait one more day while we returned 'home'. It was the grey-eyed healer, her face empty from grief and shock as she single-mindedly took care of as many injuries as she could. She merely glanced at me before announcing that I'd be fine, that she had others who were in, amazingly, worse condition.

"Go home, get some rest," she ordered. "That's the best I can do for you right now."

I had nodded and backed away, leaving her with her duties again. I glanced to the wounds on my arms, and to the few fresh injuries that I'd acquired in the battle. There weren't a lot, as not many things could get through the bubble… but Loki had some nasty gashes on his arms, and three fairly shallow claw marks that ran straight across his chest. His face was slightly scuffed and bleeding, but he would live.

We would both live.

As we went to the Avengers to ask-or beg- them to let us go home, both of us, I realized just how exhausted I was. My feet were like lead, my entire body aching. The nanos could only have repaired so much; and I'd probably lost quite a bit of blood. I finally had to sit down in the ashes of Fraye's planet while Loki went and asked the Avengers himself if he could leave. We didn't know where Loki stood anymore; they'd told him that he was on the team, they'd called him an 'Avenger', but that didn't change the fact that he was still a prisoner of Asgard, and once the Avengers said that his usefulness was up, he was to go back to that cage…

"Meet us in Asgard in twenty-four hours," Stark answered, glancing back over the battlefield to where I still sat, trying to keep from passing out. "She's going to need a Healer soon."

Loki nodded and stepped back. There hadn't been suspicion in Tony's response. He'd said what he meant. Loki headed back to me, wondering if he had the strength to create a portal between worlds… but he had created one here already. The fabric between the worlds would be weaker; possibly easier to break through. As he walked back towards me, I held my head in my hands, feeling shaky and bruised and sick.

We were congratulated continuously, with praises of 'Shadowslayer' and claps on the back. It seemed that we'd earned ourselves a new title. Loki made his way to me and we walked away from all of it, from the constant joy and happiness over the murder we'd just committed. Oh, we both knew it was necessary. We both knew that it was what had to be done.

That didn't mean that it didn't leave scars on us nonetheless.

As Loki created a portal, as we arrived back on Earth, I stumbled forwards exhaustedly, almost tripping over my own two feet. Loki -though he, too, had been drained by the battle- stooped down to help me. I put my arm around his waist to steady myself, leaning against him for support. The world was spinning, as though I had adjusted to another planet's rotation, and these rotations were so much faster, so that I could feel the planet lurching and moving beneath my feet…

I looked around and saw that we were in a park; Loki and I moved to the side and sat on a bench as he contemplated where, exactly, 'home' was now. Sure, we were on earth, but he had burned my house down. He glanced to me; that was something I didn't need to see just yet, he decided. I leaned my head against his arm and closed my eyes. Already, I was beginning to slip into sleep.

The Tower was the usual option. But Loki knew that I didn't need to see what his effects on there had been, either. He wrapped his arm round me and let me sleep on his chest instead. He concentrated, his finger resting beneath his lower lip. There was one other place, not very far from here. It would be an easy enough walk.

Carefully, he shook me awake; I walked beside him numbly, letting him navigate me, not really noticing the worries inside of him as we went. Would they accept it? Would they let us both stay? He doubted it, but he would not be removed from my side. Not again. Never again.

We were less than half a block away when I realized that I was in his arms, being carried bodily to our destination. "Hey…" I protested weakly. "I…I can walk…"

"No, you can't," Loki retorted firmly. He looked down at me. "Just rest, Natalie," he said quietly. "We are almost there."

I tried to protest; especially when I realized that his thoughts were centered around one very specific one: it's the least I can do. But I didn't have the energy to fight him, and moments later, I was asleep again.

Loki, however, was quite nearly as exhausted as I was. By the time he stumbled up to the house, he fell onto his knees, breathless, still holding me carefully, not letting me fall. I stirred as he knocked on the door quickly, urgently, but it wasn't long before I was out again.

The door opened. And my mother stepped out. As she caught sight of Loki and I, her eyes widened.

Loki swallowed. He knew what he looked like, covered in blood and ash with my unconscious body in his arms. He knew he looked desperate. But in truth… he was desperate. I needed to be home. And right now… this was the only home I had.

He looked up at Anna Rose Frost and said one word. One word that would change everything.

"Please."

My mother looked down at us, her eyes wide. "Natalie?" she breathed. Her voice cracked. "Natalie!" She cried shrilly, falling forwards, helping Loki lift me back up and bring me inside. "Natalie… Natalie, what…" She babbled, saying my name over and over as she and Loki managed to carry me inside, into my old room and onto my old bed. And then my mother whirled on Loki. "What happened?"

He shook his head. He didn't have the strength to explain, not yet. He reached forwards and took my arm, carefully examining the wounds. Then, he whirled to my mother in turn. "Bandages?"

She blinked, startled, then glanced back to me… and nodded quickly. She ran out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a bowl of water, a cloth, a roll of gauze, and whatever hydrogen peroxide she could find in the house. Loki removed the hydrogen peroxide, shaking his head.

"It will do nothing," he told her. Anna Rose nodded, looking very pale.

"What's going on he-" Cameron halted as he entered the room. His eyes landed first on Loki, then me, and back again. He swallowed tightly, his hands curling in fists at his sides.

"What is he doing here?" he demanded in a snarl, stepping forwards. Anna Rose ignored him, washing the blood and ash off of my skin. There were tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I don't… I can't…" her breath hitched. "There's so much blood, I don't know where to start, I don't… what do I do?" She looked to Cameron. They were the leaders of a revolution; surely they had seen blood before.

Loki swallowed. Yes, they had. But never anything like this. And never on their daughter. He carefully took the cloth from her hand and started to wipe the blood away from my face and arms. Gently, with great, meticulous care, he washed the blood away from the injuries written in his name on my forearm. He didn't try to remove the shadows; he couldn't, not now. He found his own consciousness fading, but kept himself awake as he wrapped the bandages around my arm.

"What happened?" My father demanded, by my side a moment later. "What's going on? Why are you here?" He looked to Loki, firing the questions at him as though they were bullets.

Loki spared just a brief moment to look at the man. I stirred carefully. "Your daughter has just been tortured, fought with an army, and killed a sentient being," He said in cold, blunt tones. "Surely your questions can wait until after she has been tended to?"

Cameron's eyes hardened, his fists clenching. He made as if to lunge towards Loki, but my mother held him back. "Cameron, we have Natalie back," She whispered. "That's enough for now."

Loki was no longer paying attention to them. Even as Cameron began to shout, "No! I want him out of my house! You're not my king, Loki, you never were, and you cannot order me around inside of my own home!"

"Dad…" I mumbled, trying to open my eyes. His loud words were keeping me awake, pulling me back into the world; I was far too used to fighting to sleep too deeply just yet. Loki's hand was immediately on my shoulder, keeping me from sitting up. "Dad, it's okay…"

"Hush," Loki ordered quietly, leaning closer to me, setting the cloth aside. "You need to rest."

"So… do you…"

"I'll be fine," He answered swiftly. Lying.

My hand reached out and gripped something tightly. After a moment, I recognized the material beneath my fingers; it was his cape. "Don't…" I said, fading again. "Don't leave me…"

"Never," he promised. He didn't bother to look at my parents. My hand released his cape and he immediately began tending to whatever other wounds he could reach without disturbing my sleep again. The shoulder, the ankle, the cut on my forehead. He was certain that there were more on my back, but he knew those would have to wait until we went to the Healer.

My parents remained quiet as Loki finished quickly. I woke only one more time; when my father ordered him to leave the room, said that they needed him to talk… my hand grabbed his cape again.

"I said… don't leave…"

"I won't," he promised. "I'll be back soon."

I swallowed, looking up at him. Ugh, I was just so… tired. I couldn't keep my eyes open. "You swear?" My hand was locked in a death grip on his cape. I wasn't certain that I could let it go if I wanted to.

Loki carefully undid the clasps that attached the green cloak to his armor. Draping it over me, pulling it up to my shoulders, he pressed his lips to my forehead. "I swear," he murmured.

I didn't have the strength to protest, though I knew that he, too, was exhausted; and that I didn't want to sleep without him beside me, or at least close by, to keep away the nightmares. But at least his cape smelled like him, somewhere under the scent of ash and blood that coated us both, and so I allowed myself to drift back into sleep. For now.

My parents took Loki to the living room, where he sat in a chair in the corner, preventing escape. My parents sat on the couch, and for a while, there was silence.

Loki wasn't sure how he was still awake. He supposed it must be the adrenaline in his system, though that should have worn off a very long time ago. But he knew wars. He knew how difficult it could be to sleep after them, no matter your exhaustion.

He pressed his fingertips together, trying to assess the situation before him. Finally, swallowing, he told the Frosts, "I know that none of my words can take away the past months, nor erase that which I have done: to your world, to you, to your daughter. But, for what little it is worth, I am… truly sorry, for what has happened. For what… for what I did."

Anna Rose blinked. Cameron's eyes narrowed. Loki took a deep breath.

"I… I willingly separated myself from Natalie Frost in order to gain a world. I gave her to Fraye, knowing that she would…" Loki flinched, closing his eyes, turning away. The words were gluing themselves to the insides of his throat, and he was having a very difficult time forcing them out. "Knowing what she would do," he finished. There was a moment's pause before he could continue.

"By the time I realized… realized what I'd done, realized that I could not live without her, realized that I…" He looked up. Anna Rose's brown eyes looked to him, silently prodding him to go on. Cameron's icy blue eyes were locked and narrowed, silently ordering him to stop talking, to leave. He knew that his next words would be taken so very badly, but they were everything, and if he did not say them, then his tale would never be believed. "Realized that I loved her…" Cameron's hands clenched. Loki ignored this and went on, "It was far too late."

Loki took another deep breath. Despite the tension and stress of the situation, the nerves stretched taut in the room, he felt weak and weary and wanted nothing more than to return to my side and sleep beside me. Not that such a thing would be allowed. "Nonetheless, I… I went to Fraye's home world. Together with the Avengers, and the armies of Jotunheim and Asgard… we managed to free her, and to…" his voice lowered. "Natalie and I… killed Fraye." He looked up to Cameron and Anna Rose. "She is no longer a threat."

"Just because she isn't, doesn't mean that you aren't," Cameron snarled. "You expect me to believe… believe this bullshit? You traded Natalie's life for a crown, you let her be tortured, you tried to kill my little girl, and now… now you think you can just apologize and everything will be perfect? That the gullible mortals will just believe every word that you say?"

"And Natalie is gullible?" Anna Rose asked quietly, turning to her husband. As he opened his mouth to protest, she raised a finger, shutting him up, and went on, "I do not like it, either." She turned a harsh look to Loki. "You are responsible for the deaths of thousands. Good men and women who fought you and your reign." She looked down. "But Natalie is here, she is alive, and clearly, she does not wish for you to leave her side; and so I believe you." Her eyes narrowed as Cameron again tried to speak. "That does not mean that I trust you. Nor that I want you anywhere near my daughter."

Loki looked down. "In that matter," he said quietly. His eyes touched the ground just briefly before flicking back up to my mother. "I'm afraid I have no choice."

Cameron scowled. "You were separated by an entire planet last time, link or not. You can stay away from her."

"Not if she does not wish for me to," Loki answered, and though his words were quiet and soft, they had a firm, unyielding undertone to them. "And clearly, she does not." He looked down at his folded hands. His voice grew even quieter, though his words still held that unrelenting undercurrent. "You cannot… cannot begin to imagine the enormity of the… the debt that I owe her. It is more than my life, it is… it is everything. I owe her my everything. So I will do what she asks, because she asks it. And she has asked me to stay beside her."

His green eyes traveled back to my parents. There was no trace of hesitation inside of them, no wavering sincerity. "She has lost so much," he whispered. "She has lost… her peace of mind. Her sense of security. And, in truth… she has lost a great deal of her humanity as well." He met each of their gazes in turn. His eyes were filled with melancholy. "She is not the same person that she was. The Natalie Frost who lies in that room is not the same one whom I sent to Fraye. She is… darker. She has known true pain, true grief, and above all, true hate. She is… an Avenger." His eyes tightened. "I may be responsible for creating this. I may be responsible for causing her to change, to lose all of these things. But I will not be responsible for leaving her to face them alone. I will not abandon her when she needs me most."

"She doesn't need you," Cameron hissed. "She has us. She has… her friends, she has the Avengers. She doesn't need you!"

Loki's head tilted to the side. Wearily, he asked, "She does not need the other half of her own mind? Does not need the person she loves? Does not need the person who loves her in return?" He shook his head. "I can understand your hatred for me. I can understand that you would wish for me to leave. And if you ask me to, I will go. But Natalie will follow."

"Like hell!" Cameron shouted. It seemed that the past four months had truly changed everyone. Cameron Frost was no longer just another helpless human; he was the leader of an entire revolution. And, apparently, he carried a gun, for it was suddenly out of his belt and aimed at Loki's head. His aim was perfect; if he fired, it would have struck. Loki lifted an eyebrow but did not move. He knew that a bullet would not harm him.

"Let me tell you what you're going to do," Cameron snarled. "You're going to get up, you're going to leave this house, and you're never going to come back. Or, I'm going to shoot you between the eyes, link or not. Now it may not kill you, but my guess is that it'll hurt like hell." He clicked the safety off. "Your choice."

Loki watched the human for a long moment. There was pure fire in Cameron's eyes. Anna Rose watched silently, not protesting her husband's actions, but not supporting them, either.

And then, suddenly, the gun flew to the side, pinned against the wall, jammed into it by some invisible force. Said force was powerful enough to crush the metal into bent deformity against the plaster, and moments later the entire mess came crumbling to the ground.

All eyes turned to where I stood as I let the shield die off from around me. I was shaking, swaying on my feet, and wondering how in the hell I was supposed to sleep with all of this crap going on.

I walked up to Loki and took his hand, turning around and dragging him back with me. "You, with me, sleeping, now." I ordered choppily. He said nothing. As I passed by my father, who was opening his mouth to shout his protests, I jabbed my finger in his face. There were shadows in my eyes and on my tongue as I said, breaking each word into a sentence of its own, "Not. One. Single. Shit. Given." I jabbed the finger into his chest, hard enough to bruise. "Not one."

And then I dragged Loki back to my room, slammed the door shut, and locked it behind me, grateful that I'd managed to convince my mother to put that lock on that door all those years ago, when I was nineteen and still living in her house.

"I told you not to leave," I said to Loki. He didn't respond. He just watched me.

I sighed deeply and went to the bed, falling onto the pillows, the world still spinning. I pulled his cape back up to my shoulders and closed my eyes, not bothering to stay awake and see what he'd do. I'd know soon enough, anyway.

It must have been a while before he finally decided; well, long enough for me to fall asleep, anyway. For he woke me once more as he sat on the bed, propped up with pillows so that he was half sitting, half lying down. The armor was off, but not the clothing underneath, which still reeked of ash and blood and shadows. My nose, however, was fairly numb to this scent; we both stank of it. The battle was still on both of us.

Carefully, Loki pulled me into his arms, so that I was lying on his chest. I did so without complaint or comment, curling up next to him, as close as I could possibly get. His hand absently stroked my hair until he began to doze, long after I had fallen asleep.

And, for the first time in months, we slept without nightmares.

---

I slept until late the next day, and woke still feeling exhausted; but, as the day went on, that began to wear off. Loki was still sleeping as I went out of the room, though my parents were not. It was a long and tearful reunion between us, now that I wasn't dead on my feet. My mother sobbed with her arms around me, not letting me go for at least ten minutes. I, however, didn't cry. There wasn't anything in me left to cry.

After half an hour of greetings and the most skeletal of explanations about where I had been and what had happened, I went to take a shower while my dad started cooking. I could already smell the food through the door as I started the water, and I intended to rush back and stuff my face with as much food as I could possibly manage once I finished washing up. The hot shower, however, would not be rushed. Two minutes in, and I decided that hot water was the single best thing in the universe. Shampoo, however, quickly knocked it down the list, and conditioner knocked that down soon afterwards. Soap was my new best friend; I didn't come out of the shower until long after the water ran cold, just watching the ash and the blood drain down off of me. I was amazed at how much blood there was; my blood, Loki's, Fraye's. Black and red and blue drizzled down the drain, the water diluting it as it went.

Once I was certain that I smelt like soap and perfumed shampoo, even if all I could still smell was blood, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. Warm, fresh, clean towels became my newest best friend. I felt very fickle.

The bandages that Loki had wrapped around my injuries were now in the trash, blood soaked and messy and stained but stuffed away in a trash can where they belonged. I found a new, unused toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste (both of which went very high on the list of the universe's greatest things) and brushed my teeth for a good ten minutes straight. Only after I had rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash, run a comb through my hair, ignoring the damage and split ends, put the towel aside and pulled on a robe did I dare to look in the mirror.

Mirrors, I decided, I could live without. I swallowed at my reflection. I had seen myself through Loki's eyes on occasion, but I hadn't studied it for long. I hadn't had the chance.

