Notes: This takes place pretty much right after Ragnarok and, uh, I'm just gonna sweep that Infinity War trailer under the rug where it belongs because I can't deal with that right now. This story has angst out the wazoo, like for real - be prepared. This is also posted under my AO3 account of the same name.

Lilies Say Sorry

There was a chill in the air. The crisp leaves crunched beneath Loki's shoes as he walked aimlessly down his chosen path out in the open area he had come across, away from the towering buildings that blocked out what little moonlight shone down through the clouded sky.

It was three o'clock in the morning, the only time of the day Loki really felt confident he could venture out of the Avengers Compound without having to deal with the headache of mortals possibly recognising him. The lack of exposure in the darkness, mixed with the absence of people at the late hour made for a peaceful and undisturbed wander; a breath of fresh air and a welcomed change from being confined to one room all day.

Loki had only just been granted free reign outside of the Tower - not that he'd been allowed any true freedom since returning to Earth following the destruction of Asgard. His every move was being monitored, his location tracked, sending data back to Tony Stark in real time; if Loki was to try anything at all, the Avengers would be alerted within seconds, and his plans would be thwarted once again.

Of course, world domination was no longer present on his list of priorities, so he didn't have to worry about that happening.

The only thing Loki had to worry about was finding a way to entertain himself while facing the fact that everybody he interacted with on a regular basis held utter disdain for him. It didn't matter that he'd helped save the people of Asgard, his previous actions on Earth had led to a lifetime of wariness from all those around him. Even Thor, his loving brother, continued to regard him with a hint of cynicism.

Then again, after the amount of times Loki had betrayed the God of Thunder, he didn't really blame him.

It was difficult living on Earth. Midgardian literature, while providing at least minimal enjoyment, was dull in comparison to the many books he had read in his lifetime. The question on Loki's mind was how do mortals have fun?

So there he was, taking a late night stroll through the empty streets of the city in the hopes that he could end up somewhere fun.

Loki found himself in a cemetery.

It was as if he was naturally drawn there, the quiet serenity was intoxicating; it was a place he could be alone with his thoughts - not a living soul within its gates at such an hour. Death was not exactly daunting to the God of Mischief, he had seen a lot of it in his many years of living, a good handful of which was by his own hand.

His green eyes fell to the endless rows of headstones as he wondered whether any of them belonged to the people whose blood was on his hands. He didn't know how many people had perished in the Chitauri invasion several years ago, but Loki could only assume it was in the hundreds. His actions did not haunt him, he was not conscience-stricken over the lives he had taken; he had no reason to care for the people he had killed or the losses their families had suffered.

He was simply indifferent. The Avengers didn't have anything to fret about, however, Loki didn't plan on killing anymore innocent humans - it was far more trouble than it was worth.

A dark shape caught Loki's eye and he came to a stop, lingering at the end of the row of graves while he attempted to deduce why a human would be out in a graveyard at three o'clock in the morning. Whoever it was, they weren't doing much; the figure was knelt in front of a headstone, a hood covering their head and obscuring their face, hands hidden in the pockets of their coat.

Curiosity peaked Loki's mind, and with quiet steps, he approached them gradually; the figure was ominously still and if Loki didn't know any better, he'd assume they were frozen solid.

As his looming shadow blocked out what precious little moonlight there was, the human practically squealed, springing up with impressive speed before stumbling back a few steps - it was a young woman, Loki observed, and fear was present in her eyes as she stared up at him through wide spectacles.

The God of Mischief held his breath, afraid he'd been recognised, until the woman released a string of nervous laughter and exclaimed, "Oh, hahaa- you scared me…" the pitch of her voice was high and she appeared breathless from the fright he'd given her. She looked away momentarily, reaching up to wipe her hand over her cheeks, brushing tears from her face, before regarding him again with a cautious expression.

