One week on the dot. Isn't that a freaking miracle? I was so sure this one wasn't going to be done anytime in the near future. Stupid chapter... sits there for a week and then all of the sudden writes itself... / adsdftcnscbsufnfj! You... stupid story and your stupid everything...

That's saying nothing for all this Thor 2 stuff... THE FUDGE! MY FEELS ARE BEING DESTROYED AND THE MOVIE ISN'T EVEN OUT YET! Loki screaming... don't even get me started... O.O

Okay... rant over... ENJOY!

Loki waited for her to settle again before he even thought about sleep. He retreated back into his own space, curling into his chair, too tired to even read. But he waited. She sat at the edge of her cot, nibbling without comment on the food he had given her. And after she'd done away with most of it, she finally went to sleep, wrapping herself up in her blanket with a quiet sigh. He mirrored her relief-filled exhale as he finally dropped into his own bed. He fumbled briefly with the sheets before giving up completely and just flopping onto his back. The ceiling was a lovely view so long as his body was free to relax against a mattress. And not the floor, which had been the case more than once in the past few weeks.

His mind drifted but sleep still eluded him, so he was simply dragged along by his erratic train of thought. But he knew ultimately where it would lead. For weeks, even without consciousness, she commanded his attention. And try as he might to put her aside – to ignore her or escape her for even a moment – it always came back to her. Naomi.

Tonight had not been the smooth transition to the waking world that he had hoped for. It had never occurred to him that in her foggy state of mind she might not remember anything. She had taken so much comfort in his presence for all those nights, but without any forethought or logic, she didn't have time to consider that she had curled into the lap of a frost giant – that with that alone she had taken her life into her own hands. How easily could he have done to her what he did to the guards? How easily could he have done to her what those mindless animals had done to her? The monster parents tell their children about at night.

It hurt, like a wolf had made a meal of his heart, to recall her receptive, adoring self, but see the fear that struck her when he got too close. No closer than they had been before, but she knew better now – knew that he couldn't be trusted. Even in her short and voluntary embrace, he felt her heart race against his own. She was afraid. A fraction of her panic attack before, but still measurable terror. And rightly so. He could hardly place his own intent in this situation and he couldn't trust himself not to harm her. Because that was where every road ended for him. Pain and disappointment. The monster parents tell their children about at night.

But Naomi didn't seem to see it that way. With the way she reacted, it probably had more to do with her last disgustingly intimate encounter. It was never my intent to make her uncomfortable – and certainly not to scare her. But he couldn't resist. Before she had been rather receptive, but now things were different. Her shell of sarcasm and insults got in the way. What happened to her got in the way. This damn pane of glass is in the way. But it was more than comforting to see even a glimpse of who she was before all of this. She was still in there somewhere. She just needed a little more time.

...

For a while, it was only wishful thinking that things could be this way. After the utter desertion she felt, she had been more than certain she would die in this place – alone and forgotten. Alone and forgotten. His doppelganger disappeared, but Loki was still there. Still present. And still – against her previous expectations – watching over her. He didn't retreat into his usual solitude. He wasn't closed off anymore. He meant to protect her, he said so himself. It wasn't another one of her imagined inferences this time. For whatever reason – regret as it seemed – he cared for her. That thought continued to float around in her head, never quite settling. After tonight – after being shocked into this surreal state of existence – the simplest things made no sense anymore.

Loki flopped into his chair looking dead tired, but he didn't sleep. He didn't even get into bed until she had done so first. Once she slipped back into her cot, he finally retired. He all but collapsed into his bed, not even bothering with the sheets. And he was shortly asleep after that.

Surely this was just a dream? What the heck happened these past few days? She wrapped herself tighter in her blanket – the one Loki had obviously gifted to her. How could she even begin to believe all of this? What the heck could have happened to change him so dramatically? He went from this brooding, acerbic, and dejected shell of a person – alien – god – whatever – to being this nurturing caretaker. He had gone from selfish to selfless in an instant with some miraculous change of heart. Surely she was just comatose or something? Yes, that's it. I starved to the point of no return and I am simply imagining all of this so that I kick the bucket on a wishfully pleasant note. That made so much more sense. Of course, if it was all about wish fulfillment, why would she be so determined to prove otherwise?

She rolled over, tugging the blanket over her head, trying not to scream into the upholstery like she so desperately wanted to. First she'd spent weeks trying to prove him something other than the villain and now having proven that theory, she was trying to convince herself this too was all a mask to hide some true and malicious intent. She rolled her eyes, irritated with her own indecisiveness. Her increasingly hypocritical nature – wanting something so desperately only to refuse it when presented with it. That was just stupid.

Recalling their first few days together, she knew exactly how she felt about him, in spite of the front she held – the mask she wore. The mask she needed to survive. He was beautiful and alluring and manically charming, in spite of most likely being some sort of sociopath, and she was drawn to the whole of him like a moth to a flame. And all this time spent trying to justify that illogical attraction and then escape it all together, she suffocated herself in that pit of despair she'd been swimming around in for so long. On top of everything else, it could have killed her this time. Even with clear memory, she knew how sickly she probably became. And in that moment, she felt her unconscious mind willing him away – that she wasn't worth saving – that she wasn't worth even the affection she'd imagined of him. And then there was the darkest void in her memory. It should have been an end. It should have been the end of so much pain and torment. An end to their game of hide-and-seek. Good versus evil.

But she woke up.

