"Loki," Thor starts, jumping from the sofa as I stare in shock at the viewing, which cuts to black. "This has to be some sort of mistake, brother. I am sure of it. They won't send you back into the arena, they can't. Once you win, you are not allowed back in. It-it's the rule."

Stunned, I don't move, I can't move. Thor steps toward me, and I barely register the look of concern on his face, the glimpse of fear in his eyes. When I continue to be frozen, he places his hands on my shoulders, roughly but not unkindly. "Loki, listen to me. This isn't happening."

His touch startles me out of my reverie. I jerk to my feet, stumbling away from Thor without even thinking. My fear kicks in, adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream. My heart is pounding and I can't think, I can't breathe.

Back in the arena. I'm going to be back in the arena, back fighting for my life. Thanos is sending me back. I'm going back.

Worriedly, Thor starts to approach me as I spin, searching for an exit. I need to leave. Now. I need to leave. Now. Now. Now.

I need to run, run somewhere, run anywhere, run right out of Asgard....

How? You can't run out of Asgard. We're surrounded by dark, empty space on every side.

....and run away from this horrible future where I once more become a contender in the Contest of Champions. But this time it would be worse, somehow. I did it once before, because of Heimdall and my father. But to do it again? Without my mother's support or my promise to Gamora? No, I couldn't. I'm so scared I almost choke on it, the fear is that tangible.

Odin has risen, grabbing Thor's arm and keeping him from coming closer to me. Fleeting gratitude rushes through me as pain pricks the corners of my eyes. Before Odin can say anything, I sprint from the chamber, running pell-mell down the corridors. My vision blurs and I can't say a thing – it's a wonder I didn't slam into a pillar or a person.

Before I know it, I'm knee deep in the lake, splashing through the water away from the shore. The water pulls against my legs and I fall, throwing out my hands to catch myself. The mountains rise against the horizon and I realize instinctively that's where I'm trying to go, to the one place I've felt safe in the past. But I also know that it's got nothing to do with my escape route and everything to do with Gamora.

Water splashes in my face as my hands plunge through the water, drenching my tunics, skin, and hair. I come up spluttering, thrashing as I attempt to get back on my feet. Finally finding my footing, I throw my dark hair, now hanging lankly in strings, back from my face and gaze around.

My clothes dripping wet, I determinedly set off through the lake, wading until the water is up to my chest before striking off in a simple, determined stroke. The lake is large but I'm filled with adrenaline and manage to get all the way across it.

Staggering up onto the shore, I collapse in a heap, my chest heaving. Water drips from my face onto the rock and rolls down my neck, shuddering down my back. I pant, gasping for air, and the drops of water on my face mingle with the hot tears blurring my eyes. I don't want to cry but I don't have it in me not to.

I don't know how long I lie there, but it's a long time. The dark is beginning to lighten just slightly when I finally come to. I feel distantly cold, but it's a vague sensation. I've always been highly tolerant to cold – I suppose that comes from being a frost giant. Suddenly, violently, I wish to be cold, shivering, dying of cold than to be numb and vague and unfeeling. The hottest pain is better than this all penetrating numbness. It's like I've already died and nothing matters anymore, and a part of myself knows instinctively that I can't allow myself to fall into that feeling.

Slowly, I pull myself together, forcing myself up onto my hands and knees. I think wildly about running, about escaping. What worse could I face out there, anyway, than the threat of the arena? But when I get to the location of the escape route, it's been blocked up. I suppose Ebony Maw did find it after I used it to go to Svartalfheim; he caved in the entrance, so I couldn't use it again.

What now? I stare up at the pile of rocks for so long, I almost forget why I'm here in the first place. Then I start, scrambling to my feet as it shoots through me again. I'm going back into the arena, I'm going back in.

I'll be the male contender for sure, since Thor is ineligible. But the female contender – that will be a fifty-fifty choice. It will either be Hela or Valkyrie. But wait. What about Veers?

The thought draws me up short. What about Veers? Ronan signed her over to Hela as Asgard's champion, since the Kree didn't want her due to her killing Yon-Rogg in favor of me. Will she be eligible to be Asgard's contender? Or will she be returned to Hala for the Reaping?