I looked at my reflection and tried to figure out what I felt was so wrong about it. It should have been obvious; I looked like crap. My hair, wet though it was, was clearly unhealthy, lacking any shine, drained of a lot of color. My eyes-back to brown now, thankfully, no longer Tesseract Blue- had deep and very obvious dark shadows beneath them. It would be a long time before those went away. I had lost weight; a lot of weight. Most of the lean, wiry muscle that I'd put on while with the Avengers had vanished, replaced with skin and bone. I was almost… gaunt. My face had lost whatever mediocre baby fat it might still have had, making my cheekbones and jaw line sharper, removing a great deal of the 'kind' look from my face. My eyes were hard, filled with the truth of the world, the darkness of Fraye herself. My skin, beneath all the cuts and bruising, was paler than usual, a sickly, pallid color. I shuddered in my robe. I didn't like the reflection, but it wasn't because of all these things. It was because I still looked like how I thought I looked. The face in the mirror didn't surprise me at all. I didn't look like Natalie the college student anymore; I looked like Natalie the torture victim. The Avenger.

I turned away and glanced to the wounds. Loki would want to assess the damage before we went to the Healers, but I was determined not to let him. He might see the injuries when the Healers did- I wanted him there when I went, for the same reason I'd always been with him when they were trying to erase his scars- but right now… I just didn't want him beating himself up for it. Frankly, I couldn't deal with that. I was doing everything in my power to keep myself from believing that it was his fault; how could I stop myself, if that was what he believed?

Pulling my robe tighter around myself, I checked in the mirror to see how much it covered. The sleeves went down to my wrists, so everything on my shoulders and arms would be covered; even his name. A lot of the stuff on my legs was hidden, too, though the beginning of the ladder rungs by my ankle still showed through. It was enough. And he wouldn't see the stuff on my back.

I nodded to the Avenger in the mirror and turned to exit the room. The smell of food in the air made my stomach grumble and my mouth water. All I wanted to do was run to the kitchen and scarf down everything in sight. But I forced myself to walk to my room instead.

Loki was awake, waiting for me, sitting on the bed. He had locked the door, but when he noticed that I was coming, he'd unlocked it for me; I locked it behind myself again. There was no way I was leaving an unlocked door between my parents and Loki right now.

He scanned me up and down, and the corners of his lips turned downwards. I knew why. But I'd hidden the injuries for a reason. Loki stood as I shooed him towards the door.

"I'll be out in a second," I promised. "I just have to get dressed."

He nodded slowly, walking over to me. Carefully, he took my hand in his. With gentle hands, he pushed the sleeve of my robe up; it was the arm with his name carved inside of it. I pulled my hand out of his.

His eyes went to me. Mine went to his. He met my gaze for a long time, steadily questioning me. His eyes darkened. We didn't say a word; we both knew what the other wanted. I held his almost threatening stare with a defiant one of my own. He'd see the scars when the Healers saw them, and that was that.

After a long time, taking a deep breath and sighing through his nose, he stepped back. Without a word, he left the room, breezing out silently. I left the door unlocked and kept an ear out in case my parents recognized that Loki was out of my room and decided to try something. I didn't think they would, but I didn't trust that they wouldn't.

I sighed to myself, relaxing a little now that Loki was out of the room. There were a few walls between us, so that I could get dressed privately, and it hid my relief. I headed towards my closet, completely intent on pulling long pants and a long-sleeved shirt (maybe even a turtleneck) so that I could cover the injuries in their entirety, regardless of how the clothes chafed against the raw skin.

I blinked as I opened the closet doors. I knew my parents had kept this room as a guest room, but I also knew that a lot of my old stuff was still in here. That they'd kept a lot of things when I'd left.

So why was there only one outfit?

I stared. Stared for another second. And then I registered what it was; a black tank top with a semi-low backline, and army-green shorts that, while they were not abnormally short, could still reveal a fair deal of skin. Or, in this case, a fair number of injuries.

My eyes narrowed. "Son of a bitch," I hissed. Stalking towards the door, I knocked on it loudly a few times. "Loki, give me back my clothes!"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"Like hell," I grumbled, wrenching the door open… or trying to. Loki held it closed without much effort; he was an immortal, after all, and a great deal stronger than I was. I cursed as I fell backwards, stumbling back a few steps. I folded my arms and sat on the end of my bed, glaring at the door.

I glowered futilely at it for a long time, then looked to the tank top and shorts that he'd left for me. It was probably more suited to the weather, anyway, and wouldn't be questioned by anyone outside of the two of us if I wore it. Not like the turtleneck that I'd been planning on wearing. Still, this would show a lot of wounds to not only Loki; but my parents as well. I wasn't sure if I wanted that. I wasn't sure if I could handle that. And I knew that they probably couldn't.

But what choice did I have? What choice had Loki given me? I mean, I really didn't want to break down the door.

I sighed deeply to myself and pulled off my robe. I flushed bright red as I pulled open my chest of drawers; at least he'd left the socks and underclothes alone. And there was my choice of my old shoes. But he'd taken my PJs, too, just in case. He was very thorough.

It didn't take me long to change, and I glanced into the mirror to see what showed. I was dismayed to realize that it showed… everything. Only two lashes on my lower back (and a few smaller ones) remained hidden; but my upper back, shoulders, arms, legs… everywhere else, the gashes and would-be scars were as plain as day.

I sighed again, even more heavily this time, and headed out of the room. Loki didn't let me open the door until I lowered the walls between us, showing that I had complied, and gone along with his little plan.

He scrutinized me as I entered the hallway, scanning me up and down, his entire body braced against what he would see. I stood in front of him, folding my arms and looking at the ground, feeling… exposed. I could feel his eyes wherever they went, intense and meticulous, taking in everything. His hands were in fists, but after a long moment, he opened them so that he could step forwards and take my shoulders. Gently, he turned me around, and I went with it, so that he could see the injuries on my back. I gave up on fighting it; he was apparently more determined (or maybe just sneakier) than I was at the moment.

His fingers slowly traced across my shoulders, trailing to my neck and down the gashes on my back, just outside the edge of each shadow-infested injury. They had scabbed over and were not bleeding any longer, and some had even become scar tissue, but they still hurt to touch directly. His fingers danced along their edges instead.

"Where else?" He asked, his voice very quiet; but also hoarse and strained. I sighed deeply and told him; I didn't see the point in keeping it to myself any longer. He'd seen the worst of it.

"Two on my lower back," I said, struggling to keep my tone curt, militaristic. "A few other minor ones on my lower back as well."

He turned me around again, his hand running up my arm, up to my neck. He ran his fingers along the bruising on my throat and jaw, the cut on my forehead. Gently, he traced my black eye, and ran his thumb below the cut that I'd gotten on my cheek during the battle. I still didn't know how it had gotten there.

"S'matter?" I teased half-heartedly, weakly, as I saw myself through his eyes. "Don't love me now that my face isn't so pretty any more?"

I hated to admit it, but I was actually dismayed about what had happened to my face. It should only be temporary… but what if it wasn't? What if I was scarred for life? I knew that the ones on my arm would never heal, not completely, and maybe one or two of the others… but what if my face remained that way? I wasn't so shallow that I thought looks mattered more than anything else, and after all this, they didn't really matter to me at all. But heck, I liked how I looked.

He didn't respond for a long moment, keeping my face in his hands. And then he pulled me closer to him, kissing the cut on my forehead gently, then the one of my cheek, the black eye, the bruises on my jaw. "Don't be foolish," he muttered, then brought his lips just once, briefly, to mine. He pulled back, taking a step away. "I won't detain you any longer," he said quietly, moving to the room again as my stomach decided that it'd had enough with waiting for me to follow up on the amazing cooking smells in the other room and growled loudly. I flushed, and he opened the door to the room, slipping inside. I bit my lip; he still hadn't washed yesterday's battle away. I quickly decided that if my dad wouldn't let him borrow clothes, then I'd go out and get him some, wounds and all. He needed to bathe and change before he went back to Asgard. He was the Shadowslayer, after all, he had to look somewhat dignified.

Shadowslayer. The name shivered through me. It wasn't just his name; it was mine. A new title that I'd achieved without wanting it, but somehow… somehow it was what I'd become.

I went back to the kitchen, where my mother and father fell silent from whatever conversation they were having before I came inside. I could tell from the looks on their faces what-or more importantly, who- they were talking about before I entered. However, I ignored it, thanked my dad for the food, and sat down, inhaling as much as I possibly could.

I tried to keep my manners. Failed miserably. I eventually even abandoned silverware; a fairly messy ordeal when you're working with pancakes. I took to ripping them into strips and dunking them into syrup.

"Pancakes," I said to myself as my parents fell into forced conversation beside me. "Definitely the next number one greatest thing in the universe."

I polished off the pancakes my dad had made, as well as three glasses of apple juice, before I raided the fridge. My parents were amazed by my newfound appetite, and I ignored my mother's warnings not to overdo it. I ate two containers of yogurt while waiting for the eggs to cook, (or rather, burn, as I was the one who was cooking) then ate those, too, before I felt even remotely full.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Loki waited beside me while I threw up half of it into the toilet.

"Ugh," I groaned, sitting back with my head against the wall. My mother watched worriedly by the door as Loki perched on the edge of the bathtub, sitting very close to me. My father stood by my mother, clenching and unclenching his fists. I looked up at them all and smiled weakly. "How terrible is it that I'm still hungry?"

Loki tried to smile unsuccessfully. My parents exchanged worried looks. I cursed and turned back to the toilet, clutching my stomach.

For the rest of the time that we spent there- until late in the afternoon- my parents and Loki seemed to come to… a silent agreement. They didn't talk to each other, didn't speak about anything. My father wordlessly handed me the clothes I asked for so that Loki could wash up and change, but otherwise they let him fend for himself; which translated into me fending for him. The two of us mostly stayed in my room. We didn't talk about anything that had happened. Quite frankly, we were trying to forget it. We knew that we would have to talk about it, that we would have to deal with all of this, and that when we went to the Healers, it would likely be all that anyone was talking about… but for now we pushed it from our minds. We dozed for a majority of the time, alternating between napping and daydreaming, though every so often Loki would check on one of my injuries, or I would check on one of his. His shoulder was pretty badly messed up, and I took the time to bandage it carefully, while he sat silently and waited for me to finish.

It was probably a pointless thing to do, to bandage these wounds, when the Healers would be removing those bindings soon enough so that they could see the injuries, so that they could tend to them. But it made us both feel better, to be… helping each other, I suppose. I smoothed the last of the gauze into place, taping the ends together, and pulled back to survey my work. I was sitting on the bed, with Loki sitting on the floor in front of me. His shirt- the one he'd borrowed- was off, so that I could see what I was working on.

I looked at his back. A great number of his old shadow scars had been erased, wiped clean away from his skin by the Healers, before he ever became King, before he sent me away, before he got me back. But there were still a few; I knew they did not hurt continuously, not anymore, but they lingered on his skin as all scars would.

Wordlessly, I reached forwards and began tracing my index finger along the symbols on his back; the Jotun inscription of Fraye's title. I could read it as easily as I could read the plain English on my arm.

Child of Shadow.

I traced it, again and again, as Loki's eyes closed. He relaxed into the touch, knowing now, for the first time, that there was someone who understood this misery. Someone who understood this pain. Who knew what he'd been through, beyond what anyone else could have known.

I don't know how many times I went over the name before I stopped, my arm beginning to ache. I rested my hand on his shoulder, and the other hand went on the other shoulder, and I trailed them down his arms, so that I was holding him again. His eyes remained closed as he took my hands in both of his, leaning back into the embrace.

"Everything will be okay now," I whispered to him, looking at the word written on my arm. "Right?"

He didn't respond. I swallowed and went on, "She's never coming back for us. We don't have to be afraid of the dark anymore."

"Of course not," he answered quietly, but his voice was still distant, and his eyes opened to gaze emptily across the room. "We're safe, Frost."

We were silent for a long time, and I held him in my arms and wished beyond all hope that this one thought would not keep returning to me. But no matter how many times I pushed it aside, it continued to resurge, until finally it spilled from my mouth and into the open air where I was forced to think on it, to deal with it once and for all. "They can't send you back to prison." I buried my face in the back of his neck, into his hair, which was currently not slicked back on his head, or in any other style, but fell naturally instead. "They just can't. Not after all that. Not after what you did. You're… you're the Shadowslayer now, right? They have to know by now that you're… the good guy…"

He smiled softly at the term, at how fervently I believed that it described him. "That was our agreement, Frost," he reminded me gently. "Following Fraye's destruction, I was to return. I can hardly turn my back on it now."

I shook my head minutely, still keeping my face buried in his neck. "No. No. They saw what she was like, what she did… they can reconsider, they have to. She was more of a threat then they realized when we made that agreement, Odin will understand that. I know he will."

"Perhaps," Loki admitted quietly. "But even so, he would have to reconvene my trial. He is the King, and the decision ultimately falls on him… but he cannot show any sign of favoritism towards his 'son'."

"Dammit, they were chanting your name!" I protested, lifting my head at last. "Asgardians, Jotuns, all of them, chanting, for the Shadowslayers! Any planet that loves you for one of your deeds can surely forgive you for the others! The courts will see it, so Odin could-"

"Perhaps," Loki repeated in a quiet, soothing voice, cutting me off before my voice could get any shriller, before I could get any more vehement. "But even so, it may be a while before my release." He paused. "And if I was released, I… I do not know where I would go." He admitted. "I… do not wish to return to Asgard. I do not think I could live there again. Not after this."

I pulled back. My eyebrows furrowed as he turned to me to see what had made me cut off the embrace. "You'd be with me," I answered, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, I know I'm kinda homeless right now, but… that won't be the case forever. We can stay in a hotel or an apartment or something until the house is rebuilt." I bit my lip. "You know… if you want." My face turned beet red suddenly as I realized what I had just said, and I looked away from his piercing green eyes. I'd basically just asked him to move in with me. "I just figured… I mean, we're the same person, we have to sleep next to each other, it only kinda makes sense that we stay together. I mean, we were practically sharing a room in those last days at the Tower, anyway. We're pretty used to each other, and-"

"Frost," he cut me off. The word was a whisper. I looked back to him. He was half-smiling, the wryest of gestures. "After what I have done… it may take you time to make your peace with this. With what has happened." He looked down. "And to decide… if you truly can make your peace with it. If you… can forgive what I've done." He looked up at me. "If I were beside you at all times, do you truly think that you could feel… free, to make that choice? Without guilt?"

I lifted my eyebrows. "Well, hell. Look at that, folks. Loki can learn the shrink-speak." I ruffled his hair playfully, then realized how much I liked the feel of his hair between my fingers and kept my hands there, playing with it absently. It was the strangest thing: in the old days, I would have been embarrassed to do this, whether Loki knew my reasoning or not. I would never have done this, wouldn't have been so… expressive, particularly not so soon after learning that he loved me back… Loki would not have put up with this either, nor been so expressive with his affection, in the old days. But now… now everything had changed. Because there were so many good things in life, so many little things, if you just… let go of inhibitions and let yourself… live. Little things that I would have skipped out on before Fraye's torture and found myself missing during it. Because I'd forgotten what it felt like, to have something… soft beneath my fingertips. I'd forgotten what it felt like, to smell anything but ash and to feel anything but pain or numbness. And now I was trying to remember. To reacquaint myself with it.

Loki ignored me running my fingers through his hair over and over again- ruffling it, straightening it again, brushing it to the side, whatever- as I considered what he'd said. "I already know the choice I want to make," I said after a moment. "I know that I want to forgive what you did. Even if it's hard. Even if I've been brainwashed into believing that it's impossible." I bit my lip. "Because… because I love you." I winced as I said it out loud. Loki, surprisingly, winced too. We both knew it was true. But it was still the first time that I'd said it since I'd been… sent away. "And I think it would be easier to remember that, if I have you there with me all the time… reminding me why I love you." I looked at him. "Does that make any sense?"

He looked at me for a long moment before answering, "No." And then he smiled wryly. "But I have given up on the hope that you may one day make any semblance of sense."

I snorted. "Ditto."

He chuckled without mirth, turning away again. After a moment, I started tracing his scars once more.

"If… if this doesn't work out," I said after a few beats of silence. "If… If they send you back to prison… You know I'll still be there for you, right? That… that I'll be there every day?"

"I don't deserve you."

"You really don't. But no one does, really."

He half-laughed bitterly, then reached back to gently take my arm, moving it away from his scars. Carefully, he ran his hand down my arm, until he was holding my hand; and, bringing it against his cheek, he sighed into my palm. "Yes, Natalie," he murmured against my skin. "I know that you'll be there."

I smiled softly to myself. The two of us stayed there for a long while, though eventually Loki moved back up to the bed, put his shirt back on and sat down next to me. I ended up dozing again, resting against his chest, and it was late in the afternoon when he shook me carefully.

"We should return," he told me. "The Avengers…"

I sighed, pushing myself upright, and nodded. The Avengers would be wondering where we were; and it was past time that I saw a Healer, anyway. Wincing as I sat up, the movement making the shadow wounds in my skin throb and ache, I decided it wasn't such a bad thing to have the injuries looked at.

I hugged my parents goodbye while Loki waited for me by the door, promised that I'd return soon, and headed out. Again, it was Loki who created the portal that took us between worlds, and we arrived in Asgard together, hand in hand.

It wasn't that far of a journey towards the Healing Room, but there were a great deal of injured soldiers still lining the walls between us and it. Contrary to appearances, though, the Healers were seeing and helping everyone rather quickly; the gathering of soldiers around this place was more of a way that everyone made certain that their friends were alive, of finding them and finding how injured they were. The Healing Room itself was mostly empty.

As we walked there, a voice called to us, "Natalie! Loki! Over here!"

