Been so long I wasn't sure I remembered how to do this! Welcome back, dear readers! I am happy to be back.

Beneath

Chapter One Hundred Eight – Games

Jane knew where this was going as soon as the dark piece of cloth started closing in on her eyes. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

But then she shoved a hand up to keep the blindfold away from her.

Loki let it drop and stepped back around her. He should have known this wouldn't work. She could speak of trust, she could even demonstrate it at times, but this was asking too much of her. He wanted her to do it anyway, but he could hardly force the issue.

Jane's eyes went from the cloth that had almost taken her sight to the man holding it. "Is that from one of your Asgard shirts?"

Loki stared at her in confusion.

"The one you bled all over?" Jane asked with raised eyebrows, trying to prompt him since he didn't seem to have a clue why she might be reluctant to have that thing pressed into her face.

It took a moment. Loki was too relieved to make fun of her for her squeamishness. "I've washed it. But it's ruined. The sleeve was cut off of it on Asgard. So I ripped the rest of it apart. Satisfied?"

"Yeah, okay," she said, but she couldn't help wrinkling her nose in distaste as Loki stepped back behind her and the cloth came back up. It was denser or more tightly woven or something than regular cloth, it seemed, because once Loki adjusted it over her eyes she couldn't see even a hint of light beyond the black cloth.

"We've just arrived on Asgard. What do you see around you?"

Jane blinked against the blindfold. It was an odd sensation, her eyelashes brushing against the remnants of Loki's shirt, and she decided to just close her eyes. "Tables and chairs. Half of them knocked over from the drunken revelries of the night before."

Loki's chest hitched but he held back the sound of a laugh. He had told her that. Most taverns on Asgard, the one they were arriving at included, were perfectly suitable for families, but as the hour drew later, the families left and the drunken revelries began. "Watch your step, then. Start forward."

"Why?"

"We must go through the tavern to reach the street."

"I know. But I'm not facing the taverns. I'm facing the hedge with the blue berries on it. There's no guarantee what direction we'll be facing when we arrive, is there? Does Yggdrasil somehow know where we want to go once we get to Asgard?" Jane couldn't help the smug smile on her face. Loki had drilled all this stuff into her; she was going to hand every bit of it and more right back to him.

"Aren't you the clever one," Loki said dryly. "Luckily for us, Yggdrasil has deposited us facing the tavern. That is unless you want to walk into the wall of the jamesway."

"Lucky us," Jane said, and started walking tentatively forward. Loki had cleared their table from the front area of the jamesway they worked in, and she knew she was now moving carefully down the center aisle toward where bedrooms still lined the walls.

Loki, meanwhile, crept around Jane, rolling on the sides of his feet heel-to-toe as he walked to keep his steps smooth and silent. "Who are you?" he suddenly shouted, dropping the timber of his voice a bit. "What are you doing here at this time of morning?"

Jane jumped and then froze with the first words. How did he get around me? Her thoughts raced from that to how she should answer. They hadn't discussed this. An idea occurred to her. "I'm sorry. I just, you know, I forgot my, uh, my scarf here last night and-"

"Stop. That's not the right answer."

"Okay, um…I got lost?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "What do you say on Asgard when anyone asks you anything?"

Then she got it. "Right. I say nothing, because polite women on Asgard let men do all the talking for them."

Loki snorted, both at Jane's sarcasm and at the absurdity of it. "If only that were the case. Midgardian women say nothing and let their Asgardian companions do the talking for them, because they want to ensure that no one suspects they aren't Asgardian. Or Vanir, in this case. It's less of a problem now, now that you're pretending to be from Vanaheim's Vestmar Mountains. But it's still best not to attract any undue attention on Asgard."

"Yes, fine, I've got it. No talking on Asgard."

"Turn around."

Jane took a step back and turned, hoping she'd wound up facing approximately the opposite direction.

"We've arrived at the portal. They're doing checks today. There are two Einherjar," Loki said from behind, then came up beside her. "Your name and your purpose for going to Alfheim?"

Jane angled her head downward and away from the "Einherjar," as Loki had taught her. She would appear shy and her face should be a bit shadowed from the scarf she'd be wearing. She said nothing.

"I asked you your name and purpose on Alfheim, and I expect an answer."

"Let's just save time on this one and assume I can keep my mouth shut until you manage to open yours. Next test?"

"You are a vexing student," Loki said, back in his normal voice.

