"Even Steve Rogers couldn't have done that!" Selvig said, no longer attempting to hide his suspicion, "Who are you?"

Loki had come to the conclusion that it would be difficult to accomplish his mission without the aid of a mortal ally. Besides, it seemed as if fate had brought them together, that their meeting had been somehow preordained. What were the chances that the first mortal he would come across would hail from the lands where his father had once held sway?

Selvig, still holding a pool cue in his right hand, his drink in his left, felt the texture of the smooth wood change, his grip expanding around it, now finding himself holding a snake which bent the upper portion of its body to stare into his face, flicking its forked tongue.

"Shit!" Selvig cursed in horror, jumping back, as he swiftly released the serpent, almost dropping his drink as well, the snake reverting back to a pool cue before striking the floor.

"Whatever mischief you wrought as a child was of your own volition. I'm certain I was much too busy fomenting my own," Loki told Selvig.

Loki stepped forward in Selvig's direction to retrieve his drink from the table behind the scientist, Selvig shuffling aside and backing away at Loki's approach, appearing gobsmacked and frightened, almost tripping over the pool cue that remained lying on the floor. Loki raised his mug, emptying it though it had been almost full.

"I'll tell you everything you wish to know," Loki said before peering down at his empty mug, "if you would be so kind as to provide me with another drink."

"Yes...of course…" Selvig replied, scanning the tavern and spying an empty booth in the corner, no one seated nearby.

Selvig picked up the discarded pool cue and placed it in the rack, Loki handing the one in his hand off to him, Selvig replacing it as well, taking Loki's empty mug from him, his own drink still in his other hand.

"Follow me…" Selvig led Loki to the booth, setting his drink on the table, Loki seating himself before Selvig returned to the bar with Loki's empty mug.

Loki awaited Selvig's return, pondering whether he was making the right decision. There seemed to be no other option. Loki decided there was no cause for worry. If Selvig told others what he was about to tell him, knowing how closed minded Midgardians were known to be they would never believe him, thinking his words to be the ravings of a lunatic. He'd likely end up locked away in an institution.

Loki listened to the lyrics of the song that had just begun playing a few moments before. The tune sounded somewhat merry, the singer crooning about joy and fun and 'seasons in the sun' yet the words also spoke of the singer's approaching death, the contrast catching Loki's attention and putting him into a reflective mood. Living under Thor's great shadow and all that came with it, it had been easy for him to forget that they had also shared good times together, had had their share of fun and laughs and moments of camaraderie.

Selvig returned with a small tray holding two more mugs of beer and two shot glasses of whiskey, placing it on the table before seating himself, Loki removing one of the mugs and shot glasses, setting them on the table in front of him. Selvig pushed the tray with the other mug and shot glass aside, grabbing hold of the handle of the almost full mug he had brought with him to the table.

"I have a feeling I'm going to need it," Selvig said regarding the second drink before noticing that the expression on Loki's face had changed since he had left him to procure more drinks, Loki appearing sullen, "Are you all right?"

"The song...it reminds me of times past," Loki replied before pouring the shot of whiskey into the beer and taking a drink, emptying a third of the mug.

"Music can do that. You're speaking of your brother?"

"All that I've told you about his death is true."

"I'm to believe you're Loki...the Loki…the God of Mischief?"

"You're not convinced? You have need of another demonstration?"

"No! No..."

"Most, I dare say almost all of the stories you were told growing up are fiction. However, we do exist...Asgard...my father, Odin...Frigga, my mother...myself of course, my brother Thor...he did until two days ago. His soul is now in Valhalla."

"How could a god be killed by something as simple as a sword?"

"Asgardians are born, live, and die as do the people of Midgard...Earth, though our lifespans are far longer...five thousand years on average, give or take a few centuries, if we are not felled by means other than age. I myself am now nearly fifteen hundred years old. We are of course far stronger and resilient than mortals. There are few diseases to which we are susceptible and we have superior knowledge when it comes to healing the body. The sword that was used to kill Thor is believed to have been cursed. If it had not been, he would likely have survived such a wound."

"Why would S.H.I.E.L.D want your brother dead?"

"That's what I hope to learn," Loki paused for a moment, "I've replayed those moments in my mind many times over these last two days...perhaps if you were to witness it yourself. As one of the more intelligent of your species, you may notice something I've missed."

"You have a video of it?" Selvig asked in surprise.

"Not exactly," Loki said.

Loki reached out, placing his palm on Selvig's forehead. Within Selvig's mind it was as if he stood in Loki's place in the forests of Asgard, vividly living all that Loki had seen and experienced that morning.

