This freaking chapter... was an absolute jigsaw of dialogue. I have rearranged it so many times I don't even know what it looked like to start O.o

But it's done. Or as done as it will ever be! I was going to post this like an hour ago but there was a picture of Loki in a collar and I got really distracted. Marvel is just watching the fandom squirm with all of this nonsense...

But while we're all stuck patiently waiting for this freaking movie... have fun with a new chapter ma lovelies! Extra love to my chronic reviewers! You guys are the best! XOXOXO (P.S. I prefer to make little hearts but this website won't let me...)

Naomi awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright so fast her head was spinning for a long time afterward. When her eyes finally refocused on the world around her, it took her a very long moment to even remember where she was, let alone how she'd gotten there and what the heck had happened. I'm still here? Once the memories began to refill themselves, it made sense that she was still here. She had absolutely no memory of an escape. Thinking about it, there were a lot of missing memories. In attempting to recall the night before, there was nothing. Locked in a tiny room with no daylight to discern the passage of time, it was impossible to know.

She ducked under her cot and pulled out her phone. The battery was nearly dead, but the date and time were still clearly displayed. The date of her kidnapping stuck well, thankfully. But then – that didn't add up. She carefully counted the tallies etched into the stone. There was more than a week's worth of time unaccounted for. How is that possible? Even after a double and a triple check – she couldn't place all the days she had missed. What the heck had happened? After a moment or two, a few things filtered back. Sweet nothings of boredom and strong words. And pain. Oh my god. A vision – a vivid nightmare – of two guards. Oh my god. I was – I was – and all this time – I can't remember. She felt suddenly sick, imagining all that could have gone on. An entire week.

Her eyes darted around the room. Nothing new. Nothing new. And then her eyes locked on a very large bloodstain on the floor across the cell. The glass had drips, dark and dry like the aged pool on the floor. Oh my god. Oh my god. What happened? What happened!

Stumbling terribly, she charged into the bathroom, bracing the rim of the sink. She heaved into it, very quickly losing the contents of her stomach. Once her nauseated innards had calmed, she rinsed out her mouth and splashed the cool water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her with empty eyes as the beads of water rolled down her face, catching in her eyebrows and stinging her eyes along with the familiar laceration beneath it. Her skin was so pale from the lack of sun and she felt almost skeletal after so many long days without food. Naomi frowned, peering into the watered down contents of the sink. There was most certainly food in there. She could taste it on her tongue, despite the rinse.

She wandered back out of the bathroom, still toweling off her face. She had absolutely no memory of eating and yet her stomach didn't ache with hunger. Of course, her appetite had completely disappeared in the last few minutes. What the heck had happened? Loki. The thought slipped into her mind and she felt instantly better, though she had no idea why. Last she recalled, he stood by and let her be raped. Glancing into his cell, she was greeted with another unfamiliar sight. Her unusually stoic prison companion was laid out on the floor as if he'd collapsed there, halfway between the pane of glass and his bed. What the heck had happened?

All of the sudden he stirred, waking nearly as suddenly as she had, startled awake by something she hadn't heard or seen. He sat up, his entire spine creaking with pain. Before he looked even coherent enough to form logical thought, his gaze focused into her cell, first toward her empty cot and then on her. He was panicked and completely relieved within the span of a few seconds. She saw exhaustion in his beautiful green eyes – a deeply ingrained weariness that hadn't been there before. "Are you all right?" he finally asked, his voice cracking to match his haggard exterior. The sincerity was a new one too. She nodded, her expression barely shifting from her usual guarded curiosity. "I wasn't sure you'd be up and about so soon." Naomi only continued to stare. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

What smile he had slowly vanished. "You were sick," he said quietly. "You were starving – dying." She could barely recall. The last thing she remembered was just another day in this cell – hungry, but to what degree she wasn't sure. Had it really gotten so bad? Several weeks was a long time to not eat. Her hands touched her stomach and she could easily outline each of her ribs in detail. She could actually identify where a few of them had cracked in her horrible encounter. The fracture to her elbow just as evident. Her fingers traced her collarbones and sternum. The ridges of the bones. Loki spoke the truth. And if he did, her body would have gone into survival mode – it would've shut down and slowly turned upon itself. And yet, she was alive now, feeling better than she had in days.