We turned. Stark waved us down, calling us closer to him. The other Avengers-minus Steve and Thor- were sitting nearby. Natasha's arm was in a sling, and Clint, sitting next to her, had bandages running up his leg. Banner, propped upright against the wall, was passed out in his chair, snoring silently. Even cleaned up, they all looked like crap. I knew Loki and I looked no better.

We walked up next to them, exchanging nods and greetings and scanning them all, assessing the damage. "Where's Thor?" I asked. "And Steve?"

"Steve's getting a head injury looked at," Stark answered. "And Thor… had to be… sedated. Turns out he broke a rib in the attack. Didn't even notice until the adrenaline died down."

I snorted. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

It didn't surprise Loki, either. The fool doesn't even have enough common sense to feel pain, he thought, but it was a more lighthearted tease than I expected, and overlaid with a trace of worry. His actions had caused a great deal of pain for Thor, as well as all of the others. He wasn't certain if his brother could forgive this latest betrayal. But he pushed the thought aside, for now.

Stark rolled his eyes. The others seemed too exhausted to speak, for the moment. I turned to Natasha. "What's the damage?" I asked, gesturing to her arm.

"Broken," She answered. "Bruised a rib."

"Everyone else is pretty much intact," Clint filled in. He jabbed a thumb in Banner's direction. "Though he pretty much changed back, inhaled half a buffet table, and passed out. He's been out cold for at least twenty hours now. The Healers say that it's a natural sleep, and he'll wake when he needs to." Clint half-grinned, a weak gesture. "Stark and I are holding a bet as to who can hold off drawing on his face the longest."

"I'm losing," Stark added.

I laughed. It felt like a very bleak and painful gesture, because, for some reason… it wasn't entirely funny. I knew it should have been. I knew how the old me would have reacted. What she would have said. And so I said it now, pulling a pen out of my pocket, but not really feeling the words: "Well here, let me make it worse." I set the pen on Banner's chest. "And if neither of you cracks, I'll doodle on him when I come back out." I gave them all a grin. It was fake, false. I didn't know why.

Loki looked to me almost worriedly as he laced his hand through mine. It was a natural gesture, for us, but the other Avengers still seemed mildly startled to see it, no matter how hard they tried to hide that surprise. I vaguely wondered why they were so curious about Loki and I holding hands, but Stark seemed completely oblivious to Clint's casual hand on Natasha's knee. But then, Loki didn't even notice until I thought of it directly. He waited for a moment before, making it look like a natural sweep of his gaze, his eyes darted to Clint's hand.

Looks like they've sorted things out at last, he thought dryly.

Maybe, I answered.

Maybe?

They are spies.

He fought to keep from snorting as I said my goodbyes to the Avengers and headed to the Healing Room.

There were a number of Healers, all doing their best to fix the remaining damage, but there were no emergencies any longer. Anyone who was here was not in immediate danger. It was the grey-eyed Healer (whose name, I learned, was Fera) who saw us; and she made certain that she was the one to do so. She, along with Shale, had been the one to work on Loki's scars, after all. Why should she not do the same for his other half?

There were dark circles under Fera's eyes as she helped me to remove the bandages that we'd put on both myself and Loki. It was pretty much assumed that we were here together, as the same person, and we didn't correct them. We wanted each other here while the Healers examined the damage.

After the bandages had been removed, I showed the would-be scars to Fera, who looked them over and reported that, with time and care, she could erase all of them; except for a few of the horizontal ones on my ankle, one or two on my shoulder, and obviously the word inscribed in my arm. She had me lift my shirt partway to show her the ones on my lower back, and when I did, Loki sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

You consider those to be 'minor' injuries? He demanded, looking at the little cuts and scrapes that littered my skin around the two longer, deeper gashes. I shot him a glance.

"They're not as bad as they look," I promised. Fera ignored the exchange, as most people tended to do when we started talking in the middle of a conversation like this. Loki snorted in disbelief and turned away, thrown off guard by the fresh surge of self-loathing that coursed through him. He quelled it as quickly as he could as I gave him a glare. Blame was not allowed to settle on his shoulders. Because if it did, it would remain there forever.

Fera did everything in her power to remove the shadows from beneath our skin; from scar and open wound alike. After they were removed, a healing salve was applied and we were sent on our way. I felt a thousand times better; the constant pain of the past four months was… gone. Entirely gone.

"Lady Frost?"

I turned to the tentative voice behind me. "If I may speak with you?" The Asgardian soldier asked. He sported a nasty cut along his neck, but the shadows had been removed from inside of it. I stared at him. In fact, I downright ogled. Because I knew this this soldier. I knew his face, the chipped tooth in the bottom right of his mouth. I knew the scar on his left pinky finger: two small lines that split away from a central point at a slight angle. And I knew that, if I looked at the back of his neck, I'd see a birthmark, just beneath his helmet.

Loki stiffened beside me. He, too, knew this soldier. This was the sentry who, two years ago, had entered Loki's cell and beat the living crap out of him.

I tensed, reflexively falling into step in front of my other half. But the man had said that he wanted to talk with me…

I nodded once, curtly. "Sure," I said warily. Carefully, I turned back to dismiss Loki, silently reassuring him that everything would be all right. His eyes had narrowed on the Asgardian, and I said, "Can you go check on the Avengers for me? I'll be there in a minute."

We both knew that I didn't need him to check on the Avengers, but he nodded once, slowly, and turned to head in that direction anyway. It was his cue, and his excuse, to leave. He joined the Avengers moments later (Stark had lost the bet, and Bruce now had a lovely pen tattoo across his forehead that read: SCIENCE! In block capital letters). I turned back to the sentry.

He gestured for me to walk with him, and I did so quietly, silently. Moving like a wraith, when usually I couldn't move soundlessly to save my own life; and couldn't go three steps without tripping over my own two feet. But now I was sure of each step, walking with a drive I'd never had before.

We were silent for a very long time, as the soldier led me past the wounded, deeper into the heart of the castle. And that was when I began to see them. The dead. Those less fortunate, who did not make it out alive, who were not saved by my so-called 'heroic' deed of destroying Fraye. A majority of their bodies were covered, shrouded… but my heart still beat in my throat as I watched them. My gaze slid to the sentry, now on high alert. But he seemed oddly… relaxed.

He sighed very deeply as he momentarily knelt beside one of the bodies. I watched him as he carefully tugged the shroud higher over the man's head. It seemed to be a reflexive thing, something he must have done a number of times by now. "It's never who you expect, is it?" he asked quietly. My eyebrows furrowed, and he turned back to me. Standing out of his crouch, he said, "He was… a friend of mine. We've fought together before. I never thought…" he sighed very heavily. "And Shale… so many people that just seem… invincible." He shook his head. "And then one mortal manages to end the battle once and for all. A mortal. Beside a prisoner, whom I…" he stopped. His eyes were… twisted. There was something behind them, some desperate need to fit all of the pieces together, to work everything out…

I blinked at him. And suddenly, I was seeing something more to him. The psychiatrist side of me, the side that I had thought had been worn down after so long in the hands of one who could not be helped in the slightest by it, was suddenly alive and working. This was a man with more than one dimension, a man with more than that one moment that I'd encountered him in, a man with a life beyond what I'd seen. For the first time, I saw him as a person; and not just the bully that I'd seen. Because he had a life and people he cared about and people he'd lost, just like the rest of us.

"All those years ago…" he said slowly. "All that time ago… Please, Lady Frost, I have to know…" he looked to me. His eyes were wide and almost innocent. "How? How did you know what he'd become? How did you know about… this? All that time ago, to do what you did… how could you have possibly known?"

I looked at him, studied him for a long time. For the first time, I wondered how he'd chipped that tooth, how he'd gotten that scar. I wondered why he thought that I had to have known this, instead of just… hoping. I wondered when he'd given up on the notion of hope for another person, for a broken person; he must have, to do what he'd done. He'd forgotten what hope could do to a person; and what a lack of it could do as well.

"I didn't," I told him after a moment. "I didn't know anything. I just… gave him a second chance." I looked away. "And when he threw that away, I gave him another one. And another. And another. Until finally it stuck." I turned back to him. "It's funny, what another chance can do for you. Even when you don't think you deserve it. Even when the rest of the world doesn't think you deserve it. Even when you don't deserve it." My eyes were steady as I watched him. "And if there was still anything left of me… I'd offer you one right now. I'd say that the past was the past and the future the future. That we could forget the whole thing." I shook my head. "I guess that's what happens, huh?" I sighed deeply. "But maybe… maybe I can try." I looked at him. "So I'll tell you what. I'll give you a second chance…" I stepped forwards and extended a hand out to him. "If you give me one. Because I'm pretty sure you've spent the last two years thinking of me as the insane glowing freak that almost got you fired."

He blinked at me. Twice.

And then, slowly, he took my hand, shaking it once. I tried to smile at him.

"I'm Natalie Frost, by the way," I said. "Since we're starting fresh."

He smiled very weakly. "Torinth. Torinth Selderson."

We broke away from the handshake. "Good to meet you, Torinth," I said, turning and waving over my shoulder. "See you around."

I left him behind, staring at his hand as though wondering what in the hell had just happened.

Loki looked to me as I walked up next to him and the Avengers. He slid his arm around my waist as Clint took the time to doodle on Bruce's cheek. "What was that about?" He murmured, keeping his voice low so that the others would not hear.

I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe something. Maybe nothing."

Because wasn't that what second chances were, in the end?

I sighed to myself and watched as Clint finished his doodle on Bruce's face. Looking around at the Avengers, my thoughts turning musing and philosophical, I contemplated what a second chance really meant; and how I had the greatest of all of them stretched out before me.

And then I shook that out of my head. Because nothing good ever came from me thinking too much. Instead, I bet ten bucks on how long it would take for Bruce to find out about the ink on person, and twenty on whether or not he would Hulk out over it. Secretly, with Clint, I bet an extra five that, if he did Hulk out, Tony wouldn't get away fast enough.

---

We spent the rest of the day there, me and my fellow Avengers. I wasn't exactly sure why we were waiting, or what we were waiting for. Steve returned after a while, so I supposed that we were just waiting on Thor.

We sat there for a long while, frequently conversing with some of the Asgardian soldiers; and the occasional Jotun; a majority of them were back on their own planet, but a few were interspersed throughout the crowds. From time to time, one of the Avengers would return to Earth, handling things on that end. S.H.I.E.L.D.-or what was left of it- was contacted, and those who had gone underground were brought back to clear up the damage that Loki had caused during his reign. The world was informed that the King was gone; that things could go back to 'normal'. Apparently, there were celebrations in the streets.

Loki said nothing about this. I squeezed his hand.

I fell into an old rhythm with the Avengers, laughing, making jokes, talking about stupid things to keep their minds off of what had happened. Their eyes occasionally darted to the would-be scars on my arm. It was a bit of a chore to get everyone to stop talking about what Fraye had done, and I admit to snapping a little when they wouldn't let it go.

Bruce eventually woke up. As I'd suspected, he'd immediately needed to go to the bathroom; which meant he immediately came into contact with a mirror. I won the bet on how quickly he would find out, but thankfully he didn't Hulk out on us again. Instead, he folded his arms and said, "Always a pleasure working with people with your high standards of maturity."

We were still waiting on Thor when Natasha returned back from Earth. I was standing a bit of a distance away from the others; even Loki. He understood that I was feeling a bit claustrophobic and gave me my space, though occasionally he shot looks in my direction.

Natasha made certain that I could see her coming as she approached me. It wasn't difficult; I was standing with my back to the wall, anyway. She carried a small handbag, and as she walked up to me, she handed it over.

"What's this?" I asked, looking at it.

"Take it," she prodded. I did, eyebrows furrowing. "Open it."

Again, I obeyed. Inside, there was an assortment of seemingly random objects: Beef Jerky, a pack of gum, a small throwing knife, and an Ipod with a set of very vividly colored, sparkling ear buds. I lifted both eyebrows and looked to her.

She looked back, her eyes steady, even. "You haven't stopped eating since you got here, which in turn makes you throw up every few hours. You won't turn your back on anyone; that's why you're sticking so close to the wall." She nodded her head to the wall behind me to indicate her point. "You're jumpy, twitchy. I've seen the shield up every so often, though you've done a good job of hiding it."

She sighed at the startled look on my face, pulling the beef jerky and the gum out of the purse. "You make yourself sick eating all the time, but you can't stop. It feels wrong to stop, now that you have it. Like it'll be taken away from you at any time. That's where these come in. They keep you from thinking about it too much. Anything that's hard to chew, or that you can chew all the time, will keep that from getting too bad."

My eyes slowly lost their shock. I felt oddly… vulnerable, as I still stared at her. I couldn't tell how she knew what I'd been thinking, what I'd really been doing, all day… But of course. I was still just the rookie. She was the veteran.

She pulled out the knife next. "Doesn't matter how useless it would be. Having a weapon helps. Every time you're startled, every time something scares you, it's there. In your belt, your boot, whatever, so long as it's in easy reach. You'd be surprised how reassuring a few inches of steel can be."

Finally, she held up the headphones. "Doesn't matter if you actually want to listen to music from them or not; people tend to tune you out when you have headphones on." She glanced to the Asgardians around us, then turned back. "At least on Earth. You're going to get… episodes. Times when you just can't… process anything. You can't think. Sometimes you can't even breathe. And there's no way that you can talk to anyone." She put the headphones back into the bag. "It helps. It doesn't make everything better… but it helps."

I stared at her. Slowly, I pulled out a piece of gum and began chewing, slinging the bag over my shoulder. Natasha leaned against the wall beside me, and the two of us watched the other Avengers from a distance.

"I thought I was hiding it pretty well," I admitted after a minute, tucking the gum to the side of my cheek. The taste of mint was wonderful. Perfect. Like everything else that I had been missing.

"You were," Natasha told me. "You still are. You're hiding it flawlessly; from anyone who doesn't know better."

I snorted, pulled the throwing knife from the bag, and tucked it into my belt. The two of us were quiet again, and I allowed myself to relax, allowed my eyes to harden as they went distant, allowed my arms to fold over my chest. A bleaker Natalie stood in the place where I had once been, and I welcomed her. Because she was me. She was who I'd become.

"You know… we keep acting like we have a future." I inclined my head towards Loki just briefly. He was watching as the Avengers talked amongst themselves, but not contributing to the conversation himself. "We keep… pretending like… like what happens next actually matters. Like I have to go to a Healer to make sure my skin doesn't scar, like we actually have to worry about when he's going back to prison, or… or what we're going to do to stay together if he does. We're playing this game, along with the rest of you, but we know… we know that at any second, this dream is going to turn into a nightmare, and we're gonna wake up. Fraye's just gonna… show up, like she always does, and I'm going to wake up still strapped to my chair, and he's still going to be on the throne without anyone beside him. And we're just acting like it's not going to happen, acting like we can be happy, because for these few moments… for these few moments, the dream is good. We're together, Fraye is dead, we're both Avengers and Shadowslayers and we have… hope." I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. There weren't any tears in my eyes. I just looked up, blankly, my face set in grim determination. "But we both know… that's not going to last much longer. Sooner or later… one of us is going to wake up."

I turned to Natasha. She was studying me intently. There was no surprise or curiosity on her face. She was just… filing the information away in her head, keeping it for later consideration. She nodded slowly, turning her head away from me, watching the Asgardian palace once again. "And if you don't?" She asked quietly. "If you don't wake up? If this isn't a dream?"

I barked out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Then I have to deal with the worst part of all of this."

"And that is?"

I looked to her and grinned toothily. A smile that I had adopted from my torturer. "That I've been cut down. That I've been hollowed out and refilled, that I've been stripped apart piece by piece and reassembled by a madwoman. I have to accept that this is my new skin… and that it's a perfect fit." I shook my head as I turned away again. "Do you know how… how awkward I felt, before all of this? Always questioning myself, doubting myself, trying to figure out who I was… and now… now I know. I know what I am now, and… and it scares me, Natasha. Because the person I am now can kill- has killed." I looked to her to find her even gaze on me one more time. "I caused the extinction of a species, and do you know what? I'm not even sorry for it. I'm trying so hard to… to feel something, to feel bad that I took a life, but that's the thing, I don't. I finally did the monstrous thing that my father always said I'd be capable of doing… and I'm not even sorry that I did it." I laughed, shaking my head back and forth, because this… this was funny. "I'm glad I did it, and I know… I know that I can do it again."

"We all can," She answered quietly. "If we have to."

"Four."

She looked to me. "Sorry?"

"Four weak points." I looked to her. "Three of which can disable, the other one of which can kill." I didn't look away this time. I didn't think I could. I just met her gaze. "Your weak points, Natasha." I turned my head just slightly and pointed out Tony with my index finger, my arms still crossed. "And Stark, over there, without his armor… I count seven. Clint has two-but then, he didn't break anything, not like you did- Steve… from this angle, Steve's got eight, maybe nine. Banner… if I'm quick enough, twelve. Loki has three." I glanced to the crowd, scanning them all. "That Jotun over there… nine. The Asgardian with the bindings on his arm, he's got seven. And all of these things… they're weaknesses that I can exploit, the second they decide to betray me. And that's all without the bubble." I looked to her again. There was still no surprise on her face, no shock, no fear. "You're… my friend, Natasha. The Avengers are my friends, my teammates. Loki… I love him. But all I can see is the quickest way to take one of you down. Jugular. Heart. Eye. Maybe a blow to the spine. I can do it. I've taken on Loki before, I've beaten most of you before." I shook my head slowly. "I don't want to. But it's all I think about. Because I'm just waiting for one of you to turn on me. Loki's in my head and I'm still waiting for him to betray me.