Loki dragged his eyes across her meek-looking form; he supposed she wasn't too terribly short for a mortal woman, but he still seemed to tower over her with his height. She was tense and curled in on herself, shoulders raised but slumped in a natural posture to help fight off the cold; it made her look weak and tiny.

Her clothes weren't ideal for keeping her warm, which was somewhat confounding given that low temperatures pierced through mortals like a well-sharpened blade; what Loki had assumed was her coat was actually nothing more than a thin hoodie. Her legs were clad with worn jeans and she exhaled shuddering breaths, gently shivering.

His eyes fell to the delicate bouquet of flowers placed carefully before the grave, a sprig of white lilies wrapped in a clear film; Loki's brow furrowed. Human burial customs were boring and without logic, the funerals of Asgardians were far more grand and memorable; he didn't see the sense in stuffing a lifeless body into a hole in the ground to cover with dirt, and he certainly didn't see sense in leaving flowers on the grave. Flowers lived shorter lives than humans, they would wilt and die in less than a week, and remain an ugly blemish on what should be an elegant memorial, until replaced with another pointless garland.

The human woman before him audibly swallowed, likely uncomfortable by Loki's silence; did she expect him to say something? What was there to say?

She opened her mouth as if she was going to make smalltalk and Loki's jaw clenched; he found it loathsome that humans found it necessary to break silence with inane chit-chat.

"Are you here to say goodbye to someone too?" the woman asked him, her eyes scanning his face curiously, and Loki's gaze narrowed on her in mild confusion, wondering where she had gotten such an idea. The human seemed to realise she had been presumptuous and quickly rushed to apologise.

"Ah, sorry, I just assumed cause of… well, cause of how you're dressed…" she trailed off, blinking as Loki's eyes flickered down to his all black suit and tie ensemble, taking slight offense. It was rich of her to insult his fashion while she was dressed as she was.

"What is wrong with how I'm dressed?" Loki's tone hid an edge of indignance, and the woman appeared visibly surprised by his voice; her eyes widened minimally at the minor outrage in his words.

"N-nothing at all, sir. I just- made an assumption that you were here to mourn someone. My bad." She turned away abruptly, looking back to the grave before her and chewed her bottom lip nervously.

Loki took a moment to scrutinise the woman's face; tufts of brown hair peeked out from below her hood, covering her forehead. Her cheeks were red as a result of the crisp temperature and there was a lingering sadness in her eyes; there was nothing special about her, she was a dull, ordinary human, so insignificant that it was laughable.

He set his sights on the grave she bore her eyes into, taking in the name and dates, 'Aaron Avery, August 19th 1981 - November 9th 2012' the headstone read. The woman looked up again and Loki silently berated himself for hanging around as the mortal timidly opened her mouth again.

"My brother - he died a few years ago… I thought the world of him", there was a hitch in her voice and Loki's mouth twitched in disdain, "He was gonna do great things, and then… well, you can never really predict when an accident might happen."

I thought the world of him. Those words were eerily similar to the words Thor had spoken to him - Loki, I thought the world of you - right before he'd attempted to betray the God of Thunder once again. In a way, Loki was glad Thor has seen through that trick and convinced him to lend a hand in saving the Asgardian people; Thor's acceptance of Loki's uncaring nature had ultimately led to Loki caring. His relationship with his brother was mending at a tremendously slow pace, but mending nonetheless and it felt… peaceable.

It was still far from perfect, of course, but Loki never really pictured him and Thor having the perfect brotherly relationship.

The sound of the woman sniffling brought Loki from his reverie, and he watched her blink away the emotion in her eyes, attempting to put a damper on the tears threatening to flow.

Humans were so flagrant with their emotions; her brother had died roughly five years ago and here this woman was, unable to let go because she allowed herself to be led by her heart instead of her brain.

"Human life is frail", Loki murmured nonchalantly; mortals were terrible at surviving.

The woman gave him a strange look, then shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I guess it is…", she sighed, "Life fucking sucks sometimes."

