A/N: This is a two parter. Was originally going to be a one-shot but somehow ended up being 10,000 words. Psssh. Anyway, hope you like it. Let me know what you think. I'll post the second bit soon(ish).
Grasping at the Short Straw
by Flaignhan
"He will not allow it," Thor says with a heavy sigh. "And my mother fears that the magic involved is beyond her skills. It is dark magic."
"Does that make a difference?" Natasha asks, already knowing the answer.
"It requires a different power source," Thor explains. "My mother would not be able to do it even if she wanted to."
"But Loki could, right?" Natasha continues. "He could do it?"
"Father will not let him out of his cell, and he will not permit humans in Asgard. I don't know what else to say, Natasha, I wish I could help but…I will ask my mother to do some reading, to see if there is any good magic that could counter the effects."
"But if Loki learned everything from your mom then how can he - "
"His time with Thanos expanded his skills," Thor tells her, his hands resting on his hips, his gaze focused on the ground. When he looks up, his eyes are brighter than usual. "It changed everything."
Natasha sits down heavily on the bench and rests her head in her hands. This had been her last hope - grasping at the short straw that was Loki's assistance. She had argued and argued with Fury, certain that with the right motivation, Loki would be able to fix things, that it would be safe if Thor supervised, that it was their one shot at getting things back to how they should be. When he had finally relented, she had been overcome with relief, never expecting that she would be glad to see Loki again. She had been sure that everything was going to be okay.
"Have you tried recalibrating him?" Thor asks quietly, sitting down next to her on the bench, his armour clinking against the wood. His outfit draws a few stares from passersby, but with a glare from Natasha they avert their gazes and carry on with their own business.
"Yeah," she says, defeat obvious in her tone. "It just made him angry."
"Would you like me to try? Perhaps Mjolnir can - "
"I used a crowbar," Natasha tells him. "On the third attempt. No dice."
Thor lets out a long, low whistle, and rests his hands on his knees. "Poor Agent Barton."
"Poor Agent Barton my ass," she says impatiently. "He tried to bite my ear off last time I was in his holding cell."
"I'm sure it wasn't personal," Thor replies, then, after a moment, adds: "Although I suppose if you used a crowbar…"
Natasha says nothing, and stares out across the lake, her arms folded across her stomach, jaw set as she tries to figure out a way to fix this mess. She can't leave Clint in that cell, but nor can she release him. She wishes things could be simpler, that battles revolved around fire power and wealth, not this hokum bullshit that they have no idea how to handle. If he'd been shot, she could handle that, and so could he, but to have his mind taken from him again…it's just not fair.
"I will speak with Loki," Thor says at last. "To see if he recognises the symptoms, and if there is a cure you can administer to Agent Barton without his presence."
"I thought you weren't speaking to Loki?" Natasha asks, quirking her eyebrow and turning to look at Thor. He looks down at his hands, and it is a moment before he responds.
"I haven't been," he says slowly. "But…I will. For this."
"Thank you," Natasha says softly, a small spark of hope reigniting in her chest. She doesn't have much faith that they'll be able to do anything, but she appreciates Thor's efforts all the same. She can't imagine how much pride Thor will have to swallow in order for him to set foot in the dungeons and ask Loki for help, though she wouldn't blame him if he refused to.
"I should return to Asgard," he adds. "I will speak to Loki as soon as I can."
"Thanks," Natasha says, and with that, Thor stands, walks to a clear patch of grass, and looks towards the sky. She sees his lips move, but doesn't hear the words that come from them, and moments later, she is blinded by the bright blast of the bifrost, ripping Thor from the face of the earth and carrying him across the universe. With a sigh she stands and heads back towards HQ, knowing that her conversation with Fury is not going to be a happy one.
"He says he'd have to see him," Thor says, dropping Mjolnir onto Natasha's desk with a loud thunk. "He says the mind is too complex to be remedied at a distance. He would need a thorough examination."
"Well can we sneak Barton in?" Natasha asks.
Thor shakes his head. "My father will not…he's stubborn, at best. He cares not for one mortal's life, even if I consider him a friend."
