The Woman Who Tricked The Trickster

by The Feisty Rogue

Loki becomes fascinated with the only woman who managed to trick him, and they begin an intricate game of cat and mouse that only gets more complicated the more they meet. Who is the prey, and who is the predator? And what happens when the lamb and the lion fall in love? The Trickster's Tale Part 1

Natalia Romanova was a vision of glossy, scarlet hair and flashing, green eyes.

"Love is for children." She said, and as he stared back at her, he thought perhaps she truly believed that. How tragic, that she could not see what was right in front of her eyes, that in the end, they were all children, and all fools in love.

"I owe him a debt." An excuse.

"Tell me." He said and she did. She told how Barton had spared her life, and emotions flickered across her face before she pulled the mask back on.

"Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man." How fascinating. And she truly believed it wasn't love?

"Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that, I'm Russian… or I was." She was a fool to be having this conversation with him. Opening herself up, weakening herself with every word. Loki was disappointed. Barton had warned him of the Widow; of her beauty and how she could manipulate any situation to her advantage. This was not the woman that he had spoken of.

"And what are you now?" He said, because he was still intrigued by those blazing, green eyes.

"It's really not that complicated." She said, and there was anger in her voice, and in her actions. More weakness. More foolishness.

"I've got red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out." She crossed her arms, a defensive tactic. And there it was, he thought, the true reason behind her weakness.

"Can you?" He whispered.

"Can you wipe out that much red?" Her composure remained impassive, but as he gazed into her eyes he could see pain and hate swirling round them.

"Dreykovs daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire." He said and was rewarded with a flinch. "Barton told me everything." He gloated, because he could. Now to break her, to shatter this pathetic creature.

"Your ledger is dripping. It's gushing red, and you think that saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality, this is a child at prayer, pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they're a part of you: they will never go away." He hissed. He slammed the glass between them and she started back, away from him. Yes. Be afraid. They should all be afraid.

"I won't touch Barton, not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams I'll split his skull." She turned from him, shaking. He was Loki, a god, and she was a human and she had broken, like the rest of them would. Who would dare talk to him now? Now he had crushed the Black Widow, the most feared of them all.

"This is my bargain, you mewling quim." Gasping breaths came from her shaking form.

"You're a monster." She said, and he laughed at the beautiful irony, for how was he any more of a monster than she?

"Oh no." He breathed. "You brought the monster."

She straightened and turned, her face impassive once more, lacking any visible sign of distress. Her eyes, previously seeming to have been brimming with tears were clear and calm, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.

"So, Banner, that's your play." It wasn't a question.

"What?" He almost chocked getting the words out. What? It echoed in his mind. Her piercing eyes evaluated, and dismissed him.

No...

She touched her earpiece. She was fluid and graceful as she strode away, a complete antithesis to the woman he'd broken – thought he'd broken – just moments ago.

"Loki means to unleash The Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Send Thor as well." He followed her, first with his eyes, then across the cell he was being kept in. She turned to face him. "Thank you. For your cooperation." She smirked.

He gazed after her as she left. Stunned. Speechless. He couldn't even summon a clever quip. He pressed his head to the cool glass, one moment of weakness permitted as he was almost certain they would be focused on Banner rather than him. He played around with an idea, one he wasn't sure that he liked.

She had tricked him.

She had tricked The Original Trickster.

How absurd. For a fleeting moment he was angry, furious. But it faded and a vicious grin flashed across his face. Most splendid. The Black Widow had spun her web, and he'd fallen straight into it. He absolutely had to cross wits with her again. Fantastic.

Consciousness fought its way through the darkness in the form of a dull throbbing headache. Loki winced, and pushed himself up onto his arms. He froze. Oh no. He could feel her presence, and the others too. They were like bright sparks in the back of his mind, each one blazing differently, but intricately linked. He eased himself over, and was met with six solemn faces, Barton with bow and arrow drawn. Now that really wasn't necessary. He met Barton's glare, and shivered despite himself. An arrow to the eye wouldn't kill him, but it wouldn't be pleasant either. He could see that Barton was on the brink of shooting him. He wasn't sure anyone would stop him if he chose to. He wasn't sure anyone could. He was another that had tricked Loki, with that exploding arrow. He had to hand it to them. The human members of this team were at least as formidable as their supernatural counterparts.

Loki took a rasping breath, his eyes flickering to hers without meaning to. They stared down at him without mercy. She wielded his sceptre, but knew that it was enough for her to just hold it, that she didn't need to threaten him with it. She was an unforgiving picture of power and beauty. How had he thought her pathetic?

The Hulk was breathing heavily, and he didn't quite dare meet it's eyes. He had no wish to anger the beast again. Every bone in his body ached, each movement discovered new pains. Loki brushed over the Captain's glower, and was startled by the burning anger in Thor's eyes. He met Stark's even gaze, and was impressed by the lack of gloating.

"If it's all the same to you," He began, half smirking at Stark. As he spoke it felt like his throat was being ripped to pieces. "I'll have that drink now."

A flicker of a smile ghosted over Stark's face, before the serious gaze of Iron Man locked back into place. Loki sighed and fell back. That, at least, was one small victory.

Barton was wearing sunglasses. It did nothing to diminish the heat of his glare. Loki would have scoffed, if not for the humiliating muzzle his brother had imposed on him. He would not again be cowed by just a look. His eyes flicked from Natalia, or Natasha as they were calling her, to Barton once more.

She leant over to whisper something in Barton's ear. Loki strained to hear, but it was just a murmur, perhaps the mention of something called Budapest.

Barton smiled humourlessly. An acknowledgement of the comment, but his focus remained on Loki. Hawkeye indeed.

Natasha didn't even deign to look at him. She was brilliant. Together, he thought, they might have ruled the world.

He was pulled away by his brother, who offered him the handle of the Tesseract's teleportation device. He hesitated, then placed his hand on it. It was only then that she looked at him. Contempt, mirth, and smugness were all emotions that he realised she allowed to be displayed upon her face. She raised one arch eyebrow, and he mimicked her. He held her gaze until he was blinded by the light of the Tesseract. And they were on Earth no more.

He watches her as her world burns around her, and Shield and Hydra fall as one. He burns as she kisses the Captain, although why he cannot tell. He laughs at the unrestrained destruction and chaos that has rained down upon Washington DC, and she survives with her wits, uninjured bar a flesh wound. Her faithful Captain leaves her, on the hunt for a shadow, and she flutterers from city to city, seemingly lost. He knows better than that.

He watches as she rescues Shield agents in deep cover, breaks the news that there is no Shield, no-one to report to. She supports them and sends them off – to the CIA, Wall Street, one even to Tony Stark. She meets the Hawk, and they disappear together for a week. He is so angry for that week that no one dares approach him, even in his guise as Odin. This is the third time she has bested him, even with all his new found power. She reappears again 700 miles from where he lost her, in Boston. She's getting on a plane to Moscow.

He watches as she tracks down an old 'friend', as she calls him. He didn't think you that murdered friends. Guards swarm the room as she is crouched over the man's rapidly cooling body. He watches her in formidable action. One of them grazes her with a bullet, and she snarls and tosses a dagger in his chest. It's a beautiful and deadly dance. The last one surrenders, drops his gun, and raises his hands. He begs for his life. She laughs and informs him his masters will kill him anyway, but knocks him out regardless. She is right. They do kill him, after they discover who had the audacity to attack them. They shiver when he tells them. A beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes. The Widow, they whisper to each other. Is she coming for all of us?

He watches as she returns to the Avengers, and wreaks havoc on Hydra bases, each kill revenge for the years of her life wasted. He watches as the Witch gets the better of her and nearly reaches out to calm her mind. He stops himself, barely, and the Hawk stiffens as if he senses Loki's presence. Interesting. He could delve into her mind as it is now, so unguarded and vulnerable. Instead, he lives her darkest fears, and despairs with her at her own memories. This is why she was in Moscow.

HE BURNS when she kisses the monster, the beast. "I adore you." It echoes round his head and he flees their world. He only watches fleeting moments. His brother is there. He should know whether he survives. This is what he tells himself.

Then he can't take it anymore, and he goes to Earth. He sits in her apartment in New York, and waits.

The cold burn of a knife held against his throat surprised him. He had been listening for her, not intending to be caught out again. Her body pressed up against him, one arm on his shoulder, no doubt to increase the ease of slitting his throat.

"There's not many people who can sneak up on me." He said, echoing his first words to her. Natasha let out a cool breath against the back of his head.

"I'm not people." She said, and pressed the knife closer to his throat when he shifted. He raised his arms.

"I wish you no harm." He said. She snorted.

"Somehow I doubt that." She said, but relaxed slightly. A foolish move. He span, knocking her arm up and slamming the hand holding the knife against a wall. His other hand went to her throat. She froze. Her green eyes burnt daggers at him. He smirked slightly. She snarled, then grabbed his wrist with her spare hand and twisted, simultaneously hooking his knee with her leg and pulling it from under him. He landed with a thud on his back. Caught by surprise again. She was quick. Her knee crushed one arm, her hand holding the other down, and the knife hovered dangerously close to his eye.

"Give me a reason." She said, and he wasn't sure if she meant to kill him, or spare him. He answered both.

"I could have killed you just now. But I didn't." She rolled her eyes at that.

"Perhaps." Fair. He offered another explanation.

"You interest me." She arched an eyebrow, but made no move to get off him. He sighed, and her weight moved with his chest. She was a light little thing, and he had no doubt that he could throw her off. However, he was unsure whether he'd manage it before she slid the blade into his eye.

"Because I haven't killed you in all the time I've been free. Because your friend Clint escaped my clutches almost completely unscathed, when many others have succumbed to insanity. Because," He said, paused, and guessed.

"Because I interest you."

She laughed, her only answer. He scowled. He shifted slightly and she stopped laughing instantaneously, touching the knife to the crease of his eye. He blinked and a trickle of blood fell like a tear. The metal was made of stronger stuff than the human's usual steel alloys.

"Don't move." And then she quirked her head slightly. They both listened to the sound of men attempting to move silently up the stairs in her apartment building.

"Are they yours?" She whispered, lowering her face closer to his, noses almost touching.

"No." He said. She pinned him with her gaze. He almost flinched away. She nodded, evidently satisfied that he was telling the truth.

"Not really your style." She shifted off him. She was dressed head to toe in her combat outfit. As he looked around he realised the apartment held few signs of life. There was a faint layer of dust he hadn't noticed before. The bed was pristine. It looked as if it hadn't been slept in for weeks. Why had she returned here?

"They're here for me. You should go before they get here, if you're not going to try to kill me too." She already seemed satisfied with that fact, her back turned to him as she collected various guns that were stashed around her apartment. He stared in amazement. No sane person would do that. Although, by her own words, she was no ordinary person. She turned, saw him still there, and staring, and rolled her eyes.

"If you're going to stay, and you're not going to kill me, then you better be prepared for a fight." With those last words her eyes shone and a ferocious smile lit up her face. She looked alive. He realised that working for Shield, being an agent - that was just living. But this – the fight, the kill – that was when she truly came to life. He smirked back at her.

"Trust me to have your back?" She laughed.

"No way. But I trust that you want something from me, and you need me alive for that." He inclined his head in acquiescence. What did he want from her? He wasn't even sure himself. That was a new sensation. He had no time to ponder the question further. The apartment door burst open, and a group of men swarmed in. Natasha had disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of her kitchen. They surrounded him, semi-automatics pointed at his head. He realised that he must look unassuming; unarmed and in human clothing. He played the part, and raised his arms above his head, the human surrender. There were only ten men here. Did they think that enough?

"Where's the girl?" One of them asked. Loki smiled. They truly didn't know him. Wonderful.

"What girl?" He said. Natasha dropped from the ceiling onto the man's back, and he collapsed to the floor beneath her, a knife slipped between the gap in the protective clothing he was wearing.