"They did eventually feed me," she morbidly joked.

Loki looked far less than amused. "No. They didn't. They were going to let you die." His tone gave her chills. "I can hardly fathom why they would go to the trouble of bringing you here if only to let you starve to death."

"So what happened to me?"

Loki frowned deeply. "You don't remember anything do you?"

Naomi watched as he sunk further and further into despair. Suddenly she felt sick again. He didn't explain. He gave no elaboration at all, just scooted back into his usual spot and his usual funk. She sat down at the edge of her cot without making a sound, watching out of the corner of her eye, hoping maybe he'd say something more. Except he said nothing. Nothing at all.

Lunch came and went, proving Loki's claim. Either they sought to see her dead or they simply didn't care. Loki retained his state of unresponsiveness the entire time the guards were present and long after they had gone. He only sat there, head leaned against the wall, staring at the insides of his eyelids. The same was true of dinner. They replaced his food, completely untouched.

He had a tendency to sulk but this time it seemed more serious than before. And she couldn't remember enough to know why.

It should have been obvious, she thought. If her captors hadn't saved her, then someone else had. She glanced at Loki again. But he couldn't have. He wouldn't have. Would he? He was cruel and oh-so-willing to see her suffer – she glanced at him again. It certainly didn't seem that way now. She lay back in her cot, clenching her eyes shut, trying to remember the many long days she had missed. Naomi had practically put herself to sleep before something came back to her. Panic and desperation and then eventually relief. Sustenance. A caretaker. Comfort in a place she didn't think it could exist. She felt herself lulled to sleep, curled up, hands fisted in the fabric of someone's shirt. She had barely been conscious for that entire time, it's a wonder she remembered anything at all. Thank you, Loki. His large hand, slightly cooler than the rest of him, wrapped gently around her own.

"You're going to be safe now. I'm going to take care of you. I promise."

She opened her eyes again.

He saved her. Loki, this acclaimed god, this slaughter hungry felon, had saved her. Could it be possible? After everything that happened – after the things he'd said – was it possible? As much as he seemed disconnected from the whole of it, his concern was genuine. Heartfelt even. Her legs hung over the edge of the cot as she glanced into his cell to where he still sat on the floor. He had saved her. She couldn't even begin to comprehend how but he – of all people – had saved her.

Naomi rolled over, carefully avoiding her injured arm. Loki still sat against the wall. Still unmoving, she wasn't even sure if he was breathing. Naomi cleared her throat, hoping maybe to get his attention. Not even the quirk of an eyebrow. He was looking almost as frail as she was – without movement he looked dead. But a shadow of him still existed in her subconscious, one that was kinder and gentler than she would have ever guessed. Arms wrapped around herself, she wandered toward that single pane of glass. "Did you save me?" she asked quietly. There might have been a fraction of a response. His shoulder may have twitched. "Loki?" Nothing. "I feel like I remember certain things, but I don't know if they happened or not." Loki finally looked up, eyes hollow and empty but more notably tired. "Did you save me?"

"If that is how you choose to see it."

"Thank you – I'm not sure how you did it, but thank you."

"This place does not become you, Naomi. You deserve far better than a life in captivity, despite what I said before."

"How do you know my name?"

"You told it to me." That, as well, was only a shadow in her subconscious. "You were dying – and I wasn't sure if I could save you. I thought it best to at least know your name before-" He didn't finish.

"Why did you do it?" The question surprised him. "Obviously, you didn't have to. What did you have to gain? Why save me? I mean – after last time, I thought-"

"I'm not proud of what happened the last time," he said quickly.

"Then why?"