Natasha grits her teeth together and tries to refrain from telling Thor that she thinks Odin's an asshole. That doesn't leave her with very much to say at all, and she knows that Thor will have bargained as hard as he possibly could with his father in order to help them. Now there's nothing they can do but let the science teams at Clint, but she doesn't think she could bear to let him become a guinea pig, not when she knows what it's like to be in his position. She knows that underneath all of it, he's fighting to get out, to take back control of his own mind, but he just can't break through the barrier containing him.
She comes to a decision, and forces a smile onto her lips. "Thanks for trying," she says. "We'll just have to figure something else out."
"If there's anything else I can do - " Thor adds, but Natasha shakes her head.
"You've done more than enough. And I doubt we want to piss your dad off. He sounds like he could hold a grudge."
"You have the measure of him already," Thor says with a brief smile. "Mother has been consulting the library though, I shall ask mother if she has any suggestions at all."
"Thanks," Natasha says, and with that, Thor takes Mjolnir into his grasp once more, and departs, leaving Natasha considering her options, the reports on her desk completely ignored. Her favourite idea is not the brightest idea she's ever had, but she's running out of time and options. She won't let them open Clint up like they did to Coulson, won't let them start messing around with his head too. He's had enough of that for a lifetime.
It's not until the following morning that she decides to put her plan into action. She wakes at the crack of dawn and pulls on her kevlar suit, loading her guns and slipping them into her holsters, ensuring her favourite knives are razor sharp and secured to her thigh, and that she has a good stock of taser disks at the ready. She has a feeling she might need them.
She leaves her apartment block through the rear exit, hoping that the small concrete yard out the back will provide enough space for her chosen method of transportation. If, the transportation obliges, that is.
"So," she says, frowning up at the sky as she smooths down the sleeves of her jumpsuit. "Heimdall, right? I need to speak to Thor, could you maybe…beam me up?" She cringes at her choice of words, and as she waits, her heart thuds in her chest, beating against the inside of her ribcage. Just when she thinks she's being ignored, and that she shouldn't have bothered getting dressed, the clouds above her shift, and without warning, she is blinded by light. Her feet lift up off the ground and she speeds along, unable to move her body, not daring to breathe.
She lands hard on all fours, and is initially disoriented, but gathers her wits quickly and looks around, taking in her surroundings.
"Welcome to Asgard."
Natasha looks up at the tall, muscled man, his bright amber eyes contrasting with his dark skin. Most of his face is concealed by an ornate golden helmet, but she can detect the faintest hint of a smile. She also takes the time to note the large sword held firmly in his grip, its point resting on the floor, but no less intimidating for that fact.
"Thanks," Natasha says, offering him an uncertain smile as she gets to her feet. She looks out of the golden dome, and in the distance she can see the palace. It looks like something out of a movie, and while her eyes are in perfect working order, she's still not quite sure she believes what she's seeing. As hoped, however, it's still early. The sun hasn't risen yet and Asgard looks quiet.
"Thor won't be rising for another few hours," Heimdall continues. "Would you like me to send someone to fetch him, or would you rather go yourself?"
"I'll go myself, thank you," Natasha says. "No point in bothering anybody…"
Heimdall descends the steps quickly, and Natasha freezes on the spot, uncertain as to whether he's about to use that sword or not. "Enter through the main doors, take the first left, keep walking until you reach the statue of Bor, then turn right, take the second left, and behind the first door on the right a set of stairs will lead you to that which you seek."
Natasha blinks, committing the information to memory. "Thanks," she says, and Heimdall steps aside, gesturing towards the open doors that lead out onto the icy, colour flecked bridge that paves the way towards the palace. When she steps onto the ice, she braces herself, expecting it to be slippery, but it's fairly similar to walking on marble, though her paranoia that she will fall and slip right off the edge, into the depths of space doesn't quite manage to settle.
The walk to the other side seems like it takes forever, and she can't help but feel incredibly exposed, all alone on this bridge. She's not sure what she's expecting, when all of Asgard is, apparently asleep, but experience has taught her that complacency is the first step towards failure. She can't fail today, however. The consequences would be unthinkable.