Eventually, I make my way back across to the bridge, heading up toward the palace. I don't want to talk to anybody, so it's a relief when the corridor to Valkyrie's chamber is empty. I push open the door and stop when I see Valkyrie crashed on the sofa, staring at the flames in the fireplace, a bottle in her hand, several empty ones smashed on the floor already.

When her eyes meet mine, I'm startled by how hazy they are. Ever since my mother's death, she has been very alert, very serious, but now she's very drunk. Very.

"You're going to be back in the Contest of Champions, I heard," she spits, struggling to straighten on the sofa. I stalk toward her and rip the bottle from her hand. "Hey! That's mine!"

"I need this more," I retort, taking a gulp directly from the bottle. The liquor scalds my throat but it's a welcome sense of pain – anything to deter the numbness that's come over me. Valkyrie scowls at me but doesn't attempt to take it back; she simply lifts a full bottle from a container on the other side of the couch. "To the end of the world." For a minute, we drink in silence, watching the leaping flames in the fireplace.

"Twenty-three will die," Valkyrie eventually muses. "Twenty-three, to right that damned Balance, the one you threw out of whack." She takes a swig, her expression mournfully angry. "Now the rest of us have to pay."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't die like I was supposed to," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Valkyrie's eyes darken. "That's the problem. You were never supposed to die. That was the plan." Suddenly, in a rage, she hurls the bottle she's holding into the fireplace and the flames leapt up hungrily, driven by the sudden douse of alcohol as the bottle shatters. "This was the whole damned plan."

Shocked, I stare at her. "What?" What in Helheim does she mean, I wasn't ever supposed to die? And what, exactly, was the plan? For me to survive? Or...for the Balance to be tipped by Veers and I both surviving?

A flash of realization flares in Valkyrie's eyes and then she shakes her head. But even as the flare dims, her eyes aren't as hazy as before. "Just forget it, Lackey."

"Loki," I correct her forcefully. "It's Loki, and you know it."

She snorts, and I know it's meant derisively, but it just sounds sad. "Lackey, Loki...it's all the same thing in the end, isn't it?"

I drain the bottle and throw it to the ground, getting some fuzzy satisfaction at watching it shatter. "Another," I mutter. I can feel the alcohol working through my bloodstream, which makes me frantic because I'm still just numbed to the pain. Valkyrie is utterly wasted but still looks sorrowful, and stares at the fire like it provides whatever she's looking for – answers or death. I force myself to stand, staggering slightly, and turn to the door. I haven't drunk that much in a long time, and I can feel my inhibitions loosening slightly, although I'm not all the way drunk. But who cares what I say now? I'm already going to die.

"There you are." Thor's voice breaks through my thoughts and I turn to see him in the doorway, his brow furrowed. I tilt my head, feeling off balance for a moment, but then I make my way toward him. "Are you drunk?"

"No, just full," I snap back. "Very full," I then amend. Valkyrie doesn't say anything at all and I wonder if she's passed out. "I'm going to go."

Thor grabs my arm, and I'm not coordinated enough at the moment to pull away from him. "Loki, I am sorry. I know you don't want to go back in there."

"You don't know what I want," I hiss. "You know nothing, Thor. You never have."

I almost expect him to hit me, but he just gives me a sad look, complete with the rage boiling under the surface. Except he doesn't yell, he just tells me again, "You're drunk," with a sad note of finality as if he's telling me I'm dead.

That immediately conjures up the mental image of Thor standing over my battered and bloody body, stretched on a funerary boat, telling me quite solemnly that I'm dead, as if I didn't already know. Which is a ridiculous image, because when you die in the arena, your body is turned to dust so there wouldn't be any body to set on the funerary boat.

Do you know when you die? Are you aware? I always thought it would be a very vivid experience, dying. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's so quiet you don't even know until someone taps you on the shoulder and breaks the bad news. I won't know until they put me back in the arena.

I pull back against Thor's grip and he lets me go, watching me head down the hall. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm going somewhere. Except my going somewhere gets stopped when I see Gamora.

Gamora. Oh, my Gamora. Beautiful, frightening Gamora. She could kiss me and then kill me and I wouldn't mind, not a bit.

....how much have I had to drink?