Jane laughed. "Have you been talking to my old professors? Hey!" she shouted as the blindfold was suddenly pulled from her eyes, which she squeezed shut to block out the stinging light. She turned toward Loki but he was already walking away from her, back up to the table that had been pushed up against the wall. He slipped his jacket on. "Loki…um…come on, let's keep going. I didn't mean to-"

"Get your gear back on. We're continuing this outside."

"Outside?"

"Yes, outside. Gear. On," he said pointing at her jacket and other things over by the door, then at her.

Jane did as she was told, but she was a little nervous about it now. Outside was cold. Inside was cold, too, really, but there was 30 degrees and then there was minus 80 degrees. The gear was good, but she didn't know how long they'd be at this, and thus how long Loki might be expecting her to be hanging around outside. It was also slippery outside, and there were ridges in the ice known as "sastrugi," and she hoped the blindfold wouldn't be making a reappearance.

"Behind the jamesway," Loki said once she was properly protected from the elements; Jane nodded and opened up the door. He'd planned to continue outside, anyway, but he'd thought he'd take it easy on her at first. There was really no reason to do so, though. She'd worked even harder to learn everything he'd taught her than he'd expected, and he decided he may as well skip the gentle part and push her hard. He was more comfortable with that, anyway. Asgard knew little of "gentle" training and testing. It struck him then, a pointless stray thought, that it might actually be interesting to try to train Jane in some of the warrior arts she'd earlier thought he'd meant to teach her. He started to laugh, picturing Jane trying to take through its proper motions the heavy wooden block training sword he'd first begun using at the tender age of nine. Interesting, but most likely not terribly fruitful.

Jane heard the laugh and hoped it wasn't a bad sign. It was a pretty day, clear and quiet and still, a nearly full moon shining brightly and reflecting off the ice.

"Put your back to the station," Loki said, voice muffled and odd-sounding to his own ears behind the balaclava. He really didn't like wearing the thing, or the layers of gloves – a nice, fitted, supple pair of leather gloves, yes, but not these bulky layered things that left his fingers practically useless. Whatever exactly the skin he wore was, though, it did not enjoy being exposed to temperatures this cold, and the layers were necessary.

"Are you going to blindfold me out here?" Jane asked. She tried to keep her voice neutral, but she was pretty sure her nervousness had crept through. She avoided Loki's eyes and stared out over the ice. From this vantage point, no peripheral vision because of the balaclava, she could be in the middle of nowhere, alone, just her and endless ice, like something out of a horror movie. She gave a shiver, though she was reasonably warm in her layers.

Loki watched her in silence for a moment. He could hardly see anything of her now, though it was obvious that she felt uneasy. But her question implied that if he wanted to blindfold her, she would let him. It gave him pause. "No," he finally said, quietly, though he knew that out here it was loud enough. "But I do want you to close your eyes for a short while."

"Okay," Jane said. She closed her eyes, then decided if she didn't want her eyelashes to freeze her eyes shut it might be better to just tug her black wool hat down over her eyes, so she did that instead.

Loki took a deep breath, forgetting that deep breaths out here stung a bit. That was fine. It gave a welcome jolt to his nerves, making him feel alive and his muscles tingle with power he hoped he still had enough of. He'd tested it this morning, after his regular Sunday morning ski excursion with Ken, but it had been a small test, just to make sure he wasn't punished. He wasn't, and he still didn't really know why. He was doing this to travel to the past, and he was doing it to break one of Odin's curses, both things he'd surmised the curse didn't particularly approve of. Perhaps it was too indirect. Like the clothing he'd modified for Jane. He wished he could just ignore it, ignore the back-and-forth in his head over whether something was allowed or not, whether it was "mischief" of the sort Odin disapproved of or not, but ever since he'd begun considering it he hadn't been able to stop. He would be able to stop after the trip to Alfheim; he knew it. Odin and his little curses hadn't wormed their way that far into his head.

He glanced at Jane, standing there waiting patiently for whatever she suspected he might do next. He doubted she would suspect this. I'd best get on with it, he thought, acknowledging to himself that he was procrastinating. Jane didn't really need to close her eyes; he just didn't want her to see how difficult he knew this would be for him. And the moment of surprise, assuming he was reasonably successful, should be pleasurable.