"You once… you once said that the worst thing about being tortured is that… that everything changes. And you said that the worst thing about doing something like that, about torturing someone else, is that nothing changes. So tell me, Natasha, which category do I fall under? Because I know that everything has changed." I shook my head. "But… it's as though this is what I've been all along. That this… this person I've become… it's what I was always meant to be. That my entire life was leading up to the moment in which I killed Fraye. That I became what I was meant to be in the past four months."

She looked at me. There was… sympathy, in her eyes. An old recognition. She sighed through her nose as she turned this time, and pulled a knife out of her belt. "Why do you think I still carry it?" She shook her head slowly. "I can't tell you that will go away. Just that it'll become… unnecessary. You won't need to do it, after a while. But you'll do it anyway, out of habit."

"I don't want to. I mean… I don't want to want to."

"I know. But you want to do it anyway." She shrugged. "That's how life goes, Natalie. That's how it'll be. And maybe it is what you were meant to be." She looked to Loki. "But at least who you're meant to be… has a life. A team. And…" She sighed deeply. "At least you can still love someone. Be grateful for that."

She turned away before I could let myself recognize why there was an uncharacteristic touch of envy in her voice as she said that.

As I stood by myself-and eventually put the earphones in, sat against the wall, and tried to doze for a while- Loki sat with the other Avengers. And, as one conversation ended, Stark finally decided to address the elephant in the room; and he did so, with his usual flare and lack of tact.

"So what the hell was with you and Nat kissing back there?" He demanded.

Loki looked up to him. The others did the same; Clint snorted. "Well, Stark, when two people feel a romantic attraction towards each other, that is what they tend to do."

"Yeah, but for all we know, it's some weird magical link shit," Stark added. "And quite frankly, that's what I'm hoping for."

"Then I'm afraid I must dash those hopes," Loki answered Stark, his voice light, sounding almost… unconcerned. "You saw things as they are."

Everyone fell silent briefly. Rogers looked up from his shield, which he had been polishing for a few hours now. Surely it wouldn't get any cleaner than it already was, but he seemed to have no inclination whatsoever to stop. Turning his eyes to Loki and raising an eyebrow, he asked, "So exactly how long has that been going on?"

Loki shrugged very mildly. "Since the moment she made our connection permanent, though we were both too blind to see it." As they silently stared at him, he sighed and corrected, "Since I gave up the throne. It was worthless without her." He glanced away. "It was worthless regardless." His voice lowered. "A pointless, poisonous dream that corrupted everything, until I could no longer see anything as it truly was…"

His voice was so quiet that it was likely that they did not catch every one of his words; but everyone fell silent following these musings nonetheless. As Loki looked up, he was mildly startled to see that many faces were… dubious. Though Clint looked fairly convinced (and Loki still did not know why, why the archer had been so easily persuaded to follow him on his mission to retrieve me, why he had seemed to have no doubts following this).

"Is it truly so hard to believe?" He asked. "After everything I did to retrieve her, is it still so hard to think that this might have been my motivation?"

"Your motivation isn't in question," Stark answered. "But you've gotta admit, you two are the weirdest couple in the history of the universe." He held out his hands, as though balancing on a scale. His right hand lowered on that scale as he said, "On the one hand, we've got you: The Jotun/Asgardian/whatever who, not so long ago, pretty much thought that all humans were scum. Who spent his free time marching around the streets of earth in medieval armor and demanding that people kneel to him." He held down his left hand this time: "On the other hand, we've got Natalie: the very human shrink, who, if she saw you telling everyone to kneel, would probably have punched you in the face. And who lost… um, everything to you."

Loki flinched at the last sentence, and Clint gave Tony a hard glare. Nonetheless, after a moment's contemplation, Loki had a response for the Iron Man. "The twisted mind and the healer of minds, the giant who would not love and the human who loved unconditionally." He shrugged very mildly. "To put things in a more… poetic light."

Stark rolled his eyes. "'Unconditional love', huh? You know what, next time, spare yourself the trouble and get a golden retriever."

Loki smiled wryly. "Well, I did have my brothe-"

The Trickster stopped talking mid-word as his eye caught on something. He looked up, his entire body seizing up, his spine stiffening. His throat and mouth grew very dry, and he swallowed in an attempt to fix it. A few of the Avengers looked to see what had cut him off; and quickly looked away again as they realized.

Odin stood just beside the entrance to one of the hallways, his good eye locked on Loki. Father and son watched each other for a long moment as Loki's heart skipped in his chest.

And then, slowly, Odin turned and walked away. From the many years spent as this man's son, Loki knew beyond any doubt that he was being ordered to follow, whether or not Odin had actually spoken to him. He glanced towards me; I was watching the scene unfold silently, headphones still stuffed into my ears, blasting loud music directly into my brain. Somehow, I was ignoring it as I looked at my other half.

His eyes met mine. I could see the… the fear in them, even if no one else could have. Carefully, I nodded.

Loki nodded in turn, asked the Avengers to excuse him, and stood, walking to where Odin had disappeared. I tilted my head back, listening to the music, trying to tune him out. This was something for him and him alone; though if he asked for help, we both knew that I'd be there without question.

Loki followed Odin down the twisting hallways and corridors of the palace he knew so well, the palace he had spent his childhood exploring. His father eventually arrived on a balcony, overlooking the city. Moments later, Loki stepped up beside him. The old king clasped his hands behind his back, not turning to him.

The two were silent for a very long moment, staring out at the city below. These golden halls and golden walls, the shining city of light to which Loki had never belonged… it took everything he had not to turn away. He wished that my hand would find its way into his, as it did so frequently whenever such a trouble arose, but for the first time since our reunion, he was left alone.

Odin spoke first, as was only right, for a king. Loki's eyes went to the ground as his father said, in a quiet but resounding and resolute voice, "You have done well."

The words… stung. Worse than the shadows themselves, they lashed across him, wrapped around his heart and cut into it with razor blades. Because it was everything he wanted to hear from this man (though he would have never admitted it before). How many times had he tried to earn his father's approval? Was it not this man's rejection that caused him to let himself fall from the edge of the Bifrost, to release himself and try and allow death to claim him? Was it not this man's rejection of his deeds that had sent him out to the universe in search of an army? Was it not this man's rejections that led him straight into the waiting hands of Fraye herself…?

And here, the words he'd wanted to hear all of his life… and he could not believe them. For he knew they were not true. Loki swallowed against the bitter taste in his mouth and forced himself to speak, to list his crimes as they had occurred. "I betrayed the one person who dared to place trust in me. Betrayed the team that began to accept me. Betrayed Thor, your son. I enslaved an entire species because I thought them weak." He glanced as far away to the edge of the city as he could, so that his eyes were far from Odin's. "The only thing that I have done 'well' is kill a sentient being in protection of the realms." His hands began to shake. "Is that how I could finally make you proud? By killing?"

A hand was suddenly on his shoulder. Loki stiffened beneath the touch. It was unfamiliar. And yet, it was everything he'd ever known. "No," Odin answered, again quietly, but more resolute than ever. "By protecting. You did as you did and protected the nine realms from an… indescribable threat. And they are indebted to you; and to the Lady Frost."

Loki turned to his father at last, searching his good eye and trying to see the hidden motives there. How could Loki always be ten steps ahead of everyone else, and still have no inkling as to how far ahead Odin may be? How could he never understand the man who was meant to be his father?

"Eight realms may be indebted to me," Loki said after a moment, turning away. "But what I owe to Midgard can never be repaid." Though he faced the city, his eyes slid over to his father. "And for all you may say that I have done well, I know what is to become of me, once the Avengers declare our agreement finished." Glancing down to his wrist, Loki slowly ran his finger along the now-useless Key that still decorated it. The Celtic knots looped around his skin; it was a very beautiful shackle, but that was still all it was. A shackle. "A life in darkness, to repay for those times wearing a worthless crown." He laughed bitterly, acridly. "I may be a Shadowslayer, but in the end… I am still only a prisoner."

Loki didn't realize how tightly he was gripping the rail, how far he was leaning against it, until he saw his knuckles turn white. "And, in truth… I know that is what must be."

There was a great deal of resignation in his words, a great deal of acceptance. Odin studied him for a few very long moments as Loki stared out at the city, his hand still tightly clenched on the balcony's golden rail. After a while, Odin turned.

"Perhaps not," he said in a low voice.

And, with all of the grace and regality of a true king, he swept from the room. Loki watched him leave, his eyebrows furrowing; but, just as he'd known that Odin's earlier gestures were an order to follow, he knew that this was an order of dismissal. He turned and walked from the room, his mind spinning.

He knew that he would be returned to his prison eventually, knew that it was only inevitable. Unless, of course, he woke up first; woke from this dream that would fall into a nightmare.

He halted in his tracks, the thought twisting him up inside. He was so certain that he would wake at any moment, wake back inside of his bed, alone, with the crown still resting on his head and the throne still waiting for him outside of his room. Because he was… happy. Despite the lingering threat of prison, he was still alive, he was going to carry on living, he would never be tortured by Fraye again… the creature who had hunted him for years was gone, gone, once and for all. And he had me. He had me by his side and in his head and I loved him and he loved me in turn and who gave a damn if I was mortal, even a mortal lifetime was longer than what he'd thought he would have…

But he couldn't possibly be happy.

Because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve nights without nightmares, didn't deserve to be accepted by the Avengers, didn't deserve to be loved, didn't deserve me…

"No. No, I don't think you deserve it," she'd said. "But then, I never have. But that doesn't matter. Whether you deserved it or not, whether you were worthy of it or not… you had that chance. And look what you did with it."

Loki swallowed at the memory, at the Ghost's words echoing in his mind. He'd had a chance that he didn't deserve once. And he'd thrown it away.

He wouldn't make that same mistake again.

Suddenly, new purpose and drive filled his footsteps. He walked through the halls single-mindedly, weaving his way between the occasional Jotun or Asgardian soldier, the crowds becoming slightly thicker as he drew closer to the Healing Rooms. His eyes scanned the area until they landed on the Avengers; and on me, sitting a short distance away, my headphones still blasting.

My eyes were closed as I listened to the music drumming fast beats into my head. I wasn't paying any attention to Loki-in fact, I was trying very hard not to- so I didn't notice that he was there until his hand was on my arm. I opened my eyes, looking up, though the touch had not made me jump, as anyone else's would have. We could rarely surprise each other.

I was startled by the intensity in his gaze. "Loki?" I asked, pulling the ear buds out, stuffing them into their bag. "What is it? What happened?"

He stood from his crouch in front of me, extending a hand to help me up. "May I speak with you?" He inquired. "Privately?"

Confused, but not wishing to argue, I nodded, taking his hand. He helped me to my feet, and I waved to the Avengers to let them know that I was leaving. Loki's hand did not let go of mine as we walked back down through the hallways, taking different turns and routes and paths until we were in a fairly abandoned area of the palace; there was no one around for a fair distance. Loki ducked into a room and pulled me in after him, dumbstruck by the severity of his each and every movement.

"What happened?" I repeated the question as he closed the door behind us. He looked at me, his eyes… bright. Shining brilliantly, so brilliant that it was unusual, even for him. His eyebrows furrowed as he took a moment to consider my question, then blew it off.

"Nothing," he answered. "Nothing happened." He took a step towards me. I lifted my eyebrows. "Only…"

He trailed off. His green eyes were on mine, searching them, trying to peer deep inside of them. I swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous; not that he'd hurt me or anything, but he was still acting… odd.

And then, suddenly, he closed the distance between us in two quick, loping strides. His hand went to my cheek and pulled my face close to his, and, with a strange urgency, he jammed his lips against mine.

The air seemed to disappear from my lungs, my heart immediately picking up its tempo. I completely lost the ability to breathe, and I stared at him, surprised. His eyes were closed, and a few seconds later, mine shut, too. My heart was beating so hard that I felt like it was trying to escape me, to jump over to him instead, maybe. His hands entangled in my hair, messing up all of the work I'd put into it that morning. Not that I particularly cared at the moment.

Well, okay then, I thought to myself, bringing my hands up and wrapping my arms around his neck (as best I could, with our height difference). It was the last coherent thought that I had for a very long while. I stood on my tip-toes and he bent down, and I moved closer to him. In that single moment, we poured the last four months of loneliness, the last four months of empty numbness, and we did everything in our power to fix them. It was a reunion as our first one should have been; as our first one would have been, if we hadn't had a war around us, if we hadn't had the Avengers or our wounds or our shock to deal with afterwards.

Our thoughts-what little we still had- melted together as I ran my hands down his neck and onto his chest. His hand had moved out of my hair, down my shoulder, and onto my back, pulling me closer still. I struggled to form a semi-articulate thought, knowing that there was something I'd wanted to know before I had completely lost it…

Why? I finally managed.

It took Loki a long time to answer. Somehow, he managed to answer me more clearly than I had asked the question.

Because I will not lose you again, he replied. And if this is a dream than I will spend it with you regardless; and when I wake I will make this decision again. And if it is yet another dream, I will continue to make it.

I was… stunned. What few cognitive functions I had left fried. But I think my heart liked what it heard, because it started to go into overdrive, flip-flopping and twisting and doing crazy loop-de-loops as the world vanished around me, and there was nothing but me and Loki and that promise.

After another long moment, Loki managed to add, And because… I have missed you, Frost.

Well, no arguments here. And in that second, we both seemed to realize what we had lost, how long we had spent apart, how much we had truly missed each other… and just how overjoyed we were, how ecstatic we felt, to have each other back. After everything we'd gone through to get to this… and now we finally had a moment to breathe, to think, and to remember that.

I don't know how long we spent that way; we only broke off when both of us absolutely couldn't breathe any longer. I looked around at the room and realized that there was a couch inside; it looked like it hadn't been used in a long while, but I sat down anyway, trying to get my heart to calm down. Loki was next to me almost immediately. His hand did not break contact from mine for even a second.

"By all the realms," I whispered, panting. "This is…" I ran my hands across my face, running my fingers through my hair, pushing it back away from my forehead. "This is way too sensitive for you. Way too… nice." I looked to him. "I'm definitely the one dreaming, here. I mean, there's no way in hell this is you; or your dream." I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. "Because this… it's too perfect, Loki. It's too good to be true."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to resume with his usual nonchalance… but the façade was somewhat ruined by the tight grip on my hand, and the way his heart was still pounding. "Then do you not believe what I say?"

"Not for a second," I answered, then glanced to him. "Don't take it personally. I don't think you're lying. I think I am. That I'm lying to myself."

"Highly possible," he admitted.

"You know what else, though?"

He looked to me and didn't respond. I grinned, my face on fire as our eyes met, my cheeks stained red. My veins were still buzzing. "I missed you, too. And I love you no matter what you are." I leaned closer to him; he raised his arm so that I could curl up with my head on his chest, and his arm fell back over my shoulders. "Whether you're a lie or not."

He chuckled very quietly at the double meaning in my words. I closed my eyes and curled up on the couch, leaning against him. "Cheesy, I know," I added, "But accurate."

"Hmm…" he responded without responding, running his thumb across my cheek. I closed my eyes, settling into his hold, taking his other hand and tracing patterns across its back absently. I wasn't tired anymore, but sitting there, feeling so… relaxed… I found myself drifting the longer we sat there. After a while, Loki woke me, speaking quietly, his voice drawing me out of my minor doze.

"Humans," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I'll never understand you." He looked away distantly as I turned around so that I could face him. "You live such short lives… such a small amount of time in this world, this universe… and you chose to waste it on trying to help me."

"Waste?" I asked, sitting upright slowly. "Doesn't look wasted to me." I arched an eyebrow. "You're here, aren't you? And the very fact that you can entertain the idea of doing…" I looked down, gesturing to the way we were sitting, so close to each other, as my hand stayed in his. "This with a mortal, tells me that I did indeed help things."

He looked at me, studying me, a small and slightly bemused smile on his face. He didn't respond, and I flicked out my hair, leaning closer to him, in his face so abruptly that both of our hearts started going past their proper speed limit again.

"Besides," I murmured. "I'm not exactly getting the raw end of the deal, here." I made my eyes dance, like I'd seen his dance a thousand times before, as I pressed my forehead against his. His bemused smile turned into a bemused chuckle. I brought my lips to his, just once, quickly, but he brought his hand to the back of my head and pulled me back into the kiss gently. I went with it. The world started fading again.

It was another, slightly shorter time before we broke apart again. "See what I mean?" I asked, curling up next to him. "You've got me and I've got you… because there isn't a me without you."

"Nor a me without you," Loki agreed, almost silently, seeming oddly… distant all of a sudden. As I stayed next to him, partly lying on his chest, he stroked my cheek with his thumb absently. I allowed my thoughts to follow his and my heart flip-flopped at the abrupt surge of melancholy.

"Hey…" I said, reaching my hand forwards for his face. "Hey, come on… Don't be like that. Mortal or not, we still have longer than we thought we would." I gave him a small smile. "That's the thing about being human. We don't have much time; so we gotta spend every second living it to its fullest. There's no point in dwelling on things that you can't change. No point in worrying so much about the end of your life that you don't get to live through what time you do have."

