The hall was dim, dimmer than it should have been considering what waited at the end of it. I suppose that the dimness is for the best: I am not supposed to be here. But I couldn't stop myself, it was as if I was an outsider watching my body continue on a path that would surely have me place in a maximum security prison. I was outside myself, yet, strangely enough, completely in control of myself. How many years in the future would I ponder as to why I was doing this? What was pushing me closer?

I saw his photo by chance while I was on the command deck delivering papers. My grand exploit in S.H.I.E.L.D: pushing papers, everyone had a purpose here, I suppose, no matter how menial. A paper pusher, though, did not have clearance to be down here, yet, here I was, no one the wiser. Director Fury has never spoken to me before, well, he might have. He once barked an order that I get him a coffee, I was slow to react, Agent Bill Wilson was not. He had already raced down the hall to get the beverage and was returning by the time I started in the same direction. Director Fury huffed and took the drink, that was it, my only interaction with him. Agent Maria Hill was the only superior who really spoke to me, she was my superior, it was required. I was here because of her. If I could prove myself to her, perhaps I would move up, perhaps I would become an agent and no longer a probie. For now I was a officer on probation, never having done any field work, at least until I boarded the ship.

I would never become an agent if they caught me. Fortunately, for a paper pusher who was done for the day, it didn't matter where I was. It was a luxury I enjoyed from time to time, a chance for me to catch up on guilty pleasures and stream movies. Despite the tesseract's unknown location, we were free to relax a little when not engaged in work. It was to keep us sane.

mutant. So many here, as well as those who had lived at head quarters had asked me why I never took the "cure". Some cure. Was it not Lady Gaga who said that we are "born this way"? Does this not apply to all? I am what I was always intended to be. I am classified as a psychic, at least that is what my file says of me. I can manipulate technology, hence the reason I have so far successfully traveled this hallway. The cameras see no one. On occasion, I've been able to get into a person's mind, not an easy feat and it tires me tremendously. I can manipulate their thoughts, their actions. It is for this ability that Maria Hill sought me out. She had me trained, and is still having me trained.

A noise sounded in the distance and quickly I hid behind a pile of crates pressed against the wall. I could not manipulate a person's sight. Crouching low and against the wall, I carefully peered through the space created by two of the crates touching each other. A red haired woman emerged from the door at the end of the hall; my destination. She walked quickly, she was a woman on a mission, although, since she was leaving the room, I understood her to have completed her assigned mission. She was Natasha Romanoff, or the Black Widow as she was often called. I wondered then if would ever get a nickname or a code name. Officer Turner was not impressive. Thinking about it, I didn't have one as an X-Men either, although, when I was with them, I did little to earn one. The Hulk was named for his size, power, and aggression; Tony Stark's alter ego was Iron Man, know for his original suit having been made of that metal; Steve Rogers was Captain America, he was the face of the soldiers in World War Two. Even Agent Barton had a nickname: Hawkeye, for his keen farsightedness. What would I be? Electro girl? I didn't

Despite the urge I felt to sigh about my lack of a nickname, I chose to keep silent. Natasha glanced down the hall in my direction, but she said nothing and did not come near. I had a feeling that she knew I was there regardless. Why not address me if that were the case? Did she know what I was doing when I didn't even know? I watched her pass through another door and watched as it slid shut. I waited ten minutes in silence, hoping she wouldn't double back and catch me. I was filled with fear, what was I doing? Why? As I continue on my towards the door at the end of the hall, I am renewed with a sense of confidence. What ever was compelling forward had now returned at full force.

I finally reached the door, it didn't open, it wouldn't of course, I did not have the authorization to enter. I pressed my hands against the doors, the sweat of my palms cooled quickly from contact with the doors, it made me shiver. I was glad, then that I had worn a jacket. I searched inside, probing with my mind, well, my inner ear for a sound like a mechanical hum. The cameras were what I was searching for, I altered them. They would see him pacing, but not his contact with me. Now, for the door. I put my ear against the door. The hum was like music to me. I felt the buttons click as the necessary code was pressed. The door clicked open, light flooded my view. Now or nothing.

I stepped in, as I did, I pulled out a red plastic cup, why had I brought it with me? I'm not sure, but I did. I saw him then, as I entered further into the expansive room. Light focused around him, so that they could watch him carefully from the command deck. I wasn't sure if he knew I was there or not, he did not turn when the door opened. His clothes were dark, thick boots incased his long legs. He wore what almost appeared to be robes, leather to give him extra protection. I gingerly climbed the steps, they made entirely too much noise for my liking, I had hoped to approach him with some semblance of stealth.

He did not turn as I walk around the cell. It was made of clear and thick glass. It was built to house Bruce Banner should he turn into the Hulk. This knowledge terrified me, the Hulk was not someone I wanted to be near. I would not survive an encounter with him. Finally, I stood in front of him. He was angry, but sat quietly upon and bench inside the cell. He looked at me and my breath caught in my throat. Was I really doing this?

I approached the cell and sat on the floor, he seem mildly intrigued. Had he seen me when they brought him aboard the ship? How I hoped that he had. My heart jumped then as it was doing now. His skin was so pale, I don't think it had always been so. He had raven locks, like mine, but much shorter. His eyes were a pale blue, piercing and slightly crazed. I hated thinking that, but there was no other explanation for the look in his eyes. I felt sorry for him, something had happened to him.

I didn't know what to do or what to say, and he did not make it easier. I set my cup in front of me. I started clapping, and then tapping it, grabbing it, flipping it, tapping it again, grabbing it and flipping it over again to repeat it. I had watched "Pitch Perfect" a thousand times since I was able to stream it on my computer. Beca's audition song was my favorite, her voice was perfect and almost seemed folksy, I loved it. So, I did what any other sane person breaking into a secure section of a secure ship would do: I sang.

