Avengers 1. The Beginning

Ana stepped up onto the deck chair and watched as her brothers tossed their pillows and backpacks of personal things into their seats in the truck. She turned when her mom walked up to stand beside the chair, both of them smiling at the new foot of difference between their heights because of the chair under her feet.

"It's not too late to change your mind about coming with us," her mom said, raising her eyebrows and looking almost hopeful.

Ana let out a short laugh. "Yeah, sure. You guys are leaving in five minutes and I would have to pack everything in that time and hope I didn't forget anything."

Her mom shrugged, but a frown creased her forehead. She sighed. "Why don't you stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"

Ana rolled her eyes. "Mom, they're right next door!"

Her mom smiled, but it was halfhearted. "Next door is a whole mile away," she said after a moment.

Ana stepped down from the chair, smirking, and then gave her mom a more sincere hug. "I'm sixteen, Mom. I have my license, and a job. I think I can survive alone in the house for a few months. And you _know_ Grandpa will probably be calling every five minutes to be sure I'm still alive and haven't burned the barn down or something." There was a twinkle in her eye when she added, "Besides, think about how clean the house will be when you get back."

Her mom smiled at pulled her in for another hug, nodding. The rest of the family came to give her hugs as well before they all piled into the truck and left. She waved and watched them until they were out of sight down the driveway. After they'd gone, she went back inside the family's mobile home and looked around. They had left the house in a relatively neat state but it was hardly orderly and nowhere near the way she wanted it, so she decided to start in the kitchen.

She grabbed her iPod from her room and brought it back, plugging it into the sound system and enjoying her favorite songs while she cleaned; sweeping, mopping, spraying and shining. As was to be expected, she sang along to the songs while she worked. After about an hour she had finished with the kitchen and the family room and decided to do more work the following day or maybe later in the evening. It was only just after one o'clock in the afternoon and she still had time to do things.

She turned off the music and spent some time sketching her dad's black cat, which was sprawled on the carpet in the sunlight. She would have put him outside had it not been such a warm summer day. When she was finished with the sketch and the cat had left the room, she took her sketchbook to her bedroom and tossed it gently onto her bed, collapsing onto the mattress beside it. She stared up at the ceiling, thinking. She had work every Friday, but that gave her four days before she needed to worry about working and she was actually free of babysitting or cleaning jobs for the next month, which was strange. She had hoped to get some kind of side job that took up plenty of time because her family wasn't around and didn't need her helping them at home with their ranch.

She lit a candle in her room, scrolled through her Facebook and Tumblr on her laptop, and another hour slipped by as she wrote a letter to her best friend even though she would see him that coming Sunday.

She ended up cleaning the rest of the house that evening and making herself a small dinner before spending some time sketching random household items in her book. She reread the first few chapters of her favorite romance novel before blowing out the candle in her room and turning off the light.

The next morning she went out to the barn, taking care of the few chores there and returning inside to make herself breakfast. She cleaned up after herself, meticulous and careful, and decided she would go for a walk before the sun rose too high and the temperature started to climb.

She stepped outside, leaving the two family dogs in the house when they panted up at her, already hot even though they were indoors. It was a cool morning and the sun was hidden behind a ceiling of clouds, which had drifted across the sky in only the short while since Ana had last been outside. She frowned up at the gray above her and wondered if it would rain.

She didn't walk along the road, though she had before. Today she decided on walking around the perimeter of a nearby field. Before she'd even made it very far away from the house, however, a truck pulled up and her grandfather stepped out. She turned and walked back to him, greeting him with a smile, but he was frowning. "Where are you going? I called, but no answer," he said gruffly.

She raised her eyebrows, trying not to roll her eyes in exasperation. "I'm fine. Really. I'm going to go for a walk and then I'll be back in the house, safe and sound."

He shrugged and said, "Why don't you take the road?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I have a thousand acres of fields and pastures for a backyard and you want me to walk on the road?"

He smiled and muttered something about calling if she needed anything before he got back into the truck and drove away. She disliked how paranoid he was about her and thought it silly that he would drive all of the way over to her house just to see why she hadn't answered the phone.

Turning her thoughts back to the strange weather, she walked along the barbed wire fence, smiling at the clouds' reflections on the surface of the nearby pond as she walked around it. If she walked all of the way around the field she would go about a mile, she figured. She turned the corner where the fence did and her attention was drawn away from the pond and upwards to the clouds again. She was staring up into them as she walked, careful not to trip or stumble, when something in the sky caught her eye and she stopped walking to stare.

Something was falling out of the sky and falling very quickly. It was a large, dark object, and didn't appear to be on fire. Wondering if she was witnessing a meteor or space junk falling from space, she heard the crash as the object landed somewhere over the next hill, and she could feel the ground vibrate beneath her when the falling thing and the dirt met. It hit the ground hard enough that dirt and chunks of earth flew into the air where she could see. The thing had crashed into the ground on the other side of the barbed-wire fence, so she promptly climbed over to see what it was.

She moved quickly up the hill and looked down on a crater-like space at the base of the hill, about as large as the pond she had passed on her way around the pasture. She walked down the hill, cautious and scared despite the fact that she could clearly see the large, dark lump that was the object in the midst of the crater. She realized it was about the size of a grown man, probably as large as her own father. She was nervous, having seen one too many sci-fi movies about aliens and horror films about strange creatures. What was the most frightening, though, was that she had in fact just witnessed something falling to the earth that was indeed _alive_ and capable of destruction.

**First of all, let me say thank you for reading this! I know it's a very short chapter, but it is only the beginning and the following ones are going to be longer. If you have any corrections or suggestions then please feel free to let me know. I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter and whether or not you liked it. And if you didn't, then I'd like to hear why not. Thanks again for reading! ~Taelr**


	2. The Meeting

He opened his eyes and gazed around him, annoyed when his vision was slow to clear. At last he could see properly and found that he was not alone. He watched the mortal as she approached and was somewhat amused by her behavior; she crept along, crouching, visibly trembling, watching him with narrowed eyes. He was also flattered, pleased that she recognized him as a threat and as her better.

She had found a fist-sized rock somewhere and was holding it, ready to throw at him. He flinched slightly when she spoke, having not realized before that his ears were ringing.