She reaches the main doors of the palace, but her path is blocked by two uniformed guards with large spears. She eyes the sharp golden points, then turns to the nearest guard and smiles.
"I'm here to see Thor," she tells him. "I'm a friend of his. I'm from out of town."
"You'll have to wait until after sunrise," the guard tells her. "The Prince will see no one before he has breakfasted."
"But this is important," Natasha tells him. "And he's expecting me."
The guard looks across to his partner, who shrugs.
"Would you like to see my identification?" Natasha asks, and as soon as the first guard nods, she flicks two taser disks onto the floor. They skitter over the ground, stopping at each guard's feet, and, after a half second of anticipation, the electricity crackles through the air, the guards seizing up and falling to the floor with a crash, their spears landing heavily next to them.
"Well I think that checks out just fine," Natasha says casually. "Thank you for your assistance." She pushes open one of the heavy doors and slips inside, closing it quietly behind her. She looks around, but the corridor is empty, and so she turns left, walking quickly and quietly, keeping her eyes peeled for the statue that Heimdall mentioned. She walks for a good five minutes, and even starts to wonder if she's missed it and ought to turn back, but then she passes through an archway and there, in an alcove on the right, is a towering statue of a helmeted warrior, stretching right up to the vaulted ceiling. Carved into the plinth beneath his feet is the word Bor, and Natasha nods, deciding that this is definitely her turning point. She slips through the door at the statue's side and passes one corridor on the left before turning down the second.
She freezes on the spot, hearing the clanking of armour in the distance, but before she can backtrack her steps, another gold clad guard appears at the end of the corridor. She straightens up, squaring her shoulders, and paints on her most winning smile.
"What are you doing here?" the guard demands, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it from its sheath at a moment's notice.
Natasha's smile falters.
"Who are you?"
"I am friend of Thor's," Natasha tells him indignantly. "I'm a member of the Midgardian royal family and I'm here on a diplomatic mission at his invitation. I would appreciate it if you removed your hand from your weapon."
The guard frowns, but moves his hand from his sword, tucking his thumb into his belt instead. "I have heard of no such mission," he says suspiciously.
"Oh, does the prince share all the details of his social calendar with you? I had no idea you were so close."
The guard bristles, and Natasha can't quite tell if she's making the situation worse for herself or not. Regardless, she's chosen to go with the offensive, and the age old don't you know who I am? that works so beautifully well back on Earth.
"The Prince is still asleep. Everybody's still asleep."
"Well I'm not, and neither are you," Natasha retorts. "I didn't realise waking up early was a crime."
"You're dressed strangely," the guard adds, frowning at Natasha's jumpsuit, his lips pursed as he surveys her.
Natasha drops her jaw. "How dare you," she responds, her tone scandalised. "This is the finest material on Midgard," she tells him, brushing her fingers against the kevlar. "And this outfit was made especially for me by one of the world's greatest tailors. I'll be speaking to Thor about your attitude."
The guard opens and closes his mouth several times, and holds his hands up defensively. "I meant no disrespect, my lady," he says, his lips twisting into a very forced smile. "It's just that I've never met a Midgardian before and I expected something quite different."
"I am no mere Midgardian," Natasha tells him coldly. "I am the future queen of Midgard. You will never meet anybody like me, Midgardian or otherwise."
"Forgive me," the guard continues, with a sycophantic bow of deference. "I am obviously unfamiliar with Midgardian etiquette."
Natasha holds him with a steely gaze, and he looks down at the floor, shuffling his feet.
"It's a very…pleasing look," the guard continues, gesturing awkwardly to her outfit. Natasha says nothing, but arches one eyebrow, which only results in more nervous fidgeting from the guard.
"Return to your post, soldier, and we shall say no more about this," she says at last, her voice firm, her stance strong.