It was difficult. More difficult than when he'd been on Svartalfheim, trapped behind Brokk's silver-flamed yellow candles. Almost as difficult as when he'd first learned to do such things, when he'd had hours and days and months on end to work on it, flat on his back with nothing better to do with his time. Focus! he hissed at himself even as an image started to flicker out of existence. He brought it back. "Open your eyes."

Jane stuck her hands up to her head and pulled the hat back above her eyes. Her jaw fell open and time stood still. In front of her were white stone benches set in a broken circle, and above them the largest cupola. Beyond it, extending in a much larger circle around her, were the white stone arches, smaller cupolas, and the white lattice open-air "roof" to which small-leaved red vines clung.

"Welcome to Alfheim," Loki said, visibly startling Jane. He'd watched her carefully, but hadn't been able to see as much of a reaction as he'd wanted, because of course he couldn't actually see her face.

For a brief irrational moment, Jane wondered if Loki had somehow fired up Pathfinder and taken them straight to Alfheim while she'd closed her eyes. She looked down at her feet, and saw her white boots, but underneath them was some kind of earthy red tiles that had a bit of give in them when she took an experimental step, more like a firm cushion than tile. When she looked up at the cupola, though, and to the sky beyond, it was unmistakably the South Pole's sky. No binary star system – just a large, bright moon.

Loki saw her looking up and knew exactly what she was looking for. He wished he'd made an illusion of the sky as well, but that was difficult for him under the best of circumstances, and these circumstances were far from the best. She would see her dual suns in person soon enough. "Take a few steps. In place. Beyond where you stand it's no more than an illusion and it will fade away as soon as you step on it. Get used to the feeling. On Alfheim, pedestrian walkways are usually made with this material."

Jane took a few steps. It wasn't bouncy, more like squishy, pretty strange-feeling, and she definitely would have been staring down at it like she was now if she'd stepped onto it for the first time when they arrived on Alfheim. Probably easier on the feet than concrete. "Okay. So this is the arrival area on Alfheim for the portal we're using. It looks just like your drawing. And that's the…" She turned to fully face Loki. "How did you do this? It's all an illusion? Like the orange? The magic one, I mean?"

"Yes, and it wasn't easy, so let's not waste the effort, hm? What's the first thing we do when we arrive?"

"Greet the attendant, if there is one. You'll reveal yourself, and I'll mostly keep my mouth shut."

"Mostly?" Loki asked with an arched eyebrow Jane couldn't see.

"You said I could talk here," Jane said, a little annoyed.

"If you need to, yes. Oddities won't attract so much attention here."

"Great," she said sarcastically. I'm an oddity now.

"Next?"

"We get a cloak for me, about five minutes' walk that way," Jane said, pointing off behind Loki. "What are the benches for? I didn't realize how close together they were in the center like that. It looks weird."

Loki looked toward the center of the welcome area. It didn't look weird to him. There was something similar at each of the three portals to Asgard. "Part of an old tradition that's not practiced anymore. We have purchased you a cloak, and then become separated. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to continue on to the place we were going to next. So I'm going to the carriage rental place, which from the shop is another ten minutes' walk back in the direction we came from."

"Close your eyes."

Jane closed them, not bothering with adjusting her hat this time, and Loki made his changes.

"Open."

In front of her now was the white stone building she recognized from another drawing, and the counter in front of it, next to which a man in a bright blue shirt and a long brown leather apron stood.

"Go on. I'm not here."

Jane nodded and started walking, almost immediately slipping. Loki's hand was on her arm in an instant and she regained her balance. She looked down. The Alfheim red squishy tiles were gone and South Pole ice was in its place; she'd forgotten. She continued on, more carefully now.

"How may I serve you on this fine day, my lady?" the man in the blue shirt asked.

Jane just stared at him for a moment. Almost as tall as Loki, dark skin, straight brown hair that hung just above his shoulders and didn't hide the long pointed ears – she wasn't sure she'd ever get used to that – that stuck out along the side of his head. He looked real. She'd seen the pictures of Loki's illusions – copies of himself – in Stuttgart, but seeing it in person was something else. Then he flickered, turned translucent, and then turned solid again. Not real. She reached out to touch the piled stone of the rental stand and the stone retreated from her touch in shimmering green and gold, just like the orange had.

"Don't touch. Answer," Loki said, straining to maintain the illusions.

"Um…no…nothing at the moment, thanks. I'm meeting a friend. Do you mind if I wait inside?"

"Go right ahead. Just through there," the man said, flickering again as he twisted around and pointed toward a door.

