Loki took her to the nicest of the restaurants he frequented, and ordered a veritable feast. He also ordered champagne, the first she had ever seen him drink. It fizzled on her tongue and rather went to her head. She was more adventurous in the car on the way home than she had been before, and was somewhat put out when Jacques pulled up in front of their building. Loki just grinned, not letting go of her hand as he exited the car. She nearly stumbled as she got out, and he caught her, laughing.

Natasha laughed too, and was suddenly struck by how happy she was. It was night by now, and she threw her head back, looking for the few brave stars who pierced through the light and smog of the city. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Oh, but I haven't even started," Loki murmured teasingly, misinterpreting her gratitude. She just laughed, and followed him inside and up the stairs. When he reached his door, he was surprised to find that the key turned without resistance. "Sophie must have forgotten to lock up again," he said darkly.

"Oh go easy on her," Natasha said gently. She liked her maid - she didn't want to have to get another.

He opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind her, putting his hands against the wood and trapping her. He leaned down to kiss her, but froze when he heard a distinctive click behind him. "Don't move," he whispered. Natasha barely nodded, and he turned, very slowly, to find Sybil pointing a gun at him. It gleamed dully in the low lamplight, and shook as her hand trembled.

"You said I couldn't spend it on drugs," she said, her voice high and slightly hysterical. "You never said what else I couldn't spend it on."

"Sybil," Loki said softly, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "You don't want to do this. What good could possibly come of this?"

From behind him, Natasha could see Sybil shake her head vigorously. "I'm setting things right," she said resolutely. "I'm making them the way they're supposed to be. She's supposed to be dead, and you're supposed to be mine."

"If you shoot her," Loki said evenly, "you will go to jail. The police will come and take you away, and you will never see me again," he explained, as if he were telling a child they would be punished for bad behavior.

Now Sybil looked confused. "You wouldn't let them," she said, but she didn't sound very confident. It was almost a question.

"There's nothing I could do to stop them," he said regretfully. He took a careful step forward, and shifted her grip on the gun. "Give me the gun, Sybil, and we can work this all out."

She shook her head again. "You won't leave her," she laughed. "You told me so! You told me that you never should have left her before, and that if you had the chance to do it all over, you never would again!"

Loki closed his eyes. Natasha was right. He should never have said those things to her. He opened his eyes again. "I might," he said, sounding very convincing. "That was all a very long time ago, and things aren't really like I remembered."

From where she stood, still frozen against the door, Natasha felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was lying. But he was so damn convincing it threw her for a moment. As she watched, Sybil tore her gaze away from Loki's hypnotic charm, and looked her straight in the eye.

"Sybil, give me the gun, and we can talk about this like civil people," he said more forcefully, sensing that he was losing her. He reached out for the gun cautiously, thinking to snatch it from her fingers while she was distracted.

"No," Sybil said quietly, and fired the gun.

Three things happened almost simultaneously:

Loki grabbed for the gun, succeeding only in getting his hand shot clean through, and he doubled over in pain.

The gun nearly jumped out of Sybil's hand, and she screamed, seeing that she had shot Loki.

Natasha flinched.

Loki looked up at Sybil, rage written clear on his face. Sybil's eyes widened, and she dropped the gun, turning to run for the fire escape. He made to follow, but froze as Natasha made a sound behind him.

He turned, and watched, horrified, as she slid down the door, leaving behind her a smear of red. Her eyes remained open, and they held a question she did not ask.

"No," he breathed, and rushed to her side, moving so quickly he seemed to appear beside her. He took her in his arms. The bullet wound seemed so small, an inconsequential stain on the front of her dress. But his hands found the mess of her back, her blood overwhelming his own. "No, no, no," he shook his head, his voice rising in volume.

Natasha closed her eyes a moment, and grimaced. It hurt so badly, and yet she only half-felt it. "It's alright," she said softly. "She's right, I'm supposed to be dead. I was lucky to have more time with you at all."

"Shhh," he shifted his hold on her, trying to avoid the wound on her back. "I'll get a doctor, they have doctors now who can do anything," he said maniacally.

She just smiled. "No, Loki. No one can stop this," she drew breath, and there was an ugly rattle in her chest. She coughed, and a fleck of red appeared on her lips. "I should have known it was too good to be true," she laughed softly, but quickly began coughing.

"No, it's all my fault," he said miserably. "I never should have left you with that cretin," he spat, but paused when he saw the look of pain and regret on her face.

"I'm afraid Clint suffered the most for all of this," she said, her voice growing quiet. "I think he really did love me."

"Not like I love you," Loki said fiercely.

She smiled. "No. And that is why I only loved you, Loki."

He kissed her, tasting the blood on her lips, holding her too tightly. He felt her sigh, going on far too long, and pulled back to see that the light had gone out of her eyes.

It was as if the world shattered around him. No surprise, he thought in some distant, quiet corner of his mind, she was my world. He felt every shield, every magical protection he had layered over the centuries, crumble under the force of his rage and grief. Objects in the room began to lift and spin, orbiting the portrait which sat, still unvarnished, watching with unseeing eyes. They began to crash into each other, as Loki buried his face in the curve of Natasha's neck.

Suddenly, everything stilled, before dropping to the floor. Loki's head shot up, and he turned to see two figures, knowing instantly that they were responsible. "You," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "I should have known it was you! You always had to spoil my happiness! To take what was rightfully mine!" his voice rose to a pitch that was not quite sane.

The object of his hatred stared back, uncomprehending, but Karnilla beside him shook her head. "No, 'twas I, Loki Laufeyson. Thor knew not how it would end."