She sighed again, her breath visible in front of her face; the cold did not bother Loki in the slightest but it wasn't doing this mortal any favours.

Loki exhaled a breath of amusement through his nose at her words, recounting the fair few times he felt like he'd been dealt a low hand at life, "I know."

The woman was silent for a while, staring at her brother's grave as her thoughts clearly reeled behind her eyes. She turned to Loki, a forced smile on her face, "I'm Amelia. What's your name?"

Loki tensed, his eyes widening a fraction as a cloud of discomfort fell over him; he had no idea why he was still just standing there talking to the woman, but there was no way he was going to reveal his name - while she hadn't recognised him by appearance, it would be wishful thinking to believe that even one human in New York didn't know him by name. He'd taken care thus far not to make himself obvious the few times he had graced the streets with his presence and he wasn't about to foolishly give his true identity to a mortal that hadn't yet caught on. It only had the potential to make things difficult for him.

He'd had second thoughts upon returning to Midgard; the whole time Thor had spent convincing him to stay was thrown out the window the moment the Avengers saw him. Loki knew he could never belong there, and yet, because of his brother, he had no choice but to at least attempt to integrate into society - despite how detestable it was to be around humans.

He had to try not to scare away every single person he came across.

His eyes flitted over Amelia's head as his brain struggled to think of an alias and he caught sight of a van parked on a road just outside the cemetery gates, the words 'Jameson's Electricals' printed across the side of it; his gaze fell back to the mortal.

"James."

The woman's stare lingered on him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at his length of hesitation before answering, and Loki clenched his jaw, brow furrowing as she dared to look at him as though she didn't believe him.

After a few wordless moments, Amelia smiled and nodded.

"Okay, James. What would you do if you only had twenty-four hours to live?"

The question caught Loki off guard, it was certainly an odd query to pose to someone you didn't know in a cemetery at three o'clock in the morning - surely these weren't the kinds of conversations that mortals regularly had?

Nevertheless, Loki chose to answer her.

"I'd find out whatever was threatening my life and destroy it before it can kill me", he answered with monotonous honesty and the woman's expression grew surprised, with perhaps the very slightest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

"Uh, let me reiterate. You can't stop the fact that you're going to die-"

"Why? That's absurd."

Amelia's lips parted, an almost dumbfounded smile on her face as nervous laughter trickled from her mouth; she shifted briefly on her feet, "It's just a hypothetical question. If you know you're going to die, you only have twenty four hours and you can't stop it - what would you do?"

Loki regarded her with a careful eye before his gaze wandered as he actually took a moment to ponder her question. If he truly only had such little time to live, and there was absolutely no feasible way of stopping it, he'd probably just spend his remaining hours doing whatever brought him pleasure.

"I'd drink fine wine, eat till I'm full, and sleep with whoever I want." His voice held a note of disinterest, but deep down, something about her peaked his curiosity, made clear by the fact that he was still stood by her, entertaining her ridiculous question with a sincere response.

The woman smiled, but there was nothing mirthful about the curve of her lips, she looked bitter as she diverted her gaze from his face, "Yeah… that's what most guys would say."

Loki's green eyes narrowed with indignance at being compared to 'most guys', as if he fell among the crowds of the below-average creatures known as humans. Perhaps she hadn't meant it as an insult, but coupled with the look of disappointment on her face, it was difficult for him not to feel offended by her ignorant comment.

"And how would you spend your last twenty four hours?" He didn't know what prompted him to ask. It may have been the desire to quip over her pointless answer as she had done to him, but he wished to retract it almost immediately - he simply did not care. He did not care about this human or her response to the inane question she had posed to him. Just as Loki was about to swiftly turn and be on his way, the woman spoke up.

"I don't know…" she gave a light shrug, "I suppose I'd find the people I love and tell them I love them, but…" she trailed off, there was something left unspoken in her words and Loki arched an eyebrow as the mortal quickly looked away from him, trying to hide the look of turmoil that passed over her face.