"Yes, my lady," the guard says, nodding hurriedly. "Of course, my lady. Thank you." He sidles past her, and disappears into the corridor beyond, his footsteps fading into the distance. Natasha moves quickly, uncertain as to whether she's put him in his place or if he's going to get some back up. With any luck, the threat of Thor will be enough to keep him quiet for a little while, providing he doesn't stumble across the two electrocuted guards at the palace entrance.
She opens the door on the right, and, as promised, there is a set of stairs leading her down into a stone chamber. She moves quietly, leaning low to get a good view of the dungeons. There are two guards inside, patrolling up and down the central stretch of the room, with cells on either side. They're deep in conversation about something, though from this distance, Natasha can't hear what it is. She flicks the switches on her gloves, the LEDs glowing blue, and she waits until the guards reach the nearest cell, then watches as they turn on their heel and start pacing away from her again.
Moving quickly, she skips silently down the last few steps and crosses the dungeon in half a dozen strides before launching herself onto the shoulders of the nearest guard, her hands wriggling through the gaps in his armour to find the soft flesh of his neck. He shudders as she makes contact, the charge surging through him, and he drops his shield and sword with a clatter, before falling to his knees and slumping forward. The other guard raises his shield, sword ready to strike, but his expression betrays him. He's terrified, and no wonder - he's probably only ever seen Thor use electricity like that. Smirking to herself, she wonders briefly if she could get away with convincing him she's a goddess. She's already checked off crown princess this morning, so why not?
"Do as I say, and I promise not to hurt you," she says calmly. The guard shakes his head, readjusting his grip on his sword and shifting his stance. Natasha glances to the left and sees Loki, on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with an intense expression. This is probably the most action he's seen in a long while, and he's relishing in it, having discarded his book and getting up from his chaise longue in order to get a better view. She had no idea Asgardian prisoners were treated so well.
"I want you to open that cell," Natasha says slowly, gesturing towards Loki, whose lips twist into a smirk.
"Never," the guard says, unable to keep the tremor in his voice at bay. Natasha shrugs nonchalantly and flicks the switch on her gloves again, the guards eyes flicking down to look at them apprehensively as the high pitched whir of them charging up breaks the silence.
"We can do this the easy way," Natasha tells him. "Or we can do it the hard way."
"I'd listen to her if I were you, Jonah," Loki says casually. "She's more dangerous than I am, and you know how difficult it is for me to admit that."
Jonah shakes his head. "No. I am loyal to the king. I will not release the prisoner, no matter what you do to me."
"Everyone has their breaking point," Natasha tells him, flexing her fingers. "You might not think so, but you do."
"The Frost Giants killed my brother when he let them into the palace," Jonah continues, jabbing his elbow towards Loki, his lower lip trembling. "I will never release him from this cell."
"Jonah…" Natasha says softly, taking a step forward. To his credit, he stands his ground, his sword held aloft, despite the fear that is so obviously coursing through him. "You really think I'm here because I want to take him to the park and get ice cream?"
Jonah's expression falters at this, his sword lowering ever so slightly.
"I'm one of the good guys," Natasha tells him. "I'm part of the reason he's in here. He killed one of my friends." She lets out a heavy sigh. Nobody needs to know that Coulson is alive and well - the point still stands. "And doesn't it sicken you, that he's killed so many people, that he's done the things he has, and he gets to lounge around all day, reading books and eating fruit like he's still the precious little prince he used to be? Don't you wish he actually had to face some consequences?"
"Hang on a second," Loki says, stepping away from the glass, his face transitioning seamlessly into a wary expression. "Jonah, whatever you do, don't open the cell. Don't do anything she asks. Remember your vow to my father - "
"I remember the corpse of my brother," Jonah says quietly. "Solid ice, because of you." He spits the last word, turning a tearful glare in Loki's direction. "He was my best friend."
Loki shakes his head, his upper lip curling. "Brothers aren't all that," he says. "You can have mine if you like."
"Your brother is good, and noble," Jonah continues. "And you…you're as rotten as they come. And she's right, you're not being punished." Jonah sheaths his sword, then turns back to Natasha. "You promise that you will punish him? Properly?"