"Ah. That girl." He said, amusement evident.

She spun, knives in hand, widow's bites sizzling. It was like watching a work of art in motion. This was a side to her she kept under lock and key, now unleashed and thirsty for blood. The thud of silenced guns echoed in the apartment, however they were little use in such an enclosed space. Fools.

Loki threw himself into the fight, his laughter a counter point to hers. A glowing blade materialised in his had. Their attackers recoiled. One threw a punch, and Loki caught him by the throat with one hand, and then threw him into another, like a twisted game of skittles. The Widow used her signature move, twisting up and breaking a man's neck between her deadly thighs. As they fell together an assailant shot, once, twice, thrice, straight at her.

"No!" Loki cried, despite himself. The Widow rolled out from beneath the body and launched herself at the gunman.

"You missed." She hissed, and with a delighted grin slid a knife into his eye. She pulled an unused gun from her holster, and pointed at the remaining two men. They stared at the mess of bodies and blood that covered the apartment, and then up at the assassin and the god. They reluctantly dropped the guns. One of them looked at Loki and he saw a flicker of recognition.

"You." The man squinted at him. Loki glared down, daring him to say it, but hoping he wouldn't. If there was anyone listening... it wouldn't do for them to know that he was alive.

"You're…" Natasha shot him before he could utter another word. Interesting that they were both in agreement that his presence should not be mentioned. The last man standing slid slowly toward the door. Loki covered the distance in two swift strides and pushed him up against a wall.

"Do you recognise me?" He growled. The man stiffly shook his head, hatred pouring off him in waves.

"He's all yours then, darling." He said, a wry grin aimed at Natasha. She glared at the term of endearment, and strode forward, delicately stepping over bodies to get to the man that had attacked them, and survived. She holstered the gun and drew yet another knife from about her person. Loki hid his amusement. She was a walking armoury. He recognised it as the one she'd threatened him with. A favourite, perhaps, as she'd bothered to retain it during the fight.

"Ivan?" She said, once she'd ripped his mask off, first with shock, and then with a grin. He spat in her face. She wiped it off, and backhanded him.

"Oh that's no way to treat an old friend now, is it." She said, slipping into Russian. Again with that usage of 'old friend'. Evidently it meant something slightly different from the obvious translation. Natasha divested him of any remaining weapons and body armour. She slammed the hilt of the knife into his chest, twice. He barely flinched, although Loki was sure he heard ribs crack.

"Which of them sent you?" She asked. He looked straight past her. She took his hand and twisted it, and he hissed with pain.

"Do what you want. I am unafraid of dying." Ivan growled at her. Natasha paused, and considered him.

"Fine." She said. She stabbed him in the stomach, twisting the knife before removing it. He cursed and fell to his knees. Blood gushed and Loki could hear the frantic pounding of his heart. She kicked him and he fell sideways, landing heavily on the broken arm with a moan. She crouched down next to him, twirling the bloody knife.

"You will slowly bleed out over two to three days. Dehydration, infection or septic shock may kill you first. It will be a slow and painful death. I will be merciful, if you tell me what I wish to know." This was the Black Widow in her element. Ivan howled.

"You bitch." Blood dripped from the knife as Natasha stood, and gestured for Loki to follow her. She was sliding open a window when Ivan gasped.

"Wait." She turned, arms crossed.

"Dmitry. It was Dmitry." His face was creased with anguish.

"He didn't get my warning?" She said. Ah. Moscow.

"He decided pre-emptive measures were best. The rest – they are scared. It was just him." He was gasping painful breaths. She nodded, once, and climbed out the window onto a rusty fire escape. Loki followed her down, a question on the tip of his tongue. He could hear the moans of the man they'd left in the apartment turn to curses and shouts when he realised they weren't returning. They reached the alleyway and Natasha leaned against a brick wall, breathing heavily. All thoughts of his question fell from his mind.

"You're injured." He realised, and reached a slender hand out. She snarled and flinched away from him, her gun out and pointing between his eyes quicker than he'd had time to react. He could see she was favouring her left leg.

"I can heal you." She narrowed her eyes at him, then reluctantly gestured with her gun. An invitation. She still held the gun loosely, an unspoken threat. He ignored it, and knelt beside her, peeling away bloody material from a gun wound that had sliced skin almost to the bone. He framed his hands around it, and whispered the necessary spell. She grunted, but made no other noise. He knew first-hand how painful it was for flesh to knit itself back together in seconds rather than weeks. Impressive. But he also knew to expect no less.

He heard the screech of car tires pull up at the entrance of the alleyway. Loki sighed.

"Natasha! I got your 911." A voice called out, then exhaled at the sight of them. He wondered when she'd had time to send a 911.

"You." Loki looked up, unsurprised, to the shiny point of an arrow.

"Me." He said, with a smirk. Barton glared. Natasha held up a weary hand. Loki's eyes flicked to hers, and she gave him half a smile, quirking her lips. A thank you, of sorts.

"He… he actually helped me." She said. Barton looked at him with suspicious eyes, but lowered the bow. He nodded toward the car.

"Let's go." He said gruffly, addressing Natasha. She moved to the flashy red sports car, a predictable choice of Barton's, and sat in the passenger seat. Barton retreated to the car, never taking his eyes off Loki. Loki kept his gaze locked on Natasha, who was staring back at him. Barton quizzed her, quick-fire questions. She ignored him. Loki could hear her talking into a radio, sending a team of agents to deal with the mess she'd left behind, and the man left alive. Ah. His question answered. She didn't mention him. Barton spluttered, but kept quiet. She raised a hand in farewell as they pulled away, and he blew her a kiss, startling a laugh out of her.

Til the next time.

Either Natasha was getting sloppy, or she'd left him a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, leading straight to this cabin. He doubted the former, so: an invitation.

The cabin was hidden deep in the forests of Loon Mountain, half a day's trek off the well-travelled paths. There was little chance of finding it by accident, and he doubted even the rangers knew it existed. The moon was high and bright, providing an eerie light to the autumn evening. Snow had not yet fallen, but there was a crispness to the air that implied that it was not long in coming. It was a quaint log cabin, with a strip of water barely large enough to call itself a lake lapping at the edges of the decking. Puffs of smoke floating out the chimney in wisps implied that it was occupied. It was not exactly what he would have expected, but then again, he'd learnt to expect the unexpected from her.

He entered the cabin silently, meaning to catch her by surprise, payback for all the times she'd done the same to him. He paused, taking in the view.

She was curled up on a plush armchair, facing away from him, an open book on her lap. Red hair draped in front of her face, concealing her eyes from where he was standing. She was barefoot in a pair of worn denim jeans, and a green woollen jumper that no doubt enhanced her eyes. She almost looked vulnerable, innocent, but those were two words he would not ever use to describe the Black Widow. The fire crackled, and it gave a warm glow to the room.

She licked her finger and turned a page.

"Hello Loki," She said, without looking up. He concealed a laugh. He had been a fool to think he would surprise her. He moved round so he was in her line of vision, leaning against a wall by the fireplace.

"How?" He asked. He could feel the heat of the fire on his side, and shifted away slightly. He always preferred the cold.

"Spoilers." She said with a smirk, finally looking up. She nodded toward the sofa before her.

"Sit." He sat. He steepled his fingers and peered at her over them. She stretched like a cat, placed the book to one side and padded over to a cabinet, withdrawing two tumblers and a bottle.

"Vodka?" She asked, padding back to sink into the chair once more. Again with the unexpected. He really needed to stop being surprised by her. He nodded. She poured two generous glasses, and held one out to him. He took it. She raised hers, and they clinked them together.

"May I ask what we are drinking to?" He said.

"To survival." She said, with a slight twitch to her lips. That, he would drink to. She swallowed hers in one, and he followed suit, his eyes never leaving her green ones. She refilled both glasses, and cradled this one close to her chest. He reclined against the cushions, holding the glass loosely in one hand.

"Why are you here?" She asked. Good question. It was one that he hadn't quite answered for himself, which angered him slightly. He said nothing. Minutes passed and the silence grew, almost took a form of its own. She seemed happy to let it, and just sipped at her drink, gazing at the flames dancing in the fire. He itched to say something, and then laughed as he realised what she'd done. Manipulated again. Her eyes flicked to him at the noise, a questioning look in them.

"You really are quite fantastic." He said. There were a multitude of questions swimming in her eyes. She settled on one.

"How long have you been free?" Too easy.

"A few years."

"Does he know?" She said. They both knew who 'he' was. He waved his hand dismissively.

"He thinks I'm dead." Thor, his tiresome brother, had refused the throne, and left him to rule Asgard, in his guise as Odin, in peace. There had been no complaints so far.

"Another?" She offered him the bottle. He took it, poured himself a glass and passed it back.

"You realise this will not get me drunk?" He said as she topped hers up.

"I know." She said with a bitter note to her voice. How had he upset her?

"But it will me." With that cryptic answer she settled into silence once more, a blank look firmly fixed upon her face. He thought that might be her way of looking angry. But, he mused, if that was true, then she was almost always angry. This drew his mind to the beast, and his alter-ego. Banner. He hadn't realised that he'd voiced his thoughts as a question until she shifted and finished her drink.

"A whim." She said, but her lips were pressed tightly together, and he thought that that wasn't true at all. A most peculiar thing to lie about. He absently gestured and refilled her glass with a spell. She started, and he smiled. It was nice to know that he could surprise her at least somewhat. As if to cover for it she grinned and raised both brows, an attempt to shake off the sombre mood.

"Trying to get me drunk?" She said, a teasing note in her voice.

"I believe it was you who suggested vodka, my dear." He countered.

"It could be suggested that the converse is true." He winked.

"It has no effect on you." She remarked. He chuckled, then caught himself. Was he… were they… flirting? Her eyes shone at him and he realised that he was not adverse to that fact. But, he remembered, as he contemplated her, she was not called the Black Widow for nothing. Irritation at that thought simmered in the back of his mind.

"What do you want from me?" He said. She shrugged.

"You're the one that followed me here." He spluttered in indignation, before realising that it was at least partly true.

"You left me a trail a blind man could follow." He said, and set his glass down carefully.

"Did I?" She said lightly, taking a sip. The fire had faded almost completely, and her face was half hidden in shadow.

"Do you mean to antagonise me?" He said, his voice sharp. She shrugged again. He held in a snarl at her nonchalance.

"Why are you here?" She queried once more, and he snapped at the calm tone of voice.

"Perhaps I am here to kill you." He hissed. The fire flared with his anger at this reckless human who dared mock him. She took another sip and snorted, only serving to infuriate him further.

"Unlikely."

"Do you not fear me?" He growled. He stood, towering over her, and allowed his skin to glow a sickly blue, and the slighter objects in the room to shudder, his true form leaking through. Anger pounded an ugly dream beat in his head. Who was she to dismiss him? He could crush her, destroy her, with just one thought. She stood, planted both hands on his chest, and shoved him. He blinked. His magic faded with his anger as amazement got the better of him.

"Sit." She instructed. He did. He needed to stop doing that.

"Firstly, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it weeks ago. Secondly, anything you could do to me pales in comparison to what has already been done, so no, I do not 'fear' you." He shuddered as he recalled her memories of the red room. He didn't allow himself to think about how close she was to the truth. She continued her tirade.

"Thirdly, your theatrics bore me, so stop being a prick. Stay and sulk, or leave and play dead, I don't care. I'm going to bed." And with that she strode off, the bedroom door clicking shut behind her, Loki frozen into place. His instincts urged him to kill her, to quash this bug that had crawled under his skin. But he could not. This realisation shook him.

He stared at the fading embers of the fire, his mind racing. He didn't know how long he'd spent like that, just sitting on her sofa, listening to her breathing through the wooden door. Minutes? Hours? Her breathing never quite settled. He supposed she wouldn't sleep, not with a danger like himself so close. He stood, walked to the door, raised his hand to knock, and then paused. He licked his lips. He wasn't nervous. Just… unsure.