"It is not the end of my life that I worry for," he said quietly. "It is the end of yours." He looked away, his gaze still… empty. "They may be the same; my death and yours. But I survived without you once, and when you…" he winced. "When this mortal lifetime ends, I will… be forced into doing so again." He sighed very quietly. "Unless…"

"No." I sat up, looking him in the eye, speaking the words as firmly as I was able. "No. No way in hell. Don't you do that to yourself, don't you dare."

"My brother-"

"Your brother is not you. He spent what, three days as a mortal? And the only reason that every second of that was not miserable was because he had Jane."

"And I would have you."

"No!" My voice rose to a shout. "If you become mortal, you'd have to give up your magic, Loki! Humans can't do magic, remember? It would tear them apart!" I shook my head violently. "Thor isn't like you. Thor isn't a… a master of magic. Loki, you've studied it most of your life, it's a part of you, it's in your very blood, and it's not something that you can just… give up!"

"Frost," Loki silenced me with the word, a quiet sound that made me mash my lips together into a hard line. His tone was just very slightly impatient. He held my face in his hand so that he could force me to look him in the eye as he said, each word crisp and clear and perfectly articulated, "It was merely a thought. Nothing more." He released me, sitting back, settling a little more into the couch. "We have time now; time to resolve this issue once and for all." Gently, he pulled me closer; I complied, still a little warily.

"Just…" I sighed deeply. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise me that you'll discuss things with me first, before you do anything… reckless."

"Of course, Frost."

We fell silent again. I closed my eyes one more time, trying to block out the rest of the world for just a while, feeling… drained. I mean, I was ecstatic at the fact that I was here, that Loki was here, that we were safe… But still, the events of the past few days (and the months before that) were wearing me down.

I don't know how long we stayed there, before I reminded Loki that the other Avengers would be waiting for us, wondering where we'd gone. I made certain that my hair was straightened before I went back, doing the same with Loki's, making us look presentable again.

As we walked back, I noticed for the first time that day what I had failed to notice before (or at least, had not wanted to notice before): that as we passed, crowds parted out of the way. I realized that, everywhere we went, there were eyes on us, whispering, telling tales of our glorious victory. I only noticed now because someone took it a step further.

We were a fair distance away from the Avengers when we passed the two Jotuns, discussing things quietly to themselves. It was Loki who noticed them falling silent the instant that we entered the hallway where they stood. I would have ignored it, but it sent a prickling on the back of Loki's neck, and so I paid attention silently.

As we walked past, Loki met the eyes of each Jotun in turn. I did the same, and the pair stiffened at the eye contact. I don't know what they saw when they looked at us, what they thought of our demeanor, but their eyes immediately darted downwards. One's gaze caught on the would-be scars on my arm before it darted downward to the floor.

As we passed, the two bent at the waist, in a low, respectful bow.

Loki and I tensed at the gesture; it was unexpected and, in so many ways, unwanted. One of them spoke, in a voice that quivered just slightly, saying, "Long live the Shadowslayers."

My eyebrows furrowed. Loki and I didn't share a glance- there was nothing so obvious about the transaction that passed between us- but our thoughts did touch, our curiosity shared. We weren't entirely certain how to react to this; so we played it safe. As one, we nodded, a low, deep nod that shared a great deal of the respect they showed to us; though we did not bow. The gesture was one of recognition; we recognized the respect that they showed to us, and accepted it, showing gratitude and respect in kind.

We hoped.

As we walked on, Loki's thoughts began to stir. I heard the Jotuns straightening behind us, immediately falling into whispers. I had heard both of our names mentioned by the time we turned the corner.

That was odd, I noted to Loki. He contemplated for a long moment, then dismissed the event with a shrug.

Consider what we have done for them. We have destroyed a legend of Jotunheim, and thus made ourselves legends in turn.

I shuddered at the easy way that he put that. I didn't feel like a legend. I didn't feel like a hero. Maybe I felt like an Avenger; but that was different. The Avengers weren't heroes; they were the line. The line between heroism and villainy, good and evil…

I pushed the thoughts aside as I walked into the hallway. But now my eyes had been opened; and I could not be blind again. There were many gazes on us as we walked inside, many people openly staring. The Jotuns were the most obvious, whispering constantly; and whenever one of them noticed that either Loki or I was watching them, they would avert their eyes quickly; and occasionally nod deeply, almost in more bows.

The Avengers either didn't seem to have noticed… or didn't seem to care. Either way, it made us a bit… nervous.

"So we've talked it over with S.H.I.E.L.D." Clint reappeared by the group; he'd gone back to earth momentarily before Loki had come back for me. The archer collapsed into his seat casually, his hand finding its way back to Natasha's knee again. The other spy didn't react; and no one else seemed to even notice. Clint looked to Loki. "It took some convincing, but once we told them the whole story, they agreed to let you stay on Earth until cleanup is over." Clint looked a little bit smug as he said this, a little bit… triumphant. "I fed 'em a whole line about how we wanted to make sure Fraye was buried before we declared her officially 'dead'. Given how many times the kid's tried to fake us out, I convinced them that this could be another trick." He grinned; the possibility seemed so remote to him that he obviously didn't even think it worth entertaining, but Loki and I both felt our hearts sink, our stomachs twist. We, too, would like to see Fraye buried. Just to be certain.

"So it looks like you'll be staying with us for a while," Clint concluded, still looking as self-satisfied as ever. As though he was… happy that this had happened. That was it. That was just it. I cracked.

"Okay, Barton!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. The Avengers pulled back, startled, and from the corner of my eye I saw a few watching Asgardians doing the same. "I've had it! I have had it with you!" I jabbed a finger in his face. "Why? Why did you help Loki, why were you so certain about what he was going to do, why are you so certain now? Four months ago, you wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out, and now… now this!" I threw up my hands again. "What, exactly, did he do that convinced you? I mean, after all this time? After everything I said, what… what changed?"

My little outburst seemed to have surprised Clint more than anyone else-and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Jotun tensing, a warning spark in his eye as he watched the archer. Ice began to trickle down his fingertips, though it did not quite form a weapon, not yet. I ignored this, keeping my eyes dead on Clint. I was tired of being in the dark. My time as Fraye's prisoner had greatly lowered my tolerance for secrecy and dancing motives.

Barton swallowed, then glanced to Loki. His eyes lit in recognition, then softened into something that was almost pity. "You don't even remember, do you?" he asked, his voice lowered.

Loki's eyes became strangely… innocent. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he leaned just slightly closer to Hawkeye, as though wanting desperately to know every word that he spoke. Carefully, the Trickster shook his head no.

Clint looked at him for a long second, then to me, then back again, and he sighed deeply. The other Avengers were all watching him, clearly with the same intense curiosity that I was, though it appeared that Natasha already knew, for the look on her face was similar to that on Clint's.

Barton sat back, clearly settling in for a long-or perhaps just painful- tale. "A few days ago… before you let us out…" he gestured to the other Avengers on 'us'. "You… You came to my cell." Clint glanced at Loki, as though trying to decide how he should proceed. After a brief second, he continued, "You were… babbling. Most of the time, you couldn't even get a coherent sentence out." He was very certain to meet Loki's eyes as he went on; at the very least, he had the decency to look Loki in the eye as he told him this hard truth. "But you let me out. You gave me my bow and you let me out and you asked me- begged me- to kill you."

Loki swallowed tightly. His hand gripped mine, squeezing the life out of it. I squeezed right back. The gesture went undetected by the other Avengers, but it meant the world to us.

"And you didn't?" Tony asked, stunned. Natasha gave him a sideways look, but Loki and I were too focused on Clint; I didn't even reach up to smack Stark as I usually would have.

Clint shook his head. "Like I said: you were babbling. One second you'd be talking to me… and the next, you'd be screaming at April." Loki tensed, and Clint added, "It was April, right? The 'Ghost'?"

Loki didn't have the strength to nod. I did it for him, dazedly.

I could feel the other Avengers watching the three of us with piercing intensity. Barton carried on regardless, marching on through his words. "But… you kept saying… 'This is what you wanted, right? This is what you promised her you'd do?'" I felt like the bones in my hand would break. Realizing that he was hurting me, Loki managed to let up, but it was a difficult, strenuous task to pry his fingers open enough to do so. "You kept saying that… that you'd ripped Natalie out of your head with your own two hands, kept screaming that you couldn't get the blood off. And, at some point, somewhere amid everything else… you said that you loved her. That you couldn't live without her and couldn't live with what you'd done with her, and so now the planet was ours again, and all I had to do was what I'd wanted to do all along and kill you."

The area around us was silent. What few Asgardians were nearby seemed to have long ago recognized how private this conversation was, and were tuning it out or doing their best to act as though they were not listening.

Clint ran his fingers across the bow that was still sitting in his lap (because none of us were weaponless at the moment, least of all the spies). "And to answer your question, Natalie, about what convinced me?" He looked to me. I blinked, startled by the fact that he was now addressing me, and looked back. He went on, "In my line of work, I've seen people… break. But I've never seen a man that broken before. Never." He sat back, glancing to Loki again. "So I gave the bow back, told you that I wasn't going to let you be a coward, and that if you wanted to throw your life away, maybe you could throw it away on something useful; like stopping Fraye, or getting Natalie back." His eyes glinted briefly. "Apparently, that worked."

Loki was silent briefly before replying, "Apparently so." The words were very quiet; even I, sitting right next to him, had to strain to hear them.

And then he stood, turning away from the Avengers without another word. Again, I noticed people moving out of his way as he walked; but he said not a word to any of them. He just kept walking.

The Avengers watched their teammate go in silence. And then Banner turned to me. "He ok?"

I shrugged. "Are any of us?" As the others looked at me, I blew it off with the quick wave of a hand. "He'll be fine. Truth be told, he's not really surprised he got that far." I looked to Clint. "He just… didn't think you'd make that call." I shrugged again, tilting my head back so that it rested against the wall and closing my eyes. I was getting tired again; every emotionally charged moment came and went and took my energy with it. "He just needs some time to think."

The others fell silent. Eventually, the conversation changed. Eventually, other matters were discussed. And I tuned them all out, allowing myself to drift, until I fell into dreams.

---

"Shadowslayer," Sigil said with a snicker. "That is what they call him. Things could not have gone more perfectly if we'd planned them ourselves."

Avalon smiled at her twin brother through the mirror that she looked into. Turning back to her reflection, she gauged her appearance carefully. Their world was currently without the leadership of a King; and so the high advisors were convening to discuss what happened next. Avalon and her brother were, of course, a part of this discussion.

Not that everyone didn't already know what the outcome would be.

Deeming her clothing worthy of the transaction she was about to partake in, Avalon turned to her brother. She gave him a toothy smile. "It is only a matter of time," She agreed. "Everything will be as it should be, soon. Once we get the council to agree…" She grimaced. Everyone knew how difficult of a task that could be, with even the most obvious of decisions. It seemed that everyone had reasons to argue about one thing or another. "Then everything will be set." She sighed happily, sitting back onto the couch beside him. "It seems that our life may finally change, brother."

"Indeed it does, sister."

The twin mages glanced around the room, then left together in silence. There was still work to be done.

---

It was late when Loki and I finally returned back to my parents' house. As expected, my father's jaw clenched the instant he saw the Trickster, and I was forced to stand in between them to keep an all-out war from breaking out. Loki went to my room and locked the door while I pulled together some food for the both of us, talking over the events of the day with my parents. It was, however, a very watered-down, non-detailed version of the day's events; in which I mentioned very little about Loki, my torture, etc. They were grateful to hear that a majority of the wounds would not scar, though my dad had ground his teeth together when he heard that the word on my arm would remain forever.

"I don't understand it, Nat!" he exploded at last, slamming his hands down on the table as I calmly, coldly made a few sandwiches. It was something easy, that didn't take much effort, and that I could make without burning. It was also quick; which was a good thing because, as usual, I was starving. "He did this to you! He sent you away!It's his name carved in your arm, not Fraye's! And still you… you stand up for him! Why?"

I sighed deeply, setting the knife down, as well as the bread. Turning an even gaze to him, I said, "Because I love him."

He ogled. I sighed again, turning away. "Look, Cameron. I've had a really long day. Don't you think this can wait until later?"

He continued to sputter out protests as I finished, but I didn't say a word. I just walked to my room, food in hand, and locked the door behind me.

Once we'd both finished eating, Loki ended up passing out fairly quickly; and though I was curled up next to him for a long time, though I was as exhausted as ever, I found that I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there. Waiting for me.

I sighed and sat up, careful not to disturb Loki. It was a difficult task to remove his arm from around me without waking him, but I managed to stuff a pillow beneath it, and he stayed sleeping. Carefully, I kissed his forehead and snuck out of the room with silent steps.

It was late at night by now; and though my parents should have both been asleep, my father was sitting in the backyard, looking up at the stars. I watched him from inside the house for a long moment. He was so much like me. After all, I so frequently went to study the stars on the Tower's rooftop when I could not sleep. Or to look at the city lights. So long as the world was quiet, and I could see something beautiful, I could clear my head. I could think.

I opened the door, stepping out into the warm, summer night air. It made me shiver regardless; the last time I had been on this planet, it had not been so warm. The season had changed, and I had missed it. I swallowed, running my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to rid myself of the goose bumps that had risen up on them.

I walked up to the man whom I had, in my lifetime, loved and hated. Just as I had loved and hated Loki. Why couldn't he understand that, if I was not this way about Loki, I would never have been able to love him, too? Brainwashing or not, I would never have been able to forgive him…

"Can I talk to you, Camero…Dad?"

Cameron Frost didn't look at me. But, after a moment, he nodded once; I pulled up a lawn chair and sat down next to him. I had only just planted my butt in the chair when he said, "You're never going to get me to like him, Nat. You're never going to get me to understand. He's… he's a killer. He… he gave you up to that… that monster."

For the first time in my life, I did not flinch when that word came out of his mouth. I did not shy away from it, even knowing how much it could sting when directed at me. Instead, I looked up to the stars.

"Yeah," I said after a brief pause. "Yeah, that's probably true. I'm probably not going to be able to convince you."

Again, we were silent. And then I asked, "Dad… Do you know what Fraye's deal was? The full thing?"

He scowled in the darkness; I could just see his features by the scant, gloomy moonlight, shrouded with clouds. "Of course I do."

"Then tell me," I prodded gently. He looked to me, eyebrows furrowing, as though trying to decide if he should be confused or angry. After a moment, he seemed to decide that both emotions were pointless and simply answered my question instead.

"Fraye said she'd take over Earth for him, if he gave you to her. If he handed you over, severed the link, and let her tort… do what she wanted." He didn't seem able to form the word 'torture'. His eyes closed, and he turned away.

When he didn't go on, I kept prodding. "And that's it?" I asked. "That's what you knew of her deal?"

"What else would there be?" Cameron demanded with a touch of irritability.

"I don't know," I said in a quiet voice. "But if that was the case… and, seeing as I was in his mind and knew everything that he was planning… and I very obviously knew what he was planning for a fair amount of time… if that was all there was to it, dad, why do you think that I didn't tell the Avengers about it? Why do you think that I just… let him give me up?"

Cameron turned to me. His eyes were wide. "You… you let him…?" he didn't seem able to complete the sentence.

I looked back to the stars, keeping my eyes distant. "The deal she offered wasn't just about Midga… Earth." In the old days, my voice would have cracked. Not anymore. My words were steady and resolute, if a bit… detached. "It wasn't just about one world, one realm. It was about nine. Nine worlds, dad. Nine realms." I sighed quietly, but deeply. "And if Loki took the deal, she offered to spare them."

For once, my father didn't seem to have a response.

I went on, quietly. "The only one that she would touch was Earth; and that, she would give over to Loki." I shook my head. "There's a big difference between him and her, dad. Quite frankly, if I could choose my enemies, there's no competition there. Loki would have been…" I winced. "More easily dispatched than Fraye could ever be. If Loki took over… then Humankind would live. The other eight realms would live. Even if I died." I looked to Cameron. He was staring at me. "It's the hard call. And Loki made it; even if he eventually realized that, maybe, we had some hope either way." I looked away again. "I told him to do it, dad. I told him to give me up… or at least, I said that I would… would let him make that decision, if that was the one he decided to make. I told him that I wouldn't fight it, and I didn't. And when Fraye came to separate us out of each other's minds, we separated ourselves, with no outside help. I separated from him."

Cameron was quiet for a very long time following this revelation. I let him process it in silence, allowed him time to think, before I said, "He wasn't so unselfish that that was the only reason he accepted. But…" I turned to him. "He wasn't so selfish that it didn't even factor into his decision, either." I turned to him. "I just thought you ought to know that."

It was only as I turned to him that I realized how badly he was shaking. As I started to stand, his hand whipped out and caught mine, trembling. I looked to him, startled, and only barely stopped myself from twisting that hand back and breaking his wrist. Thankfully, I managed to remember who he was before he lost any limbs.

He was still shaking. His hand on mine was quivering. (And some small part of me was disgusted to see it. Disgusted to see something so… weak.) He looked up to me, his ice blue eyes… pleading.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you do that, Natalie? You… you managed to kill her in the end, you managed to destroy her. If you thought you had any kind of chance… then why would you just… give up?"