Loki removed his hand from Selvig's forehead and took hold of his mug, taking another long drink before setting it on the table, bowing his head, his shoulders slumped.

Selvig had no doubt whatsoever now that Loki was speaking the truth. He reached for his mug as well, finishing off what was left in it. Immediately afterwards he slid the empty mug aside, his hands shaking, grabbing the full one from the tray, dumping the shot into it and chugging from it, almost emptying it before setting it down.

"I just had a god in my brain," Selvig said in explanation as he noticed Loki peering at him from across the table with an expression that was a mix of both surprise and admiration.

The two men continued conversing, though there was not much more to be said regarding Loki's mission itself, except for one inquiry he made of Selvig that might assist him in that mission that Selvig assured him he would look into. Loki regaled Selvig with a few tales of his and his brother's adventures, Selvig having coaxed Loki into recalling happier times with his brother, noticing that Loki seemed to have slipped into a depressive state since sharing his memory of Thor's murder with him, knowing that was often beneficial to those in mourning.

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Loki had eventually turned the conversation around to Selvig who by this time, having visited Rita once again for more drinks for himself and Loki, was more than happy to share his life story with the man he had once thought to be a myth. Loki did not at all come across to him as the dark, dishonest, and evil troublemaker destined to initiate the destruction of the world and as near a figure to Lucifer as there was in Norse mythology that those tales had painted him to be. Selvig was now clearly drunk while Loki, who had imbibed just as many, was only experiencing mild effects.

"You got a girl back there? You were married in the old stories," Selvig slurred.

"I'm unequivocally unespoused...nor have I fathered a host of monsters...as of yet," Loki stated with an impish grin.

"I think Darcy has eyes for you...never mind. I wouldn't wish that on the devil himself. Hopefully I don't end up taking him out for drinks next," joked Selvig, chuckling drunkenly.

"I have no interest in your women."

"They aren't 'my' women. Jane is the daughter of an old colleague of mine and a former student. Darcy's...well….Darcy's Darcy."

"I have no interest in any women," Loki said.

"Oh, you mean you're-" Selvig began, clearly misunderstanding Loki's statement.

"Would that trouble you?" Loki interrupted, aware that many Midgardians had not advanced past immature and irrational bigotry.

"No...of course not. I have several friends and acquaintances..."

"I've had my adventures, you might say. Variety is the spice of life," Loki said with a sly grin before his expression became serious once more, "I meant that I have no interest in the women of Midgard. There would be many impediments not the least of which would be our vastly different lifespans."

"I can see how that would put a wrench in things," Selvig replied.

"There is someone. I'm not sure where it will lead as of yet. There are...obstacles. She's a chambermaid in the palace. I secured the position for her."

"She's considered unsuitable...beneath you?" Selvig asked.

"Station and status mean little. It's her family...rather one particular member's history. I'm certain however that in time...if things were to progress..."

"Do you love her?" Selvig asked, Loki silent for a moment, contemplating.

"I'm not sure I know what that means...love of that sort. I'm still figuring that out. And you? Is there a Mrs. Selvig?"

"I'm afraid not. I never met the right person. With my studies and my work I've never had much time for anything else."

"Do you regret it?" Loki asked, Selvig's drunken smile and his convivial demeanor fading.

"We all must live with the choices we've made," Selvig answered, emptying the mug in front of him, "Do you believe she loves you...your chambermaid?" Selvig asked.

"As a Prince of Asgard it's difficult to be certain if one is sincere in their affection. She's never asked anything of me...more than that, something she said, that she would give her life for my own. They're but words, anyone could say the same...It was the way she said them."

"It sounds like you have what we 'mortals' call 'a keeper,'" Selvig said, the drunken smile returning to his face.

"I suppose time will tell," Loki replied, "Speaking of time, the hour grows late."

"You're right. We should get back. I'll pay the tab," Selvig said, sliding out of the booth and standing unsteadily.

Selvig clumsily removed his wallet from his back pocket as he swayed from side to side, struggling to remain on his feet, having difficulty removing a card from it.

"May I be of assistance?" Loki asked as he stood from the booth, taking the wallet from Selvig who pointed to a credit card, Loki removing it and returning the wallet.

"Give that to Rita and she'll ring it up," Selvig told him before sinking heavily down on the end of the booth seat.

Loki approached the bar. Rita meeting him there, Loki handing her the card.

"You two calling it a night? I don't think I've ever seen Erik tie one on like that before. Are you celebrating some great discovery?"

"In a manner of speaking," Loki answered as Rita rang up the tab, charging it to the card.