And not to the hopelessness she remembered. Loki stood there with this inherent need to protect her and care for her, in spite of her cold and unyielding exterior for most of their time down here. Of all the things she had ever expected of him, she had hoped it would never be this. Because in her heart of hearts, she could never resist him now. The horrible person he had previously claimed to be would not be enough anymore. And it was clear now that she had not imagined his affection. Not even slightly. Their previous back and forth dialogue pertaining to such things, she had only spoken in jest – a taunt. Who are you trying to fool? You did it because you liked it and because you had a pane of glass to protect you. Which left her all the more terrified to have that obstacle removed. This is real.

She tried to think what might have been if not for the unpleasant occurrences that led them to this point. If she hadn't been raped – if that hadn't happened – if she hadn't blamed him and fell into her own funk, he might not have saved her. But maybe he would have. She remembered the look in his eyes afterward. Defeat. He tried or wanted to try but didn't have the means. But she blamed him anyway. All of that brought them here, to this mess of a relationship. But all of that left her here, dropped her here in this vat of untamed space with the memories of what led them here threatening to drown her with panic.

If I hadn't been attacked, he wouldn't show this affection. If I hadn't been attacked, perhaps I could accept it.

But I already have?

The memories were just so damn foggy, but judging by Loki's sudden dejection, maybe she already had. His comfort was a vague sensation, but a recognizable one. There was no panic then. There had been no thought – no over-thinking to get in the way.

She pushed the blanket off of her head, glancing into Loki's cell. He was barely visible past the foot of the bed, other than something vaguely resembling his mop of wavy black hair. She lay out on her back, twiddling her fingers in her lap, her nagging curiosity finally getting the better of her. "Are you awake?" she asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence.

She heard him sigh after a moment. "You should be asleep."

"I'm not tired. What are you my mother?"

He laughed before his voice settled back into its sleepy state. "I am endlessly happy to have you back, darling."

She smiled, staring smittenly at the ceiling. "How was I different?" she asked after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"Before, when I was sick, you said I was different. What was different?"

"You were more open," he spoke into the empty space with something sounding like nostalgia.

No pain. No panic. Barely conscious thought. That was a dangerous notion. "We didn't do anything weird right?"

She heard his smile and a mostly silent laugh. "No," he assured her, obviously aware of her concern. "You were babbling indiscriminately for a bit, if that constitutes weird."

Naomi breathed a silent sigh of relief. "No. I suppose I've done weirder things before." She sat up, tightening the blanket around her shoulders. Peering over the headboard she could barely make out his features in the dark, though the angle was strange. "Can you feel what he feels?" Loki sat up a bit until she could clearly outline him in the dark.

"You mean my projection?" She nodded. "No," he quickly replied. "Only shadows of sensations." He finally met her stare, emerald gaze steeled for her response, but she only watched and waited for him to continue. "Under normal circumstances, I can completely impart my consciousness. I can often move freely between them, but not in here. In here, even the projection is a challenge. It's hard to focus through it. Controlling it is second nature to me, but to even see through its eyes is hard. Tactile sensation is almost impossible in here."

She stared into her lap, gently twining her fingers, clearly remembering the feel of his hand around hers. It wasn't real? Her fingers brushed her neck – the place where his lips had just barely touched. It was like a wisp of cool air against her skin. And it was still there, even now. The chill – the shiver that rolled down her spine was still there too. All of it certainly felt real – it had pretty much given her a panic attack. "Why do you ask?" Naomi said nothing. Perhaps she had only wondered. But why then would he even bother to touch her if he felt nothing? That was like self-inflicted torment. "Do you want it to be real?"

Her imagination escaped for a moment and before she'd reined it in again she felt that familiar spike of heat. It warmed her all over and was shortly promoting panic again. She bit her lip and forced it down. She saw the disappointment contorting his face already. "I don't know," she said honestly. I don't know.

"You're afraid."

"Yes," she admitted sourly.

"Of me?"

"No. No, I'm just afraid. I don't – I mean, I know what I'm afraid of. But it's complicated." She tried to gather her careening thoughts, but they were mostly jumbled beyond repair. "I'm not afraid of you," she said firmly. "I'm afraid of how I feel about you."

"And how do you feel about me?"

"I believe we share a mutual affection," she said quietly, watching his green eyes for response. He didn't quite smile, but she could see his relief. "It just terrifies me. I still haven't come to terms with everything that's already happened. It's just-"

"You just need a little more time?"

"Yes," she sighed.

Loki sat all the way up, hanging slightly forward, massaging the sleep from his eyes. "I don't want you to be afraid – I don't want to see you like I saw you before. You showed me a side of you that I am both honored and terrified to know. No one has ever sought my comfort, nor have I ever obliged it. I know this has more to do with those guards than anything, and I would never, never do anything to harm you as they did. When you panicked earlier, I thought – well, I hope you know that was not my intent."

"No, I know. That's not how I wanted to react either."

"When you first came here, when you first approached me, I know you only did so for the sake of camaraderie. We're both trapped down here and it seems only fitting. I can't ignore you anymore, not after all this. But we have little but time down here. Take all that you need."

Naomi smiled, an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders. And with her mind no longer hounded with nagging questions, tiredness hit her from all sides. The blanket was suddenly so much warmer. The bed so much comfier. She curled up, tucked the blanket under her chin as sleep called her name louder and louder with each passing minute. If this is a dream, please let me sleep. "Goodnight Loki." She could have sworn she felt his cool lips press softly against her forehead as consciousness began to drift away.

"Goodnight Naomi."

And this time she slept.

Hope you liked it! A little less angsty and emotionally trying I think... we all needed a little reprieve. Before things get terrible again... sorry about that... Thank you as always for reading!