"Good. I'll know where to find you, so if we're separated, better to wait somewhere out of sight if possible."

Jane nodded. It felt really weird, talking to a fake person, whose words she supposed came from Loki – surely he couldn't give him a distinct will, enabling him to act independently.

"Who's your friend?" the man asked as Jane began to step around him toward the door.

"Oh, uh, nobody special, really. Just a friend. You know."

"Nobody special?" the elf said. His face turned indignant. "He's second in line to the throne of Asgard!"

Jane drew back and put her hands on her hips. "Well if you already knew, why'd you ask?"

"Funny, Jane, very funny," Loki said, smiling.

"You started it. That was you. He couldn't have known who I was meeting."

"No, but the way you answered would have made him instantly suspicious. Nadrith has already been made king, but that doesn't mean people here in the capital won't be a little on edge about anyone behaving strangely, especially those not of this realm."

"Okay, so how should I answer?"

"The best way to avoid answering a difficult question is to ask another question. Observe," he said, turning to the carriage agent, who turned to him at the same time. "I'm meeting a friend here to rent a carriage. Do you mind if I wait inside for her?"

"Not at all. Who are you meeting?"

"Just an old friend. You must be getting plenty of business these days, with the ceremonies and the celebrations. Have you had a chance to join any of the festivities yourself?"

"Not a one. But I can't complain. I'll have my own celebration later, after all the extra business!" the elf declared with a laugh.

"See? Not hard at all."

Jane glanced back and forth between Loki and the illusion-elf, replaying their brief conversation in her head. "You've done that to me," she finally said. She'd already recognized his tendency to do that, but she'd never realized he'd done it purposefully.

Loki's expression turned to one of confusion for a brief moment. Then he realized that even with her voice somewhat muffled by the facemask, Jane actually sounded hurt. "I do that to everyone. Whenever I'd rather not be the one answering questions," he explained somewhat uncomfortably. Others might have noticed it over time, but he'd never before actually told anyone that it was an explicit, deliberate tactic.

She nodded uneasily. Does it come as naturally to you as breathing? This kind of manipulation? Do you even know how to turn it off? "I don't think I can do that."

"Of course you can. For your safety's sake, you can. Ask something that you know will interest the other person, preferably something about themselves, perhaps something that flatters, but not obviously so. In this case, you're here for a business transaction – ask about his business."

Jane tried to set aside her discomfort and turned back to the elf, who'd stood there flickering occasionally and watching them as though a part of their conversation. "I'm just meeting an old friend. So how's your business doing? With, um, Nadrith's ceremony and everything going on?"

The elf opened his mouth, but then disappeared before he could speak. Jane might play along with a little teasing, but he figured he'd best not go too far. "Better. But I've made a mistake with you here. I refer to him as Nadrith because we were once friends, of a sort. Titles aren't always used, but as someone not of Alfheim, particularly at this time, you should be careful to show the proper respect. Refer to him as 'King Nadrith,' or 'Nadrith Ljosalf,' or 'His Majesty.' Never by his given name alone."

"Okay. That I can do."

"Good."

Jane looked around her. It was so easy to forget she wasn't on Alfheim, that she was still in ECW gear, that none of this was real. Shimmering aside, the building looked solid, she'd talked to that man, the wooden counter looked like she could hike herself up on it and have a seat. "You know…every now and then, when I'm with you…I just think somebody needs to pinch me, because this must be a dream." She continued to take in her magical surroundings, then quickly turned back to Loki. "Don't get any ideas."

Loki smiled – not a particularly large smile, really, but one that felt relaxed and good on his face. "I don't think I could get to any part of you to pinch if I tried. Perhaps your nose."

Jane laughed. "I think you're taking it a bit too literally."

Loki's smile straightened out. "I'm surprised you don't feel that way every moment when you're with me. It must be…quite strange for you. You were going about your normal life…your mundane mortal life," he added with a re-emerging smile he remembered Jane couldn't see only after he'd spoken. "Which was quite…enjoyable and fulfilling, I'm sure," he amended clumsily. "And Asgard dumped its refuse directly into it. You've hardly had a moment's peace since." It felt strange saying it. It felt strange thinking it. Feeling it. He'd never particularly thought about all this from Jane's perspective before. It was unsettling, really.