"You're certainly a fella who can hold his liquor. I'm impressed," Rita told him, "I didn't catch your name…"

"Lucas...Lucas King," Loki answered.

"I hope to see you again, Mr. King. Enjoy the rest of your night," Rita said with a smile, handing Loki back Selvig's card which he slipped into his pocket before returning to the booth to retrieve Selvig.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After returning to their base and settling the drunken Selvig into bed, Jane had found a set of lounge pants and a T-shirt of Selvig's for Loki to sleep in. Stepping out of the RV after changing, he had heard the sound of music, tracing it to an old radio on the desk that held Jane's computer. Asking to borrow it he had taken it with him, settling on a station playing music similar to what he had heard in the tavern as he lay on one of the lounge chairs on the roof under a blanket, staring up at the stars as he listened.

"Bowie fan, huh?" Loki heard Jane's voice say, so engrossed in the music he hadn't noticed she had joined him, "Of course you are. I'm about to turn in. Do you need anything? Another blanket? It can get chilly up here at night."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"I've never seen Erik that drunk before. Did he lose a bet or something? You don't seem any worse for wear...You're stronger than you look," Jane commented, recalling Loki's entrance carrying the drunken Selvig over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, "If you find who killed your brother, what do you plan to do?"

"They'll answer for their crime," Loki replied.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up. Agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. protect their own...but you already know that, don't you? Are you one of them?" Jane asked.

"I had no knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D. until two days ago. All that I've told you about my brother is true," Loki replied, pausing for a moment before he continued, "If anyone had told me I would mourn him as I do...there were times I considered killing him myself."

"He wasn't a good man?" Jane asked, curious, as she sat on the other lounge chair, "Is that why he was killed? Was he involved in something? Drugs? Organized crime?"

"No, nothing of the sort. He was loved so dearly by everyone that I'm afraid there was little left for me. That was most certainly the case with my father. It was only after his death that I learned why. I was adopted. It had been kept a secret from me all these centur-years," Loki said, correcting himself.

"They waited until you were an adult and right after your brother's death to tell you?" Jane asked.

"My mother said they didn't want me to feel different, though I did...every day...it should have been me. I had been abandoned to die as an infant. I was marked for death long ago."

"I don't believe in fate. We like for things to make sense, to feel like there's some sort of order to the universe, but the universe is a chaotic place. Erik would tell you the same."

"That's true. My father has spent his life attempting to bring order to it. Soon it will fall to me to do the same."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, puzzled.

"A story for another day," Loki replied.

"Yes...of course. You've had a long day. You must be exhausted," Jane said with a smile before rising.

"Thank you...for your kindness. I believe my brother would have liked you very much."

"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet him. Goodnight."

Jane left the roof as Loki stared up at the stars, his eyelids growing heavy as another song began to play over the radio like a lullaby, the singer crooning about his amazement at how much his lover loved him and how he loved her, the words seeming to fit nicely with what...or rather who...now came to Loki's mind as sleep began to overtake him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was one of those rare days when Phil Coulson found himself actually walking into his office in the morning. Setting his coffee he held in one hand and the folder he held in the other down on his desk, he settled into his chair behind it, sliding the folder in front of him and opening it.

"Good morning. Fancy seeing you here," a voice familiar to Coulson said as he looked up from the contents of the folder to see Nick Fury standing by the door.

"I know, I shouldn't get used to it," Coulson said.

"How was Portland?" Fury asked.

"Lovely this time of year. It only rained for thirty five of the forty eight hours I was there," Coulson quipped.

"I'm thinking you didn't give a damn about the rain."

"Not really, no."

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Fury asked.

"Seeing as you're here I thought that you had something for me," Coulson said to Fury.

"I might."

Coulson skimmed the first page of the document in the folder, next examining what looked like satellite photographs on the page behind it.

"An energy surge in New Mexico picked up by satellites….probably nothing...some atmospheric anomaly."

"No word from our new friends?" Fury asked.

"Not yet...probably got cold feet. I'll give them more time. Sometimes it takes awhile to get past the jitters," Coulson answered, "If I hear anything you'll be the first to know."

"I should always be the first to know," Fury commented, "Word on the street is we might have another new friend, I don't mean a new head on the old one...in competition with them."

"What 'street' did you hear this on? No one tells me anything."

"I'll send you what I have so far. If it's true, you're going to be seeing this office even less often," Fury said stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Coulson thumbed through the papers in the folder before going back to the satellite pictures, examining them more closely, an expression of puzzlement coming over his face. Opening his desk drawer, he removed a magnifying glass.