"Who are you, where did you come from, and what do you want?" She was still trembling as she spoke, but her voice wavered only slightly and she was firm with her words.

He sat up, but when he made to stand he found that it was suddenly a great task to get to his feet. So he remained on the ground. She was still a safe distance away, and a mere mortal could do no damage to him. He was a god! Or he had been, anyway. He kept his voice commanding and intimidating when he spoke. "I am Loki, of Asgard. And I want nothing from you, _mortal_." He spat the last word, leering at her.

She tightened her grip on the rock in her hand, frowning at him and seeming to size him up. "Loki," she said quietly, thinking. Her eyes had never left him, but her expression hardened. She was obviously disbelieving. "_You_? _You're_ the 'god' that attacked Manhattan with an alien army?"

He smiled, but it was full of malice. "Right you are."

She snorted, and he raised his eyebrows; it was a rather unladylike action and he had held even mortals in higher regard than this behavior. Her incredulous face turned again to a frown and he watched as she looked him up and down. Then she folded her arms, though still clinging to the rock, her only weapon. "You look nothing like the man they described in the articles. And my cousin was _in_ Manhattan the day you attacked. She saw you and drew me a picture—she's good at sketching people's faces, mind you—in _color_. You aren't Loki."

Now _he_ frowned. "I _am_ Loki," he hissed.

Her frown intensified, the crease in her brow deepening. Now she was being utterly sarcastic. "Hmm, let's see; do you have long black hair, or black hair at all? _No_. Do you have green eyes? _No_. And you've grown a beard since two weeks ago, if you're telling the truth. A _brown_ beard, not black, might I add. No, you are definitely _not_ Loki." She smiled, pleased with her observations.

He kept up the mildly amused, haughty expression, but noticed the smug light in her eyes; she must have noticed his moment of weakness when his face betrayed his troubled emotions. "Get out of my sight, mortal," he spat, though he was still seated awkwardly on his knees and leaning hard on his left arm for support.

"Um, no," she said, raising an eyebrow at him and looking a bit defiant. "This is my parents' property, and you aren't exactly here by invitation, so how about _you_ get out of _my _sight."

They glared at each other for a few seconds. Then his expression hardened even further and he said, his voice menacing, "I am the God of Mischief. I nearly destroyed that miserable place you call 'Manhattan' and I can easily destroy you. I _will_ destroy you if you don't start showing some respect. Now tell me, where am I?"

How dare a mortal treat him this way? Who did she think she was, ordering him away? Summoning all of his strength, he pushed himself up off the ground and onto his feet. Ah, this was better; now he could see her flinch slightly at his height. Now _he_ was towering over _her_ and he was the truly menacing one. He leaned towards her ever so slightly and demanded, snarling, "Where am I?"

He watched her expression changing as she thought this all through. But she did not give in and answer his question or beg for mercy or for him to spare her life. She just glared at him, and he glared right back. When at last she spoke, it wasn't to answer his question. "Why should I tell you?" she challenged. "So you can go and kill the people around here? I don't think so."

And with that, she turned her back on him and started to march defiantly up the hill. He didn't know where she planned on going, and he didn't care. He focused his attention, channeling his last reserve of energy into one point in his mind. Then he watched as she stopped short when an image flickered in the space before her, at last coming into focus and looking solid and real. But then he was the one to stare in surprise; the duplicate of himself . . . it wasn't a duplicate of _him_ at all. Rather, the man standing before the mortal was just as she had described him; lacking in black hair and green eyes, and wearing a beard.

His concentration faltered as he subconsciously lifted a hand and touched it to his chin, where, sure enough, there was facial hair. Upon this unnerving discovery, he lost all of his concentration and energy and the duplicate of himself wavered and flickered before vanishing altogether. At the same time, he fell back to his knees, suddenly quite unable to stand. And something deep in his gut told him that he would never shape-shift or deceive by magical means again because those powers were gone.

He watched the mortal turn to face him. She looked more smug and pleased than frightened, which he found infuriating, but he realized that he was quite powerless to act on that fury. "Where am I?" he tried to hiss dangerously again, but it came out as a weak, raspy whisper.

"No," the mortal said, frowning down at him as she took a few cautious steps towards him. "I'm the one asking the questions now."

He tried glaring up at her, but the muscles in his face didn't seem too keen to move at his command and he only managed to give a weak but frosty look with his eyes.

"What are you doing back on earth?" she asked. "The Avengers caught you and Thor supposedly hauled you back to wherever you came from. Asgard, wasn't it? So why are you back here and how did you come back without the aid of your magic staff-thing?"

He was only getting angrier by the moment because he was feeling so weak, but managed to answer her with, "Thor _did _return to Asgard, and he did bring me along with him, but our . . . _father_," he spat the word, "thought the best punishment for my acts against _humanity_ would be to strip me of my power and send me here, to live the life of a _mortal man_. If I should feel so compelled as to do something kind or good during my new, fleeting lifespan, I _may_ be allowed to return to Asgard and I may regain my powers."

"Ha!" the mortal said, looking pleased. "So you're nothing but a weak, helpless mortal man now, so weak you're reduced to asking for help from a teenage girl."

He managed to glare at her for a few seconds, but before his face returned to passiveness he spat, "I never asked anything but information of you, foolish girl. And I will not ask for your assistance."

He could feel his strength rising just a bit as time went on, but knew he was hardly strong enough to drag himself across the ground on his hands and knees. Though he would never have admitted _that_ to _this_ mortal.

"It's getting warmer," she said, turning her attention to the sky, which was now cleared of the strange gray clouds. "It'll get pretty hot by ten this morning," she mused, as if to herself. "I don't think someone who couldn't even move themselves to a nearby pond or tree for water or shade would be very comfortable out here . . ." she trailed off, seeming not to notice the icy glare he sent her way.

"Well," she said, flashing a frighteningly real smile his way, "Only a very cruel person would leave someone, weak and maybe even dying, out in the heat. Lucky for you, I'm not a very cruel person."

And with that, she stepped forward and looked him over. "Do you think you can stand?"

He watched her expression, carefully searching for any signs that might show her sarcasm or cruel sense of humor in pretending to help. He didn't want her help, but shook his head the slightest bit in answer to her question. She noticed his answer and said briskly, "Well, that's too bad because you're gonna have to." And without waiting for him to move or say anything else, she offered her hand to help him up and prompted, "Well, hurry up; let's try to get out of here before the sun sets, shall we?"