Jane's lips quirked upward with his reference to her "mundane mortal life," then further upward when he seemed to think she wouldn't realize that was a joke and felt the need to clarify. But the reference to Thor as Asgard's "refuse" soured the moment. Still, he was trying to say something nice, it seemed. He just didn't know how to do "nice" when Thor came into the picture. "It hasn't been all bad, you know. There've been…moments of peace. And moments of excitement, and happiness, and…amazement," she continued, looking around her yet again. She wondered if on Asgard seeing things like what Loki had just created here was part of a mundane Asgardian life. "To tell you the truth…I wouldn't trade it for anything. None of it. The stuff that happened in between you and him, I mean, after I met him in New Mexico, and before I met you here, or in Australia, that I wish I could trade. But the other…I mean look at this."

Loki looked. He saw poorly made illusions which flickered insubstantially and lacked detail. He saw Jane working hard to learn what she needed to know, including how to deceive and manipulate which he knew she wasn't comfortable with, all so she could travel to the past with him, something that was fundamentally against her principles. Guilt flared up in him again. What are you doing to her? something whispered deep inside him. Nothing she didn't ask for, he answered himself. Jane was still looking around her in wonder.

She squared her shoulders and turned back to him. "So what's next?"

/

/

Jane was obviously exhausted when they finished for the day, so much so that as they walked back toward the elevated station Loki kept a constant eye on her to make sure she didn't collapse. He'd pushed her hard, walking her through key turns in the route they would take on horseback, and large stretches of the route they would take on foot. She'd done more walking than that on Asgard, but there she'd walked on pavement and thick grass in light attire and breathed in rich, sweet air; here she'd walked on slippery rippled ice in heavy layers of Extreme Cold Weather gear and breathed in thin, frigid air. She was breathing heavily and her balaclava was covered in a fairly thick coating of ice from her exhales. She'd never complained, not once, but Loki still thought perhaps he'd pushed her too hard. He'd grown up with intense training that continued to varying extents all his life, and when he was first learning something, that meant being pushed extremely hard, until he was so exhausted he could barely hold on to his weapon, and then he would have to fight again. Jane was not Aesir, though.

He gave a short bitter laugh. Neither was he.

And he was exhausted, too, though not from any physical exertion, not in the way Jane would understand it. He'd never been punished for any of the endless illusions he created for Jane, each time with her eyes closed at first, but he was weakened from the sheer amount of them and the struggle it was to create each one.

Tomorrow night he would test her again, this time on the route through Asgard and Niskit's village; he would try to be better rested for it.

He'd at least managed to avoid one issue he didn't want to deal with. When they'd first gone out to the jamesway, Jane had brought up her laptop again, insisting he remove the password he'd set. He'd told her they would discuss it afterward, but Jane was apparently so tired now she'd forgotten about it. They hadn't even gone back into the jamesway after finishing up the tests. Loki decided he'd have to slip away sometime soon, tomorrow, perhaps, and connect the laptop to the station's network and transfer its data to the folders where the rest of Jane's data was stored. That way she would have access to what she most wanted from the laptop…but he would maintain control of it. It was his lifeline – without it he had nothing – and he was not about to be held captive to Jane's morality. He could acquiesce to it for now. He could even respect her for her principles. But in the end, he would do what was necessary for himself, regardless of what she thought of it.

"What will you do with your evening?" Loki asked when they got in and were stripping off layers.

"Flopping on my bed and sleeping sounds good. But I guess I should scrounge up something to eat, and then maybe I'll see if somebody's watching a movie or something. Or go curl up on the couch in the Greenhouse with a book. I don't know. I'll see what's going on. I guess it's poker for you?"

Loki nodded. "I'll eat something there. We're starting soon in the B-3 Lounge."

"So…see you tomorrow? I want to work from the DSL and do a visual check of all the equipment. Then lunch, then back to Alfheim 101. Sound okay?" Jane asked, finally getting her breath back from the walk in and the climb up the stairs.

"It sounds fine. See you then." Jane gave him a tired little wave as she turned, and Loki nodded back. He was hungry, too – they'd skipped lunch, neither of them realizing it until late afternoon – and figured he could use the energy boost. He left his gear hanging in the changing room, then hurried to the galley. Nothing was prepared on Sundays, and the Game Room, where Selby now kept his leftovers, would surely be occupied on a Sunday evening. He didn't feel like rummaging through the leftovers refrigerator for something he would deem edible that no one else had wanted to eat – and really it was at times like this that Loki desperately missed having a palace full of servants ready to get him whatever he asked for – so he went over to the piles of packaged snacks. Every one of them left him cold inside. He shook his head at himself. It didn't really matter whether he liked what he ate, he simply needed the energy after the day's exertions. He found a package of "beef jerky" – beef sealed in plastic for posterity sounded more like a jest to him than actual food, but he figured meat was better at this point than chocolate candy.