Before he could knock, or leave, Natasha wrenched the door open, and sprang at him. They fell to the floor together, her straddling him. He offered no resistance and just blinked up at the gun. Green eyes blinked back at him.

"I'm beginning to think this is some sort of fetish of yours, threatening people." He joked. And if it was, well, he wouldn't object.

"You weren't going to kill me." She guessed. He shook his head. She holstered the gun and wrinkled her nose.

"I thought you were about to burst in and murder me to prove your point." She actually looked sheepish. He twirled a loose lock of hair around his finger.

"It would be sinful to murder someone as exquisite as you." He said, and was shocked to hear himself say it. She seemed equally shocked to hear it. He stroked a finger over her cheek, and along her bottom lip, unable to stop himself.

Her tongue flicked out and swiped over the pad of his finger. Never dropping her eyes from his she gently bit, then sucked his finger. Arousal flooded his body. He made to roll them over, put she pressed down against him, catching his wrist with her hand.

"No." She said, and he shuddered beneath her. She smirked.

"You like being told what to do?" She teased, her eyes flashing. In a moment of brutal honesty, he admitted.

"No-one stands up to me. It's refreshing." She smiled then, a genuine smile, or so he thought, rose and offered him her hand. How could he refuse?

"Come." She said, and led him into the bedroom.

His blood burned, his heart soared, and every one of her touches stoked the icy flames within him higher. She settled herself above him on the bed, and ran her hands up his pale chest, painting meaningless patterns with each touch, their shirts long lost. Her silk red bra framed her breasts perfectly, and he wasn't sure there was a better view in all the nine realms. He ran his hands up her sides, and she shivered, but caught them, and pressed them down either side of his head, her body arched over him.

"No touching." She purred, so instead he surged up and licked the soft strip of flesh above her breast. She pushed down on his arms, a reminder to keep them there, and caught his throat in one hand, pushing him down.

"No talking, either." She said. When he settled she released him and sat back. She ran her hands across her stomach, up over her breasts, then behind her to release the clasp on her bra. He moaned as it fell away, and she teased herself, catching a pink nipple between two fingers. She met his gaze.

"Would you like to taste?" She asked. He panted and nodded. She beckoned with one finger and he surged up, settling his hands on her waist and lavishing his tongue on first one creamy breast, then the other. She moaned and arched into him touch, one hand fisting in his hair. She pulled him up with a breathless gasp, and kissed him. It was frantic and insistent and she bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, if he had been human, before licking and soothing it. He ground up against her core, his hands playing at the edge of her jeans, his thumbs dipping into the waist band. She caught his hands with hers.

"Kneel. On the floor." She said, and turned so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. He hesitated.

"Now." Her tone brokered no argument and he scrambled down, noting just the edge of amusement in her eyes at his rebellion, filing it away for another time. She pulled him forward to settle between her legs.

"Take my jeans off." He moved his slender hands up her legs to settle on her hips, freezing when she caught them again. She grabbed something from a drawer, then tugged his hands behind his back and wrapped the soft material around them a few times before tying it off. He tested the bonds hesitantly, and noted that if he needed to, he could break them. She caught his chin with one hand and forced him to look at her. Her eyes drilled into him.

"If this is not okay, if anything is not okay, then you break them." He nodded quickly.

"But if you break them. That's it. It's over. You disappear." He paused, and nodded again. She kissed him and he sighed into her lips. He was a fly caught in her web, every second spent with her ensnaring him further, and he loved it.

"Now. Jeans, off." He realised what she intended, and smirked. Two could play at that sort of game. He focused, and magical hands brushed against her stomach before undoing button of her jeans. She slapped him, eyes glinting. It wasn't painful, but it shocked him. He shivered with need.

"No magic. Just you and me." He leaned forward and gave her what she wanted, pulling the zipper down painfully slowly with his teeth. He could smell her arousal and it only increased his own. She help him with the rest, tugging both trousers and panties off before settling back on the bed. He looked up for permission and she tugged him closer, using hair to guide his head between her legs. He swiped his tongue up her core and was rewarded with a moan. He lapped at her, exploring her folds and moist heat. She tasted like nectar, one he could never get enough of. She wrapped her legs around the back of his head, and he'd never felt more vulnerable. It was a new, but not unpleasant experience. When he nudged at her clit, she cried out and tugged him closer, and almost painful grip on his hair. It only served to excite him further, and he repeated the movement, sucking and nipping until he felt her shake and shudder beneath him. He licked at the wetness of her release and she sighed in contentment, stroking his head. He hummed against her.

"Oh you've been so good." She said, and he froze. She seemed not to notice, moved behind him to stroke along his shoulders, down his arms, to the ties. She gently undid them, touching his arms to check circulation he supposed. He decided to take her words at face value. She pushed his jeans down, off his hips and he struggled to help her. They both stood. She was an extraordinary picture, skin flushed, curls tousled and green eyes staring at, him drinking him up.

"Catch me." She said, with a wink then sprung into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He did, pulling her flush against him, shocked that she would trust that he would catch her. She grinned, gave him a peck on the lips, then swung her body so that they toppled back onto the bed. She ground down against his cock, startling a guttural moan from him, a painful reminder of the erection he'd been doing his best to ignore whilst pleasing her.

"You've been so good, I think you deserve a reward." She murmured, reaching down to take him in hand. He whimpered up against her, biting his lip at last minute to stop himself from talking. She adjusted herself, and then sunk down on him, in one fluid movement. He gasped.

"You can talk now. I want to hear you say my name." He mumbled her name like it was a mantra as she moved above him. She planted searing kisses down his neck, and across his collar bone, her hips never faltering, riding him to his end. He moved one hand up between them at brushed it across her clit, matching her relentless rhythm. She hissed, and bit down on his shoulder as she came, nails digging into his arms. She convulsed around him, bringing him with her, and he cried her name. She collapsed against his chest, and he allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction.

She rolled off him, her back to him, and he pulled her tight, planting kisses along the back of her neck and shoulders. She shivered, and he pulled a blanket up over the both of them, and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Sleep now, Loki." She said, sounding strangely strangled. He buried his face in her hair, and allowed her calming breaths to lull him into slumber.

The bright light of early morning sun spilt in through the cracks in the curtains and Loki slipped out of the bed, pulling on his jeans. He wandered into the lounge, gathered the glasses, replaced the bottle, and made his way into the kitchen. He stared at the fridge, then inside the fridge one he'd opened it. What did humans eat for breakfast? He settled for something Barton had eaten, before.

As the bacon sizzled in the pan over one of the mini-fires that were installed in the kitchen (humans were quite ingenious), Natasha walked in. She was wearing his shirt, and not much else. Damn. He focused on the food. He didn't need to be distracted.

"I'd thought you'd have left." She mumbled, and perched on a counter top, legs swinging. Oh. Did she want him to leave? He should have left. He should have never stayed. He should have never come. He still didn't know what possessed him to follow her here. Should he leave right now?

"I'm glad you did." She said. Oh. That was confusing.

"Why? You should hate me." For Barton, New York, for throwing Tony Stark out a window, for releasing the Hulk.

"Should I?" She said. He hated how calm and collected she was.

"Maybe you should let me decide that." He finally looked at her, and his breath rushed out of him. She still had the post-sex look, with flushed cheeks and a dangerous smile playing on her lips. He wasn't sure it was possible to look that good. He was caught in her gaze.

"The bacon's burning." She remarked. He snapped his head back, and indeed it was. He reacted automatically, chilling the room as ice crept from his hands to the fire, freezing everything in its path.

"Well shit." She said.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to burn the world down.

He couldn't look at her. His chest constricted and he stared at his hands, the blue fading back to the pale skin colour. That was stupid, so stupid. He wanted to tear himself apart, rid himself of the frost giant within, peel away his skin until there was only red, and no blue. He was the monster that she had called him, that long time ago when they first met. She had known, even then.

Everything about him was monstrous.

He was a fool. She must despise him. It scared him how much that hurt. He moved to flee.

She was quicker, springing off her perch and blocking his exit. She grabbed his wrists and he clenched his hands, nails digging into palms until blood dripped from them like the tears that he had never shed.

"Hey." She said. He stared at her bare feet.

"Look at me." She commanded. He couldn't resist, and gazed into her searching eyes. There was not an ounce of fear in them. He didn't understand.

"Show me." She said. He shuddered. She had already seen parts of it. It wasn't like it could be worse. He allowed the illusion to fade and his skin came alive with blue and black patterns. He scrunched his eyes shut, unable to look at himself. Her hands ghosted over his chest and he realised she was tracing his markings.

"It's beautiful." She said. He gasped and his eyes snapped open, disbelieving. He touched her cheek with his hand, then flinched back at the sight of him against her creamy skin.

"You are beautiful. Thor is beautiful. Roses are beautiful. I… I'm hideous." His voice broke.

"What did I just say about letting me make my own decisions?" She reprimanded him with a faint smile, tracing her hands over his shoulders. He leaned into it, before realising what he was doing.

"Everything I touch, I could freeze, if I wished." He tried to pull away, but she gripped him tighter.

"You want to know how I always know you're there? I can feel you. The temperature drops just slightly, but enough that I can notice it. I doubt anyone else could. It's unique to you." She stroked his arm.

"Don't you hate it? The cold? It kills humans, Asgardians, most species." He said.

"I'm Russian. I was raised wrestling bears in knee deep snow. The cold never bothered me anyway." She shrugged. He wanted believed her. For some awful, strange reason, he did. So he let himself live the lie, just one more to add to his growing list.

"So… more bacon?" He asked, pulling the illusion back around him, his very own mask. He wasn't ready to give that up, not yet. She let him pull back, and wrinkled her nose.

"Nah. Wouldn't want to burn the house down. Toast?" She offered, putting a slice of bread in a metal box.

"Sure." He said, intrigued. She put another slice in the box, and then slid down a lever. The insides started heating the bread up. Humans really were fantastic. It distracted him from his more morbid thoughts. She pulled two plates out of a cupboard, and something called Nutella. She also grabbed a knife out a drawer, and he started back. She rolled her eyes at him, and placed it on the table.

"It's for the Nutella. To spread it. I'm not about to attack you with a butter knife." He moved to sit at the table, inspecting the knife. It wasn't sharp, and was made of stainless steel. He tried bending it experimentally, and bent it at a right angle easily.

"Oops." He said, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to fix it, but only made it worse. She turned to look, and then laughed. It was a lovely noise, he thought. He held the knife out to her sheepishly.

"Useless." She said, throwing it in a bin and grabbing another.

"You and Thor are just the same. Acting without thinking, breaking cutlery and plates and whatnot." He bridled at the comparison. He was nothing like Thor.

"He liked Nutella, so I thought you might too." He was determined not to like it.

She placed the heated bread on the plates, and spread a liberal amount of Nutella on each of them. She took a large bite out of hers, sighing happily. He eyed his, and sniffed it. It smelt… nice.

He carefully nibbled. It melted in his mouth. He wolfed the rest of the toast down, and looked up to see Natasha grinning at him.

"That was adequate." He said. She burst out laughing again as he looked at her snootily.

"Just like Thor." She mumbled round a mouthful of toast. He sniffed and looked away. She licked the crumbs off her fingers, and he watched out the corner of his eye. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of reacting to her teasing.

She looked up, bit her lip, and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

"I'm going to have a shower." She said, padding to the doorway, pulling her top off and dropping it to the floor, leaving her in just her underwear. He was frozen staring at the curve of her bare back. She looked at him over one shoulder, green eyes peering up under long lashes.

"You can join me. Or not." She shrugged and walked out. Who was he to resist an invitation like that?

Clint was going to kill her.