Thor looked from Karnilla to the unmoving body in Loki's arms, to the smear of blood on the door. "Odin's beard, no," he said, voice full of compassion and grief.

"I told you there would be a price," Karnilla said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes, but," Thor looked to Loki, crestfallen, "I never imagined that you should pay it, I swear to you!"

"There is always a price," Loki sneered, "But you were too thick to think that she might have to pay it. Tell me, what was it you hoped to accomplish, that you paid so little heed to the consequences?" He stood slowly, Natasha's body dangling in his arms, still dripping blood on the floor.

"I wanted..." Thor swallowed, "to bring you home, brother. I wanted you to find salvation in love and happiness."

"Well I had love and happiness, but now she is gone, forever taken from me, and you are to blame!" he shouted. If his hands had not been full of their burden, they might have found themselves around the blond god's thick neck.

Karnilla held up a hand, stilling the brothers. "There is a way to change this outcome," she said temptingly.

Thor turned, surprised, but Loki merely stared. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it? A chance to rewrite history to suit your needs."

"Not history," Karnilla said, and her voice resonated with magic. "The future." All around them, the room faded away, and they were left standing in an endless expanse of stars. Behind Karnilla stretched an endless tapestry, going on out of sight in either direction. "This is the future of this realm," she gestured to the weaving, and Loki saw a bright green thread that ran through it, his own. Every thread it touched turned black, until almost all of the cloth was black. There were patches of color here and there, but they were always quickly overpowered by darkness.

"I caused this?" Loki sounded vaguely horrified.

"Not directly," she conceded, "But your attempts to hide yourself from us had consequences. As you said, there is always a price."

"And what would you do, to change it?" Thor asked, frowning and crossing his arms.

Karnilla gestured, and the tapestry rearranged itself. Loki's thread, and a gold thread he guessed to be Thor's, were lifted off the fabric and moved to the right, towards the future. "If I delay your birth by a thousand years, your destiny aligns more profitably with those of others. Here," she pointed to a spot where the two threads crossed, as well as crossing those of others, red and gold, blue white and red, and green and a purple twisted together, and a host of other colors. The confluence caused a rippling pattern that affected the fabric throughout, although for better or worse was unclear. "It is essential that this happens, for the sake of this realm and others."

"What happens?" Thor asked.

"That I cannot tell you," she said mysteriously.

"Then why show us?" he said, frustrated.

"She needs my consent," Loki guessed accurately. "But I have yet to be moved."

Karnilla nodded, and held out her hands. Natasha's body floated up out of his arms, and dissolved, coalescing into a single red and black thread. It floated towards the tapestry until it glowed against it, stretched out far beyond its normal length by Karnilla's previous spell. She grasped the thread and pulled, lifting it from the pattern. Another came along with it, a strong mauve thread tangled with hers, and Loki recognized it immediately.

"Leave him behind," he insisted.

"He is her salvation," she explained. "I cannot change her destiny any more than I have already. She will still be born into unfortunate circumstances, and used by those around her. He will bring her out of darkness, and teach her to love. Would you deny her that?"

He ground his teeth together. "No." He watched as she lifted the thread, moving it later. Now her thread and the archer's ran through the confluence. The mauve was temporarily turned black where it touched his, he was happy to see, but the effect of her influence was marvelous. Suddenly, where before there had been a snarl, now there was an organized and tightly-bound knot. The echoing patterns were clearer, more obviously positive. Best of all, he saw that afterwards her thread ran alongside his for the few centuries he could see beyond.

His mouth went dry. "What is the price?"

"Your memories," she said without hesitation. "You will have no recollection of any of this, nor will any living creature. Your actions will remain, but they will be attributed to others. You will repeat the same mistakes. You will cause her pain, and she will hate you for it, for a while. You will meet as enemies, first."

"But in the end..." he stared on down the line of the two threads, green and red and black.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Do I get any say in this?" Thor spoke up.

"No," Karnilla and Loki said simultaneously.

He shook his head and stared at his feet, muttering at what an idiot he had been.

Loki continued to stare at the tapestry. What did he stand to lose? Memories that would haunt him forever? A future he unwittingly corrupted? "I consent," he said at last.

Karnilla smiled. "Then let it be done." She lifted her hands, and all around them the stars began to shift. The tapestry solidified, then faded. Loki felt himself floating, and then he felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from him. Then, he knew only blackness.

Pain. Cold. Hunger. Fear. These were the sum of his existence. He cried out, and no one heard. He felt hands upon his tiny form, warm strong hands, and opened his eyes to see a face, one eye a mangled mess of a wound. Warmth suffused his body, and he stopped crying, curiosity coming into him.

"I shall call you Loki," the man said in a gruff but gentle voice. "And I shall raise you as my son..."

THE END

A/N: Ok, first of all, pleeeeeeease don't kill me. I know a lot of you were rooting for a happy ending, but it just wasn't in the cards. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to tie this into the Avengers movie, as well as Anima Complex. I faithfully followed the classic tragedy pattern: things suck, things get better, then things get worse, then things are wonderful, then everything goes to hell. I hope you all don't hate me now that you know the end.

That said, if you are looking for more of a happy-ending-type-story, I highly recommend Anima Complex, my other story. It's still fairly dark, but things are more likely to work out well. As an added bonus, I have sprinkled references between the two stories throughout. Most of them are subtle, but the next chapter I post on Anima Complex, chapter 68, will be pretty obvious about it.

As always, I enjoy your reviews immensely. Even though this story is done, if you leave a thoughtful review (and you're signed in) I will usually respond. It's been a hell of a ride, and I am both happy and sad to have finally finished this. Thank you all, so much, for all your support.