He was bemused, abashed even by her behavior. She wasn't even slightly afraid of him, and there appeared to be actual pity in her eyes as she looked at him. He realized that if he didn't reach up and allow her to help him up soon, she wound snatch his wrist and pull him to his feet without his consent. As he reached up to take her hand, he growled darkly, "You have no right to pity me. You do not know my story."

She took his hand and leaned back, using her own weight to pull him to his feet and then releasing his hand in favor of grabbing his elbow to steady him once he was standing beside her. Once again he towered over her, but he was displeased by the obvious fact that her fear of him had melted away with the majority of his strength. Irritated by her touch, he pulled away from her and took several steps forward. Suddenly the ground was rising towards him, and he didn't have the time or the strength to put his hands in front of him to break his fall . . .

And then, quite out of nowhere, her hands were on his elbow again, stopping his flight and pulling him to his feet once more. When next he looked at her face she was glaring at him. He tried to think of something to snarl at her, but was caught up in curious thoughts about her; this mortal was strange, and lacking in both fear and caution. He allowed her to lead him and grudgingly leaned against her to keep from falling again. She was facing forward, and he watched her expression as they went. She seemed rather strong and unaffected by his leaning on her, so he let her bear more of his weight than was necessary, but this didn't seem to change the way she moved or her speed or the expression on her face.

When they reached the fence, she helped him over, holding the barbed wire out of the way. He leaned against a nearby fencepost while she climbed easily over, and then they resumed their steady pace, though now that they had come over the hill he could see their destination.

It took them several more minutes, at least, but they made it to the house and up the steps onto the deck. By now it was getting quite warm outside, and to his surprise, the mortal didn't even hesitate to open the door and let him enter her home. They passed through the kitchen and entered the dining room, where she sat him down at the table. Then she moved back into the kitchen. Before she turned her back on him she pointed a finger in his direction and said, "Stay."

He glowered at her and growled, "Do not tell me what to do, mortal."

She did turn her back then, shaking her head as she walked to a cabinet and looked over its contents. He heard running water but wasn't paying attention to her anymore; he was looking around the house, though the only part he could view at the moment was the dining room, living room, and part of the kitchen. He turned his focus back to the mortal girl when she came back into the room with a glass of ice water in each hand. She set one of the drinks in front of him and gave him a sarcastic smile. He looked from her to the water and then lifted the glass to his lips.

She didn't think he was watching, he knew, but he saw out of the corner of his eye how she rolled her eyes and said with an exasperated edge to her voice, "You're welcome," as she turned away again. This time she went to the phone on the wall and he watched as she dialed and held the thing to her ear. He might not be from this realm, but that didn't mean he was stupid; he knew what a phone was and what it did. He listened intently while she waited for whoever she was calling to answer, sipping his water while he waited.

"Hey, it's me," she said in what Loki assumed was her usual carefree, casual tone of voice, "I just wanted to let you know that I got back from my walk and I'm perfectly fine. I'll see you later."

The voice on the other end of the phone said something that Loki's now-human ears couldn't catch and then the mortal returned the phone to its place on the wall. She turned back to face him and took a seat across the table from him. "Who were you speaking to?" Loki asked, watching with amusement as her emotions played across her face.

She seemed to debate whether or not it was safe to tell him anything. "My grandfather," she said after a moment.

He didn't respond, and then let his gaze drift around the room, knowing she was watching him carefully. When at last he looked to her face again he asked without much interest, "And where are your parents?" Then his eyes slipped past her shoulder to a picture, framed and hung on the wall behind her. "And your brothers?" he asked.

His eyes returned to her face and he watched her, surprised by the complete lack of fear in her expression. "They're gone. Visiting friends a few thousand miles from here." Then she seemed to notice his pleased expression when she said this and added, "but just because my family isn't here to protect me doesn't mean I'm in danger or afraid of you. See that safe?" she half-turned, pointing almost absentmindedly to a large black rectangle standing erect in the corner of the living room, "There are firearms in there, and I know how to use them. And you don't. And even if you did know what to do with a gun, you wouldn't be able to get into the safe. And let's not forget that you're not exactly bulletproof anymore." Loki almost laughed at her defiant expression, but it was quickly clear by the look in her eyes that she wasn't bluffing.

He lifted the glass to his lips once more before he set it on the table in front of him and his eyes returned to her face. She was watching him intently, and that same look was in her eyes; it was as if she knew exactly who he was and what he had been through, and she pitied him because of it.

"I was under the impression," he said after a moment, "that most mortals were not aware of the Avengers Initiative."

One corner of her mouth twisted upward into a rather sad-looking half-smile. "They aren't."

He frowned. "But you are." It was both a statement and a question.

She looked away, frowning, but he could see that this frown was one of deep sorrow.

"I had . . . a _friend_ . . . who knew of them and told me what he knew," was all she said.

He watched her expression change as she spoke, and when she said the word _friend_ her eyes filled until they were brimming with tears. But she took a deep breath and blinked once, and the none of the extra liquid spilled over onto her cheeks. Instead, it vanished. When she looked at him again there was a new emotion in her eyes, one that he couldn't quite make out. So he chose to forget his irritation at being unable to properly read her expression and moved on.

"So," he said, feeling pleased that though his appearance had changed, at least his voice was still his own. "When are you going to make me leave, exactly?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not," she said.

For a moment, he thought he hadn't heard her correctly. But when her expression did not change, he realized that he had indeed heard her and she did indeed mean what she had said. "And why not?" he asked.

She leaned back, taking a sip of water and leaving a moment's silence before she answered him. "My family might be gone, but I have neighbors and people I care about who you could kill if I let you out of my sight."

An annoyed smile twisted his lips. "How would I kill them?" he asked. "I am without the powers that used to be mine."

Now she was the one to smile out of irritation. "This is earth," she said. "People kill each other all the time, and we don't have 'powers' like you and your brother."

Loki seemed to bristle when she said the word _brother_ but he waited a moment to respond. But he could see that there was something else in her expression as she spoke. "There's more," he said. "You have some other reason for not pushing me out into your world."