It's beautiful, she had said, and she'd meant it. And deadly, she'd thought but hadn't said. Although she was certain that Loki wouldn't kill her, he was balanced on a precipice and he might have lashed out. Unlike what some people believed (Clint), she wasn't a masochist, just unafraid of physical pain. She had mastered that fear years ago. The Red Room did that to you. Still, she preferred to avoid being injured. It slowed her down. She couldn't afford to be slow with Loki around.

Clint was definitely going to kill her.

She lay next to the sleeping god/frost giant and stared at the wooden ceiling beams. She'd attempted to sex away his tears, (not that he had actually cried), and it had worked. They'd collapsed back into bed and he'd fallen asleep almost instantly, even though it was only early afternoon. She guessed he didn't get much sleep on Asgard, what with pretending to be Odin and all. She'd managed to discover that between the bout in the shower and the one on the sofa. At least she'd ascertained that he wasn't an immediate threat. He'd admitted that the challenge of imitating his father left him with little spare time. She didn't think he'd fully thought his actions through. Typical, from what she'd seen and heard of him.

She'd had a choice. Fury had made that very clear. S.H.I.E.L.D had fallen and she wasn't an agent, just an Avenger, but first and foremost, she was a person. (That's what he said, but she didn't think she was a person. People had feelings, needs.) She always had a choice. Unfortunately, if she wanted to live with herself, she only had one option: complete the mission.

She got out of bed, put her own clothes on, and gave the sofa a wide berth. She settled in an armchair that had the view of all the entry/exit points in the room. She could see into the kitchen, see the puddle of melted ice beneath the stove. That had been a travesty. She allowed herself a moment to pity him. Thor had told them of Loki's true origins. How difficult it must have been, to discover that you are the very creature you have been raised to hate. She knew a thing or two about self-loathing. Bruce had too, it was what had drawn her to him. She bit her lip. Bruce had left her. She deserved it. It reminded her that she wasn't a person. She couldn't have what real people had. She and Clint had tried that. That had been a disaster. They'd run off to Budapest, and for 6 months it had been perfect. Then he told her he wanted kids. Disaster was an understatement. At least they could laugh about it now. He found Laura, and was literally living the American dream. With Bruce it was never about that. It was about feeling something.

She hadn't lied when she said that she didn't hate Loki. She understood him. His half-arsed attempt to take over the world. It had all been a bit of a joke to him, and it had almost worked. He'd thrown Tony Stark out a window. How many times had she wanted to do that? She didn't have to fake her laughter, not often. Nor her orgasms, thank fuck. That was too much effort, especially to convince someone as shrewd as him. In fact, she realised she would have quite liked him, if not for him compromising Clint. Regimes fall every day, she had said. She was a realist. To live with herself she realised that at some point that killing for the Russians had to end. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been convenient, if nothing more. That's what she told herself.

She looked at the camera hidden in the clock on the mantelpiece. It had been a risk, one she wouldn't have taken, but Clint had insisted. He said that if she was taking this mission (and he was vehemently against her taking it) then they at least had to have a set of eyes on the inside. Fury had agreed. If things went wrong, they needed to be able to extract her ASAP. That was their logic. She figured things were more likely to go wrong if Loki found the camera. At least they'd only planted one. She didn't want to imagine what they would have made of the scene in bedroom.

She winked at it. It would piss Clint off more, if he hadn't stormed out after having to watch her fuck Loki. Not her problem. She'd said she didn't want a camera. They'd ignored her, and so they could deal with the consequences.

Clint would say that she didn't have to screw him. He'd say there were other ways of gaining a person's confidence. He was right. But none were so efficient or effective as a straight fuck. And that was the truth of it. Both her and Fury knew that, and that is why she'd 'had a choice'. He knew he wasn't giving her much of a choice. Bastard. It was a necessary evil.

It had worked. After the kitchen incident she knew that it had worked. Loki needed her. All he really wanted was a bit of affection, someone to tell him that he was wanted. She had proved that. So she sat in her armchair, and watched as the first snow of winter started to fall and contemplated her next move.

Natasha was dozing in the armchair he had first found her in. She blinked sleepily at him as he walked into the lounge, and seated himself opposite her, one arm stretched out along the back of the sofa. She moved from her seat, and curled up next to him, her body warm, but not uncomfortable against his side. It was… pleasant.

He had no idea what to say, a phenomenon that did not often occur. He had no idea what he was doing. He was playing a foolish game, sleeping with the enemy, in every meaning of the phrase. He'd exposed himself, become vulnerable around her. But she hadn't taken advantage. She'd comforted him. That was an altogether strange sensation. It reminded him of Frigga, in a peculiar manner. She'd been the only woman who'd ever shown him kindness. Until now. He should leave, and never come back.

But he wouldn't. Couldn't.

A bleeping noise startled him from his thoughts. Natasha sighed.

"The bat phone. This better be good." She mumbled and rose from her seat. What was a bat phone, and how was it different to a mobile phone? She swiped something from a jacket hanging on the back of a door. It looked exactly like the mobile phones he'd seen before. She flicked it open, and her face reverted to the blank emotionless look that he had taken to be the one she displayed when distressed. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Banner's back." She said in clipped tone. Banner. Bruce Banner. The Hulk. Her beau. Her face gave nothing away. Two could play at that game.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave." He said. Of course this was only temporary. A fling. It could never be anything more. He couldn't allow himself to dream. He strode to the door, wanting to put as much space as possible between himself and Natasha Romanova.

"Wait." She whispered. He stopped, one hand on the door handle, the other clenched in a fist. She had played with him, and was playing with him now.

"We both knew that we couldn't stay here forever. I would have had to go back to my job… and you to Asgard, before they noticed we were missing." Her voice got quieter, if possible.

"Will you come back?" She asked, almost pleading. Oh.

"Perhaps." He said, wrenched the door open, and swept out into the snow storm.

Of course he would be back.

If she wanted him.

Of course.

Once she was satisfied that Loki had left for good, she rose to shut the door. As it clicked closed she dropped to her knees, shivering. She pretended it was from the cold.

What was she doing?

She hadn't meant to show him any weakness. The text she'd received had unsettled her. Banner's back. Two simple words. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. She'd saved the situation, just. Perhaps. It rang in her ears.

Banner was back. It was an unspoken call to assemble. Damn Fury and his stupid text. She rose mechanically, started packing her bag, when the sight of the snowstorm outside caught her eye. She wasn't going anywhere in that. As if he'd read her mind, she received another text from Steve in the quinjet. That would be Clint's idea. She hated that he could do that. Anticipate her needs. She didn't like being predictable, not even to him. At least she wouldn't have to spend any longer here, dwelling on Loki. She sent a text back. We need Wanda. They'd already ascertained that Loki had been watching them when he'd turned up at her apartment, but they weren't sure how. Wanda had been working with the Vision on her telepathic powers (Natasha never thought she'd be uttering such an absurd sentence), and had suggested that she try blocking him. They'd tried it each time they formulated the plan for the mission under the pretence of 'movie nights'. The fact he hadn't murdered her was a good indication that it had worked, unless Loki was playing the long con. Somehow she doubted that.

She packed the rest of her kit, placed it on the kitchen table, the phone in front of that. She sat down on one of the wooden chairs. They weren't particularly comfortable. It was better than being on show for whoever viewed the video in the lounge, and she didn't want to go anywhere near the bedroom.

How was Steve going to react? He would be as bad as Clint. Worse, actually. He wouldn't say anything, just give her those sad puppy dog eyes that said: why? For someone who's age nearly matched her own, he was godamn naïve. Even if he had been 'sleeping' for most of it. He'd still fought in the war. She wondered if he'd already been briefed. Part of her hoped he had, so she wouldn't have to deal with his confused questions, then the realisation that followed. Part of her hoped he hadn't, so she could still pretend to be the Natasha he thought he knew. She wasn't sure which she'd prefer. The faint purr of the quinjet's engine alerted her to its nearing presence, and was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

She went to stand on the porch as she watched the quinjet land. No need to lock the door. This place didn't exist even on NASA's maps. She stomped through the snow, threw her pack into the jet and allowed Steve to pull her up into its belly. No need for them both to get snowed on. He greeted her with a grin and a hug. Ah. Not been briefed then. A wave of relief swept through her and she realised that she didn't want him to see her in a different light.

"Hi." She said. This was easy.

"Hey Nat." He said, that stupid grin still stuck on his face. At least he wasn't calling her ma'am again. She settled into the pilot's seat in the cockpit and started flicking switches and pressing buttons. She wasn't quite sure she wanted someone that slept through the Digital Revolution to fly her anywhere, even if he was Captain America.

"Clint briefed me. I was in Portland when he called, couldn't believe my luck that you were so close." He'd gotten a phone call had he?

"Really?" She asked curiously. What on earth had Clint briefed him about that made him so happy?

"Yeah, I can't believe Banner's back. Took him long enough." Oh yeah. Shit. She hadn't forgotten, just brushed it to the back of her mind. Her life was a joke. She tried a smile.

"Urm. Are you okay with it?" He said. She needed to work on that smile. She tried another and he grinned back.

"Yeah. Just feels weird, what with how that ended." He nodded thoughtfully. Damn him for being so nice.

"So how's the search going for Bucky?" She said, trying the name out on her tongue. It felt weird to talk about James like that.

"Okay." He said with a grimace. So not okay then.

"That's why I was in Portland, following a lead. Turned out to be a dead end." He launched into an explanation of trails and false leads and red herrings and she half tuned him out. James would be found exactly when he wanted to be, and not a moment before. Not for the first time she debated whether she should inform Steve that she knew more about his precious best friend than she let on. But that opened a whole other can of worms she didn't want to touch, even with a long stick.

"What have you been up to?" The question snapped her back to reality.

"This and that." She waved her hand at him dismissively. He'd discover soon enough. He eyed her with a disbelieving look, but she didn't give him an inch. Captain America might strike an intimidating figure, but Steve Rodgers was just a man. A very good looking man, she had to admit, and gave him an appraising glance that would be sure to make him blush. He did. She smirked. It was the small victories that counted. And the large ones. All the victories actually.

"Found yourself a date yet?" She blatantly steered the conversation back to him. He raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested that he knew exactly what she was doing, but rolled his eyes and let her dictate the conversation.

"Been too busy."

"Maria Hill?" She asked with a smirk. She thought he was going to choke on the sip of water he'd just taken as he coughed and spluttered.

"Urm. What?" He said.

"It would be a challenge." She couldn't stop grinning at him. There was no way he'd ever ask her out.

"I'll think about it." He said. She was pretty certain that he wouldn't. In fact, she was pretty certain Captain America had his mind set on bringing one ex-soviet super spy back, and anything else would be a distraction. That was going to come to an interesting culmination. They settled into a comfortable silence as they drew closer to the American/Canadian border in upstate New York.

They landed on the new Avengers base. No welcoming committee. She hadn't really expected one. Just a bored agent who informed her there was going to be a movie night at 8pm, room 203. Steve looked at her curiously. She shook her head.

"Wanna come to movie night? Banner will probably be there." She asked. He shrugged.

"Sure." Great. She didn't have to persuade him. He probably thought it was a team bonding exercise. She checked her watch. That gave her three hours for a shower, a nap, and some food. In that order. Maybe she'd have two showers.

"I'll come and knock on your door at 7.55." She told him. He nodded and they parted ways.

Loki stood before the elegant statue that was a memorial to his mother's life. To any onlookers, it appeared as if Odin was standing there. Not that there were any onlookers spying on this private moment. Only Heimdall, and he was sworn to secrecy. He dropped to his knees.

"Mother." He said, his words so quiet the wind whipped them away before they could form out loud.

"I'm so sorry." He had given the Kursed beast directions, and she had died at its hands. He'd only meant to cause more trouble for his infuriating brother. He had never thought that it would get that far. But it had.