"...I wouldn't want to wait. If I knew I was going to die and I couldn't stop it, I wouldn't be able to find joy in anything… I'd want to end it sooner."

Loki frowned, not because he felt any semblance of sympathy for the woman, but because he had hoped for a more exciting answer, "That is… utterly pointless."

Amelia looked up at him in surprise, her eyes widening at his bluntness.

"Why not indulge? Make use of the time you have and the hand you're given. Your life is already outrageously short and instead of doing something fun with your remaining time, you'd rather throw it away? Pitiful." The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them, and Loki eyed the woman intensely.

Humans were so ungrateful.

The mortal could do nothing but blink, her mouth hanging open comically; after a few wordless moments, she managed to snap her lips shut and clear her throat, forcing a little dignity back into her features. She swallowed heavily and looked back down to the grave of her departed brother.

"Uh. I… I mean…" she stuttered awkwardly, clearly not having expected such a forthright statement to come from the mouth of a stranger in such a gravelly, harsh tone, "Well, I… guess you're right."

There was a struggle in her eyes, as though she was wrestling with the thoughts in her head, a mix of shame and sadness over something Loki did not care enough to ask about; until her troubled expression relaxed and she seemed to settle over her reeling thoughts, nodding her head. Loki wasn't entirely sure what to think of the human's weird, restless pattern of thought and how quickly she seemed to go from one opinion to the other.

"Mm. Maybe I would spend it doing something worthwhile then... Like helping people."

Loki's lip curled in distaste, "Helping people? You'd dedicate your last hours to the benefit of someone else?"

Amelia looked at him like he'd grown a second head, "Well, yeah, I would… why is that surprising? Wouldn't you help someone if you could?"

"I'm not that selfless." Loki told her truthfully, a neutral expression on his face.

"Oh."

It was at that moment Loki assumed her next words would be "I have to leave immediately, goodbye", but instead Amelia appeared to accept his response with surprising grace, which left him a little confused. He expected her to argue with him, tell him he was a bad person for having such an outlook, or how he was obliged to spend his last living hours doing what he could for other people simply because it was the compassionate thing to do.

But she did nothing of the sort; merely nodded her head without any sort of hidden aversion.

After a few beats of silence, Loki spoke up, "That doesn't bother you?" It wasn't that he cared what one insignificant mortal thought of him, he was just oddly startled by her flippant reaction to his admission.

"Nah. I wouldn't blame you for not thinking of others if you knew you only had twenty four hours to live", she replied with a sort of half-smirk that had a strangely familiar quality to it, "It's not a question with only one answer - different people with different opinions have different answers. I respect that."

So the human does have some sense, Loki thought to himself.

Her eyes wandered as she thought distantly about something, before a small smile reached her lips, "Well, James, it's been enlightening talking to you this evening, but it's getting late and I should be heading home", she paused to remove her hand from her pocket and held it out in the typical gesture for a handshake, "I'm glad I met you."

Loki was floored by her words, but quickly reminded himself that had she known who he really was, she wouldn't be talking to him so politely; he hid his surprise well behind pursed lips, and looked down at her hand with vague revulsion.

How he hated the human custom of handshakes. It was so… unhygienic.

Regardless, he sighed and accepted the gesture, offering his own hand.

"Whoa, your hand is very cold", Amelia felt the need to comment; her own hand retained the warmth it had acquired from being buried in the pocket of her hoodie - his icy palm must've felt unpleasant to her, yet her grip was assured and tight. "You should get some black gloves to complete that Angel of Death vibe you've got going", her jest was accompanied with a playful wink and a bright grin that Loki could only roll his eyes at.

Something about her amused him, however, and he bit back a tight-lipped smile as he released her palm, and she shoved her hand back into her pocket with a visible shiver.

"Well, see you around, James."

Loki said nothing, but inclined his head in farewell; Amelia cast one last longing glance to her brother's grave before she turned and walked away.