"Do you know how many people died in that battle, dad?" I asked. "How many good people?" I remembered Shale's empty eyes staring up towards the sky and shook my head, trying to clear the image out. But it was replaced by others. Jotuns. Asgardians. Kiross. Some I knew, some I didn't. "It could have just been me. I mean, there were some people on Earth, too… but if we'd failed, dad, if Fraye had killed us all, there would have been no stopping her. She would have wiped out the nine realms; and we were their only defense." I turned away again, settling back into my chair. "But if it had just been me… had just been earth…" I sighed deeply. "That's the thing about being an Avenger, dad. You can't just think about yourself; and you can't just think about your planet. You have to think about everyone else first."

There was another silence. And then he asked, "And you want me to believe that… that he was just doing the same? That the crown meant nothing to him?"

"It didn't, towards the end," I said quietly. "But no." I looked to him. "I want you to trust me. Trust that… I know his reasons. That I know… that I know what I'm talking about with him." I shook my head. "You're never going to like him. He's probably never going to like you, either." I shrugged. "But wouldn't life just be so much easier if you didn't have to spend it on hate?"

He was quiet again. I stood, moving the lawn chair back to its place, and stepped in front of him. Carefully, I gave him a hug that was somewhat awkward in his sitting down position; and he hugged me back, tightly.

He didn't say another word as I left, back into the house. Still unable to sleep, I turned on the TV and let my brain park there for a while, not really paying much attention. Eventually, I began dozing on the couch, but was woken by the sharp stab of a nightmare; with quick steps, I headed back to my room, walked inside, and fell back down on the bed.

Loki stirred just momentarily as I pulled his arm back around myself, but he didn't protest. Instead, still half-asleep, his mind muddled, he pulled me closer to himself, until I could hear his breathing in my ear.

I let the rhythm of it lull me back into sleep; and, in moments, I was out.

---

"He's awake now," Fera told Loki in a quiet voice. "And trying to move, despite our protests. If you can keep him in one place…" She shrugged. Already, the grey-eyed Healer seemed… older, than she had before the war. A great deal of the kindness she had once had was now coated in stone. She had rested like everyone had, but she never seemed to do so for long, before she was back and working again.

Loki nodded to her as she walked away. Standing in front of the door, he braced himself, taking a deep breath. He had only woken once, earlier; and Steve had gone to speak with him, to tell him the details of who had lived and died, who was injured, etc. But then the Healers had been forced to sedate him again, and so Loki hadn't even had a chance to…

To…

The Trickster cringed. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to. But he knew it had to be done. He had to do this.

Taking another deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Thor, sitting upright, glanced up at the sound of the door opening. As he caught sight of Loki, there was an odd change in his face; his eyes seemed to almost… deaden. But Thor was not the sort of man who had ever truly understood what it meant to be dead inside. He was not the sort of man who could understand it.

The Thunderer's face was… guarded, as he watched his brother. Loki tried to think, to consider what he should say, what he could say. Could anything erase what had been done? Could anything convey the horrific regret he felt? Could anything repair the damage he'd done?

After a long pause, Loki lowered himself into the seat beside his brother. Thor turned, so that he could face him, and the two simply… watched each other, for a moment. Loki's eyes kept going to the bandages wrapped around his brother's torso. He knew that these were not his doing, but he almost wished they were. At least physical blows were easily healed.

Thor tried to open his mouth, as though he wished to speak. But Loki could not allow that. He couldn't let his brother say a word until he had said his piece; or he knew that he never would. For if Thor hated him, he would never be able to do anything but accept that hate; and if he forgave him, then Loki would not have been able to ask for that forgiveness. So he spoke first, with whatever words would come out of his mouth, keeping Thor from saying a word.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." Loki winced. No. He had meant for it to. He had made the decision for it to happen. Every last one of those decisions were his, they rested on his head. He could not pretend as though they did not.

"Or…" Loki tried to correct, clearing his throat. His words, always his unfailing allies, had abandoned him. Stripped of his Silver Tongue, of his goals and purposes, and sitting before his brother, Loki wondered if he had anything left of himself anymore. Of the man he used to be. "I didn't… I shouldn't…"

He sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to compose himself. Determined to march through this without my help, he didn't bother to brush his mind against mine, didn't bother to try and speak with me. Instead, he pulled his thoughts together; only to lose them again when he opened his eyes and saw Thor's lightning-blue ones staring back.

But, in losing those words, newer ones found their way to his tongue; truer ones, perhaps. Certainly more painful ones; and that was frequently how Loki distinguished truth from lie. Lies didn't hurt. Truth, however, could kill.

Thor waited him out patiently as he struggled with his phrasing, trying to say everything… perfectly. It was not possible. "In truth… I did intend for this. For Midgard to fall. For you to…" He looked down, his hands curling into fists in his lap. "To be imprisoned, to be… nothing. Nothing more than I was. Because I wanted you at my level, Thor, and in trying to make you into that, I only ever sank further, and…" He forced himself to stop talking before the words became incoherent. There was sweat on the back of his neck, but he ignored it. It took everything in his power to keep his mind away from mine, to keep us momentarily separated in the way that we were.

Loki brought his hands up and folded them, keeping his head down so that the lower half of his face was buried into his interlaced fingers. It took him a long moment before he could recover again; but when he did, it seemed he finally had his words constructed as he'd needed them. He did not look up, but merely lifted his head an inch off of his hands and spoke in a quiet, but steady voice.

"I wanted you to hate me… as I hated you. Because, I thought… that was our rightful place. To hate. As Jotuns and Asgardians always have." Loki closed his eyes, a thousand words racing in his head, as though trying to join the ones he was saying. But they remained inside of his mind, circling and whirling and repeating in soft whispers: Because I was the monster and you were the warrior sent to destroy me. You were the Prince, set out to protect his people against that creature which plagued them.

And you never hear a story about the monster winning, do you?

You never hear of the monster being the hero. Perhaps on Earth; but never on Asgard. Never.

"But…" Loki risked a glance at his brother. For the first time in his life, he couldn't read Thor's expression; and that terrified him. Thor was always an open book, his face as easy to read as words on a page. This… this never happened. "I was wrong." Loki looked down again, studying the flooring beneath his feet. "Because I don't hate you, brother. In truth… I never have. No matter how I may have wanted to… how could I?" His voice lowered as his hands went back to his lap. His eyes stayed on the ground. "You were everything that I ever wanted to be."

Again, there was a long silence. As Loki looked up to Thor's unfathomable expression, he realized that his spine was quivering. "But I can understand… if I succeeded. If I did make you hate me." His hands began to tremble as he forced the words out through his closing throat. "I just… wish for you to know… how truly… sorry I am, Th-"

He was cut off mid-word as Thor abruptly gripped him by the shirt and yanked Loki towards him. Loki cringed at the sudden movement, certain that he was about to feel a great deal of pain, but instead, Thor pulled him into a hug that almost cracked his spine; and likely did serious damage to Thor's own injuries. Not that he seemed to notice.

"You always did think too much." Thor said quietly, as Loki remained frozen in his grip. Thor's voice lowered. "Did I not tell you, Loki? Did I not say that I would always be your brother? Even if you did not think that you were mine?"

Loki felt his throat close entirely. In that second, he lost all control, all sense, all dignity; and he threw his arms around his brother's neck, so that he could avoid the bandaging on his ribs. Thor seemed to have no such qualms about his own injuries, and squeezed all the air out of his brother's body. Not that Loki even cared anymore.

After a moment, Loki pulled out of the embrace, not wishing to allow Thor to cause any more damage to himself. He shook his head slowly. "Sentimental fool," he said, the words barely more than a quiet breath. Thor heard anyway and grinned, punching his brother in the arm.

"I missed you too."

Loki half-rolled his eyes, but still, he was smiling. The weight of the world seemed to vanish from his shoulders as he looked at Thor's ever-brilliant, ever-smiling eyes. Maybe they could never be what they once were. In fact, they undoubtedly never could. There was too much history between them, too much blood spilt, and too much of a past best left forgotten. But maybe, these people they had changed into, these people they had become, were not so different anymore. Maybe they could still be… brothers.

There was a beat of silence. And then Loki stood, bidding his brother a quiet and gentle farewell before he walked to the door. He almost made it out when Thor's voice called him back. "And Loki?"

As the Trickster turned, he saw something a shade grimmer in the Thunderer's eyes. "Yes?"

"You arrived early this morning, correct?"

Loki's eyebrows furrowed. "Aye." He answered, confused.

Thor's expression was almost… stern. "And you went through the palace alone?"

An old feeling curled in Loki's stomach. The one where he knew that someone was close to discovering one of his secrets, and he wasn't sure if he should come clean immediately, so that he could handle this truth properly, or simply wait it out. Usually, as with this time, he chose the latter.

"Aye," Loki answered. He looked mildly sheepish. "Am I not allowed to do so any longer…?"

"You know that isn't the case," Thor said curtly. Though there was still a friendly light in his eyes, it was now more… understanding, then anything else. And it was a very grave kind of understanding indeed. "However, one of the sentries informed me that you were in the Chamber of Elliroth. And that, when questioned, you told him that you were on an errand for me."

Loki flinched. He turned away, shame on his face. Well, it wasn't entirely his fault anyway; if that irksome guard hadn't come snooping…

"I told him he was correct," Thor said, looking to Loki with eyes that were abruptly hard. Loki turned back to his brother, surprised. Thor so rarely covered for him in days gone by, being the terrible liar that he was… but, he supposed, this was merely a sentry, and not their father…

Thor's eyes softened the longer Loki looked at him, until he was forced to turn away from his pity. "Why Elliroth?" Thor asked quietly. "You have never shown interest in the Chamber before: why now?" When Loki didn't answer, Thor prodded, "Is it… her?"

Loki flinched. Thor, correctly, took this to be an affirmative. "Does Natalie know?"

Loki shook his head. "I cannot tell her; not until I am certain that it is possible." He looked to Thor, pleadingly. He knew that it was more than likely that he was not allowed there, particularly given how soon he would be returning to prison- some of the dead were already buried, though not many; it would not be long before Fraye was as well.

Thor sighed deeply. It was a resigned gesture; and in that moment, Loki felt a surge of gratitude; for he knew now for certain that Thor would not tell Odin. That he would allow Loki's work to continue. Looking up to Loki wearily, he asked, "Are you certain that you are prepared to deal with the consequences? Whatever effect her words have on Natalie… are you prepared for them?"

Loki shook his head no, slowly. "I will never be prepared," he answered quietly. "And even if it was only a matter of time before I could be… well, I no longer have time." He looked up to Thor, again with pleading eyes. "But Natalie deserves to know. And she… she deserves to have her voice heard." He took a step towards Thor, hands out and pleading. "This is something I must do, brother."

Thor looked at him for a long time before, sighing again, he nodded. "I know you must." He looked his brother in the eye. "But be careful?"

Loki nodded in turn. "Of course." For the briefest of seconds, Loki's old, teasing spark returned to his eye. "You know, perhaps better than anyone, that I am nothing if not careful."

And then he breezed out of the room, leaving his brother behind.

---

It was a few days after Fraye's defeat; and many of the 'honored dead'- the ones who had fallen in battle- had already been buried or burned. I attended very few of these ceremonies, though I lingered in the background during Shale's; and Loki cloaked us both so that we could attend Kiross'. We did not wish to cause a commotion by being seen there.

And now… well, we had known that this day would come for a while now. But neither of us was prepared for it.

There were few attending when Fraye's body was unceremoniously dumped into the hole that had been dug. The Avengers, of course; as well as Odin, Sigil-without his sister, which was odd- Fera, and a few assorted others, all there to be certain, like we were, that she was truly dead. A great majority of them were Jotun, though there was the occasional Asgardian interspersed there. Fury, too, had arrived; S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted their eye on this, I supposed, and more than just a few of their lower operatives on the scene.

I watched Fraye's body fall. It was wrapped in a black sheet- that I had first lifted to be certain it was her- that made her look even smaller than she was. Almost immediately, ash and dirt- the combination that coated her entire home world- was shoveled over her again. I watched it fall with empty eyes; the only reason that her body hadn't been burned was because when they (the Asgardian group who had been assigned to the task) went to do so I had stood in front of her body with my arms folded. It had been a hard task, to guard her body for the next few hours while this newest development was discussed, but I had been adamant; which surprised many people. Looking at the scars on my arms, I doubted that anyone could see why I would defend this woman so whole-heartedly.

What they didn't understand, however, was that I wasn't defending her. I was defending what was left of a species.

Every last person on this world had died in shadow and flame. This world was covered in the ashes of the dead. This planet … it had seen enough of fire. At the very least, the last living remainder of this species should be buried in its soil.

I didn't explain this, however; but I still had a few very surprising allies. Loki was the first; I hadn't asked, or expected, for him to care enough about this to stand beside me. But of course he did, taking a seat in the ashes next to me as I sat in front of Fraye's body, making certain that no one touched it. We talked quietly to pass the time, discussing minor issues and old memories, but never anything of consequence.

But the longer we stayed there, the more people came to protest with us; or, in the case of Sigil, to sit beside us. He was the first Jotun, but he was by no means the last. By the time the Asgardians returned to re-discuss my position with me, our group was rather large.

I was possibly more startled than anyone- Fraye had been the Jotun's greatest threat for so long now- but the Jotuns had seemed willing enough to go along with it. And willing enough to defend this decision. They each gave their own reasons for doing so, but one- a man who was unusually tall, even for a giant, and a member of the old King's guard, named Steprin- said that he was here because it was the will of the Shadowslayers; which gave me a little chill. Being a legend was… odd.

Eventually, it was decided that Fraye would be buried, if only to avoid a conflict that may well have ended up brewing. And now Loki and I stood with the meager crowd and watched the body being covered. As I stared deep into the gaping hole in the ground at the body, wrapped in its sheet, I again found myself noting how small she was, how fragile she looked. It was a façade; but at the same time, it was not. She may have been stronger than any of us, with her powers, her 'immortality'… but she was so… shattered, inside. Weak and fractured, this was a woman had lost everything when she was little more than a child, a woman who saw ghosts of her home world and had to hear them screaming in her ears when her head remained silent… who believed that she would be haunted for the rest of eternity, never able to join in with the dead…

I swallowed and took a step away from the would-be grave to avoid the cloud of ash that was thrown up with each shovelful of dirt. Vaguely, I recalled the ghost who had assisted us, the specter in her mind who was simply tired of seeing his sister spill so much blood. The way he looked, the words he said, he must have been her brother-and likely her younger, at the time of his death. I shuddered; he was not a true ghost, just a memory that tormented her; but I wondered, what it must be like, to be trapped inside of the head of someone you loved, to be screaming so constantly, knowing that you were hurting them… but knowing what they would do if you ever stopped…

I wondered what it meant, to be a ghost…

Loki's hand found its way in mine, and he squeezed it gently. He was standing stiffly, formally, his eyes cold and his features empty, putting on his old, uncaring face again… but I knew that was what it was. He, too, was… conflicted, about the sight before him.

We waited and watched until we could see no more of the shroud covering Fraye; then until we could no longer tell that there was something beneath the ground, then until the last shovelful of ash had been thrown and the men holding the shovels leaned against them. There were no words for Fraye; no send-off for the child of shadow who had been through so much. Clint even spat on the ground- though not directly on the grave- as he turned away. I looked into the distance, at the ash around me. I studied the planet that I had bled on, the planet I had killed on, the planet that part of me had died on.

A hand fell on my shoulder; it was an unfamiliar hand, one that I didn't know (though lately, anyone who tried to walk up behind me that wasn't Loki tended to be considered 'unfamiliar'), and it made me jump. Even as I heard a curt-but-quiet voice ask if everything was all right, my first reaction was to whirl around, defenses up. I knocked the hand aside and threw a palm heel towards the speaker's face. It was blocked, but only barely; and immediately my other hand was up to strike again.

I managed to pull back only when I saw Fury's face. He raised his other hand to block this strike, but already my hand was falling back to my side. I blinked a few times, trying to slow my heart, as he said wryly, "I assume that's a no."

I blinked again. "You assume correctly," I answered after a moment, in a dark tone. Because I wasn't all right. And Fury, of all people, should understand that it's not a smart move to sneak up on someone who had been through the crap that I had. And because he of all people should know that, I was certain that he did know that;and that his walking up behind me like that had been nothing more than a test, which irked me. "What do you need, Fury?" I asked, keeping my tone coldly professional.

"Actually, it's about what you need," Fury answered. "Because I'm fairly certain that you'll want to know this."

I lifted an eyebrow. Around me, everyone had pretty much dispersed; people were falling into little groups, discussing things together. Loki, talking with his brother, kept shooting glances in my direction, curious as to what Fury would have to discuss with me. He kept tabs on the conversation as he spoke with Thor. The other Avengers pretty much spoke with each other, though Natasha and Sigil seemed pretty deep in conversation, as were Steve and Steprin, the Jotun who had helped me defend Fraye's body. He had enough scars to be an old Soldier, so it wasn't difficult to guess the reason behind their camaraderie.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has managed to help reestablish the old government. Other countries are doing the same. It's taking a while, but things are returning to normal. It could have been a lot worse; but seeing as Loki pretty much just left everyone to their business after he took over, things have been easier."

I nodded at that. Though Loki had changed a few things with his regime, I knew that, so long as a person kneeled when he was in sight, or followed certain laws, he had left most everyone alone. He could have made things a lot worse, but he'd never really had the ambition to do so; instead, he merely sat on his throne, wondering what the point would be in more blood, in the chains of slavery.

"We've caught two of his generals: Shay Whitacre and Jenner Goldsclove," Fury went on. "Both of which are going to stand trial for their part in what happened."