It was his fault that she was dead.

It was always his fault.

She had forgiven him for all his actions until now. Would she forgive him for his last, most dreadful one? On good days, he liked to pretend that she would, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind. On bad days it took everything within him to prevent himself from wreaking havoc on everything and anything in his path, from attempting to self-destruct. It was those days that he sought comfort in the affairs of a particular woman on Midgard. Lately, he sought comfort in the company of that woman. She was the perfect drug, and him the perfect addict. He hated it, and loved it equally.

Now, impersonating Odin, he knew he would only be disappointing Frigga further. He wished he could go back, reverse all his actions, before he had even discovered his true origins. Hindsight was a terrible and beautiful thing.

"I'm sorry." He repeated. He ensured that he was alone (he was always alone), and then wove a simple spell. A fuchsia lily that would bloom forever unfurled in his hand. As the sun was setting the twilight gave it an ethereal glow. He set it down gently at the bottom of the memorial, burying the stem in the soil to ensure it would take nutrients from the nature around it. At least she would be proud that he was using his magic to create, instead of destroy, as she had always wished. He bowed to Frigga, and left her in peace. He had neglected his kingdom for too long.

Natasha arrived at room 203 with Steve in tow, at 8pm on the dot. She didn't bother to knock, just entered her security code and walked straight in. Everyone else was already there, apart from Bruce. Fury looked up, gave her nod, then flicked his eyes to Wanda.

"Miss Maximoff, if you could turn on the movie, we'd greatly appreciate that." Wanda nodded. She started glowing, then a red translucent bubble stretched out from around her body. Natasha moved closer so she was encompassed by the bubble, then realised she didn't have to as it swelled to cover the whole room. Wanda must have been practising. Her face seem slightly strained, but relaxed once her shield touched each four walls.

"We've done some work on using different materials to amplify it. The room is made of a metal that allows her to use a lot less energy to shield a greater space. Ask the scientists if you want more information, I just know that it works." Fury growled in his usual way. Natasha nodded. She turned to Steve, who was looking around in amazement. The room was a typical op room, a mashup of a conference tables and boards covered with notes, chairs scattered around. There were a dozen screens mounted on the walls around them running algorithms, surveillance tapes and other data. There were plates and dirty mugs lying about, and she curled her lip slightly in disdain at the mess.

"So… movie night?" Steve asked. Before she could explain, the door opened once more and Bruce stumbled in.

"Sorry I'm late, but this complex is a maze." He froze when he saw her. She felt like she'd taken a sledge hammer to the gut.

"Urm. Hi." He said. Steve swept him up in a hug, and Bruce blinked, as if he hadn't noticed him standing next to her. Steve clapped him on the back grinning all the while. She guessed the rest of the room had already greeted Bruce as they barely acknowledged him.

"Nice to have you back!" Bruce's eyes flicked from Natasha to Steve, then back to Natasha.

"Thanks." He said, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. She pulled herself together.

"Doctor Banner. Good to see you." She extended a hand for him to shake. He stared at it, and chewed on his lip.

"Nat- Agent Romanoff." He took her hand with a grip that was just slightly too tight, and lasted slightly too long. She turned her back on him to look at Fury.

"Now the pleasantries are over, let's get down to business." Fury never was one for emotional crap, something she was grateful for. Cap went into briefing mode, pulling up a chair and staring at Fury with a serious look on his face. It was almost comical. Bruce seemed to notice his surroundings now, a faint look of confusion on his face, but plonked himself down on a seat near the entrance. Natasha stayed standing, leaning against a wall. Both of them were ready to escape, if necessary.

"Rodgers, Doctor, I know that you were told that we were having a movie night. As you can see, that's code for a very covert operation that we're running." She heard Clint mutter something about them still being in for a show and both she and Fury turned to glare at him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She noticed that Bruce and Wanda were on opposite sides of the room. She wondered if that was intentional. Probably. Fury continued.

"You cannot utter a word of what we will discuss here outside this room. Not even to each other. Only when Miss Maximoff is shielding us like she is now. She's managed to find a way of preventing prying eyes from watching us. Any other time we are vulnerable." Bruce seemed to notice the red veil around the room, and eyed Wanda warily. Fury sighed.

"Loki's back." The room fell into silence as they let that sink in. Bruce broke it.

"How? No, wait, why? Does Thor know?" He always asked the pertinent questions. Fury nodded at her. She spoke with a calm, crisp voice.

"Thor has no idea, and so far we'd like to keep it that way. We think he'll do something rash, and although we'll eventually have to bring him up to speed, we're not quite there yet." Everyone in the room swivelled to look at her. Wanda looked up from where she'd been massaging her temples. She realised she appreciated Wanda's presence here, beyond her obvious usefulness. For someone with such a poor education she was intelligent, and occasionally interjected with useful ideas. It was nice not being the only woman, and Maria Hill was often busy.

Natasha explained her two encounters with Loki in a bland, bored voice, leaving out the more gory and personal details. Both Bruce and Steve looked increasingly unhappy as she explained how Loki had followed her to the cabin.

"Currently I don't believe he's a threat. He seems to be under a lot of pressure in Asgard. I doubt that he had actually thought about the responsibilities that came after gaining the throne. He's struggling, and not in any position to attack us." She summarised, voicing her thoughts for the first time since this operation had started. Steve looked sceptical.

"Why did he come to you? And how did you manage to get him to tell you all this?" Clint snorted. She ignored him and turned to the Captain.

"I interest him, apparently. And I'm very persuasive." She gave him one of her perfect shit eating grins, but he didn't return it. He instead frowned, and glanced at Bruce.

Bruce was staring straight past her at one of the computer screens, fists clenched, breathing heavily. His eyes were turning an eerie hazel as the brown bled out of them, replaced with green. Oh no.

"Please." He said. His voice was no more than a whisper. Steve followed his line of vision and his jaw clenched.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is." There was now a faint green tinge to his eyes. She turned slowly to look at the screen, knowing exactly what she'd see. The recording of her and Loki in the lounge. The video was small and blurry in a corner of the computer screen, but it was definitely her. It wasn't possible to see exactly what they were doing, as their bodies were hidden by the sofa. As she watched herself panting beneath Loki, it was still quite obvious that they were screwing.

"Clint!" She hissed as Bruce's voice dropped an octave into the Hulks.

"No!" He growled, and she could hear him taking deep gasping breaths, the table cracking beneath his hands. Steve strode over and yanked the screen from the wall, sending it crashing to the floor. In the corner of her eye she could see Wanda panicking, her shield flaring a deeper red, staring at Bruce as he struggled to get a grip on himself. Then Steve's hand was on his shoulder, attempting to talk him down. Fury was watching her, one hand on the gun that she knew was hidden on his hip, not paying attention to the others.

She stalked over to Clint, who'd been staring worriedly at Bruce until then.

"Well, they deserved to know." He said defensively as she rounded on him. All she could see was red. Red in her vision, red in her ledger, red, red, red. She flicked a knife out and tossed it from hand to hand. She heard Steve's gasp. Not all of his attention was focused on Bruce then. She growled and slammed Clint up again the wall, one hand on this throat, other loosely holding the knife by her side.

"How dare you." No one who insulted her like that survived. No one. But as she stared at his blue trusting eyes (how could he still trust her?), she knew she couldn't. He stood there and stared back at her, almost daring her to do it, because he knew she wouldn't. Just like that first time they'd met, when he lowered his gun, and held out a hand instead. Just like in Budapest, when he'd asked about children. A nasty voice in the back of her mind was whispering to her: they make you vulnerable; all the people in this room make you vulnerable.

"How could you?" She said, and it sounded weak and desperate.

"How could you think I'd do that? Someone must have left it running." He said, angrily. He brushed her hand away. Oh. She hadn't thought of that.

"I still don't agree with your methods, but I wouldn't do that to you." He said in a gentler voice that she didn't deserve. She backed off slowly, sheathed the knife and looked around at the destruction. Bruce was still breathing heavily, but he seemed to be in control. He couldn't even look at her. Steve gazed in dismay at Fury with those sad puppy dog eyes she'd predicted. As she turned to leave she heard Bruce speak.

"How could you make her do that?" One hand froze on the door handle she turned to scowl at him. Fury answered.

"You of all people should know that I cannot make Agent Romanoff do anything she does not want to do." Bruce was not impressed with that answer. She didn't care. He had no right to come back now, of all times, and judge her life.

"Maybe, if you hadn't left," She snarled, as she yanked the door open.

"It would have never happened." He flinched, and hurt filled those brown eyes that she knew so well. She didn't allow herself to feel guilty for it, and instead swept out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Someone knocked on the training room's door. She ignored it and continued her routine with the punch bag. The punch bag didn't judge her, or worse, pity her.

"Natasha." Steve's voice rang out. She punched even harder. They'd sent the super-enhanced soldier to do their dirty work. Typical. She heard him walk closer.

"Nat." His hand touched her wrist, and she span and threw him to the floor with a growl. He didn't move to get up, just laced his hands behind his head and peered up at her.

"Feel better?" He asked calmly. Damn him and his angelic face that could charm a banker from his bonus.

"What do you want?" She said, giving him a bored look. His hand snapped out faster than she could counter and pulled her legs so that she fell with a thud to the floor next to him. She stared at him wide eyed.

"I've learnt some new tricks." He said with a sheepish grin. She sat up and curled her hands around one knee, the other leg spread out. He copied her, shuffling so his back was to the wall.

"Fury explained…" He gestured with one hand. He couldn't even say it. She wanted to ask him: what? What did Fury explain? She wanted to force him to acknowledge it. She'd fucked the enemy. She didn't, because it would be mean, and just looked away. Wanda was hovering inside the door and when she caught her eye the red shield enveloped the three of the them. She nodded at the girl and received a nod back.

"He showed us the PC cut of the tapes." He winced as he said that. Her face gave nothing away.

"I just gotta say, I think you're brave. Not sure I could go near that bag of crazy without wanting to punch him in the face." She half smiled at that.

"We did have a bit of a punch up, the first time I saw him." She said. He nodded.

"I know, Clint told us." She wondered if he knew about the Russians, how Loki had helped. Doubtful. She'd have to inform him, but not today. Loki stayed on her mind and she couldn't help thinking of the vulnerable creature that she'd seen in the kitchen, so unlike the mask he displayed to the rest of the world. They were both alike in that manner.

"The thing is…" She said, then hesitated. Could she admit this? She probably owed him after causing such a scene.

"I feel sorry for him. I think he's out of his depth, and is looking for a lifeboat." Steve frowned at that, but didn't argue. She was glad. She wasn't sure she could argue her point with any finesse.

"Anyway, if you need anything, if you wanna talk about it, you know where I am." He said, stood, and offered her a hand. She allowed him to pull her up. She nodded at him. He scratched his nose awkwardly, then hugged her, catching her a tight embrace. He backed away with a cheeky grin as she mocked glared at him, and then he ducked out the room. Wanda released her magic and turned to go.

"Wait." She said. Wanda put the shield back up without a complaint. Natasha went and stood as close to her as she could without encroaching on either of their personal space. Wanda looked grateful for not having to cast a bigger shield. Natasha figured it must be exhausting having to project a false image to any onlookers, whilst engaging with those inside it.

"I just wanted to say thank you. I know you're not Doctor Banner's greatest fan, and yesterday must have really freaked you out. You've been really helpful, and I- we appreciate it." She said. The words came out like treacle. She wasn't well practised at giving praise. Wanda looked shocked, then gave her a small smile.

"I've seen how much you care for each other, all of you. It's nice. Like family." Natasha realised why Wanda had been so tolerant of their 'movie nights'. Natasha squeezed her arm.

"You're one of us too, you know." Wanda looked a bit dubious, but nodded. Good. There was just one more apology left in her.