"Oh yeah," Natasha says, not breaking eye contact. "He'll be punished all right."
Jonah nods, then walks up the steps to Loki's cell, opening the control panel next to it then punching in a long password. The glass front of Loki's cell flickers and disappears, and he steps over the threshold, Jonah eyeing him nervously. Wordlessly, Natasha climbs the steps, then jams her hands through the gap between Jonah's helmet and his armour. Loki nods approvingly as the current crackles through Jonah's body, until, eventually, he falls to the ground, unconscious.
"Ruthless…" Loki murmurs.
"He's got plausible deniability," Natasha counters, examining the control panel and hitting a few keys in order to close the cell. "Can you do that double thing? So nobody knows that you're gone?"
"My mother will be able to tell." It's Loki's voice that sounds, but his lips do not move. Natasha turns towards the cell to see an identical Loki, watching her from behind the glass, before he saunters away, back to his chaise longue, and collapses down onto it.
"You try to escape," Natasha says, turning back to the real Loki and raising her hand, her index finger pointing at his chest. "I'll kill you. You try to hurt me, and I'll kill you. You do anything that I consider to be an asshole move - "
"And you'll kill me," Loki says boredly. "I get it."
"Good," Natasha says, looking him up and down and wondering what the hell she's gotten herself into. She'd never imagined she'd actually get as far as this, had thought that somewhere along the way, she'd be stopped, either by Thor, or guards or even Odin himself. But here she is, having just broken a murderous maniac out of prison on another planet, and now all she has to do is smuggle him back to Earth, which should be easy, right?
There is a blur of green light, and, standing in Loki's place is a perfect replica of Thor, the only thing missing being the cheerful twinkle in his eyes. It is, however, more than convincing enough to get them past the guards, and, hopefully as far as the bifrost.
"Ready?" Natasha asks. Loki doesn't say anything, but offers her his arm - a gesture she would have considered to be beyond him. But, she supposes, if he's pretending to be Thor, then he must force himself through all the pleasantries as well, and so, arm in arm, they depart, climbing the stone steps up to the main palace.
"By the way," Natasha says, as they walk along the corridors. "I told one of the guards I was here on a diplomatic mission."
Loki raises one blond eyebrow, the expression quite out of place on Thor's features. "How civilised," he replies.
"And I might have convinced one of them that I was the future queen of Earth."
At this, Loki sniggers. "And he believed you?"
"I'll have you know, I do entitled royalty quite well," Natasha replies stiffly, then, her lips curving into a smile, adds: "I used you for inspiration."
Loki lets out a soft chuckle, and as they round the corner, they cross the path of a pair of guards, patrolling the corridors. The guards swoop into deep bows, and Loki nods his head politely in their direction before they continue on, towards the main doors of the palace. It's not long before they find another, larger group of guards, their swords in their hands, shields raised defensively. At the front of the group is the guard Natasha met on her way down to the dungeons, and upon seeing her, arm in arm with what appears to be Thor, his face falls, and he lowers his sword.
"Where's the party?" Loki asks, forcing a sense of joviality into his tone. "Why are there so many of you?"
"We…" the guard begins slowly, his eyes fixed on Natasha. "I…didn't realise we were hosting Midgardians."
"Well it was discussed at the council meeting but…of course," Loki says, plastering a winning smile on his face. "You aren't present at the council meetings."
"I considered the lady's presence to be suspicious, so early in the morning," the guard adds, shifting his feet nervously, glancing up to make eye contact with Loki only very briefly.
Loki frowns. "Your impertinence knows no bounds," he says. "This is Princess Natalia of Midgard, and you would dare suspect her of wrongdoing?"
"I…"
"He laughed at my outfit too," Natasha adds, ignoring the use of her original name. Apparently he's held on to all the tidbits of information Clint blessed him with on his last visit to Earth. At her words, Loki turns back to the guards, his expression almost comically aghast.
"Were you raised in a barn?" he demands. "Who taught you that it was ever appropriate to laugh at a lady's clothing?"
"I am unused to the Midgardian styles, my liege. I did apologiseto the lady."