He picked up the beef jerky and paused. Someone usually brought ale or other alcohol, sodas, and various snacks to the poker game. He had never brought anything. The others got their supplies from the little store, he thought, the "Polemart," as he'd heard them refer to it, but it wasn't open now. Better than nothing, he thought, grabbing a few more packages of beef jerky, little packages of M&Ms, and some plastic-wrapped cookies the kitchen staff had made on Saturday.

He was a little late, and when he reached the lounge the others were already there at the card table, Austin, Carlo, Paul, Zeke, and Ronny. A little table that normally held a lamp and a box of facial tissue was pulled up beside the table and held much of the night's offerings. Loki added to the pile the things he'd brought over a chorus of welcomes, keeping two packages of beef jerky for himself.

"I was just about to call you on the radio, Lucas," Austin said.

"And the rest of us were going to jump him so he couldn't," Ronny added. "I want a week off of house mouse."

Loki gave a short laugh. They weren't even here for that; it was just a mid-game diversion from the diversion.

"Hey, Lucas, where do you do your shopping?"

Loki turned to Paul, seated next to him, in surprise. "Pardon?"

"My sister's just got engaged. I've worked hard to avoid owning a suit all my life, and she informed me that I'm not invited unless I wear one. You're a clotheshorse, where do you get your stuff?"

"Ah," Loki said with a nod, thinking quickly. Clotheshorse? That was an odd one. "Most recently, from Sydney's Queen Victoria Building, specifically from shops there with lovely clerks who assist me in choosing items that best suit me." Before that, from Asgard's finest tailors, custom-made to his precise and exacting demands.

"Sydney, Australia? Yeah, that doesn't help," Paul said.

"It does, in fact," Carlo said. "I like this idea. Lovely clerks."

"Don't tell your lovely girlfriend," Austin said.

Cans were passed around – Loki took a Pepsi – and the game quickly got underway. Loki relaxed and didn't take the game as seriously as he normally did, whether to win a round or to deliberately lose, and wound up in second place behind Zeke when they took a break between hands and Ronny called for the 3D's. Loki was tired and not particularly in the mood for this form of juvenile ridiculousness tonight; when he took his turns he put no real effort into duration – always his strength due to his greater lung control – and he actually lost by one point to Carlo. He didn't care. Jane had told him to stop winning, and she was the one who would have to clean the bathroom, anyway, not him. Of course if they were on the roster for something else, he'd have to do that, but it was only the bathroom he found truly repellent. Then he remembered what losing meant. He, and not Jane, now had to do Carlo's and Austin's house mouse chores for a week. He might be scrubbing toilets after all.

"I would like a rematch," he muttered. He would simply have to convince Jane that their agreement covered this, too.

Everyone laughed. "I bet you do," Zeke said.

"I knew I would make you proud someday, Papa," Carlo said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"Forget your papa. You've made me proud, dear boy," Austin said, placing a hand heavily on Carlo's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "And Lucas, I hereby nominate you to take over dishpit for one of us. I haven't seen you scrubbing lasagna pans in ages."

"Don't let this boon go to your head, Austin, just because you had no competition at darts on Friday and won. This was Carlo's win, not yours," Loki reminded him.

"I think I'm with Austin on this one," Carlo said. "Lucas, I happily give you my rubber gloves."

"How generous. And I have nothing for you in return," Loki said in mock regret. He was annoyed, but not that annoyed, really. It may be a close call, but between dishpit and the bathrooms, he would take dishpit. And losing was easier after winning both previous times…and knowing he hadn't put his full effort into it.

"My dad might actually be proud of me for winning the 3Ds," Paul said. "'Finally made something of yourself, boy. Took you long enough,'" he said in a harsh, low voice, then gave a laugh and took a gulp from his beer.

"Your father has low expectations, if winning a belching context would make him proud," Loki said.

"More like I've set the bar really low, in his opinion. I dropped out of college and I've been doing odd jobs ever since, odd interesting jobs, if you ask me. I did a summer at McMurdo and a summer here, and I've worked in the Arctic, too, and all over the world. But when I tell him what I do here all he hears is 'glorified trash collector.'"

