I'm back! Sorry for the huge gap of time, I've been very busy with art commissions and coursework. Plus, school's just started again :( . *sigh* . I'll have less time, but there will be more to come. The story's gone a bit more fluffy than I wanted it too – this will be amended by some actual storyline soon, so don't panic.

Even before Loki had gained the privilege of complete consciousness, he could almost tell that he did not feel in a particularly good condition. His entire body felt bruised and damaged, especially his left arm, which thousands of painful twinges shook as his twitched the obviously wounded limb which was lying beside him. The intense pain made his closed eyes water beneath their lids, and his breath shudder.

"Don't move, it's fractured." A voice above him murmured. There was a brief pause. "Loki..." it spoke gently.

After a long wait, he slowly blinked his eyes to try opening them, and attempt to clear the blurriness from his vision. Morning light shone and again his previous migraine began to return, although this time much worse, the brightness aching his eyes and his ears pounding continuously. But what shocked him more was his arm, the first thing he gazed upon. Most of the skin was badly grazed, but it was not this that disturbed him the most - it was twisted into an unnatural angle and was horribly bruised, next to his broken body.

"Loki?"

The enigmatic voice spoke again, soft yet seemingly sounding increasingly concerned. Loki steadily moved his head ever so slightly to look up at the being knelt over him.

Even the most subtle of movements hurt. His bones were shattered glass within his mortal human flesh. For a moment, when his aching head did not allow him to immediately recognize the anxious face staring down at him, he felt oddly comforted by the person's presence.

Then, within a few seconds, he came slightly more to his senses. And then he remembered.

The room, purgatory, the pale doors, New Jersey, the walk, the road, the fall...

Bartleby

Loki gasped in fright and confusion, and tried as much as he could to make use of the last of his strength, crawling away desperately from the angel, but his broken arm buckled violently under even the slightest weight. Pain, both physical and psychological burned through him, and hot tears streamed from his stinging eyes.

As he scrambled away from the one who had stabbed him, he looked into those eyes once more. They were neither the eyes of the Bartleby he knew before, nor those which he had bore during the events which occurred at the church. There was something different in those eyes.

Dark, tear stained and tired, he saw desperation, reflection, an inward stare which is rarely seen but instantly recognizable. Sadness. Bartleby fell to his knees and reached out a shivering hand as Loki tried to escape, and it was then that Loki saw the torrents of tears which covered Bartleby's face as well. Then, seeing this, he stopped, still trying to use a deadweight arm to hold himself up.

"Loki!" Bartleby cried, the third time Loki had heard him say his name, and collapsed, convulsing with streams of tears.

"I'm sorry... I'm... So sorry..." He whimpered

Loki summoned the last vestiges of his strength left, and shook as he stumbled on to his feet, with injured, quivering knees. He painfully made his way over to the weeping Bartleby, soundlessly. Kneeling gently down beside him, Loki laid a hand on his shoulder, but was still unsure whether or not he was making a rational decision. But he was not ready to rationalize. He didn't want to. He was with Bartleby again. When he thought back to the ceaseless pain he felt when Bartleby had stabbed him, and when he was so alone without him by his side, what did anything else matter. He knew that it was only rational to reject him for what he did, but his mind clouded with cognitive dissonance.

"I'm... I'm... Sorry too, man... But it doesn't matter anymore, we're together again. It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! I've done every fucking thing wrong, can't you see?" Bartleby spat.

"Shit, I'm trying to be the voice of reason here." Loki retorted. "Stop asking for self fucking pity, I was the victim! Why did you do it Bartleby? Why the fuck did you do it?"

"Maybe I don't know! Maybe it was fear of a conscience, another human. Maybe it was just the whole confusion, a myopic, irrational, shit decision! No, it's more than that - I can't understand it now, I don't want to make excuses for myself! This whole fucking thing was a mistake. And it's my fault. Nor did God show me any kind of fucking mercy. Do you know what I asked for? What I thought She might just do, which at that moment I knew I so very wanted? Elimination, removal, an end to all this. No other life or afterlife in which I could hurt you again. I've already made you lose everything, and ruined my own existence. So I guess this is my very own terrible, fucking punishment"

With painful limbs Loki slowly stood up again, although even he himself knew he was barely able to walk for more than a few steps, even if he tried.

"Wait. Loki! Don't leave me again!" came the voice of Bartleby from behind him. "...You're hurt."

Loki halted and turned his head slightly. "Why would you care?"

"Do I have to give a reason for everything?" Bartleby looked down towards the road, gradually becoming warmed bu the morning sun. "You're hurt." He repeated.

There was a pause, before Bartleby glanced up

Loki smiled wearily, at him, then lost his balance and wobbled slightly. Bartleby smiled back. "You can't just walk off like that, my simple creature."