"The princess," Loki corrects, before he turns to Natasha. "Natalia I am so incredibly sorry that you have had to suffer through such idiocy. Believe me when I say that not all of our guards are so rude."
"I'm sure," Natasha replies with a polite smile.
"Get back to your stations," Loki growls at the guards, his charming air vanishing in an instant. "Or you'll all be sent to aid the stable boys."
His threat is enough to cause the guards to scatter, and they hurry off in pairs, casting anxious looks over their shoulders to ensure that Loki's attention is not focused solely on themselves. After a moment, when the corridor is quiet once more, they start walking again, Loki not even bothering to try and hide his amusement at the situation.
"I nearly told them you were dressed to kill," he murmurs after a little while. "But given that there are two unconscious guards in the dungeons, I thought that perhaps the joke could wait."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "I've been told it's a knockout look," she adds, unlinking her arm from Loki's when they reach the doors and watching as he pushes them open. He glances down at the two unconscious guards on the steps, the shiny taser disks laying innocently nearby, and he grins.
"Perfect timing," he says, offering his arm again.
Natasha smirks, placing her arm in his and descending the steps with him, heading out towards the bridge. There's one last hurdle to get over, and that's the journey back to earth. There's no way around it, no chance of her hitching a ride on another bifrost, this is their only option. And, if they do make it out of Asgard, then she has to keep Loki in check, she has to be certain that he won't make Clint's situation even worse than it already is.
"How do I even know that you'll help him?" she asks, staring ahead at the golden dome in the distance, which grows larger and larger with every purposeful step that they take.
Loki shrugs. "I meant what I said. You are more dangerous than me."
"You're scared of me?" she asks in disbelief.
"Not really," Loki continues. "In the grand scheme of things there are far scarier people in the universe. People who would want nothing more than for me to die a slow and painful death. People who have the skills and resources to make that happen, should they ever get a hold of me."
Natasha doesn't say anything, far too concerned with the notion that she might be endangering not only herself, but the entire planet if she takes Loki back to Earth. Will they be considered enemies by association by his foes? Will they be subject to the same punishment as Loki? Or is that a spot reserved exclusively for him and him alone?
"You are," Loki continues with a heavy sigh, "a good person, unlike those who wish to see me dead. Good people do not compromise, not when it matters. There is no convincing a good person. They do not give you the opportunity."
"I'm not a good person," Natasha breathes. She would be amused by his observations if they didn't sting so much. She hasn't thought about this for an awfully long time, preferring to lock it up in a box at the back of her mind, but here Loki is, parading about with the key and setting it all free again.
"You don't have to be as noble as your dear Captain in order to be a good person," Loki tells her. "You will make the call that precious angels, like your Captain, like my brother, will never be able to make. So yes, I will endeavour to help Agent Barton, because I know you well enough to want to avoid being the subject of such a call."
She still doesn't trust him, but at least he knows that if he does any damage to Clint, she'll do far greater damage to him in turn, and that punishment she spoke of to Jonah will become a reality. When they reach the golden dome, Heimdall is standing guard at the top of the dais. He slots his heavy sword into the top of a short stone plinth, and the walls of the dome begin to spin.
Heimdall descends the steps towards them, smiling towards Natasha, then, without warning, grabs Loki by the collar of his shirt and pulls him close. "I'll be watching you, Loki," he says in a quiet voice, his amber eyes staring into Loki's blue ones. "And if I think I need to send your brother, and my sister, to come and collect you, then I most certainly will." He releases Loki and lowers his hand, Loki taking a step backwards and smoothing down his clothes. Seeing such an uncharacteristically sulky expression on Thor's features is enough to garner a smile from Natasha, and when Heimdall sends the smallest of winks in her direction, she breaks into a grin.
"Quickly now," Heimdall says. "Before the rest of the palace awakes."
Loki grabs Natasha by the forearm and drags her to the front of the dome. She only manages to get one last glimpse of Heimdall before she is swept away, Loki's grip on her firm as they speed across the universe, hurtling towards the earth.