That answer eluded him slightly longer. "I don't know," he admitted at last. "I am just so sorry for what was done to you. And that alone for me is remarkable. But since that night it has been sickening to think about. I should have done something and I'm sorry." An apology past his lips sounded as unnatural as he thought it did. "And then I saw you getting sick – starving." Loki shook his head. "You have heart – and you're strong. I am the god of lies and treachery and deceit. My sense of honor is nearly non-existent and I hold no code of conduct. But I was not about to sit here and watch you die that way." He stared at her almost in admiration. How could she have so harshly misjudged him? "And besides, I haven't had anyone worth conversing with in a long time. It would have hurt too much to see you go. It was more than worth my strength to see you safe and healthy again."

She could only stare for a moment, the reality of his confession not totally settled yet. As soon as the tiniest bit of it made sense to her, she was pleasantly shocked. "Thank you, Loki."

He grinned weakly, sitting up against the wall. "It was my pleasure, love."

More of her half-imagined foggy thoughts slipped through her consciousness. His long fingers sliding through her thick curly hair, ghosting the back of her neck. She recalled a cold sweat, blotted lightly from her forehead. His tender, loving care for so many long nights. A promise of protection. Whisperings of freedom. A soft kiss on her temple. She quirked an eyebrow as she smothered a tiny blush. "How did you get in here?" In all of her half-formed images of him, never had that pane of glass been involved. It was just him. In the flesh. However impossible it seemed.

A wry grin crossed his face and then he closed his eyes as a pained look overtook him. She was moderately concerned for a moment before he appeared in the cell beside her. It was a serious fight not to jump out of her skin. She looked him over in person, taking note of the fact the Loki she'd been speaking to hadn't moved. He still sat there, concentration ingrained in his features. "Just like that," he said, his voice sounding slightly strained.

Naomi circled him, looking him up and down. They were very obviously the same person, but still vastly different. His hair was tamed and only half as curly, but the same raven black. His garb was particularly more expensive looking, a mix of deep green and gold. Real gold. Overall, his demeanor seemed better and his façade was infinitely more regal. She didn't know if he was a god, but if aura was anything to consider, he certainly could be. "Astral projection?" she asked.

"Not exactly." She reached out to him, with the intention to poke him – the illusion option still a possibility. But he quickly snagged her hand, his cold skin sending chills up her arm. "It's a bit more tangible than that." The voice came from his clone this time, the melodic tone resonating in his chest. She felt it in the very marrow of her bones. And his hand – no sooner had he spoke, did his firm and assertive hold conform to a cool and gentle caress, his fingertips barely brushing the back of her hand. She felt another wave of chills as she found her mind urging her to yank her hand away. But she quickly centered her thoughts again.

"I thought you said your magic didn't work outside your cell."

"The cell that contains us is surrounded by a barrier that prevents my magic from escaping. I only recently discovered that the enchantment is weaker between us. It's enough," he added. He took her other hand, but only a moment before his touch trailed up her arms – one hand over her shoulder until he'd worked his fingers into the hair on the back of her neck. Her entire body shook but whether from fear or desire, she couldn't be sure. His stare was painfully intense and she only broke it to glance at Loki still sitting in his cell. The longer she watched him, the heavier the weight on him became. She saw him twitch with all of his muscles pulled taut. His every movement looked pained. "You're safe now. And I will never let anyone harm you again."

She felt the assurance in his grip – the lightest tug on the nape of her neck, his lips almost forming a smile. The same tired smile she'd seen before. But this time his eyes spoke of sadness and longing, those glassy emerald pools glistening with something she hadn't seen in him before. Even if it was somehow familiar. The hand that gently massaged the back of her neck was soothing – but at the same time disconcerting. He tilted her head back leaving her neck thoughtlessly exposed. "Loki-" she breathed, her voice starting to shake as well. She could feel his breath against her cheek as he leaned closer again, his eyes half lidded, but this new notion of longing was ever present. It warmed her. Somewhere. Some place she couldn't quite reach. But as his cheek brushed the column of her throat and his lips were just barely pressed against her skin, she fumbled out of his embrace, panic superseding everything else.