She found Clint sulking on the archery range. He was shooting arrow after arrow into a picture of Loki's face that was taped on one of the paper targets. She would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. He gave a grunt when she came in.

"I finished The Hunger Games." She said. He snorted, and placed his bow down.

"That's what you want to talk about?" He said incredulously.

"What else is there to?" She said with an arched brow. This was a conversation she didn't want Wanda here for. Luckily they'd learned to talk without talking about anything at all.

"Well… what did you think?" Cooper had been addicted to the series, and loved comparing Clint to Katniss. So naturally, Natasha had to read them to find out what the fuss was about. They sat side by side on one of the benches used for observation.

"Bit morbid. But Katniss was just doing what she had to protect her family, at any cost." I had to do it. He nodded at her unspoken words. She continued on, not willing to dwell.

"I think she should have apologised though, for the upset that she caused." I'm sorry. She bit her lip.

"Well, if I was her family, I would have accepted that apology." It's okay. Clint said. They shared a smile.

"But I would have reserved the right to be angry about her methods." I wish there was another way. She nodded. I know. She tilted her head so that it rested on his shoulder, and he squeezed her hand. Just like that they were Natasha and Clint again.

Over the next few days she sparred with Steve and Clint (she would win one out of three matches with the former and two out of three matches with the latter), chatted occasionally with Wanda and even passed Fury and Maria deep in conversation as she recuperated on base. The only person she didn't see was Bruce. She wasn't actively avoiding him, but she hadn't sought him out either. She suspected that he was avoiding her. That was fine. She had nothing to say to him. (That was nice.) That metaphorical ship had sailed the moment he'd disabled the quinjet's tracking device. They'd held a few more meetings about the Loki situation, but everyone was in unspoken, if disgruntled, agreement; she'd keep operating as an Avenger, and wait until he turned up again to gather more information. Steve and Clint always walked out of those meetings with a bitter look on their faces. They felt like she was being given up as an offering, even though she reminded them frequently that she could take very good care of herself. Bruce didn't turn up to any of those meetings, even though she knew he'd been invited. Apparently he felt his presence would be counter-productive. She thought he just didn't want to be anywhere near her. She didn't blame him.

So she was quite surprised to find that he sat himself down next to her one lunch time.

"Hi." He said, and stabbed his fork aimlessly at his salad. She gave him a nod of recognition, and continued eating. They stayed like that for a few minutes. He kept glancing sideways, and then back to his plate when she caught his eye. Every time she thought he was going to speak he just coughed, and stabbed at the sad looking lettuce.

"This is ridiculous." He said finally. She hummed in agreement. He gave up on his salad, and turned to face her.

"I'm sorry for leaving." He ran a hand through brown tousled curls. She tilted her head to look at him properly. His glasses were smudged, and almost as if he read her mind he took them off and polished them on his jumper. He looked like he hadn't slept for days, and she guessed after the near-Hulk incident he probably hadn't.

"I accept your apology." She said, and hoped he wouldn't say anything more, because she wasn't sure she could restrain herself if he did. He spoke.

"It was just all too much. The Avengers, working with Tony, the Other Guy on a leash, it was never going to last. I had to get away." His hand fluttered in the air, and then he ran it through his hair again. She twisted so she was facing him straight on, and placed one leg either side of the bench they were sharing. She kept her voice and her face calm, because she was the Widow, and besides, she'd cried enough for him.

"At first, we thought you needed space. That you were getting by, helping people like in Calcutta, that you'd come back in your own time. But we didn't hear from you. At all. So we realised you weren't coming back, but it was okay because soon you'd at least contact Tony, because he was driving himself crazy building stupid machines that tracked gamma radiation and Hulk sightings. He created an algorithm that matched your face against those two factors, and a hundred other things, and he spent three days hacking government systems to upload it to their satellites until Pepper coerced him into bed. Every time it got a result, no matter what time of day, we'd all race to see who could get to the location of the sighting first. Do you know how many times Cap gave up a lead on the Winter Soldier because he was the nearest person to where we thought you were?" She didn't tell him how she'd used every informant, called in every favour that she had, and a few that she didn't, to find him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she ploughed on. No point stopping now.

"No. Of course you don't. Because it was never you. Eventually we all stopped coming when the message came, and Tony stopped sending the messages." Her voice cracked. She'd never stopped coming, but Tony eventually turned her away, said there was no point.

"And we came to the inevitable, dreadful conclusion: you were dead. Either you'd found a way to remove the Hulk, and thus yourself, or you'd crashed into the middle of the ocean and were too far from land for even the Hulk to swim." She lowered her tone to a whisper.

"We held funeral for you." He flinched. She didn't care.

"I see the others didn't tell you about that. But by all means, explain to me how you just 'had to get away'."

With that last sentence she could hear the bitterness creep into her voice. She stood, grabbed her plate and sat herself next to Steve, slamming the plate down on the table. That had been mean. She'd lost her temper, again. Twice in a week. Steve looked at her, then back to Bruce who was staring blankly at his food, head in his hands.

"Do I want to know?" He asked, as Clint quipped.

"Lover's tiff in paradise?" She could punch him.

"I told him about the funeral." She said instead, and both their faces fell. Clint looked past her to Banner.

"I think he's crying, again." He said, his voice low. She didn't even want to think about what he meant by 'again'.

"I got this." Clint said, to her surprise. She heard, rather that saw, Clint pulling Bruce out the room muttering something about shooting things making everyone feel better.

"I've made rather a mess out things." She said. Steve shrugged. At least he didn't lie to her.

"Everyone I know is dead or a superhero." He said, startling a laugh out of her. It reminded her of Loki. He had a tendency to say outrageous statements. She shook her head. She didn't want to be thinking of him, not now. She looked at her food, no longer hungry.

"Let's go spar." Steve suggested, and she nodded and followed him out.

Apparently Bruce spent most of his time in his lab, or sleeping, according to Clint. (Since when had Bruce and Clint been so close?) He'd been hiding after the near-Hulk incident, and had only come out once to speak to her one lunchtime. That had gone swimmingly.

She always thought that he had more of a grip on the Hulk than anyone gave him credit for, including himself, the evidence being that he hadn't lost control since the helicarrier, all those years ago. (Last week had been close.) She felt a moment of cruel satisfaction that she could evoke such a reaction, but knew she was being petty. She owed him an apology.

She spent as much time as possible training herself to exhaustion, an attempt to make it easier to sleep. She was haunted by dreams of Loki and Bruce, with Clint occasionally in the background, all angry that she'd betrayed them. After one particularly nasty nightmare about murdering Clint's kids she had given up on sleep and was taking out her problems on a punch bag, a favourite method of hers.

"What did you do?" Clint growled at her as he stalked toward her. She checked the time and realised with shock that it was mid-morning. Natasha reviewed her actions in the last 24 hours, then in the last week. She couldn't think of anything she'd done that he'd be upset about, unless he was rehashing old conversations, and that wasn't really Clint's style. He'd already told her off for upsetting Bruce. (They'd definitely bonded over something. She needed to get to the bottom of that.)

"I don't know?" She asked, testing out the phrase. Clint clapped his hands to his face and let out a distressed moan.

"Cap just asked Maria out on a date. Maria Hill. Cap. On a date!" She stared at him for one second, and then burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" He cried, although there was a faint grin on his lips.

"She said yes…" He whispered in a conspiratorial tone. That left her speechless. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth. When she had suggested it to Steve she hadn't thought in a million years he'd do it. This was brilliant.

"That is definitely my fault." She finally said, shaking her head. Clint rolled his eyes.

"I know. You've got to stop putting these ideas in his head. Doesn't he know that no one asks Maria out?" There had been an incident eight years ago that had put an end to agents propositioning Maria, involving a rubber duck, a walkie talkie, and the agent himself ending up in medical for two weeks, and being scarred for life. Maria had nearly had a lawsuit on her hands until she explained in no uncertain tones what the agent had said to her. The lawyers backed off pretty rapidly after that.

"Well Cap does, evidently. Successfully." She smirked. Maria had said yes. She supposed that not even the imperturbable Maria Hill could resist the charm of Captain America. She was going to have to access the security tapes later and watch it for herself in HD.

"The real question is; who do we give the shovel talk to?" Clint asked, a twinkle in his eye. They paused for a second, and Clint spoke again before she could.

"I'll take Cap, you can do Maria." He said. She shoved him playfully on the shoulder.

"Why do I always have to do the difficult ones?" She complained. He grinned.

"You're scarier than I am."

"Damn right." She said, and tackled him. They both fell to the ground with a huff, and wrestled for a few moments. As they collapsed next to each other he asked her a question so quietly she strained to hear it.

"Are you alright?" She thought about it for a moment.

"Not really. But I will be." He nodded, then sprang to his feet.

"I've gotta go tell a man born in the 1920s how to treat a woman right." He made a face.

"Wish me luck."

"Sod off." She said, and he pouted.

"Begone you irritating hawk!" She commanded with a grin, and threw her towel at him. He dodged and darted out the door. She lay back with a sigh. She had to find Maria. That was going to be an interesting conversation. She rolled to her feet and started threading her way through the complex back to her room. First a shower, then to find Maria. She pinged her a text. Lunch? 1pm? She received an affirmative in reply and grinned. Interesting was an understatement.

She and Maria were curled up in a booth in the corner of the cafe. No one sat within eves-dropping distance. One benefit of the S.H.I.E.L.D influence meant that top-secret material was discussed over lunch, so the tables were spaced out generously. Besides, everyone was far too scared of her to sit close. She'd unintentionally added another accolade to her name over the last few years: the woman who tamed The Hulk. And if they weren't already scared of her, then they were scared of Maria, who had an equally intimidating set of credentials and a reputation for shoving inanimate objects in places where they did not belong. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer existed in an official capacity, enough agents had been brought over to the new facility (after a thorough screening process – they didn't want another Hydra issue) that their notoriety had circulated quickly.

They both nibbled on their lunches, Natasha hiding her occasional smirk behind a sip of lemon flavoured water. Both were waiting on the other to break the silence. Maria exuded an unruffled air, even when Steve walked in, saw them sitting together, blanched, and walked straight out again, amid the occasional giggle from those brave enough. She wondered if Clint had caught up to him yet. She met Maria's cool gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Damn it." Said Maria, and pushed her plate aside. Ha. She'd won.

"Go on, get it over with." Natasha gave her a grin that was wider than the Cheshire cat's.

"So… You? And Steve? On a date?" Maria rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the slight twitch of her lips.

"I was so shocked when he asked, I froze up. Then he looked so anxious I didn't have the heart to turn him down. What the hell am I going to do? He's old enough to be my grandpa." Maria placed a hand in front of her mouth. Natasha smirked.

"So am I. Besides, I can think of a few things you can do with him." She said, and Maria looked at her doubtfully.

"What – take him dancing? Pretty sure bars have changed a lot since he was last in one."

"Don't pretend that you don't know exactly what I mean." Maria looked at her sideways and shook her head.

"I can't very well jump him at the start of the date. He wants to take me to dinner! Those were his exact words." She hissed the last sentence and Natasha almost felt sympathetic. Almost.

"There are woman who would kill, literally kill, to go on a date with that man. Just dress up nice, and go for pizza. Everyone likes pizza." Maria scrunched her nose up.

"Pizza. Everyone likes pizza." She murmured to herself. Natasha wasn't sure she'd ever seen the other woman so flustered. Why hadn't she suggested this to Steve earlier?

"Also, just to warn you, Clint and I will take it personally if you deflower Captain America and then break his heart." Maria nodded. Natasha's threats were not to be taken lightly. She knew Natasha had a personal interest in Cap. They were friends, and that wasn't a status she gave many.

"I'm not sure anyone could break his heart. One look at those puppy dog eyes would stop them in their tracks." Maria said. Natasha winked.

"Not to mention those steel abs. And broad shoulders. And strong arms." Maria punched her over the table.