It seemed like hours, but I finished in only a minute. He stared and I stared. Then he stood and walked towards me. My confidence was gone, it fled like a antelope upon seeing a lioness. Panic filled me, my heart raced, I could run from here. No, I have to stay calm or I will ruined my illusion on the cameras. Instead, I stood slowly, watching as he approached me from the other side of the glass. I was grateful that it was there, I could never face him without its protection.

"What is your name?" He asked, almost spitting the question out. I hadn't anticipated the coldness. What did I anticipate from him?

With a cracking voice, all confidence now gone, I replied, "Officer Willow Turner." I felt small, I felt so small, not only because he was a foot taller than I was, but because his baring was so strong. He was like Thor in that regard. Both were intimidating.

He smiled, it was mocking, but it hurt. Why had I come? But then his smile seemed sincere, my confidence soared. He whispered my name to himself. I had to, I had to do it. "Loki," I whispered in what surprised me as desperation.

Loki's eyes found mine again, the pain I felt was almost unbearable, if I could, I would have shattered the glass that separated us in that instant, I would embrace him, kiss him, run away with him in a matter of seconds. My heart yearned for his, and I understood him. I watched as emotions struggled within him, he kept them under tight restraint, but mine were like an open book. He read each line on my face as though it was indeed a book.

He snorted as he laughed. "Nice trick with the cameras and the door. I'm impressed. Tell me, what were you thinking when you when you came down here?"

Loki seemed genuinely interested by what I would say. My eyes darted around the room, the light was so thoroughly concentrated on his cell, that I had a hard time looking else where, so I stared back at his majestic face. "I wasn't really thinking, sir. I was feeling, something compelled me, something was always compelling me towards you." I felt naked before him, despite wearing cargo pants and jacket.

He was amused by my calling him "sir", he addressed it. "You are the first to recognize my superiority by calling me "sir", but for you, oh, lovely one, will call me Loki."

My heart burst like flames. Again, I wished the glass were gone so I could touch him. "Yes, Loki," I said weakly. He did not speak again, but waited for me to continue my tale. "I saw your picture, from when you took the tesseract. I cannot explain what I felt, but I was drawn to you completely. I petitioned to be allowed to go to Germany to get you, but I was denied, of course. But I should have been there, near you, with you." I wanted to cry, I felt to weak, and helpless. Pathetic really. But he stood patiently, waiting for the rest.

"When you were brought here, I saw you, did you see me?"

"Yes," said he. "Indeed, you were cowering in a corner like a frightened kitten. If I recall, you brightened when I entered. Your whole countenance grew brighter, much better than the cowering. I must admit, because I am free to do so; I felt it too, that compulsion."

Was he joking? He had to be, there was no way he could feel what I was feeling. What was happening to us? Before I could stop myself, the words flew out, I was horrified, but also relieved to have said them to him, to let him know. "I will do what ever I can for you, Loki. I am bound to you, I am yours, you are mine. I must do my duty to this agency, to my people, but I must also do my duty to you. What I can do, I will."

Oh! What had I just declared? He straightened and ran his hand through his hair. "Willow, you should go now. Come to me tomorrow evening. I will not tell you my plans, for despite your sincerity, which I do believe, have no fear, I cannot allow you to possess that leverage over me."

"Of course!"

He continued past my interruption. "You will follow me?"

I pondered the question a moment before replying. "Where I can, yes." I was noticed! The thrill of him made me giddy. I would get him out of this mess, I will free him. I must.

Loki took several more steps towards the glass, as did I. We were nearly touching if we could. I felt the hum of the cell holding him. I could easily open it, but something told me not too. Could it be the look in his eyes? They were swimming with secrets, and madness. The madness I could see very clearly. I read the file about New Mexico, Loki was the one that sent the destroyer to earth, but what happened to him after that? How could I get Thor to tell me?

A hand was placed upon the glass, then I saw my own hand lining up with his. I was startled, again my body was moving in its own accord. This was very wrong, but very right. He would be free.

"Go, I must think. Do not do anything rash, and wait for my instructions. Remember tomorrow." He stood tall, his leather sheathed him, dark gold decorated his uniform and hints of green flowed along the contours of his cloak. He stood erect, with one hand behind his back and the other upon the glass. With his head tilted back, he looked down at me. He appraised me and then stepped back, further into his cell and sat, once again on the bench across from me.

I understood, it was time for me to go. I turned, mournfully from him and proceeded down the stairs. It felt as though my heart was breaking, my whole chest caving in on me. It pained me. As I approached the door to leave, I allowed myself to glance back once more at him. He was watching me with his cold eyes. They seemed to push me forwards. Now, I had to turn away from him. Again, I placed my hands upon the door, I heard its humming and the hum from the cameras in the hallway. I manipulated them once again and then the door slid open and through it I went. I heard the door click shut behind me. Loki was now far from my view. I left the area, making sure that I was not seen by anyone. I casually made my way to my room and let darkness over take me.

A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Marvel. I do not own the character "Beca" or "Pitch Perfect". I did not obtain permission to use them, nor am I receiving money for using them. It is for pure enjoyment of my readers ( and myself) that I use them. Willow is my own character, and she may appear in other stories under my name, including future stories that I may publish lawfully outside of should I be picked up by and agent and publisher. Her qualities may change according to my own whims.

Please, evaluate my work to help me improve. Mistakes are often missed by writers as we read what is in our minds and not necessarily on paper (or screen). Correct any and all punctuation and spelling errors as they will help me as a writer. Do not hesitate to ask me a question (or two or three, or as many as your fingers can type).

Thank you!

K. M. Benidir