She frowned at him, but his question didn't go unanswered. "You're still terribly weak," she said. "I might not be very pleased about your sudden appearance, but I can't do much about that, now, can I? I could be saving lives by keeping you here, and one of those lives might be your own."

He glared down at the glass of water in his hand, but she wasn't finished speaking.

"How much do you even know about how this world works, anyways? I bet you wouldn't last three days out there."

He glowered at her. "And what, pray do tell, would end me?"

She shrugged. "There are lots of possibilities. You could be hit by a car, or you could be mugged. But you'd most likely get yourself into trouble because you don't know anything. You'd get taken aside by a cop for some petty crime like jay-walking or stealing something small, and when he found out that you didn't have an ID or a birth certificate or anything you'd go to jail. They'd probably send you to the UK because of your accent."

She seemed quite amused when she talked about his accent, but he ignored her.

"I am Loki," he hissed. "I need no identification card."

She let out a quiet laugh. "This is America," she said. "You're on Earth now. You need an ID to do almost anything."

He frowned at her, but she seemed to be thinking about other things and not paying attention to him.

Then her eyes cleared and she tilted her head to the side a bit, looking at him. "Your family cares about you," she said at last. "No doubt they hated having to send you away."

He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, but said nothing.

"Check your pockets," she said.

He was taken aback. "What?" he asked.

"Check your pockets," she said again. "It seems like Odin and Thor would have ensured that your life here would be a bit easier than if you just showed up with nothing."

He frowned at her, but did as she had told him to. He pulled a strange leather case out of the right pocket of his jeans and began looking at it closely, trying to figure out what it was. It fell open and he began looking through the smaller pockets inside of it, pulling out plastic rectangles and paper ones.

"You've never seen a wallet before, have you?"

He looked up, frowning at the mortal and realizing that he did not know her name. Of course, she would know that names held power, but he could do nothing to harm her with magic now. "You know my name," he said, his eyes returning to the so-called _wallet_ in his hands, "but I do not know yours."

She had been looking at the wallet, but when he asked her name her eyes rose quickly to his face. She frowned for a moment, seemingly debating whether to tell him her name. "Ana," she said at last.

"Ana," he said, his gaze meeting hers. "I have heard that here, your names are often long, though you are called something shorter. Is 'Ana' the shorter version of your true name?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Nickname," she said. "The word you're looking for is 'nickname' and yes, 'Ana' is short for something."

He watched her, waiting for her to speak and beginning to wonder after a moment of silence if she was going to tell him her true name after all.

"Anastasia," she said, sighing.

"Anastasia," he repeated. "That is an unusual name, is it not?"

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Whether you did or you didn't, I'd love to hear what you thought of it! And as always, if you have any corrections or suggestions for how I can make Loki more in-character then please feel free to let me know. I'll try to update again soon. Thank you for reading! ~Taelr**


	3. The Brunch

"So . . ."

Loki looked up, watching with more interest than he'd like to admit. Ana's fingers were nimble, and she quickly flipped open the wallet and slid out several plastic cards and two small pieces of paper.

"Looks like you've got a driver's license," she said, picking up one of the cards. She studied it for a moment, and then the corner of her mouth twitched as she resisted a smile. Her eyes rose slowly up from the card to his face, and she frowned in concentration, now studying his face. "Tom," she said, testing the feel of the name on her tongue and deciding whether or not it fit the face of the man in front of her. "I wouldn't have seen it before, but Tom actually _works_."

Loki frowned. What on earth was she talking about? He leaned back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her explanation. She handed him the card instead of giving a verbal explanation, though, and he scanned the things printed on it. There were words and symbols, but what caught and held his attention was the picture on it. There, on the small rectangle of plastic in his hand, a small version of himself smiled up at him. But it was so different from him. Of course, there was the obvious fact that he no longer looked like himself, and that the picture on the card was that of his strange, new, _mortal_ face. But the true difference was his expression. In the image on the card, his eyes lacked their usual guile and cunning, and his smile was genuine. He looked like some happy, simple man who was far too excited to have his photograph taken.

And the name on the card said _Hiddleston, Thomas William_.

He frowned at the name for a moment before looking up and training his displeased look on Ana. But his confusion and inquiry must have shown through in his eyes, because she smirked and said, "Thomas William Hiddleston. It's a nice name."

"Thomas," he said disliking the sound of the name on his tongue.

"Your first name," Ana said confidently. "Hmm, would you like to go by Thomas, or Tom?"

He scowled at her for a moment more, ignoring her question, and then spat the word, "William."

"Your middle name," she said. "It's one of my favorite names, actually. But you won't hear much of it. I'm assuming that Norse gods don't have middle names?"

He gave her a withering glare in response to her question, and she raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I see," she said.

But then he said it. "Hiddleston." And there was so much disgust and annoyance in his voice that it came out as more of a curse than a name.

"Your last name, or sir name," she said. "You were Laufeyson, and now you are Hiddleston."

Yet another frown creased his brow. "I am the son of Laufey. But this new name, it makes no sense."

Ana was quick to catch on. "Ah, right. Because you're used to your sir name consisting of a parent's name and then the word 'son' or 'daughter.' Well, things are a little different here in Midgard. We have last names like 'Smith' and 'Williams.'"

Loki looked unimpressed.

"Okay," she said, picking up the conversation once again. She picked the license up off of the table and looked at it for a moment longer before she slid it back into one of the pockets inside the leather wallet. She pulled out another card with deft fingers and studied it for only a second before flipping it in her fingers so that he could see the simple blue front with a line of numbers and his new name printed in silver characters.

"Just your average, everyday debit card," she said, handing it to him.

As he brought it nearer to his face for a better look, Ana stood up suddenly. His eyes followed her as she started to leave her seat, and she noticed.

"Stay," she said, pointing a finger at him and giving him a fierce, but only momentary scowl. Then she walked through the living room and disappeared down a hall.

Loki's eyes returned to the card in his hands, but there wasn't much to look at. The numbers printed across the front meant nothing to him. And there were only more numbers, accompanied by a strange black stripe across the length of the card, on the back.

Ana was back soon enough, and this time she had a laptop with her. She opened it, and though he couldn't see what she was doing to it, he assumed she'd turned it on. His time spent waiting for Eric Selvig to finish his work on the tesseract had left him with quite a bit of information about this strange realm where the Midgardian mortals lived.