"They are not the reasons why I said yes!" She muttered, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. That was a first. "It was his butt." She said so quietly Natasha thought she'd imagined it until Maria looked up with an evil twinkle to her eye. She let out a peal of laughter and everyone in the room turned to stare. Maria met their gaze with a cool look and they all hastily looked away. Natasha nodded, biting her lips to stop another laugh from escaping.

"It's a good butt." She said and they both grinned.

Later that day she was heading back to her room when she heard the unquestionable noise of Steve swearing. Having only heard it a very limited amount of times she had committed it to memory. She peered round the corner to see Clint hanging upside down from a beam in front of Steve, and being told off for scaring him.

"Not likely to give you a heart attack, am I Cap?" Steve muttered something about Clint doing his damn best to try.

"Anyway, Cap, got a message for you." Clint interrupted. Steve leant on a wall and raised an eyebrow, eyeing Clint's strung bow in his hand. Clint spotted her behind Steve and smirked as she crept closer.

"Ever heard of the shovel talk?" Steve shook his head. Clint nodded, which when hanging upside down wasn't an easy feat. She would know.

"Well it goes like this. I've got a big shovel in my shed, and if you break Maria Hill's heart, let's just say you'll go missing and no one will find you." Steve started at Maria's name, and shook his head.

"How do you know- don't answer that. We're just going for dinner. Besides, Fury beat you to it." She wasn't surprised by that.

"Fury's pretty scary. But I think we're scarier." Clint said with a wink.

"We?" Steve asked. He turned to find Natasha directly behind him. He jumped, tripped over his feet, and fell to land on his back.

"Shit!" Ha, twice in one day.

"Hey Cap." She said, and hi-fived Clint. Steve got up, rolled his eyes at their antics and walked away grumbling about superspies being the death of him. Natasha watched him leave, and nodded to herself. He had a damn fine butt. Clint caught her checking him out and punched her arm.

"Don't be gross. That's Captain America's butt you're ogling." She flicked her eyes to his and smirked.

"Not doing anything Hill wouldn't." She said and turned on her heel with a wink, leaving him speechless.

Loki perched on the edge a wooden chair in her room, chin resting on the crest of his hands as he waited for Natasha. The days since he'd seen her had stretched out to an eternity until he hadn't been able to resist visiting her.

She walked in and paused at the sight of him, a faint smile on her lips. She looked phenomenal, as always. She quickly pulled the door shut behind her and he smirked.

"Not eager for your colleagues to meet me?" He said. In all fairness, he wasn't particularly eager to meet them.

"Not eager for you to be murdered, and me detained, or more likely on the run for harbouring a war criminal." She corrected.

"Is that concern for my well-being I detect, Agent Romanov?" He knew it was not. She shook her head.

"Self-preservation. Don't kid yourself." He laughed.

"So you haven't missed me?" He asked. He rose from his chair and advanced toward her. It wasn't a threat, and she knew that. He towered over her, and placed a hand either side of her head on the door behind her, bringing his eyes down until they were level with hers. She was breathing slowly but he could hear her heart racing. Her lips were a rosy pink, and glossy from where she'd bitten them.

"I didn't say that." She said, her voice calm as ever. In a swift movement she span them so he was pressed up against the door, and placed her hands on his shoulders. Why had he worried about this? It was as easy as breathing. He pulled her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, their foreheads pressed together. She dragged her hand through his hair and tugged him in for a bruising kiss. He had missed her.

"Don't forget that I'm the one in charge here." She rocked her hips into him as she spoke to emphasise her point. He groaned and fell to his knees, need spiking through his body. It seated her more firmly on his lap, and she entwined both hands behind his head.

"How could I." He whispered as kissed down her throat, pausing to nip at where he could feel her pulse. She shivered. She was delicate and breakable beneath his hands, yet so strong in ways he could only imagine.

"I was wondering." He said against the softness of her skin, then peered up at her.

"If I could be of any service to you." Her eyes widened and she swiped a thumb over his lip, before biting down hard. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he kissed back, a futile challenge for dominance.

"Perhaps." She said breathlessly. She leant back slightly, eyed her watch, grimaced and pushed herself off him. He sighed with disappointment, although couldn't help but appreciate the apparition standing above him, her hair a fiery halo that accentuated her face, her green eyes smouldering. He ran a hand up between taut leather-enclosed legs and attempted to tug her closer, but she didn't budge.

"I've got a few errands to run." She said, and he groaned. He wanted her all to himself, and he wanted her now. Her glare silenced him. She drew an item from a box below her bed, and tossed a pillow on the floor next to him. It was a blindfold, he realised as she dangled it from one finger. He stared at it hungrily.

"When I come back, you will be kneeling on the pillow, and you will be wearing this, and nothing else." He licked his lips in anticipation.

"You may select one other item from this box. I may or may not use it, depending on how generous I'm feeling." He took the blindfold from her, moving in one swift movement from the floor. He kissed her and whispered in her ear.

"Hurry back." She smirked and left the room.

Natasha pulled the door shut behind her and rested her head on its cool surface. Shit. Loki was here, on base. She sent a quick text around. Urgent Movie Night. She walked to room 203 in daze. Clint was already there. She could hear Steve's brisk footsteps as he rounded the corner. They both looked at her, questions in their eyes, but she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. They hadn't had a 'movie night' planned for at least another week. They entered the room and sat in silence while they waited for Fury and Wanda, who arrived within moments of another. Wanda threw her shield up instantly.

The reality of it hit her and Natasha gripped one of the broken tables, not yet replaced from Bruce's incident. She took a deep breath and her voiced hitched as it caught in her throat. Steve ran a hand over her back. Clint moved closer, but knew not to touch her. Strangely Steve's touch was reassuring, not smothering.

"Nat. What's wrong? Are you okay?" She evaluated her feelings. She was okay. That was the problem. The air whooshed out of her and she took another breath to collect herself, before sitting up straight and brushing Steve's hands away. He moved back without complaint.

"Loki's here." Everyone spoke at once, from Clint's loud shout, to Fury quizzing about what and when, and Steve asking whether Bruce was on his way. Only Wanda was silent, her big eyes gazing sadly at her.

"Stop." She said. They ignored her. Fury was growling about security measures and Steve was pacing back and forth.

"Stop." She said louder, not quite a shout. They did.

"We will continue as we planned. I've not informed Bruce, I think it would cause more harm than help. I called you guys cos I knew I could trust you with this information. Okay? No theatrics, please." Even Fury looked displeased at this. She sighed.

"We knew he was going to appear again. Well now he has. I know I'm not in danger. I just thought I would do you the courtesy of letting you know. At least it's contained this time." Fury spoke now, raising a hand to silence Clint and Steve.

"Where is he?" She debated lying as she knew it would go down like a lead balloon. She could only imagine what they'd make of Loki kneeling blindfolded on the floor.

"In my room." Clint roared at this.

"What! Why?" She gave him her best death glare. Honestly they were children sometimes.

"Why the fuck do you think." He fell silent. Steve punched a wall. Maria walked in.

"This is definitely not a movie night." She said, giving an appraising eye to the room. She'd forgotten she'd texted Maria too. Natasha laughed.

"Our life is better than any drama you could watch." She said, a bitter note to her voice.

"I'm off. Things to do, demi-gods to screw. You lot can explain." Maria's eyebrow shot up and Natasha saw her glance at Steve, then to Fury. Maria had been informed that Loki was back, and the situation was being managed, but that was all.

Natasha sighed as she left them to brief Maria. She'd known they wouldn't trust Loki, but it would be nice if they trusted her to do her job. She should have dealt with the situation on her own, then informed them. She had gotten complacent, was used to working with a team.

She walked the short distance back to her room, and rested one hand on the handle. At least with Loki she didn't have to worry about pretending to be someone she was not, not in the way she did around Steve, and to an extent Wanda. He gave as good as he got, and when he put his mind to it, was a fantastic distraction.

It wasn't like she actually objected to having sex with him. It was that she knew she should. That scared her.

She realised most of the shock at seeing Loki was that it allowed her to relax. She liked it.

Oh no. She liked it. That was what really scared her.

She turned the handle and walked into her room. What was she doing?

He heard her exhale at the sight of him knelt on the pillow, blindfolded, a coil of rope by his side as she entered the room and locked the door. She took a few steps forward, and then the bed creaked, and he thought she was taking off her shoes. The soft rasp of socks on a wooden floor was all he had to focus on as she moved around the room. He could hear her inspecting the rope, and him, and then felt her running her hands up and down his shoulders and across his chest. He arched into the touch.

She moved his arms so that his hands were clasped together, like he was at prayer, and wound the rope around them gently, testing the bonds as she went, and tying it off once his forearms were almost completely covered. The coarseness of the rope against his skin was an exquisite counterpoint to the satin covering his eyes. He heard her maneuver around him, almost talking to herself.

"You'll need this." She said, and crushed her lips to his briefly, before taping his chin.

"Open up." He did, and felt something foreign press into his mouth, making his jaw ache slightly. She fastened the straps behind his head and he groaned, heart racing. She stroked his swollen cheeks, down his neck and along his shoulders, shushing him, and he quieted, grounded by her touch.

"If this is ever too much, and you want out, just shake your head vigorously side to side. Nod if you understand." He did.

"Nod if you agree." He did. He knew he would never need the safe words. He trusted her, like no one before.

He heard her move away. Each sound was amplified by his loss of vision. The sharp snap of a crop marking his back shocked him from his reverie. The sting sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through his body. As she increased the speed and strength of each hit he couldn't stop himself from crying out, muffled by the gag. The sting increased to a burn, but he still ached for more. He groaned, his breathing hitching. The pain heightened the pleasure and he was balanced on a knife edge between the two. She was uncannily accurate, hitting the same spot once, twice in a row. She set a punishing pace and his back felt as if his skin was splitting from his flesh. The pain peaked and he started babbling, gasping nonsense, unsure how much more he could endure, but still trusting her. The flurry of hits stopped as abruptly as it had started. He sobbed as she stroked his battered back, massaging a lotion into it, comforting him, telling him how good he'd been. He preened at the words, not doubting the truth if she spoke them. She released the gag, and pulled the blindfold off, drawing him into a kiss as her busy hands made quick work of his erection. She captured his sighs of release with her lips and deftly undid the rope. She led him to her bed and he curled up next to her, face resting on her stomach, with one of her hands stroking his hair, lulling him to sleep.

He woke with a groan. His back ached and memories of last night flooded his head. He pushed himself up. Natasha was lying on her bed propped up on pillows, stretched out with a book in her hand. She smirked over the top of it.

"Sore?" His eyes shot daggers at her. She knew he was. Even with a faster metabolism and healing factor than an average human. He crawled up the bed, each movement a reminder of the previous night's antics, of his submission. He quite liked it. He moved to roll onto his back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She said. Damn her. He'd do what he liked. He flopped onto his back and hissed in pain. It felt like he was taking the beating all over again. Without the pleasure to offset the pain. Not fun. She gave him an obnoxious grin as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Told ya." He'd soon wipe that grin off her face.

"I believe I intended to be of service to you, not the other way round." He said. She shrugged.

"Sometimes it's nice to look after someone. To not be selfish."

"My turn to not be selfish." He said, drawing her to him, and pulling off some soft trousers that were a lot easier to remove than those dratted jeans she liked.

"Oh yeah?" She said, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes." He said, divested her of her panties and licked her slit from top to bottom. She sighed and ran her hands through his hair, directing but not demanding like before. He set a gentle pace, one that didn't cause his back too much pain, and she let him. He slid a finger in to stroke her from within, and she clenched around him. She tasted as fantastic as he remembered, and each sigh she gave him spurred him on. When she came she called his name, and he thought nothing could ever sound better.

"Want me to take care of that?" She asked, and he realised he was aroused. He wasn't surprised, but he had no longing for that sort of release.

