So sorry for the wait everyone! Life got really freaking crazy there for a while… granted it's still sorta crazy but whatever! I've made serious progress on my Loki costume and finally had a moment to finish this chapter HOORAY! I used my I'm avoiding tumblr because of Thor 2 spoilers time to work on this… P.S. THE SPOILERS ARE EVERYWHERE *not happy*

BUT! I have the most amazing news in the history of EVER! I met Tom Hiddleston! O_O asftdcmeeycnskfhcydntagadsftcbeywicnwlfdvwjfcncsen fkvc! It's been days and I still sorta don't believe it… Ima just be floating around in uber happy fangirl land until I don't know when… I totally snuggled into his neck and he was totally cool with it. In fact, he made an adorable noise when he saw the picture. *still drowning in all the feels* If anyone wants details on that little adventure I posted about it on my tumblr here: post/65738107204/so-i-met-tom-hiddleston

And now this next chapter before I totally distract myself… We're getting closer.

Take that however you will. In this chapter you can look forward to unloading of all major baggage and mad awful Loki feels. Cuz I'm mad about spoilers that apparently pertain to Loki feels and because I DO WHAT I WANT! And if any of you international followers/reviewers have seen the movie…

Do not spoil me or I will eat you. You have been warned.

I just need a little more time.

We have little but time down here. Take all that you need.

Just a little more time.

Goodnight Naomi.

It was a funny thing down here, this idea of time. In the nearly two months since she'd arrived here, the days, hours, minutes had dragged by unforgivably slow. Fifty-six days. Fifty-six grueling days. Some better than others. But there were still fifty-six of them. It had been nearly a month since the guards had attacked her. It hadn't made her brood any less over it, but only time would ever heal that wound. Her eyes wandered over the tallies etched into the stone. She had updated it since her long lapse in consciousness. While some days were still cloudy in her memory, Loki's continued affection and care had resurrected much of the time they had shared. Or rather, time she sort of shared minus her normal state of awareness. Those were the twelve days that changed everything. Everyday after that was easier. The marks in the stone were less angry and insistent. And the endless span of time condensed.

She had never expected to find a companion down here and not a day since meeting him, did she think it could have been Loki. He was often miserable and brooding and evil, but when he wasn't, life in captivity was almost pleasant. More than almost. It wasn't so much of a hardship with him there to see her through it. Now it was more like being trapped indoors while it was raining as opposed to being imprisoned in a dungeon several thousand feet below ground for no freaking reason at all.

Everyday since she'd awakened from her fog – as Loki had put it – he would find his way into her cell to share at least one meal with her, and whenever he couldn't, he'd be conjuring things into her cell as compensation, she supposed. She had already taken note of several tokens of his regret. The blanket, of course. New clothes. Well, not technically new. His reasoning for gifting her one of his shirts was that teleporting things was easier than creating them from nothing. Naomi was only half convinced, but regardless of intent, anything was better than the messy scraps she was trucking around in. The fabric was soft and warm, but the scent that stuck with it was dizzying. Even still, she loved it, though she shrugged it off as merely acceptable. He thought to offer a few of his books, but given they weren't written in English, he amended that he could read them to her instead. Somehow that seemed to be his preference. Not a horrible idea. After listening to him talk – and not yell – about things, she'd come to enjoy his eternally soothing tone.

Among other things.

Loki offered her time. True to his word, he took a few steps back and stayed there. But she could see his restraint – his frustration. But it had more to do with their unfortunate circumstances than her reluctance to get closer to him. She couldn't. After learning that he could barely exist beyond that stupid pane of glass, she felt almost guilty. He'd made it his mandate to care for her, but at times it seemed almost painful. He shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but she could tell that it took a toll on him. Whatever enchantment was keeping them apart, it was strong enough that she urged him to only come through when it was necessary.

Of course, the idea of necessity seemed to elude him.

Even if I somehow charged him admission, necessity would be the farthest thing from his mind. While she was outwardly irritated by his persistence and his stupid, selfless, stubborn attitude, she was more grateful for his company than she could ever form with words.

His duplicate form sat cross-legged, his knees barely a breath from touching hers, as he continued to break off pieces from some weird bread he'd been delivered. It was like garlic focaccia on steroids. She had no experience with prison prior to this little escapade, but she was fairly certain what they served back home could only be classified as gruel. As far as Loki's half of the cell was concerned, this place was like first class captivity in comparison.

"I was a king," he explained.

"Yes, well, now you're a prisoner," Naomi joked.

Loki laughed. He actually laughed. Up until now she'd only been able to coax a smile out of him. And it was mostly short lived. Or terrifying. But his laugh, paired with a smile that wasn't entirely sinister, was utterly intoxicating. Suddenly she wanted to hear more of it and then none of it. Goosebumps again. She thoughtlessly shoved another piece of bread into her mouth to hide the slowly mounting discomfort. Leaning back, the dark green sleeves of her new shirt dusting her forearms, she glanced to where the real Loki still sat. He kept his eyes tightly shut, trying his hardest to focus through this surrogate body.

"Does it bother you?" he asked.