I grimaced. Shay and Jenner were hardly innocent, and they had been chosen by Fraye for a reason… but still, Loki felt as though a vast majority of the responsibility should fall on his shoulders, and his alone. Still, I had to admit, some darker, envious side of me was rather glad to know that Shay was to be imprisoned. "And Murmur?"

"Vanished. Haven't seen him since Loki got rid of him. We figure he went into hiding almost immediately, seeing where the regime was going."

I nodded. That fit; Murmur was a slippery, sneaky little thing. I hadn't even met the guy for myself, and even I knew that.

"Since Fraye's buried now, the Council wants him off of Earth," Fury gestured to Loki as he said 'him'. "They're willing to give him a day or two; but that's it. After that, they never want him on our planet again."

I winced. "Understandable," I admitted. I looked to him. For some reason, I found myself falling back into an old pattern with the spy; speaking with him as I always spoke with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, curt and to the point. Each conversation consisting of nothing more than what was necessary to get information. "And what's the official story on the whole thing? Fraye, Loki… everything?"

Fury studied me for a brief moment, as though trying to decide if he should say his next words. His good eye was hard, stern. But eventually, he said, "They think that he's dead."

Both eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath my bangs. Fury continued, ignoring my surprise. "The official story is that he and Fraye were allies; but a dispute took the two of them off-world. Loki freed the Avengers in a last desperate attempt; and though they managed to kill her, he didn't make it." His gaze was even as he said this, his voice toneless, completely without emotion. Reciting the story he must have been repeating for days. "No one outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. knows of you or your involvement."

For some reason, that sparked an old anger inside of me. I felt it stirring in my chest, a bare flicker of flame. "Why not?" I asked. "Why is it so much harder to believe that he's changed than it is to believe that he's dead?"

Fury didn't miss a beat. "Because people die every day," he answered. "But most never change."

As I looked at him, digesting that, he added, "You're never going to be able to convince an entire planet that the man who had enslaved them has 'reformed'." He shrugged. "But these guys are immortal anyway, right? A few hundred years or so, and it shouldn't even matter."

"It wouldn't," Loki confirmed, stepping up behind me suddenly. Fury seemed to take note of how I did not jump when he arrived, did not turn and launch an attack on him, as I had with Fury. Well, Loki was different. He was a part of myself, my other half; and you can't exactly scare your right hand with your left one, can you?

"Though I doubt that it will matter, by that time," Loki added, his voice lowering just slightly. And then he turned back to Fury. "Thank you, Director," he said sincerely. "For everything."

Fury nodded; he seemed to recognize that he was being dismissed; and though it seemed to annoy him somewhat, he backed away from the conversation gracefully enough. But Loki had done it for Fury's own good; because I was starting to get pissed. Oh, I recognized the truth in his words. I knew that he was probably right, that he'd been doing this a lot longer than I had. But, after all this time, after all of these mistakes, Loki had finally, finally done something right.

And no one was allowed to know about it?

I stuffed my hands deep into my pockets and stalked back to where Fraye was buried. It was completely absent of a tombstone, with nothing at all to act as a marker, to tell someone that this was where a destroyer of worlds was buried. No one cared enough about her for that. Not even me.

Loki followed after a moment. I was feeling kinda cranky and didn't really want to talk to him, but he elected to ignore this anyway. It was probably a foolish decision, but he didn't seem to care.

"It is a better rendition of my fate than I expected," Loki told me in a quiet voice, standing just a few inches away from me, so that I could feel the cold radiating from his skin, but not actually touching me. "I am surprised that they were kind enough to call me dead."

I snorted derisively. We were quiet for a moment.

And then I complained, "It's just…not fair."

Loki shrugged mildly. "Life frequently isn't."

"No, come on!" I whirled to him. "This was… this was your greatest triumph! You defeated a nightmare! You defeated a destroyer of worlds, you… you fought against everything that you thought you were… and everyone on Earth still thinks… that you're a monster."

His head tilted to the side, his green eyes watchful. And then, recognition in his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, as he said, "Like your father thought you were, for those years that you spent apart?"

I met his gaze, my eyes tightening, a little, white-hot needle of pain stabbing me through the heart. I sighed deeply. I had spent thirteen years with my father thinking of me as some terrible, horrific creature. And even though he had been so far apart from me, so distant from my actual life… it had still shaped me. Formed me into… what I was.

"Yes, Loki," I conceded quietly, glancing down. "Exactly like what my father thought." I looked to his face again. "But the more that someone else thinks of you like that, the more inclined you are to believe it. The more you want to believe it." I shook my head. "I just don't want you to have to deal with that. Not after all this."

He smiled wryly at me, shaking his head. "Only one mortal's opinion may form me, Frost." He told me, reaching forwards so that he could just quickly run his thumb across my cheek. "And you have already made your opinion quite clear."

Unable to help myself, I smiled weakly back at him. Sighing and shaking my head, I looked back to where Fraye was sleeping beneath the ground. The two of us fell silent again, the world itself… silent.

"You think she'll ever come back?" I had to ask, running my hand along my wounds. Loki carefully removed it, holding my fingers in his own, so that I was forced to stop rubbing the raw skin.

"Perhaps," he answered softly. "But only in dreams."

"Unless this is the dream," I said quietly.

He didn't respond.

We were standing there for a while before, one by one, the other Avengers convened around us. Eventually, Clint walked over, looking somewhat involved in his thoughts. Then he clapped eyes on Loki.

"So," he said cheerily. "I heard that you're dead."

"Apparently so," Loki answered tonelessly.

"And that you'll have to go back to prison soon," Natasha added, with much less enthusiasm. "Since you're no longer welcome on Earth."

Loki and I both visibly grimaced. The team caught it, but didn't comment. "'Spose so," I mumbled in response.

Stark sighed theatrically. "And they'd probably send us out to hunt you down if the two of you decided to run." He said, shaking his head. "So that's out."

I gave him a small glare, unable to help myself. The others nodded their heads and looked down, as though considering what had occurred, thinking over options.

It was Steve who finally broke the silence. Turning away from us, he said, in a blatantly nonchalant voice, "I don't see how half an hour could hurt anyone."

There was a heavy, weighted pause as that sank in. And then Clint shrugged. "Hey, I'm pretty beat. Half an hour without chasing Loki down sounds good to me." He tipped a wink in my direction, then turned away, following after Steve. I blinked at the two of them as they separated from the group. And I realized what they meant: half an hour. Half an hour of a head start.

Half an hour to let us both run, if we wanted.

Tony put on his best 'considering-all-variables' face, tapping his chin a few times, thoughtfully. "And I'm starving," he concluded at last, walking after them, catching up easily. "Half an hour seems like enough time to go get some pie."

"Pie sounds great," Banner added, joining them seconds later. The crowd around us was fast diminishing, quickly leaving Loki and I behind, alone and unsupervised. My throat felt tight.

"Absolutely fantastic," Natasha agreed with Bruce, giving me a meaningful look as she went. It was filled with… something. I didn't even know what.

Thor clasped his brother's shoulder briefly, and then my hand, before he turned to the others. "I have never heard of this mortal cuisine," he admitted.

"Oh, that settles it, then!" Tony exclaimed. "We must educate the uneducated, after all!"

The six of them fell into easy banter, as they so frequently did, as they walked towards the group that had brought them there; and towards the Tesseract. All the way over there, I saw that Odin was watching us carefully; but if he knew what was happening, then he did not seem to be willing to intercede. He just seemed… curious, as though wondering what Loki would do.

Loki turned to me, his eyes a small degree rounder than usual. His eyebrows pulled together and up, questioning and… childlike.

I swallowed. I'll go, I told him, firmly, making my stance known. If you ask me to. If you want me to. I'll run with you across whatever universes we have to run. And I'll stay with you. I placed a hand on his arm. It's your decision.

Loki looked to me. So many of the decisions that I had placed in his hands had left nothing but heartache and destruction in their wake; but I gave the decision to him nonetheless. Because it was still his decision to make.

I studied his eyes as he watched me; but after a while, he looked back to Thor. Watching his blonde head getting smaller in the distance; though not by a great deal. I ran from him once before, Loki answered quietly. Ran from… from this life. Because it was too… difficult to comprehend. He looked back to me. Too difficult to understand that mortals were equal, that my brother could care for me, that you could care for me… He sighed quietly. To run again, simply because my life may be difficult again… it would be an act of cowardice.

I gave him the teeniest, tiniest, little itty bittiest of smiles. He looked me in the eye and said, I will not be a coward again.

My smile grew. I slipped my arms around his neck, much to his chagrin; he tended to get a little more reserved when he was around other people. Well then, can I just say that, as much as I would not have thought less of you if you had run… I'm incredibly proud of you now that you didn't?

He shrugged mildly. You can say it all you wish.

True, true. I nodded carefully, acknowledging that. Or I can just do this.

I stood on my tip-toes to press my lips against his. It was brief. Barely a few seconds long. And then I broke off, grinned, and turned, chasing after the Avengers. I caught up to them easily, slinging one arm around Thor's shoulder, the other around Steve's. "Hey, screw pie. I want shwarma."

Though there were many surprised faces, Clint immediately groaned. "Ugh, I never wanna have shwarma again!"

Steve, after studying my face for a second, seemed inclined to agree. "I couldn't even taste it last time," he admitted, walking with the rest of us.

"Oh, come on, I've never had it before!" I complained, as Loki came up next to me. His eyes were mostly on the Avengers, but he risked a glance towards Odin at one point. The Old King had an unfathomable look in his eye as he nodded towards his adopted son, just once.

"What happened to educating the uneducated?" I demanded, turning to Tony. He shrugged.

"She has a point," he told Clint. "So… pie for Thor, shwarma for Nat… and hell, Loki can try both." Stark turned to me. "Unless you ever introduced pie to him?"

"Not directly, no."

"Then he shall learn!" Tony announced boisterously, earning himself a few looks from those gathered around the Tesseract. We laughed at Stark's incredible ability to be a moron as we waited for everyone to gather, talking amongst ourselves. When everyone had gathered and returned to Asgard (the Jotuns would return to their home world later), we continued to talk together, until we were dropped off on Midgard. Loki remained with us, in the Tower, unseen by the rest of the world that thought him dead.

Together, Loki and I sat, talked, and laughed with our team.

---

"Why did you ever let yourself think that it was anything but a dream?" April asked, twirling a shadow blade around between her fingers. My blood dripped onto her hands, drizzling down from her fingertips, all the way down to her wrist, lines of crimson that ended in ruby drops. She gave me a smile, sugar-sweet and filled with honey.

I looked at her in terror, trying to wrench my wrists off of the chair, but the shadows that held them bound were as tight as ever. My head screamed. I called out his name, over and over again, trying to reconcile myself with the fact that he was not answering anymore…

"Damn, you're pathetic, Knick-Knack," April said, shaking her head. Using the old nickname; she never liked calling me that so much, but on occasion she'd break it out. For old time's sake. "I mean really, look at you." She was in my face suddenly, her hands like claws, digging fingernails into my arms as she gripped me, her brilliant, shining green eyes the barest inch away from me.

"He gives you up and leaves you here with me… and still you call his name." Her last words were cooed out. She batted her eyelashes a few times, coating her words with so much syrup it sounded as though she wished to wretch. "Still you dream of him, because he's so perfect and he's everything you ever wanted… Blech." She leaned back, releasing my arms, leaving crescent-moon cuts embedding in my skin as she did so. "You know what else he is, Nat?"

I flinched. Because she never used that name. Never. She took a step back, teeth gleaming as she bared them in a vicious snarl.

"He's my murderer." She said dangerously. Her shadow blade found its way under my chin, pressed against my throat. "So do you really think that I could ever allow you two to be together?"

She grinned with all of the sweet, loving malice that she'd had on her face for four months now, and raised the shadow blade. She brought it down, to slice my throat…

And I woke up gasping.

Instinctively, I searched around for Loki, trying to find him beside me. When I didn't, I panicked, turning on the lamp and searching the room. It took me a long moment to remember that the eyes were the slowest way that I could find him; I scanned my mind instead, and immediately found him there; standing in my parents' backyard, having a conversation with…

With my father.

I swallowed tightly. Curious-and-cautious, I listened in, trying not to let Loki notice my presence.

It seemed that a majority of the conversation was already over with; and seemed composed mostly of 'I-don't-like-you-and-you-don't-like-me-but-for-Natalie's-sake-I'll-tolerate-you-just-don't-push-your-luck'. As I listened in, Loki was concluding with, "-No longer matters, regardless. I will leave your world soon enough."

"No," My father answered. "Definitely not soon enough."

Loki gave him a wry, sarcastic smile in response to that. Cameron didn't even look at him. The two men were silent for a while; Loki still hadn't noticed me watching, thankfully.

"In truth…" the Trickster said quietly after a moment, "The reason I wished to speak with you, Cameron Frost, is because…" he hesitated. "I wanted to ask something of you. Something I have no right asking."

Cameron turned to him. Sighing deeply, he folded his arms and shifted his weight to his left foot. "This oughta be good," he muttered.

"I have left a great deal of damage on this world; more so in this home than in any other." Loki sighed deeply. "And in order to, perhaps, repair some of that damage… I must ask for you to trust me."

Cameron lifted an eyebrow. "This oughta be really good." He commented darkly.

Loki paused for a second, until Cameron's defensive stance relaxed a touch. And then, carefully, holding his hands out to the Cameron, he stepped towards the other man. Cameron watched him warily, until Loki was less than a foot away. The Trickster's hand rose, reaching towards Cameron's forehead.

Cameron flinched. "What are you-"

"I asked for your trust," Loki reminded him. Cameron swallowed as Loki's fingers rested there, two-and his thumb- on his forehead, the other two on his temple; the other hand rose and went into the same position on the other side of Cameron's head.

"If you-" Cameron began to threaten. Loki cut him off smoothly.

"If I do anything to you, your daughter will take it out a thousand fold on me." There was something incredibly sardonic in his eye as he added, "She is a far more… vengeful person, as of late."

Damn straight, I thought. But I knew Loki's motives, and I was grinning from ear to ear.

There was a long moment's pause as Loki concentrated; and then pale, blue-green light began to dance along his hands, embedded in his fingerprints, weaving in the spaces between his fingers. Cameron gasped softly-I'm sure the process wasn't entirely painless- as the light eased into his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly, hands clenching in fists at his sides; I was certain that he couldn't move, otherwise his survival instincts would've kicked in and made him smash Loki's nose in. The Son of Laufey ignored the pained look that twisted my father's face, focusing instead on the work before him.

It was a very long half minute before Cameron's eyes rolled back into his head. I was already on my way there when he collapsed to the ground; Loki kept him from falling, and I stepped in quickly, lifting him off the ground. Though Loki raised an eyebrow at me, though he didn't seem overly surprised to see me. The two of us dragged my father's unconscious body back inside, depositing him on the couch before we fell back a few steps, turning to each other.

"You get 'em all?" I asked, though I knew the answer. He nodded.

"As far as I can tell," he replied smoothly. "When he wakes, he should be entirely free of damage." Despite his calm, relaxed demeanor, there was sweat on his skin, and he looked a few shades grayer than normal. This was part of the reason why I'd never asked him for his help on this in the first place; because we both knew that he wasn't certain he could do it. It seemed that he was now willing to try, at least.

"But whether the lesions are gone or not," he said, giving me a tired smirk, "I highly doubt that anything can be done to save the mortal's poor, stubborn mind."

I rolled my eyes, smacking him in the arm as I turned to leave my father to his sleep. Loki followed moments afterwards, falling into step beside me as I went down the hallway. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and found myself smiling. Wrapping my arm around his, I said, "You're a good man, Loki."

"I'm a good monster," he replied quietly. "There is a difference." He looked down the hallway. "Men can do good deeds. Monsters can only repair the bad ones."

"Well, sometimes that's what the world needs," I answered, not missing a beat. "A little reminder that the bad can actually be fixed."

He smiled gently at me. "Perhaps," he conceded. As we entered my room, he changed the subject, asking, "What woke you?"

I blinked, shivered at the memory of the nightmare, and shook my head to clear it. "Nothing," I answered. "Just… bad dreams."

His eyes tightened. "I'm sorry. I should not have left you. But…" he sighed quietly. "My time is limited."

"Hey, if it meant that you can fix things, I'll deal with the nightmares," I said firmly, sitting down in the bed, pulling my blanket up over my legs. Loki sat down next to me, and reflexively, I tucked myself into his side, allowing his arm to fall around me. We just… fit so well together. I closed my eyes, resting on his chest.

"What was it about?" He asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"Your nightmare."

I swallowed. "Nothing," I answered gently. "Nothing… nothing out of the ordinary."

Loki noticed my careful dance of words. The almost-lie worried him, but he had been telling those for a while now; I knew that there was a secret he'd been keeping for a few days, about something he did every time we went to Asgard, and I had not been pestering him about it. He decided to give me the same courtesy; and so, for now, we left each other some privacy in our own heads.

We were quiet for a long while, sitting in the dark. But I couldn't close my eyes. The nightmare image of April in Fraye's place danced behind my lids every time that I tried.

What do you want from me? I found myself asking her in my head. I can't give him up. I can't be that unselfish anymore. I closed my eyes, trying to block her out of my mind. After everything I've done… don't I deserve to be happy?

But of course, I was given no response. Sighing deeply to myself, I curled up closer to Loki, and forced my eyes to stay shut until I fell asleep.