"Let him spend a few months with trash collectors not visiting his house, his neighborhood, his city. He won't think that's a good insult anymore," Carlo said.

"My dad's old school," Austin said. "Emotionally closed off, or stunted, or whatever fancy words they use for that these days. I told him I got this position here that I'd wanted so bad, and he said, 'That sounds like a good opportunity, Son. I'm sure you'll make the most of it,'" he imitated in an unemotional tone. "And he told me not to forget to pack my long johns."

"Good advice, at least," Zeke said with a chuckle.

"He's a good guy, he just…he doesn't connect very well, I guess. 'Men don't have or need emotions, boys,'" he said in the same voice he'd used for his father earlier. Loki wondered if he meant that his father had actually said that.

Paul leaned over to the smaller table and grabbed another beer, then offered drinks and snacks around the table. Loki accepted a third package of beef jerky. It was too salty for his taste and who knew how long it had been in its plastic container, but at least it was somewhat familiar, reminding him of a common dish on Svartalfheim. He opened it up quickly and bit in, glad to have something else to focus his attention on for a moment.

"I'd take Spock-Dad in a heartbeat over mine. My old man used to express his emotions with his fists," Ronny said quietly, toying with a package of dried fruit. "I just told everybody I was playing baseball and got hit by the ball. They switched to softballs at my school because of me." He gave a nervous laugh; no one else was saying anything now, and there was none of the occasional laughter or whistles or other sound effects that often came from around the table. "It wasn't too bad, really, but then he started drinking more and it started getting worse, and my mom left him and we went to live with my grandparents."

"You ever see him anymore?" Paul asked.

"Nah. He's still my dad, but we don't really have any kind of relationship, you know? We call each other on birthdays. Last time I saw him in person was at my high school graduation. Most awkward father-son hug in the history of awkward father-son hugs."

"My dad shook my hand at my high school graduation, avoided the awkward hug thing entirely. 'I'm proud of you, Austin,'" he said, going back into his "father" voice.

"I would've given anything to hear those words."

All eyes turned to Loki, who glanced back at several of them before dropping his head. He really should have maintained his silence. But he'd grown comfortable with these men of diverse ages and backgrounds, and the random things they spoke of over drinks and snacks and cards and rude noises. If they could voice their dissatisfaction with their fathers, why could he not as well?

"Astrophysicist wasn't good enough for him?" Paul asked. "What does he want , President?"

Loki chuckled. "I think he would find that rather lacking."

"Geez," Ronny said as Austin whistled.

"So basically nothing's good enough for him, sounds like," Austin said.

"I suppose not. I was never good enough for him. I could never live up to what he expected from me. I could never live up to my- To my brother." There was no need to bore the Midgardians with who these people really were, or weren't, to him.

"What makes your brother so great?" Zeke asked.

Loki regarded him for a moment while he thought. "A good question," he said with a half-smile. "I suppose you might say he's considerably more like my father than I am."

"Do you have anything in common with him? Anything you could talk about with him where everybody stays happy? Sports? Cars?"

Talk? It was the oddest of questions. Does anyone talk to him? Mother does, probably. Thor probably talks to him all the time now. Pleasant little chats about me, most likely. Everyone was waiting for his answer. He scrambled to come up with one, and had to go far back in his memories to retrieve it. "Horses," he said, only afterward wondering why he hadn't just made something else. It would have been easy. Zeke had even given him two options. "We both had an interest in horses."

"Betting or riding?" Ronny asked.

"Riding," Loki answered with a short laugh of surprise. "Raising them – breeding, training."

"Really? You never mentioned it," Carlo said, eyebrows going up in interest.

Loki held back his grimace. He'd forgotten that Carlo had once said that some of his relatives bred horses. Back then he hadn't been interested in talking with any of these people. And here he was talking about Odin, of all things. "It was a long time ago," he clarified. It had been centuries, in fact, though he knew they would think he meant decades, at the most.

"Anyway, I ask because sometimes it's hard to get to know your father as a man. Figuring out who he is and why he is the way he is, not just the stuffy jerk who grounded you and always expected more from you. It's not an easy transition, and I'm on the other side of it now. Daughter in college and a son out traveling the world and 'finding himself,' whatever that means. Maybe a conversation about something you both enjoy would help…ease the way, you know? You, too, Paul. You have anything in common with your dad that doesn't lead to shouting?"