"What?" She turned back, having almost forgotten he was still sitting right in front of her.

"Does it bother you – what I've done? That I am a prisoner?"

"Oh." It took a moment longer after that to even remember to what he was referring: why he was here. As part of their very first conversation – his very first threat – he spoke of the atrocities he committed on her planet. He told her, as a means to frighten her, that he had led the invasion against New York. At the time it had been mildly startling, but under those circumstances, she hadn't needed to care very much about the semantics of the entire thing. Thinking about it now and imagining him slaughtering people in droves with that mirthful grin on his face – it was almost odd after seeing a side of him that most others probably didn't even know existed. She tried to picture it, but all she saw was his desperate attempt at comfort while she lay curled up in his lap. "I guess not," she decided at last. Though it probably should have.

Loki seemed genuinely unnerved. "It doesn't bother you that I thoughtlessly killed thousands of your people? It doesn't bother you – all of things I threatened to do? You care about none of that?"

"Well, I care, but it doesn't make me feel any different." She frowned. "I guess that makes me something of a hybristophiliac doesn't it?"

"Yes," Loki agreed soundly.

"So what does that make you?"

"A sadist, more than likely," he shrugged with another nibble on the bread. "But I've been called worse things before." She caught the humor loosed from the curve of his subtlest grin, but upon further recollection, he obviously found something not so humorous about it. "Everyone has ostracized me as a monster. Everyone, except you."

"I don't think you're a monster," she said with a shrug. "You're an ass hole sometimes," she quickly elaborated with a smile, "but monster seems a bit harsh." Loki was unconvinced, staring into a vacant corner of the cell. "Do you think you're a monster?"

"What?" It sounded as if the very question had offended him.

"Well you keep saying what everyone else thinks of you, what do you think?" Loki didn't answer, stare as blank as before. But his thoughts on the matter were clear. Just in the few interactions with other people she'd witnessed down here, she saw it in the way he carried himself, in the way he reacted to them. Real or not, he behaved as if the entire world was against him. Maybe it was. "Does your brother think you're a monster?"

Loki went rigid, sitting straight up, his eyes burning holes through her own. "He is not my brother," he growled.

"Well he seemed to think so."

"Of course he does. He's too damn stupid to see the truth of that matter. And you need not concern yourself with it."

Naomi stilled, slightly biting her bottom lip. "I was only trying to help."

"Help," Loki huffed. "Don't think that because your sister hates you, you're suddenly an expert on my pathetic excuse for a family." He blanched so soon after the words left his mouth, she barely accounted for the transition. Not after she'd been totally paralyzed by that fatal jab. "Naomi – I didn't mean that."

"How do you know about my sister?"

He looked like he was going to be sick. "Gods. When you were ill – I – I thought you knew – I'm sorry."

"I had no idea what I was saying! How could you even ask me about something like that?" She already mirrored that sick feeling. My sister. It was a fight on a day-to-day basis to avoid thinking about her and the horrible mess she'd made of her life. Every single hardship she'd had to endure came back to her elder sister in some way or another. And Loki knew – he knows. "How could you do that?"

"Naomi – I didn't – I swear I didn't."

Her hand roughly massaged her face, trying to keep everything contained. "What else did I tell you?" she breathed. Part of her believed he wouldn't have asked, that she could have simply ranted like she'd been hypnotized but what if – no. He wouldn't have. I don't want to believe that. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he fussed, looking absolutely terrified. And when things seemed to come together again, he hardly resembled who he'd been only moments ago.

"Naomi – I'm sorry. But I didn't ask anything of you. Had I known it was not something you wished to disclose, I would have stopped you. But you spoke so freely. You were starved and sickly and delirious. You thought you were dying. You had yourself convinced you were going to die here alone and forgotten – abandoned by your family." Loki shook his head, still searching for an explanation. "I thought perhaps you trusted me. I thought you understood somehow – especially when you spoke now of Thor." Naomi relaxed slightly with his admission, but tensed at the same time to even sense a crack in Loki's normally fortified shell. "We share a certain familial struggle," he admitted soundly, before his voice grew uncertain again. "I was raised among royalty – among gods. For thousands of years, only to find my entire existence was a lie. I was born of a race of hated creatures and adopted out of pity – brought here for the sake of a future alliance. And it all came to light at so cruel a time in my life. My brother," the word alone didn't sit quite right on his tongue.

"My brother – he was a true Asgardian, the first born, the heir to the throne. I was raised under the assumption that it could've been me. That I stood as an equal. But I was alienated and outcast for being different. I was a magician not a warrior. I was smart and not strong. And to learn what I really was-" He stared with eyes that brimmed with hatred and revulsion, eyes trained on his own hand. "A monster." His hand looked almost blue with the strain as his hand fisted, before it disappeared into his lap.