She typed something, and it sounded as if she was typing rather quickly. Then, without looking up, she held her hand out above the laptop, indicating that he give her the card. He handed it over, careful to give it to her without his fingers touching hers. She might not be so terrible that he couldn't bear her, but he'd rather not touch her if he had a choice.

She took the card and flipped it over so that she could read the numbers on the front. Then her eyes darted between the rectangle of plastic and her laptop screen and she typed more quickly than ever.

"Well," she said after another moment of typing, "you've got quite a bit of money stored away."

Loki lifted an eyebrow. "Stored," he repeated, sounding slightly baffled.

"In the bank," Ana supplied when she recognized the confusion in his voice. Then, more to herself than to him she added, "I don't suppose you've got banks in Asgard."

He was silent.

But she was unfazed, closing her laptop and setting it aside in favor of returning her attention to the wallet that sat on the table between them. She picked it up and put the so called "debit card" back where it belonged. Then she opened the largest compartment in the piece of leather.

She took several green rectangles of paper and set them on the table, and she smiled when she brought forth two squares of white paper no larger than the green ones. She set one of them aside and unfolded the one she was still holding, turning it towards him. "Your birth certificate," she said, handing it to him after looking it over.

While he was frowning down at the piece of paper in his hands she picked up the other white square and unfolded it.

After reading quickly through it, she handed it to him and said, "Your social security number."

He handed the papers back to her when he'd finished looking at them and she tucked them away in the wallet with the green papers.

There was a moment of silence, and then held the wallet out to him. "You won't want to lose that," she said as he took it from her and returned it to the pocket he had originally found it in.

Loki wondered why all of the papers and cards seemed so important to Ana. He was Loki. He was the man that had attacked Manhattan. Granted, he no longer had the same face, but he was the same man. It seemed unnecessary that he should own cards and papers for identification. Every mortal should know who he was without his having to tell them. Many new questions plagued his heart about this strange realm that he had once thought he knew well. But he dared not ask Ana. She was a mortal, and he was—or had been—a god. He would not stoop to requiring her assistance.

As he thought, he watched her. She watched him put away his wallet and her gaze lingered on him for only a moment before she looked away, obviously thinking. Then she turned, glancing at the wall beside them. When Loki glanced in the same direction he saw that she was looking at a clock on the wall. He knew what a clock was and what it did. But there were so many other things in this world that he did not know, and it irked him. But he pushed those thoughts away and focused on the clock again.

He turned back to Ana when she said absently, "It's almost eleven."

He frowned at her. Was there some hidden meaning behind her few words?

"I never had any breakfast," she said after a moment, "and it's been quite an eventful morning. And I'll bet you're at least a little hungry after your journey. Do you have brunch in Asgard?"

"_Brunch_," Loki said questioningly. He frowned; the word sounded strange and distasteful, and if it was a kind of food that the mortal girl was going to make him, it sounded as though it wouldn't be pleasant to eat.

She nodded once, looking like she was gauging his reaction. "I'm gonna take that as a 'no,'" she said. Then she repeated that strange word. "Brunch," she said, "it's a combination of the words 'breakfast' and 'lunch' because it takes place between the times when those two meals are usually eaten."

So it wasn't a food. "How simply . . . _delightful_," he said wryly.

He frowned, looking up in surprise when Ana laughed.

"Ah, sarcasm," she said as she stood up and walked into the kitchen, "it's a beautiful thing. If you stick around for very long, we're going to have some fun; I pride myself in being the wittiest member of my family."

Loki raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

This mortal was puzzling. She clearly knew that even though he was no longer immortal, he could still harm her if he truly wanted. It was obvious that she knew to respect him for that. And at the same time there was a complete lack of fear in the way she treated him and in her eyes when she looked at him. She seemed to have decided that she wasn't going to let him leave yet because he posed a danger to the people he would meet—and, as she apparently thought—to himself. And she also seemed to be calculating the days in her head, trying to decide exactly what to do with him.

And even as she was moving around in the kitchen preparing to make the food, Ana was having some of the same thoughts. What w_as_ she going to do with him? She couldn't let him leave; he could hurt someone or he could hurt himself. But she couldn't just let him stay in her parent's home, either; what would happen if they came home at the end of the summer to find a grown man living there with their sixteen-year-old daughter, not to mention that he was a former demigod. And she didn't even want to think about what would happen if her grandparents found out about him. They would surely not believe her if she told them who he was, but they would still see him as a threat.

She realized that she'd never even thought to worry about housing him or what would happen to her if he did stay. She'd been concerned only with what her parents and grandparents would do to him in the event of their finding out about his presence on their property.

Feeding him wouldn't be a problem, and he could sleep on the couch or even in one of her brothers' beds. He was about the same height and build as her father, and he could probably wear his clothes. Not to mention that they had lots of extra clothing just his size in their shop that had come from his old line of work. So she could feed him, house him, and clothe him. But what would happen to her? She wouldn't feel safe with him around, living in the same house as her. But she would feel guilty and nervous if she allowed him to go. Of course, once he regained his strength it wasn't really all that likely that she could stop him from going. Unless she could convince him to stay. But what was she even thinking? This was madness. A man who had once been a malicious, murdering demigod was probably not the best choice in summer company.

But, again, she thought, she couldn't just let him go. So what would she do?

She set four slices of bread in front of her and started to make sandwiches. Then she decided that she would deal with it later. He couldn't just leave. At least, not today. He was still too weak and too new to this world. So she would let him stay one night. But what after that?

**Hello. I haven't updated in quite a while. But here you are with the latest chapter. I know that Loki didn't say all that much, but I like to think that in this chapter, it's the thoughts that count. Anyways, I'd love to hear what you thought of it. As always, any additions or corrections are welcome, so if you have something to say don't be afraid to say it. Thanks again! ~Taelr**


	4. The Argument

Ana let her breath out in a huff, turning and gazing desperately out the window. But the dark hills outside didn't offer her any help or words of advice. "You're staying here tonight," she said, turning back to face him again. God, he was stubborn.

"You do not control me," Loki said, glaring at her fiercely.

