"Am I your twisted shrine to normality ?"

She hits him in the chest, and he catches her wrist.

Jane continues spitting in his face. "You are sick, so sick ! Is there some sort of flavour on me that reminds you of your brother ? No, not even of your brother. Of your family. Of what you lost. Because he loved me-" He grimaces and she shouts the word 'love' until her throat is raw. "Yes he loved me. And because of that you keep me. You're not stone, you have emotions, and you may be a god but it does not exempt your from humanity. You feel. You need me because I'm what's left of your feelings. Despite everything, you don't want to just be a worshipped figure – you desire to be a wanted one. If only by one single person. Your family wanted you. Once upon a long, long time ago. Get this nonsense out of your head, you can't recapture them in me."

She thinks she might try and hurt him yet again. Not that it would do any good, only shatter her remaining countenance. And she needs it to continue. The world is pulling itself together, shamefully accepting a new reign, its head bowed before its defeat. She needs that world – her world – but it is ready to kick her out. It's really ironic and even more sad. Jane has heard her name being muttered and cursed, she's witnessed men and women calling her things so vile it brought tears to her eyes.

After months of fighting, the Avengers welcomed reality. There was no victory waiting for them. There never would have been. One of them had been killed upon surrender. Some say it was in fact suicide. Still, candles have been lit before the portrait of Steve Rogers and then blew out, destroyed, annihilated, by some of Loki's men.

Loki. She looks at his pale face, bloodless almost, as he stares at her. The look he is giving her is such that she has no words to describe it. It's rage and adoration at once, murderous desperation and odd affection. She feels that it he were to reach out and choke the life out of her at this instant, he would do so with certain reverence. Gentleness, perhaps.

Instead all he tells her is: "You have a sharp tongue for someone so defenceless."

She doesn't know how to react to that, to his composed reaction. Jane swallows, rubs her eyes, brushes her hair with trembling fingers. "You're not going to kill me for this ?"

"I'm never going to kill you."

It's a promise. One that isn't comforting. It should be, she knows that it should, but its threatening edge is too grand to be ignored.

"You did it," she says in a hoarse voice, "you won. Thor tried to stop you for a second time and he failed. He is going back now." Again. "The Bifrost will perhaps never be rebuilt. Maybe it was the last time you saw him."

"It doesn't matter, Jane Foster."

It's the first time he spoke her full name since those days back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. It sends a cold shiver down her spine. This all reeks of the past – a past where Earth was still free, and he in a glass cell.

He takes a step forward and she backs away. Their usual, little dance resumes. Not for long. His hands are around her waist, cold, naked of gloves, as they dig in her sides.

"You are no shrine," he says calmly and all of a sudden breathing is very difficult because everything is just too surreal, "you don't deserve to be." Jane claws at his hands but he doesn't let go. "At the same time, no one does."

This quietens the storm within her. She lets him hold her like that, in a sort of embrace but not quite. Not gentle but not violent.

"Have an apple," Loki says.

It's there, sitting on the table, shinning bright. Jane struggles out of his grasp and walks past him. He remains frozen, eyes still at the wall she'd been trapped against a minute early. As she picks it up, she realizes how insubstantial and weightless it is.

"Take a bite," he insists.

And he doesn't go away until she does. It tastes amazing, unlike anything she's ever had. When she tells him of it, he laughs.

She tries to go outside, she tries talking with people. She even starts wearing her hair in a bun to look more different. Every so often, someone does not recognize her as Loki's companion and she gets to share a pleasant, light conversation with that generous soul. It always fills her with warmth.

That day, when she comes back home, he's there. She walks behind him, touches him on the shoulder and he shrugs her touch off.

"We're not going anywhere, right ?"

It's a question she's meant to ask for a long time now. Not 'are you going to let me go' or something of the sort. Because even if he did tell her that she was free to storm out, she wouldn't do it. This routine is familiar, lovely to some disgusting extent, and so is he. No. She is anchored to him.

If she really is his shrine, then he's hers.

"No, we're not," Loki confirms.

It's new. He's never done it before. This gesture is only days old. He leans down, kisses her forehead and walks away.

"Never ?" she calls after him. Jane needs to know what to anticipate from life. It's what all scientists do.

"Read your Norse mythology, Jane Foster, read about apples."

That night she does. She learns of Iðunn's golden apples. It sends her into a haze of panic and confusion and she tries to induce vomiting by bending over the toilet but it's too late. Loki finds her in that state. He's silent as he helps her up, guides her to what has long since become their shared bedroom. Technically it's hers, but he's been invited over so many times that he's its rightful owner as well.

"He's not coming back," he says as he brushes her hair away from her face. "Get a grip on yourself."

"I know," she stutters, "but you're staying. Forever."

"Yes."

THE END

It's over. I told you it would be short. Thanks for the ride, everyone :). I'm very horrible at answering reviews, as in I never do it, but you have to know that I am grateful for each and every word you left me. I truly am. Thanks again, I love all of you.