Her entire body still shook as her heart raced and she clumsily found her cot again before she collapsed. She found herself staring at a very rumpled pile of sheets across the room, remembering what she'd hoped to forget and still forgetting what she wished she could remember. She curled inward, her mind attempting to hole itself up where it wouldn't be found as the panic – induced by memories still so jarring – coursed through her so fast that for a moment she saw nothing but darkness until the world came into focus again.

"Naomi?" Loki called again – quietly – cautiously. "Naomi?"

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes still wide and lost and terrified. But Loki had retreated, his duplicate form standing nearly on the other side of the cell, while the real Loki was standing only a breath away from the glass watching her with the same panicked stare. She pinched her eyes shut, trying to swallow the anxiety, only to have it stick in her throat. "Are you all right?"

Naomi managed a nod after a moment, without being terribly reassuring. She glanced at the discarded sheets again. "I didn't mean to upset you," Loki said. "I only thought-" She watched him shift uncomfortably, his gaze now centered on the floor. His hands twisted with one another and she watched as the real Loki's brow further furrowed. "I'm sorry."

The hurt in his voice was tangible in spite of who she had previously assumed him to be. She remembered their last conversation. The concern had been there, but at the time, she'd been too humiliated and traumatized to take notice of it. But for someone who was supposedly the God of Lies, his sincerity was heartbreaking. "Don't be sorry."

"No. I mean it." All softness disappeared from his voice then, swiftly replaced with a gruff undertone she did very clearly remember. His eyes looked her over again and then found the ruined sheets she'd been staring at. "I should have done something. What happened to you – I let it happen. And since then I have blamed myself for it. I can't escape it. I can't escape any of it! But this more than anything. I did this to you."

His gaze finally settled across the cell, on the bloodstain she was still ignorantly unsettled by. "You – by some means – have gotten under my skin. Though it sickens me to admit it." He slowly approached her again, caution clear in his step. "I feel so protective of you," he admitted. "Before – when you were sick – you were different – different with me." There was another wave of memories, the tide drawing them closer to the surface. His protection. His closeness. His touch. And her own unconscious acceptance of it. But it wasn't solely acceptance. "But I suppose you can think more clearly now," Loki continued.

Not exactly. If anything, clarity had deserted her even further. The entire world was foggy and not a single thing made sense. It was all half-remembered and misplaced and out of order. She remembered his comfort. She knew, without a doubt it was there, but for now it was masked by the horrors that preceded it. But it wasn't his fault. None of this was his fault.

"That's not fair," she replied rather roughly. "That's not fair to either of us. I – I can barely remember twenty minutes ago. Forgive me for being a little lost and a little fucking confused. Whatever happened – I don't regret it. You saved my life and I'm grateful, but it wasn't your fault. It was not your fault. None of it." She still saw the defeat and imagined rejection, pooling like dark circles under his eyes. She stood and approached him, and then with as little hesitancy as she could manage, she wrapped her arms around his neck and just stood there, hoping he would understand. She owed him this much.

After a long moment, his body relaxed with a long and tired sigh. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, but she noted how his hands didn't touch her. Not this time. And of that she was silently thankful. Not yet. Just not yet.

"I just need a little more time, okay?" He hushed her. That cool wisp of air against the shell of her ear.

"It's all right," he conceded at last. His hand unwrapped from her waist, his wrist making a long fluid motion until some kind of pastry appeared. "Eat. Rest. And get better." He tucked whatever it was into her hand and gave her one final squeeze. "Goodnight, Naomi."

Hooray! A little glimpse of the Naomi we used to know. And Loki continuing to be confused and irritable and all that other Loki stuff...

The next chapter is unfortunately not reading and awaiting editing like those in the past... I actually have to write them this time... So I have no idea when they next one will be posted. I pray within a week but I sort of have this research paper that I should be writing... prepare to witness the epitome of procrastination! And in all fairness, Loki was here first.

Until next time! Thanks for reading!