They'd been arguing over this for almost an hour now, and he was quite annoyed. Of all the mortals he could have encountered when he was sent to this _abominable_ place, he was stuck here, dealing with one who was perhaps the most stubborn of her kind. He may be a mortal now, but he refused to think of himself as having anything in common with the creatures that walked this realm. But he was torn from his thoughts when she spoke.

"Where are you gonna, then?" she demanded. "What are you gonna to do?"

He laughed, but it was cold and humorless. "I do not need your permission to do anything. And if you spoke the truth earlier, then I have plenty of this realm's currency to survive."

She looked annoyed. She licked her lips, frowning away at empty space for a moment before turning her irked expression on him. "Dollars," she said. "And they're only the currency for America, not for the entire world."

But Loki was bored of her constant corrections and additions to his words. "It matters not!" he spat, sounding as if he was about to reach the end of his patience.

"It does too matter," she said just as loudly. "You won't survive out there! You're going to hurt yourself or someone else and I'll be responsible. Not directly, but it'll still be my fault. And we've already had this argument." Then she took a deep breath, glowering at him, and repeated her earlier statement. "You're staying here tonight."

Loki sat down on the sofa rather unceremoniously.

It occurred to Ana just how she'd always seen princes and men or women of royalty seat themselves in movies, and how she'd always imagined them sitting. When compared to the movie kings and queens, Loki's flop downward onto the couch looked ridiculously lowly and ordinary. And Ana started smiling in spite of herself.

Loki noticed this and raised an eyebrow. "This is no victory," he hissed. "I cannot leave now, at the end of the day. I will leave in the morning."

Ana raised her eyebrows and nodded once. So he thought she was smiling because she had won the argument? She shook her head. "No, I . . . it's just . . ." she paused, trying to figure out how to voice what she was thinking. Then she looked to him again and said, "You think you're so much better than I am, but you're not really any different. You're really just like one of us. Just . . . human."

Loki looked furious, and she wondered just how offensive he found her statement. But at the moment she really didn't care. She had other things to worry about.

She went to the hall closet and found some blankets, and she spread them out on the couch. Then she gave him a pillow and stepped back, looking over the couch and the temporary bed she'd spread across it. "That should do it," she said, mostly to herself. Then she turned her attention to Loki, whose expression had changed. He was frowning, though he seemed lost in thought and for once his brow was not creased because of her. She stared at him for a moment.

So this was the god of mischief, the great trickster, now fallen from Asgard and nothing more than a mortal man. This was the trouble-maker that her uncle had told her so much about. This was the adopted son of Odin who had made so many mistakes, whose heart had been hardened when he found out the about his true parentage. This was the poor soul whose view of everyone and everything around him had been twisted into something cold and ugly when everything he knew and loved was twisted and changed so suddenly.

Many of the people her uncle worked with thought that Loki was a monster, an evil creature capable only of mischief and destruction. But her uncle didn't agree. He'd shared his opinion with her and only her, and Ana agreed with him. Loki was no monster. Granted, he was broken and scarred—perhaps beyond repair—but he was not evil. Anger was a secondary emotion. Pain and fear came before fury, so how deeply must Loki be hurt in order for him to be this angry? Just how much pain and confusion had he gone through before he settled into this cold rage? Surely he still felt the pain now. Surely he must still have a heart. But it seemed that his heart—if he did still possess one—was frozen.

Loki looked up, his frown deepening when he found the mortal staring at him. Her eyes were on his face, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and her gaze was unfocused. "Is it not considered rude to stare in this realm?" he spat at her after a few seconds.

She seemed to come back from her thoughts, blinking once before refocusing on his face. "Sorry," she said. "I was just thinking."

He raised an eyebrow. Was she truly apologizing? This must be the first time that her tone and her words had not been commanding or annoyed. It was certainly the first time she'd _apologized_ for anything. And she was apologizing for staring at him? He frowned. It had been a while since anyone had apologized to him. Surely Thor had apologized _for_ him, but no one had apologized _to_ him in what seemed a long time. Of course, he wanted no one's apologies. He wanted no one's pity.

His frown had turned to an icy glare, and he watched as she flinched away from him ever-so-slightly.

But she shrugged it off a moment later and turned, disappearing down the hallway. She returned soon enough, coming closer to him than before and holding out a strange object. "Here," she said. "There's an extra tube of toothpaste in the top drawer under the sink."

She watched his expression, wondering if he knew what she was offering. Did they have toothbrushes in Asgard?

He snatched it from her and stared down at it, confused. What was this? He held it closer to his face, looking at it carefully. Mortals were such strange things, with all of their small objects and possessions that had strange uses and could do unusual things.

After another moment of watching him as he carefully looked over the blue and white toothbrush she'd handed him, Ana said, "It's a toothbrush."

In an instant his eyes had left the thing in his hands and were on her face. "Do you take me for a fool?" he hissed. "I am quite aware of what it is."

Ana leaned back, folding her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows. "Do you?" she asked, sounding amused. "What's it used for, then?"

Loki glared at her, but he said nothing.

Ana nodded. "Yeah," she said after a while, "you brush your teeth with it. See? If I let you walk out into the big bad world all alone, you wouldn't survive. _Your teeth would fall out_."

He continued to glare at her, but he ran his tongue over the inner sides of his teeth, careful to make sure that she couldn't tell from looking at him. Would they truly fall out of his mouth if he didn't use this thing she'd given him, this _toothbrush_? He gazed skeptically down at it for a moment before looking up at Ana once more.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Well?" she asked.

He frowned at her, making it clear that he did not understand what she was asking.

"The bathroom," she said after a moment, speaking slowly as if to a small child.

He glowered at her, but nonetheless he rose to his feet and followed her down the hall and into the small room. He watched as she picked up a blue and red tube and squeezed a small amount of white _something_ onto one end of the toothbrush. He frowned down at it for a moment, looking up when Ana gave what sounded like a frustrated sigh and snatched the thing out of his hand, turning on the faucet and holding the _something_-covered end of his toothbrush under the water for a moment. Then she pushed it back into his hand and repeated the entire process with another toothbrush, squirting the _something_ onto it and then holding it under the running water for a moment.

As she squirted the white substance onto her brush, she said, "Toothpaste," and when she'd wetted the thing, she put it in her mouth.