---

I was woken the next morning by the sound of the phone ringing. I stirred; no one seemed to be answering it, so, sliding out from beneath Loki's arm, I went out of the room and managed to answer it just before it would have hung up.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Frost? It's Osner," a young, youthful voice that I recognized from somewhere came through the speakers. I couldn't quite place my thumb on it, until he said, in mild exasperation, "Please don't make me go through the code words; Loki's dead, I don't really think his spies are listening in any more-"

"Benny?"

There was silence on the other end. My eyes were wide, and my hand had tightened on the phone, my knuckles turning white. I was straining my brains, trying to remember Benjamin's last name: Osner sounded right.

"Who is this?" He asked, his voice abruptly very dark and dangerous. He sounded… older. I'd never heard such… menace in his tone, such malice in hiswords. Benny- my Benny- had changed.

But it was definitely still him. "Benny… I can't freaking believe it…"

"Who is this?" He repeated, his words more dangerous than ever.

"It's me, Ben," I said, my eyes still wide, my heart still light with wonder. "It's Natalie."

Another silence. Then, "That's a sick joke, whoever you are."

A little stab of pain flared in my heart. There was so much… hate in him. What happened to the Benny I knew? What happened to the laid-back, casual kid that I'd once had a crush on? Had he really changed so much…?

"It's not a joke," I answered, my tone a little harder. "I'll prove it. Where are you?"

"Nice try," came the response, followed by a click as he hung up. For a long moment, I stared at the dead phone in my hands, trying to reconcile that voice with the one I'd known a long time ago.

And then I was moving. It didn't take me long to react anymore; every second counted in wars, and every second counted in day-to-day life. You had to seize what little time you had.

I went back to my room, eyeing Loki on the bed. I grabbed a quick outfit, went to the bathroom to change, then ran a brush through my hair and headed back to my room again. I glanced at myself in the mirror; the T-shirt and light pants covered a majority of the scars. The elbow-length fingerless glove on the one hand covered the worst of them; Loki's name in my arm.

I knew that writing a note would be unnecessary, that Loki get whatever information he wanted from me when he woke up, so I got ready to leave without writing one. Slinging a purse with some cash- mine, I had a stash at my parent's house that neither of them knew about- over my shoulder, and pulling on a pair of sneakers, I headed out the door quickly. I could easily walk to Benny's house, but I wanted to be there fast; so I took my parent's car, hoping they wouldn't mind too much.

My driving was a little rusty-it had been four months where I'd thought the information was pretty useless- but I quickly fell into the swing of it. I almost took one or two wrong turns on the way, but soon enough I found myself in front of my old mortal friend's place.

He was running out the door as I pulled the car up, backpack over his shoulder. It was a thick pack, stuffed to the point where the zippers looked like they would burst. He caught sight of the car and seemed to curse, high-tailing it through his neighbor's yard, jumping the fence. Frowning, I piled out of the car and headed after him.

It didn't take me long to catch him, but it took longer than I'd expected. He had these long, fast strides, and his lanky body was a little thicker, more muscular than I remembered. He was… fast. I was out of breath, calling his name repeatedly, by the time I managed to tackle him to the ground.

"What the hell, Benny?!" I demanded, jumping off of him and sitting back, watching him for any attempt to run again. He whirled on me, eyes on fire, trying to fall into a defendable position as he made to scramble to his feet… and then he caught sight of my face. His eyes went wide, his limbs a little more slack in shock.

"Natalie?" he breathed. "It… It…" He shook his head, sitting upright and falling out of his defensive position. "It's really you!"

"No shit?" I asked, bleeding sarcasm. It seemed to go right over his head. He blinked a few times, shaking out his head before looking back to me, as though trying to determine that I was really there. He reached forwards, shoving my arm carefully.

"Not an illusion," he muttered. "You're…" he looked to me, eyes wide. All of the malice that I'd heard over the phone vanished into childlike innocence as he said, in an awed tone, "You're alive."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, yeah."

A laugh burst out of him. "You're alive!" he exclaimed again, reaching forwards abruptly and throwing his arms around me. I stiffened in his grasp, then relaxed; Benjamin was a friend. We used to hug all the time. I didn't have to be paranoid about him. He was laughing again, but when he broke off, sitting back, he smacked me in the arm. "What the hell, Natalie? You scared us all half to death! I mean, Loki takes over, and you just drop off the face of the planet?!"

More than he knew. I lifted an eyebrow as he went on, "And your parents… they said you were dead, I mean, they brought you up in practically every meeting…"

"Meeting?" I cut in, confused.

"The revolution!" He answered, as though this should be obvious. "Whenever they got the generals together, or gave orders or had a pep talk or whatever the hell, they'd always talk about everyone that was lost, and all the people who died, and they brought you up like, all the time. 'We lost our own daughter' and all that!" He shook his head violently. "And I mean, yeah, you worked for the government, it only made sense that Loki would've had Fraye take you out…" His eyes were still wide, alight with joy and wonder. A friend who he'd thought was dead was, after all this time, actually still living…

The pieces clicked together in my head. My eyes widened. "You fought with the revolution?" I asked, my voice quiet. "You were one of the rebels?"

"One?" He asked, then scoffed. "I was the best!" At my little smile, he toned down on the boasting. "I was the message-runner. Communications. I got people's orders to them." He shrugged. "It helped that your parents knew me." He glanced down to the stuffed backpack at his side. "That's why I was running. When I heard… when you said… I thought that maybe the Frosts had been compromised. Loki had a lot of faithful soldiers; and a lot of people holding grudges against the revolutionaries. It was possible that they still wanted- still want- us dead. So when you said that you were… well, you, I thought that they had found your parents… and were coming for me next." He looked sheepishly at the bag, pulling one of the zippers until it closed more tightly. "Had to pack in a hurry," he added, almost awkwardly.

And then he looked at me. "But what… what happened to you, Natalie? Where were you?"

I looked back at him for a moment, my mind scrambling to think of a decent response. Everyone knew I worked with the government, even if they didn't strictly know what it was that I

did. Like Benny said, it only made sense that I'd been killed; or imprisoned. I went with the second option.

"Eh… he had me locked up, with a bunch of others," I answered, the lie tasting bitter. I didn't like the idea of everyone still thinking that Loki was the bad guy. The villain. But if I was to have any semblance of a life on Earth, then I had to play the part. "I wasn't exactly top priority, but…" I bit my lip. I had my own rebellious streak to contend with, and it prompted me to say my next words. "I dunno, I saw him on occasion. He looked really…" I trailed off, looking for the right phrasing, before I said, "Sick." I shook my head. "Like a real whack job. I don't think he even knew what he was doing."

It wasn't enough. But it was something. And it would have been enough to piss Fury off, so it worked.

Benny gave me an odd look. He seemed to recognize that there was something off with what I was saying. And then, carefully, he said, "Natalie… wasn't your boyfriend named Loki?"

Shit.

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. I tried to look away, to act nonchalant and flippant, but for a long moment, Benjamin's dark, ocean-blue eyes held mine in place. Briefly, I held that gaze, without fear, without explanations. I matched his eyes steadily, evenly, emptily.

And then I looked away. "Still is," I answered, keeping the bite out of my tone and keeping my voice cordial and polite. "He's been getting a lot of crap about it, too," I added, shooting a grin in his direction. "What does that have to do with anything?"

There was suspicion in his eyes. Suspicion that wasn't there four months ago, wasn't there in the days that I used to hang out with him. He'd always trusted me, taken me at my word. And now…

"Nothing, I guess," He said at last, though his face still held doubt. I stared back at him defiantly, as though daring him to question me, to question the truth in my words. I snorted.

"What?" I asked, reaching for his backpack so that I could stand. "Come on, Benny, you don't think I had anything to do with that Loki, do you?" I turned and handed the pack to my old friend, the boy I'd once had a crush on, who I now could see as nothing more than a minor threat…

He smiled weakly. "Guess not," he answered, taking the pack. The zipper caught on my glove as he pulled it over his shoulder, pulling the glove down my arm. "Woah, sorry!" he said quickly, trying to detach it…

And, though I scrambled to pull it up, his eyes caught on the letters on the inside of my forearm. It hadn't pulled down entirely, so the whole word was not revealed, but two letters were: L and O, as well as the very beginning of the K.

Benjamin swallowed thickly. I yanked the glove up, hard, so that it covered the treacherous letters.

For a long moment, Benny just stared at me. I stared back, resolutely and defiantly, my mouth set into a hard line. Pulling the loose thread that still attached my glove to the zipper of his backpack, I turned around.

At first, I was just going to walk in silence until I got back to my car. But the feel of his stare on the back of my neck- childlike again, innocent again, like my old Benny again- made me stop. I sighed deeply, hanging my head, my shoulders drooping.

"Four months is a long time," I said, making sure that my voice was loud enough to carry to him. "Wouldn't you say?" I lifted my head, staring at the street ahead of me, still not turning to Benny. "A lot can happen in four months." I glanced over my shoulder at my old friend. "People change."

And then I turned and walked back to my car.

---

Later that day, Loki and I were back in Asgard again. I sighed to myself as I slouched into the seat. The Healing Rooms were far less crowded now, following the whole battle. There were still a few extra people here and there- Jotuns, mostly- but a vast majority of them had dispersed, gone home, to their friends and family. Even a majority of the Avengers were back on Earth, making statements that followed along with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lies (Tony did not like having to read everything off of a script, but he'd eventually been convinced). Thor was still here; the Prince had to remain with his people. But it was just me and the brothers; everyone else was back at home.

And right now, I wasn't entirely certain as to where Loki was, either.

I'd fallen into conversation with a Jotun; and by the time it had finished, Loki had slipped away. I'd poked around in my head to see where he'd gone, but he had tightened around the thought, throwing up hasty walls, apologizing quietly as he did so. I didn't like the idea of him keeping secrets, but the man had given up a throne, traveled to another planet, and defeated his worst nightmare just to save me. If I couldn't trust him after that, I might as well have hung it up. So I let him have his secret; he wouldn't be able to keep it for long, and I was certain that he didn't intend to.

But for now… well, now I was bored. All by myself in Asgard, with nothing better to do but sit back and watch as everyone passed me by; no one else seemed willing to talk to me.

"Lady Frost?"

Spoke too soon.

I turned to the speaker, smiling at the Jotun face. "Sigil." I greeted him, giving him a quick nod. "Good to see you made it out alive."

A little smile danced on his lips. I suspected that the mage-and his sister- liked me. We'd only had the one encounter, the one conversation, but I spoke his language. Even if it wasn't my native tongue. "And you," he said, cordially enough, though that wicked spark that was always so present in his eyes now danced. He gestured for me to walk beside him and asked, "May we speak?"

Not like I had anything better to do, anyway. I nodded and stood, falling into step beside him. The two of us walked through the palace halls as we spoke, through the places that had not been barred from visitors.

"I saw… heard that Kiross was dead," I told the Jotun after a moment. "You and your world have my deepest sympathies. He seemed to be a great King."

Sigil seemed suddenly… weary. "Oh, may we abandon politics for a single conversation?" he inquired. "You have a talent with words, Lady Frost, but I know that you are a woman of few." He rubbed his forehead with two fingers, as though trying to clear away a headache. "Or, at least, that you do not prefer political speeches over simple, honest conversation."

I smirked at him. "But is anything honest with you, my dear mage?" I inquired, my tone light, almost teasing. He gave me a smile that was almost grateful; if I had intended to stick with politics, I wouldn't have bothered with the more lighthearted comment.

"Oh so rarely," he responded, words dancing with the spark in his eye. We were silent briefly. Then he went on, "Kiross' death… is a loss. He was indeed an excellent king." His eyes were suddenly hard. "But not everyone is strong enough to stand against the Child of Shadow… and come out a Shadowslayer."

I shivered, as I so frequently did whenever I heard that name. "Maybe it was strength," I said quietly. "Maybe it was just dumb luck."

"Are they not the same thing, in the end?" Sigil mused. At my look, he shrugged very mildly. "A person may make themselves stronger, depending on their own will to do so. But more frequently, a man is born with whatever strength he has: strength of muscle, strength of magic, strength of will. And you; your teammate, the female? She spoke to me of how your abilities were acquired. Was that not-as you put it- 'dumb luck'?" He looked away from me. "More often than not, you do not choose your strength. Your strength chooses you."

I looked at him, this mage with such great power inside of him, but such a short stature to hold it inside… I gazed at the scars that roped around his arms, his chest, his neck. Scars given to him by stronger, taller giants, who thought him too weak to live… Given that, I could easily see how he would think of everything as random chance. After all, he had not chosen his stature, had not chosen his life.

I looked ahead again, contemplative. "In either case," I said at last. "I am glad that our worlds are safe."

Sigil's red eyes clicked onto the scars on my arm- I didn't hide them while I was here- and he asked, "Even at such a cost to you?"

I followed his gaze, studying Loki's name in the light. After a moment, I nodded. "Even at such a cost," I agreed. "I'm an Avenger. It's my job. My duty."

There was something in Sigil's eyes as I answered this, something in the way that he smiled. As though I had just passed a test. He turned away, gazing forwards. "Thank you, Lady Frost," he said quietly. "That is what I wished to know."

He turned abruptly-dismissing me, I was certain- and went down a corridor that I hadn't been expecting him to travel down. I watched him leave, halting at the sudden dismissal. He was a strange one, no doubt about that.

Pushing the encounter out of my mind, I walked back to where I had been sitting; but was stopped by Loki a few moments later, before I could even arrive back at my original destination. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he wrung them just slightly in his nerves. His eyes darted just the slightest bit, and I could feel his anxiety in the air around him, even if we had not been linked. But the rest of him was perfectly calm, steady; and his heart was a resolute stone in his chest despite the bubble of anxieties in his stomach. I realized, then, why he was here, and what he intended to do.

Slouching to the side, shifting my weight on my foot and folding my arms, I asked, "So. Are you ready to let me in on this 'big secret' of yours?"

I saw him swallow; but he turned away, silently prodding for me to follow. I obeyed, my footsteps in sync with his as I walked behind him. His worries were infectious; I found my own stomach twisting as I walked after him, as he began to lead me through a maze of golden corridors and hallways.

It was a long walk, deeper into the heart of the palace than I'd expected. I ended up walking beside Loki as opposed to behind him, and my hand linked with his as we walked. I studied the floor as we went, eyes on the ground as it passed by beneath us.

Finally, Loki halted. I looked up, blinking, startled at the sight before me. The door ahead appeared to be entirely made of glass; fractured and reconstructed, shatters of crystal that jutted out in a thousand directions. The walls surrounding it were as gold as the rest of the place, and the glass reflected that gold… but it also seemed to reflect thousands of other different colors, shatters of subtle light inside of the crystalline centers…

I swallowed. It was… beautiful. And vaguely familiar; I managed to place a name to it from Loki's memories- the Chamber of Elliroth- before a wall blocked me from its purpose. I looked to him, curious, and he looked back, his eyebrows pulled together and up. His face was… worried, though not overly so, and there was a strange resolve in the set of his jaw.

"Why am I here, Loki?" I asked him. He didn't respond for a long moment. He was… studying me. Monitoring me. As though he was trying to memorize my features one final time. Given the fact that the last time he'd given me this look was right before he'd accepted Fraye's deal, I felt chills run down my spine.

He stepped towards me, placing his hand on my upper arm, then trailing it down until he held my forearm gently. He stepped a little closer, until he was only a few inches away, and (embarrassingly enough) my heart started to speed up.

"This has to be done, Frost," he said quietly. "But… what you see in there…" he sighed deeply. Carefully, drawing me up against himself, he kissed the top of my head, murmuring into my hair, "I hope you'll have the strength to forgive me."

"Loki," I said slowly, swallowing. "You're scaring me."

"I know," he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry." Kissing my forehead one more time, he pulled back, taking a step away, and gestured with one hand towards the Chamber's doors. I glanced to him quickly, gauging his face… and then turned and stepped towards it. I was on high alert, my battle senses wary, my spine stiffening as my nerves tingled. As I stepped forwards, the Chamber doors began to glow with a pale green-blue as Loki coaxed it open with his magic; the shattered, broken crystal rearranged itself with the sound of tinkling and grating glass, a hole growing in its heart until it was large enough for me to step through. I could see nothing but emptiness beyond; the glass seemed to be all around, fractured and broken, the walls all constructed of the same material as the door.

"I can give you ten, perhaps fifteen minutes," Loki said quietly. "I am… sorry, it is not more."

I swallowed tightly. He was really starting to worry me with this; and the way he was looking at me. Like this was… a goodbye. But I steeled myself, stepping through the opening. It closed behind me-again with the sound of grating, tinkling glass- and I was… well, trapped.

I looked around the crystalline room, trying to figure out where, exactly, I was, trying to remember what the purpose of the Chamber of Elliroth was. It was only when I caught sight of her that Loki allowed me to remember; before walling his mind off to me entirely, giving me what little, limited privacy he could. I stared at the person inside the room with me, my breath hitching in my throat.

My eyes were wide as I scanned her up and down, taking in everything: the black hair, pulled into a ponytail. The emerald-green eyes, sparkling and alive, brighter than Loki's jade ones. The familiar smile, big but somehow casual at the same time. The relaxed pose, as she sat on the smooth, marble bench in the center of the room, her legs kicked out as she rested on her hands.

"Hey, Natalie," April said with a grin. "I heard I'm dead."