Gamora stops still when she sees me, staring. I hurry toward her, halting in front of her. We're just silent for a moment before she speaks. "Loki, I didn't know he was going to do this, I swear. I didn't know." And even with the obscuring influence of the alcohol, I know she's not lying to me. I don't think she'd ever lie to me. I wouldn't to her.

"Does it matter? I was going to die anyway. Might as well sooner than later."

Gamora shakes her head. "No, no, Loki. Don't say that. You're not...you can't die."

"Why not?" I inquire, throwing my hands out. "How can I win again? I did it once, and now everything is ruined and it's my fault. How can I trigger all that again?" I want to say something else but can't figure out what.

Gamora steps closer, grasping my wrists, either to restrain me or comfort me. "Loki...." But words have failed her, and I understand. If my silver tongue has turned to lead, then how can anyone else find the right words if I can't? So we just stand there, looking at each other, and no amount of alcohol can blind me to the tragedy. I love her, but will never get to tell her, never get to stand by her side, never even get to attend her funeral, like Father did for Mother, because I'll be long dead by that point. She won't attend mine, because there won't be a body to bury, only worthless ash. No use in burning something that's already been through hell and back.

She's looking at me and all I can see is broken glass, remembering that moment she said goodbye to me when I volunteered for Heimdall. She held me like I've never been held before, not even by Veers, and all I wanted was to live in that moment with her, then and forever. Then the moment shattered and I hadn't known if it was our friendship or that one brilliant, impossible moment. Now I know that it was both of them shattering, because we can't ever have that illusion or be friends anymore.

"Do you know what that victory cost me?" I ask her, my voice breaking. "It cost me you. To hell with everything else, it cost me you. And my mother. And now it's going to cost me my life, all because I saved someone for once. And that's what going to kill me?" Tears sting my eyes but I don't care anymore. What's there to care for? Only Gamora's watching. "Winning cost me, Gamora, it cost me...."

Then Gamora's arms are around me, holding me tight, as tears trail down my cheeks. We stand there for a long while as I struggle against everything trying to run through my head. She doesn't say anything, and neither do I, and her presence is comforting, despite everything. And when we pull back from each other, nothing shatters this time. Mostly because there's nothing left to break.

"You need to get some sleep," she says quietly.

I shake my head. "I don't sleep."

"You need it," Gamora insists. She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. The feel of her rings on my skin is cool, smooth. "Come on."

She leads me down to my chamber and I don't argue. I don't have the energy to do so. She's right; sleep would be nice. Pity it won't come.

Gamora ushers me into my room and gently pushes me toward the bed. Desperately, I turn to face her, afraid that she'll disappear if I close my eyes. I don't want to miss her when I open them again, I don't want to miss her ever again. But how can you say what you want, when all that's an illusion? An impossibility?

No. I mastered that illusion; at least, I tried to. "No, no, don't leave. I couldn't...not if you left."

Gamora places her hands to my face carefully. "I won't leave you." She's looking at me, looking at me, and I don't ever want her to look away. She's haunted and angry and beautiful, all in one, but she's scared, even though she doesn't look it. I'm scared; that's how I know she is, too.

"Promise me," I beg her. "Swear to me you'll never leave me."

"I swear on my parents," she says. "My birth parents. I won't leave you."

I nod slightly and then I'm kissing her, softly, slowly. Gamora's returning my kiss, and it tastes like tears and farewell. There's the taste of alcohol, too, but that's probably just the aftertaste of the liquor. Then she pulls away from me, placing her hand on my chest. "Go to sleep."

"Only if you stay," I tell her. "Just...I can't sleep, you know that."

Somehow, Gamora gets me to lay down on the bed, on top of the covers. She leans against the headboard, my head in her lap, her fingers in my hair. I'm still afraid to close my eyes but for her, I do.

"Whatever it takes," Gamora murmurs, so soft it's hard to hear her.

"I love you," I murmur back, and drift away into sleep.

/**/

Well, that was...something. Turns out Loki's much more open when he's partly drunk. What did you think? Of his and Valkyrie's conversation, of Loki and Gamora talking? I hope you enjoyed it!

Please vote and comment, let me know your thoughts!

Skylar Wittenborn