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The cockpit was a mess. Loki and Valkyrie were perhaps the worst two people to pair together, and thus spent much of their time shouting at one another. Unfortunately, the jet's auto-pilot had been damaged from the Hulk's crash-landing, so two pilots were necessary at all times. Valkyrie was fine enough with her designated role as driver, since she wasn't drunk for once, but her co-pilot kept attempting to jump ship.

"THERE WAS A GUNSHOT, WOMAN!" Loki screamed, his face pinched and white as he kept his eyes carefully trained on the wormhole drawing ever closer.

"Stay." Valkyrie growled, ignoring his whining. She knew very well that one of their party could have been injured, but there wasn't anyone else around to take the wheel, so she hardly had any options. She could practically hear Loki's personal cocktail of frustration and anger seethe off of him, but she was much too sober to deal with the man. She could only pray that Naomi would get to the front soon, or else Loki would likely crash the jet in his attempts to leave.

In the reflection of the glass encasing the cockpit, the two could see Bruce shakily pull himself through the entryway to the front, his movements nervous. "What's happening?" Loki asked, clearly straining himself to keep his voice down. Bruce took a moment to collect himself, edging away from the opening to the back, and darting his eyes between the pilots.

"Um," he gulped, "Naomi shot the scrapper."

"Thank Odin." Loki whispered under his breath. "Did she kill it?"

"I don't think so." Bruce said, his eyes widened. Loki stilled in his seat, and the shift in his manner prompted Valkyrie to finally take a glance at the man. He was completely poised, if not for his eyes. She had expected nothing short of murderous, but what Valkyrie saw was quite the opposite. She pulled her concentration back to steering, but everyone was caught off guard when they heard a shout from the back.

"RIGHT!" They could hear Naomi yell, and a second after another shot resounded in the jet. Loki didn't take a second to think the woman's request through, and violently threw the wheel right, forcing the Quinjet off-course from the wormhole. Bruce was thrown onto the floor from the force, and from his position could see through the entryway to the back.

"It's okay!" Bruce yelled to Loki, trying to console the God whilst he was laying on his stomach. "She's got her gun pointed at 'em!" Loki, though his face was perfectly clear, listened intently to Bruce while focusing on slowly turning the jet back toward the wormhole. Valkyrie and Bruce were silent, she looking straight out the glass, concentrating on the flight, and Bruce still on the floor, staring at the scene unfolding. Without any communication, the warrior and the scientist agreed to tread lightly around Loki until this was over. The man was like a composed time bomb. And all bombs are destined to go off.

"Wait, she's not shooting..." Bruce said, confused by Naomi's hesitation.

"She doesn't want to kill-" Loki began to reply, his teeth clenched. But he was unable to finish the thought- a gunshot sounded, and a terrible, guttural scream filled the air. It wasn't a shriek, or a high-pitched squeal of terror, but a cry of raw pain. Bruce sucked in a sharp breath, still watching through the gap. Valkyrie reacted differently. Instead of turning toward the scream, as most would have done, she turned her head to Loki, and watched his reaction instead. The sight stilled her.

Valkyrie had seen Loki in distress before, namely during that very flight, but not like that. His eyes were unfocused, his hands slack on the controls, and his lips were slightly parted, as though he wanted to take in a breath but couldn't bring himself to. It was the rawest expression she had ever seen on a person, Loki reverted to his most primal instincts before her eyes. He was terrified. And as she watched, his skin began to tinge blue, and his eyes filled with red.

So she didn't stop him when he rose from his chair, and when his head turned toward hers she simply looked back at the sea, focusing on getting to the wormhole. There was no point in arguing with this man to stay put.

Once he was up, Loki's first action was to grab Bruce from the floor, and shove him toward the seat. Bruce tried to argue, "I don't know how to fly this thing!" But Loki didn't care. he turned away from him and continued on to Naomi. From the entrance, he saw her sitting on her shins, one hand on her thigh and another closed around a fistful of the scrapper's shirt. His body acted on instinct moving toward her, and he watched her dump the unconscious body out the open back of the plane.

He didn't know it, and hardly would have cared, but the sight of her, still alive and kicking, caused his skin to fade back into his Asgardian self. By the time Loki was at her side, he was completely back to normal.

Loki knelt down beside her, and when Naomi turned her head to see him, her lips turned naturally upward in a grin. "Thank God." She breathed. Loki returned her smile gladly, and clutched her arms with his hands, taking a moment to indulge himself, and look into her eyes. Naomi felt her heart settle at his touch, and leaned in toward him, the searing pain in her thigh growing duller the closer she drew. Their foreheads touched, and for a second their breath mingled in the air as they each shut their eyes, drinking in the other's presence.

With no small deal of effort, Loki opened his eyes, and pulled his head back to address her injury. Her hands were clasped over her thigh, and under them blood flowed, staining her pale hands. Gently, he moved his hands from her arms and brought them over her own, one of his fingers idly tracing a design on her skin as he looked back up to her.

"Let me see, darling." He whispered.

Slowly, Naomi brought her hands away, and bared the wound for Loki to see. She watched his face as he moved his own hands over the injury, and a dull green glow shined through his fingers. Naomi let out a small gasp as her pain was lifted from her, and though she still bled, she did not feel it. Once the pain was removed, Loki separated a hand from her thigh and held it out, away from his body. In a flash of green, an emerald cape appeared in his hand, and- without hesitation- he tore off a section, his concentration on her leg never wavering. Shifting positions, Naomi sat with her legs extended in front of her, Loki gingerly tending to her injured left thigh. With the torn cloth, he tied it around the wound, keeping a hand on to apply pressure. Once her leg was securely wrapped, he brought his cape to her hands, and delicately cleaned the blood from them. "I'm afraid that's the best I can do-" he began, bringing his gaze back up to her face, his shining eyes apologetic. Brining her hands up to his shoulders, Naomi cut him off, a small frown creasing her features.

"Don't apologize." She whispered. Lost in the feeling of his presence, Naomi raised a hand to cup the side of his face, her fingers tanged in his hair. Gingerly, she brought his head down, and pressed her lips to his forehead, trying to convey her thoughts to him in a way that words could not. In such a short amount of time their relationship had transformed so much, and yet it didn't feel fast, or rushed at all. To Naomi, it felt comfortable.

So when Loki raised his head, their eyes level with each other, she didn't panic at the decreasing distance between them. She brought up her hand, and traced his jawline with her thumb as her other tangled in his hair. His eyes closed at the touch, and his arms moved to encircle her waist. Neither shied away from the touch, drinking in the intimacy. Their hearts beat quicker but neither found cause to stop.

So when their lips finally met, their heads spun with euphoria, basking in the light of how perfectly right it felt.