Loki watched what she did for a moment, and then copied her actions. He hadn't known what to expect regarding the so called _toothpaste_, but it had a minty flavor that was not unpleasant, and it left his mouth feeling cool and refreshed.

That night he slept on the couch, and she in her room. It took quite a while for both of them to fall asleep. Loki lay there, staring into the darkness and wondering exactly what this world had to offer when he left in the morning. And Ana tossed and turned, trying to calm her mind and quiet her thoughts and failing.

That night she dreamt of Loki leaving and wreaking havoc because he was ignorant about so many different things in this world. And he dreamt of Thor and Odin and the Battle of New York. Loki didn't know where he would go when he left in the morning. And Ana decided that she wasn't sure exactly what she was going to do or how she was going to do it, but she couldn't let Loki leave yet. She was going to focus on one day at a time.

**I hope you liked this chapter! I've planned out the next one already, and now I just need to write it! Thank you all for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought of this one, and as always any additions/suggestions/corrections are always welcome. Thanks again. ~Taelr**


	5. The Games

And so two weeks passed between the man who had once been a god and the girl who had once been a normal sixteen-year-old.

With each passing day, Loki became more annoyed with her. She refused to let him leave, and she was greatly amused by his scanty and insufficient knowledge of her world. But she was only harsh or took cruel pleasure in his ignorance when he was being particularly difficult to deal with. More than anything, he was annoyed by her pity. It was apparent in even the smallest things she said and did that she pitied him. It seemed to seep out of her, painfully obvious in her every interaction with him. What annoyed him most about her pity was not that he did not want it. Rather, he wondered why she pitied him. Of course, there was the obvious answer that he was a god fallen from his place on high, now a mortal. But she seemed to feel sorry for him for so much more than just the fact that he had been cast out of Asgard. The way she treated him hinted strangely that perhaps she knew more about him than she was letting on. He did not like the idea of her knowing his story, but he still doubted that she truly knew anything more than what he had told her, so he left the matter alone.

However, beyond the annoyance, he felt something else for her. In the past weeks she had forced him to watch several _films_, movies that she lovingly referred to as "chick flicks." Several times in those movies a recurring plot would occur, and the two main characters would clash until the very end of the story, when they realized that beneath the hatred and the annoyance they had started to _love_ one another. But this_, _this was not a _chick flick_. Loki scoffed at the idea of loving the mortal girl who irked him so with everything that she did. He did not love her. The idea was preposterous. But he did _like_ her. Yes, she annoyed him, nearly drove him to insanity, even. But she was smart. And she was headstrong. And when she made up her mind, she would stop at nothing to get her desired result. And she knew how to bend rules, and how to get around them. She seemed good and sweet and _human_, but there seemed to be more to her than just the quiet Midgardian girl he'd first believed he was dealing with.

But he liked her. She was quite like him, really. Granted, there was the fact that she wasn't the stolen child of her father's greatest nemesis, but that was not of import. As each day came and went, he noticed more and more that the way she behaved was similar to him. And she wasn't mocking him. Neither was she beginning to act like him as a result of spending time with him. Rather, it seemed that he had stumbled upon someone very like him. A mortal, yes. And also a Midgardian. But still a creature very like him. And though he knew he had faults and problems of his own, he found her respectable because she was like him. Rather, he despised her attitude and her stubbornness and her seemingly vast knowledge, but he also respected it. She was a natural-born leader, and she was calculative and careful, but also willing to take risks and put herself in danger if it meant she might get what she wanted.

And though he didn't know it, she liked him, too.

Anna knew his story. And maybe she didn't know it firsthand, but she knew it as her uncle had told it, and he told it as he'd heard it from Thor, the brother of Loki himself. And that was as close to the firsthand version of the story as she figured she'd ever get. But it was close enough.

She often wondered at the pain she couldn't even begin to imagine consuming her if she were put through what Loki had experienced, and he was—or had been—a god. Were his emotions more powerful than hers, then, or was her pain just as real and devastating as his?

Over the past two weeks, Ana had worked hard to keep from succumbing to the great amounts of stress that now rested on her shoulders. Since Loki had come—or really, _fallen_—into her life, quite a few new worries and troubles had presented themselves. There was, of course, the obvious fact that there was a strange man living in her home. A man who had once been a god. But she had decided to keep him around rather than sending him away, believing that though he had hurt many people in the past, he didn't seem to have any reason or desire to harm her. When she finally gave in to the curious side of herself and decided not to send Loki out on his own, she realized that she had more than just the two of them to worry about. Yes, her grandparents lived a mile away, but they were her closest and only neighbors, and they visited often and called every day to make sure she was faring well without her parents. If either of them found out that she'd let a strange man—and a man who had been a Norse god, nonetheless—into her home and that he was staying, she felt quite certain that they'd panic. And then they'd probably call her parents, and possibly even the police, and then her family would come home from their vacation and the police would show up and Loki would possibly be arrested and who knew what else could happen.

So she was careful. It wasn't hard taking care of Loki. In fact, it was rather amusing at times. When he wasn't being stubborn or snarky, it was funny to watch him as he tried to understand her world. But he wasn't just living in her house. She was taking care of him. Granted, he knew a few things, but there was plenty about this realm that confused him.

Ana showed him the television, by which he was mightily unimpressed. He had, apparently, used something similar to keep track of what was going on when he decided to send The Destroyer to kill his brother. How _charming_. However, when she showed him her laptop and explained how it worked, he seemed at least a little interested. And when she showed him how to use the internet, he was fascinated. And he was quite amused when she showed him clips from the news regarding the destruction in Manhattan and the alien invasion. He seemed pleased by the havoc he'd wreaked and the terror and confusion he'd caused.

But electronics could only show him so much of the world, and Ana decided that they needed to go over the important things first. So she taught him how to play chess. She wasn't sure what he'd think of the game, but he caught on quickly and in the end he liked it. He was quite good at it, but so was Ana. Both of them were calculative and careful, analyzing every move before making it. She beat him in the first game, but contrary to her expectations, he wasn't a bad sport. In fact, he demanded that they play again. And this time, he was the victor.

Ana taught him how to play plenty of games, checkers, solitaire, and monopoly being a few. Then she taught him how to clean, and though he didn't seem to like it much it was clear that he was absorbing everything she said and did. She cooked dinner for them often, though sometimes she got lazy and made things in the microwave. When she showed it to Loki, he was fascinated. Microwaves, alarm clocks, radios, and the DVD player caught and held his attention, and when she explained how they worked he listened carefully.