"I localized my hatred – my pain – to my brother, just as your sister did to you. And to hear what it did to you – how she tore your family apart," his voice trailed off. "I destroyed the only family I had out of jealousy and anger and spite and revenge. Thor, that damnable oaf, he was too empty headed to see how his brazen attitude so harshly overshadowed me. He never saw how his acts of jest piled on top of one another in my chest until it was just this enormous knot of resentment I was hopeless to untie. And I let that pain fester for so long that when I finally snapped, he could never make amends – none that I would ever find the humility to accept. I was insane. I lost my mind. And I never tried to find it. I sold what was left of it to the first person willing to take advantage of it. And in a fruitless quest to prove my worth – to prove that I was equal to my damn brother, I took an entire planet captive. Not even to mention the one I nearly destroyed before that! I slaughtered people thoughtlessly. And for a cause I hardly cared for. I never wanted the throne. I only ever wanted to be accepted. But when you spoke of how badly your sister hurt you – needlessly and for her own selfish reasons – I realized that I had no worth to prove. No hope to be accepted for anything more than a monster!"

Naomi couldn't find words. Not a single one. To see him, this immovable mass of indiscernible negative emotion fall so suddenly vulnerable – it absolutely terrified her. And for a moment she was unsure she had the strength to bear the weight of such an admission. "Loki- I- I don't-"

"All that was done to you, I could have easily done myself – I have! And no matter what I do – no matter how much I regret – it will never change anything." She saw the sadness pool is his deep green eyes until his sleeve-covered wrist thwarted the escape of tears.

"I don't blame you. I told you that," she said finally, her voice only a whisper. Loki barely heard her. She watched him not even remembering how they ended up here. A hundred and eighty degree turn later and he'd gone from pleasant and happy to tortured and so so lost. It was a constant war between strength and pain. And he seemed poised right at the edge and she guessed, more than once, that he'd fallen all the way over.

She remembered that first moment she'd woken up. Over a week ago. Almost two. He sat on the floor as lifeless as a cadaver. And it had taken so little to drag him so low. A few misplaced words. While he had sulked, she had noted the mess of the outburst that came before she'd even fallen into her sickly state. A table was shattered and its contents had been walked over without concern. It had all just been kicked around since she'd last spoken to him. She could imagine him pacing, brow knotted with worry and anger and shame and a hundred other things he kept bottled tightly inside, but in the moment when it really mattered, his entire form softened and every trace of pain and anguish disappeared. If only for her sake.

And she had done the same for the people she cared for, bottled a thousand terrible things inside so they never had to see. So the pain didn't interfere with the happiness of others. But in the end, it couldn't be held in forever.

"Loki, I'm sorry." He didn't respond, only hung forward occasionally shaken with a tiny sob. For a moment she wondered if he'd gone back to his own body, but his original form was just as still. Just a lifeless. And lost. "Loki? Can you hear me?" She crawled timidly closer, reaching out for him before he just disappeared as he had a few times before. She curled her fingers around his – the first voluntary touch she had managed since waking up – but he didn't respond. As if he hadn't even felt it. But he didn't, did he? "Loki." She cleared her throat even though he remained unresponsive. "I don't hate my sister," she said.

He glanced up, his eyes red and raw. "What?"

"I don't hate Gwen for what she did to me, even though she may hate me. I could never stop loving her."

"But you said she tore your family apart. She was so unkind to you."

"She was. She told me that as soon as I was born, my parents stopped caring about her. She would yell at me and say that I was worthless and undeserving. But all the while, she was jealous of something I didn't have. For a long time, it upset me and things only got worse, but after a while – after she was gone – I didn't blame her. A troubled past, imagined or not, breeds pain and anger. You spend your whole life trying to escape a shadow – trying to be the better person. Jealousy leads to desperation. And then one day, you look back and you're a long way from home. You're not the person you used to be. You've done things you're not proud of – things you regret. But you figure it's too late to go back. So you stay the course because you figure, you've got nothing more to prove. Nothing worth living for. She found herself lost and alone – hopeless." Loki's grip tightened around hers. Whether he felt it or not, he knew it was there. "Is that what happened to you?"

She heard him sigh quietly, leaning closer, all color gone from his eyes. "Right on all accounts, love, apart from one: I do have something worth living for. And eventually I shall find a way to show her that."

"You already have," she said with a smile. "Or have you already forgotten how I almost died a few days ago?"

"I was trying to forget."

Having made a significant recovery, the memories of that long and arduous week had come back. Despite how calm and comforting he had seemed, his fear was tangible. But that's not what she remembered. All she knew was his loving embrace and his endearingly forceful tone, willing her to get better again. Her hand shook as it reached for him and slowly came to rest against his cheek, the skin cold against her fingers. He leaned into it as if the imagined sensation were the only thing in the world he needed to survive. "I don't want to forget."

She tugged him into the tightest embrace she could manage so that he might feel it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed him as close as he could until he finally conceded his rigid and unforgiving exterior to bury his face in her mess of curly hair. "My sister hurt me very much but never irreparably so – never. If she came to me one day truly remorseful for what happened between us, I would love her just as I did before. She's not a monster, Loki. And neither are you. I promise. And you will never be a monster to me."

Naomi heard him sob again, a softer sound against the skin of her neck. He may have said something then, but the words were lost somewhere within their embrace.

The monster parents tell their children about at night…

Maybe not…