A/N: Loki in his cell. Frigga feelz abound.

"Mother?" Loki waited. No response. "Mother," he called, sharper. "Mother, please come back. Please!" He layered his voice with as much anguish as he could, and there was still no reply.

He heaved a sigh and relaxed. She was gone, then - really gone. With the projections, it was hard to tell. Sometimes she sent him her disembodied voice only; it was less taxing for her to just hold conversations with him than to actually send an illusion of herself.

He preferred the illusions, though, because otherwise he felt like a mad person, talking out loud to people no one could see. But he was mad. He knew that.

When he was sure that he was truly alone, he cast a projection of his own. Frigga, exactly as she had looked a moment ago. Facing away from him, as if about to leave the cell. "Mother – wait," he said. His voice was a little unsteady, but it didn't matter – there was no one to hear.

The illusion paused. Raised its head to listen.

"You've been patient with me," he said to her back. "But I need your patience a while longer."

The illusion did not turn to face him. It sighed.

"I don't know how long," he went on. "It might be a long time." It could be a very long time, but maybe, eventually, it was possible his rage might burn out and he might want to return. He had recurring nightmares about being just too late. About finally feeling ready to be a son to Frigga again, just when she gave up on him and stopped coming.

"You'll never wear out my patience, Loki. Not for this." It was good to hear – even if it wasn't real. He waved his hand and the illusion melted away.

It was strange, though. He had never been able to cast illusions of her voice before.

The End.

Let me know what you think! I have at least six plot bunnies running around after seeing the movie last night, so hopefully I'll get some more up this weekend.