She thought she was doing alright, teaching him how to do things he'd never done and explaining the odds and ends that didn't exist in Asgard. But nothing prepared her for his reaction when she first introduced him to video games.

It was a Tuesday. She'd cleaned the house the day before, she had no ranch chores to do outside, and she didn't have work until Thursday, so it was a slow day. After breakfast, she plopped down on the couch, on the opposite end of it than him. He was seated comfortably, with his long legs crossed, concentrating on a book in his lap. He glanced up from his book, sending a withering glare her way in response to her unceremonious and disruptive way of sitting down.

She was surprised that he was actually taking the time to read, but he seemed genuinely engrossed in the words on the pages his eyes were scanning. He'd rejected her romance novels, and he hadn't been at all interested in her collection of great adventure stories and mysteries, so she'd handed him a stack of her favorite classics. They were from a previous time, when people spoke like the inhabitants of Asgard did now, and she thought that maybe Loki would be able to understand those books better than her sappy love-stories and cheesy tales of murder. He'd breezed through _The Odyssey_, and now he was seemed to be thoroughly enjoying _Oedipus Rex_.

"Why do you like it so much?" she asked. "Everyone dies, and there's no hope."

He looked up from the pages for only long enough to raise an eyebrow and say, "Precisely."

Ana sat back for a moment, frowning and trying to understand why he insisted on putting himself through the misery of reading such a hopeless story. But the misery and pain and death and loss of honor and the sheer hopelessness seemed to please him.

She shook her head, grabbing the TV remote and turning it on. Then she left her seat to set up her brothers' Xbox, selecting a disk and putting it into the drive. Then she went back to the couch and plopped down once more, this time with an Xbox controller in her hand.

Loki started in surprise when Ana unmuted the volume and there was a sudden burst of gunfire. He looked up from his book rather quickly, staring at the screen. Then he looked between it and Ana, trying to figure out how she seemed to be controlling what was happening on the television. He set his book aside and stared, transfixed. Eventually she got up and grabbed another controlled, tossing it to him and explaining the basics of how to use it. Then they signed him in and he joined the game, and soon enough he'd mastered it and was running around in the world of Call of Duty 3, shooting enemy soldiers right alongside Ana.

They played on for another half hour, and then Ana changed the game. They played Halo until lunchtime, and after they ate they started Minecraft. At first it confused Loki greatly, but he caught on after a few basic instructions from Ana. They played the creative version of the game, and while Ana built herself a farm, complete with a garden and every available animal, Loki flew to the frozen, snow-covered part of the map and built himself a black castle out of blocks of obsidian.

Video games were fun, but board games were better. Loki didn't think so, but Ana ignored him. She decided on Wednesday that it was time for him to learn how to play The Game of Life. So she set it up at the dining room table and they sat down to play. Loki seemed greatly annoyed, but he said nothing. He might hate this mortal at times, but if she hadn't taken him in then he would probably be dead or in quite a bit of trouble right then, and if nothing else he had to at least appreciate _that_. So he went along with her plans most of the time. Going along, however, did not mean that he would play along silently and obediently. Rather, he complained loudly, though most of his objections were stated in snarky comments or comebacks.

Today, however, he seemed mildly interested in what Ana was making him do. He stared down at the board, reading many of the spaces and wondering how this game worked. But his interest soon became annoyance as he played. His commentary made Ana laugh more than once as the game progressed. At times, he seemed fascinated. And just seconds after that, he seemed irked, even angry.

The game started and from the beginning, Loki had objections. When Ana explained that the game pieces were colored minivans, he refused to choose. "I have no need for such a vehicle," he said.

"Just pick a color!" Ana insisted, exasperated.

Loki sent her a frosty glare. "Green," he growled through clenched teeth. "I fail to see why the _minivan _is necessary." He frowned as she put the small blue peg into the driver's seat of his van, and a pink peg into the driver's seat of her own purple one.

Both of them chose to go to college. Loki didn't understand the necessity of it, but Ana insisted that he'd be better off with a "proper, higher education" and in the end he gave in and did as she wanted.

When they passed the "get married!" space, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I have no need for a wife," he said.

Ana shrugged. "You don't have a choice. You have to get married. It's just part of the game."

Loki glared down at the board. He watched with knit brows as Ana took a small pink peg and put it into the passenger seat of his green minivan game piece.

Later in the game, Loki had the misfortune—or at least that's how he thought of it; Ana's opinion was very different—of landing on the "twins!" space.

"Ooh," Ana exclaimed when she saw what had happened. "Congrats. Do you want a boy and a girl, two boys, or two girls?"

Loki just stared at her for a moment. When he did open his mouth, it was simply to utter a single word: "No."

Ana shrugged. "You don't really have a choice. You rolled the dice and you landed on that spot and it says you have twins. So you do. Now pick their genders so I can get you the proper pegs."

He said nothing, just glared at her.

She smiled at him cheerfully and said, "Okay, great! I'll choose." And she selected one pink peg and one blue, and put them into the green minivan behind their parents.

Loki looked down at his piece when Ana put it back on the space, and he raised an eyebrow. "A daughter," she said, sounding displeased.

Ana frowned. "If you have a preference, you should have chosen earlier. And what's wrong with having a daughter?"

Loki just sighed and resigned himself to pushing the dice Ana's way. As she rolled, he hissed, "Children," under his breath, his disgust clear in his voice.

They went on playing, and Loki had the most incredible luck in the world. He landed on every possible space he could that could grant him children, and even though he didn't go down the special part of the board for people who wanted to be parents, he still ended up with four children. And he despised them, along with his wife.

When the game was over, Loki took great pleasure in plucking the pegs that represented his family out of his car and dropping them into the bag of other pegs. Then he plucked out his own peg, stared at it for a moment, and dropped it, too, into the bag. "Babies," he hissed, making a guttural noise of disgust.

Ana thought it hysterical.

**Hey there! Sorry I haven't updated in so long. So much has been going on lately, and last week my power—and therefore my internet—was out for five days. Anyways, here's the latest! I hope you like it, and I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Thank you for reading! ~Taelr**


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