Loki let the words wash over him and tuned them out, now that the attention was no longer on him. His father was not a man. Physically, yes, a man, in the sense that he was not a woman, but he was no mere man. One did not "get to know" the All-Father. Some had, perhaps, those who had known him when he was a young man, those who knew him before he was king, or not long after. He wasn't even sure how well Thor "knew" him. And this transition Zeke spoke of, he supposed it was something meant to happen when one was perhaps twenty or thirty on Midgard. Loki was past one thousand and thirty, and in a moment of dark humor, he thought it was probably too late for him to sit down with Odin, have a nice chat about horses, and figure out why he was the way he was. It was ironic, really – he actually had figured that out, and not that long ago. Odin was the way he was because he had never forgotten who Loki really was. Father dear, I'm interested in understanding you as a man. Shall we go for a little ride? And perhaps you could tell me why you cast me out on this backwater realm with-

The others burst out laughing, and Loki immediately followed suit, though he'd lost track entirely of what they were saying. For a split second he thought they were laughing at him and he clenched his teeth through his laughter, but he quickly realized they were laughing at something Zeke had said.

"No, I'm serious, it worked for me," Zeke continued. "I was plastered, Dad was plastered…and suddenly we could talk about anything. Okay, helps I guess that we're both happy drunks. My dad laid down the law with me so hard when I was growing up, sometimes it felt like he was more like a drill sergeant than a father, and…I don't know, it opened the floodgates I guess, no pun intended."

"That would so not work with my dad," Austin said.

Loki raised an eyebrow as he tried to imagine it in his case. He didn't drink, with good reason, and Odin didn't overindulge. It had been ages since he'd seen him show even the slightest effects of drink. If somehow they both became intoxicated in the same room together, Loki figured there was a good chance that one or both of them would wind up dead.

These musings, of course, were all pointless flights of whimsy. The last page in that book had already been turned, its ending foretold the moment Odin plucked him from Jotunheim's ice. But it was kind of Zeke, of the entire group, to include him, and to take an interest in him when they were under no obligation to do so.

The conversation continued, and Ronny gathered up the cards from the center of the table and started to shuffle. Loki took another bite of beef jerky, washed it down with a swallow of Coke, and felt something he had not often felt in his life, not for a long time. Contentment. It was a strange, foreign feeling, and it began to fade as he became aware of it and thought it over. It vanished entirely when he realized something else.

He would miss this when he left.

/

For all you folks out there who use Celsius, 30 degrees Fahrenheit is -1C, and -80F is -62C. I have wondered before if these Fahrenheit temperatures mean anything to you. Celsius never meant anything to me until I lived in a country that used Celsius...and then only the temperature range I experienced while in that country.

I am moved now. Settled would be pushing it a bit too far. But it's been fun getting back to writing, and I'm so happy to be able to put up another chapter. For readers of my other two in-progress stories, expect new chapters there soon.

Thanks for your patience during my time away, believe me I would have rather been writing. The moving process is awful. But the hardest parts are over now at least. So onward! I hope you enjoyed the chapter - I'd love to hear from you. If I haven't responded to your PM from like 3 weeks ago, I WILL get back to you and soon now, just haven't been able to yet during this time. I'm normally much quicker!

Oh! And "jacquelinelittle," yes, well, that would be me the last decade or more, these Marvel movies are pretty much my only attachment to pop culture these days, I'm pretty clueless about the rest! And "Guest101" and "Michelle" - keep reading! ;-)

Previews for Ch. 109: Nadrith gets a reprieve from the rooms he's been locked up in, and astute readers might get a new clue; Loki is a wee bit irritable but there's a reason; Loki's nominated for his acting debut; Thor's journal takes a different direction; Jane tries to provide Loki a lesson and Loki, as usual, comes to his own conclusions, as their next planned time travel grows imminent. (Actually, there are two clues to two different things in this chapter, but "clue" may be too strong a word. "Hint," maybe.)

And excerpt (hint- and clue-free):

I miss you, Jane, [Thor] thought, sitting in bed a little later, the journal resting on his lap. He'd started writing in it to record his thoughts about Loki, and it had quickly turned into a means of expressing his thoughts to Loki, in essence, when he wasn't there to twist his words or argue back or deny or accuse or pull a knife. Tonight, though, his thoughts were all for Jane, and he struggled to turn them away from her.