"No, it'll pass. Yesterday's activities were vigorous enough." She smirked.

"Wouldn't want to put your back out, old man." Old? He supposed he was in human years.

"I'm young, in terms of my people. As are you." She laughed, although he did not know what was funny.

"You really think that? Is that what Clint told you?" He gazed at her, taking in eyes that were aged far beyond her initial appearance. He had assumed that was from the line of work that she acquitted herself with.

"I never asked. Is it not true?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was three years short of a century?" He laughed. That would make her 97. He recalled other mortals that were so far along in the aging process.

"No."

"Well then, you shall have to think me a liar." She said. He glanced at her, and she was staring at him like it was a challenge.

"Truly?" He asked, fascinated.

"Truly." She said, with a wry grin.

"Perhaps I'll tell you that story another time.

They both showered, separately, as he wanted to cool down. She massaged the lotion into his back again and lay a towel on the bed. He looked at it skeptically. He didn't particularly want to lie on his back after his previous experience.

"It'll be fine. Still painful, but better. Trust me." He did, and she was right. His back throbbed but the shower and the cream had worked miracles. She curled up, head on his chest, and he was bemused by how utterly domestic it was, but also how right it felt.

"You can't just turn up wherever I am, unannounced Loki" She said, he nodded absently, stroking her hair. She prodded him.

"I'm serious."

"Well then, how am I to contact you?" She grinned, and produced a shiny mobile phone from a drawer beside her bed.

"My number's already added. Text me next time, please?" He looked at it curiously. He had used them before, but never owned one. He took it and weighed it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, he remembered that now. Had she thought about this before?

"Is this a present?" He said.

"Yes, to both of us. You get a phone, and I get to know in advance when you're coming." She had thought about this.

"But it's not my birthday." He said. She laughed. Why was she laughing? She stopped when she realised that he hadn't been jesting.

"It doesn't have to be." She said, with a gentle smile. He looked at her with a frown.

"No one has ever given me a present before, not without cause." She bit her lip and he gazed into her eyes. Did she want something in return?

"Well now they have." She said, and settled back against him. It seemed not.

"I shall treasure it forever." He said, and carefully placed it on his shirt. Inside he was rejoicing. She wanted to know when he was coming again. That meant she wanted him to come again. She wanted him here. He stroked her arm and pulled her in closer, and she hummed into his chest.

Natasha grinned as she walked into room 203. She knew they'd still be here. She hadn't expected them to actually put on a movie. Die Hard 2 or 3 was playing, and they were all dozing. They probably hadn't slept whilst she'd been 'working'. She decided to leave them to it, but was caught sneaking out by Fury.

"Romanov."

"Sir." He rolled his eyes. She knew the honorific pissed him off, especially when she said it.

"Rise and shine boys." He growled loudly. They both started awake. Clint threw a knife at the movie screen from his seat where McClane was shooting at the audience and then stared at it in in confusion. Steve fell off his chair, jumped to his feet and saluted. She hid a laugh behind a hand. Wanda blinked awake, a faint smile on her face and Natasha thought that she might not have been sleeping at all.

"It'll take a lot more than that to stop John McClane." Nat remarked. Clint took in his surroundings, growled at her and stomped off, likely to get a cup of coffee.

"Captain Rogers." She mock saluted him. He blinked and slumped back into his chair.

"You're looking awfully perky for someone who wasn't meant to be getting any sleep last night." He said, then clapped a hand to his mouth. She stared incredulously. Did Steve just crack a sex joke?

"Oh Christ, I'm so sorry Nat, I didn't mean it. Oh please don't kill me." He looked simultaneously heartbroken and terrified. She laughed, and he relaxed, although still didn't look entirely convinced that she wasn't about to murder him.

"It's alright, I deserved it. Besides, I can take a joke." Clint walked in as she said that, and nearly chocked on his coffee.

"Did I hear that right? Did Tasha just say she can take a joke? Because I can think of several incidences that might suggest otherwise." She swatted him, and he grinned.

"Don't lie!" She said.

"Would you like me to list them chronologically or alphabetically?" She growled and he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"What did Steve say anyway?" Fury's cough interrupted their banter.

"Now we've all agreed that Agent Romanov can't take a joke, let's move on." There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it, and even Wanda grinned. Bastard.

Wanda threw the shield up, and it seemed to be getting easier each time she did it. Back to business.

"Loki took the phone, and I've activated the tracking chip, so we should now know whenever and wherever he's on planet." There was a nasty taste in her mouth as she spoke. She wasn't sure why she was quite so uncomfortable with tracking him. She thought about his reaction. It's not my birthday. For all his years he was like a child, so unsure of himself, and how he fitted into the world. It hadn't been a proper gift. She resolved to get him something else, no strings attached.

"He misses his mother." They all could relate to that, even if she didn't remember hers.

"He has an advanced metabolism, and accelerated healing. Not quite as fast as Thor's, but I would say double or three times my own." Clint grimaced, probably reading far more into that than she liked. Steve just nodded. She was glad of his naivety, for once.

"What else?" Fury asked. She shrugged.

"There's not much else. He's barely managing to keep the vultures off his back in Asgard, he's not even contemplating Earth. Honestly, he's far too scared of Doctor Banner." Fury nodded.

"So what's the end game for us here?" She asked.

"We keep observing him until we find a way to bring him in." Fury said.

She paused. Her next statement wasn't going to be popular.

"I think we can end this non-violently." Wanda bit her lip and stared at Natasha. It was slightly unnerving how quiet she was. It reminded Natasha of herself, and she wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"You getting soft, Romanov?" Fury scoffed. She raised an eyebrow at that. (Was she? A particularly nasty voice in her mind told her that she'd gone soft the day she let Clint live. She chose to ignore it.)

"No. But we should give him an out, a way to make reparations and give up the throne, rather than going in guns blazing." Everyone in the room was staring at her now.

"Romanov, you're a miracle worker, but this is madness. You really think you can persuade him to trust us – especially after you've slept with him?" She winced. When he put it like that, it was hard to disagree with.

"I can do it." She said calmly. Fury sighed.

"I'll think about it."

"Sir!" Clint squawked

"I said I'll think about it! Nothing more. For the time being we continue as we have. Romanov, are you still okay with handling Loki?" She nodded. Of course.

"Keep us updated. We'll monitor his movements on Earth, see if we can determine any patterns. We also need a plan for getting Thor on board without causing an intergalactic incident. But for now, everyone can have the evening off, and tomorrow as well. I think we could all do with a rest." Clint grumbled, but didn't say anything more, the promise of a day off probably silencing any other complaints. He'd head down to the farm and see Laura and the kids.

"Natasha." Wanda called out to her as she turned to leave.

"Yes?" She came closer, and Wanda allowed the bubble to cover just the two of them.

"You like him." She said quietly.

"What." Natasha hissed, and looked around. Fury had left, and Steve and Clint were packing their stuff, oblivious. Wanda shrugged.

"Everyone deserves a second chance. You taught me that." And Clint had taught Natasha that, and Coulson had taught Clint. Wanda gave her a small smile.

"I won't say anything. But be careful." Natasha gazed after the young girl as she exited the room. A million questions raced through her mind. Did she like him? She supposed she did, in a fucked up way. She liked that she didn't have to hold back. Was she that transparent, or had Wanda read her mind? She didn't think the girl would do that, not after Ultron.

Clint was waiting for her outside. He grinned at her. She started walking toward her room and he kept pace. Damn it.

"So… what did Cap say? Couldn't have been that awful, he doesn't even cuss." Oh. She wanted to laugh. He hadn't even noticed their little girl chat. So much for Hawkeyes.

"That I was awfully perky for someone who wasn't meant to be getting any sleep last night." He snorted with horrified laughter and span to chase after Steve, likely to interrogate him on exactly how he knew what that looked like.

Maria appeared at her side just after Clint had run off. There were roughly five people in the world who could sneak up on Natasha. She was one of them. Clint was another. Natasha had never told them that.

"Wanna spar, then get drunk?" Maria asked.

"I've heard you've got the day off tomorrow." Of course she had. Sometimes she wondered if Maria and Fury had found a way to telepathically communicate.

"Yeah sure." She owed Maria an explanation.

"Let's invite Wanda?" She had grown to like the girl. Maria looked at her curiously.

"The Witch?" Natasha scowled.

"She's a nice kid." Maria shook her head with a grin.

"I know. You are going soft though." She said. Natasha laughed. Definitely telepathic.

Natasha had an agreement with the owner of the only bar within a ten mile radius of the base. She and Maria had an open tab, and a private table whenever they wanted it, and in return they prevented any of the other Avengers personnel from entering the establishment. A military presence was bad business. Frightened any other customers away.

Steve had volunteered to pick them up. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. Natasha smirked to herself. Clint had disappeared the moment they'd mentioned their plans for the evening. He'd learned his lesson years ago.

Wanda peered around the bar. It wasn't full, just the regulars and themselves. It dimly lit, but that hid the layer of grime coating the interior. The bartender walked over and greeted her with a grin.

"Hey Antonio. A bottle of your most expensive vodka and three glasses. How's Melissa?" Natasha ordered for them.

"She's wonderful, thank you for asking. It is a delight to see you back here." He turned to the other two girls.

"This lady saved my daughter's life. She's a hero." Maria raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" Natasha spoke up.

"Some cretin was harassing one of the waitresses. I stepped in. He threw a punch, so naturally I dislocated his shoulder and broke a couple ribs. Turns out that waitress was his daughter, Melissa." Maria gave her a wry smile, and Wanda looked thoughtful.

"Naturally." Maria said.

"You down play it!" Antonio cried. Natasha shook her head.

"Anyone else would have done then same."

"If you say so Miss Natasha. Well I shall get your drinks. Would you like anything else?" Natasha looked at the other two, who shook their heads, and the little man left.

"You're a hero!" Maria teased her. Natasha poked her tongue out at her.

"You want me to put the shield up in here?" Asked Wanda when they quieted.

"Nah. Girls night out, we're not working"." Wanda's face brightened considerably. Natasha resolved to involve her in more things that weren't work related. They fell silent as Antonio reappeared with their order. He gave it to them with a smile and retreated rapidly. They each took a class. Wanda proposed the toast, which surprised her.

"To Natasha, the hero." Maria grinned and they clinked their glasses together. She shook her head and joined them as they drank. Maria poured another round. Natasha took this one.

"To surviving thus far." They all cheered to that and downed the drinks again. Antonio looked over at the noise, and Natasha waved, and got a wave back. Maria poured another.

"It's only fair that I get to make a toast too." She said. Natasha smirked. At this pace she'd be picking both girls up from the floor.

"To Russian woman who can likely hold their alcohol far better than I." She necked the drink, and Wanda and Natasha followed suit. Natasha was feeling lightly buzzed. It was a pleasant feeling.

"I do not really drink." Wanda said, then giggled. Natasha thought that might be the first time she'd heard the girl laugh. Maria wrapped an arm around her. Wanda stiffened, then relaxed into it.

"Me neither girly. Natasha could drink anyone I know under the table, not including super soldiers who are immune to the effects of alcohol." Maria's eyes went slightly misty at the thought of Steve.

"Speaking of…" Natasha said with a grin. Maria and Steve had gone on a date, but she'd not had a chance to find out the details.

"Of what?" Maria asked. As if she didn't know exactly what Natasha was asking about.

"You went out with Steve." Wanda spoke, and nudged Natasha from across the table.

"Tell us everything." They both said, then shared a grin. Maria sighed dramatically.

"He's the perfect gentleman. It was lovely." Natasha gave Maria her best 'don't give me that crap' stare. She wanted more than that. Maria rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. She leant in closer and whispered.

"That whole innocent Captain America act is such bullshit." She winked.

"I knew it!" Natasha said and refilled their glasses as Maria spoke.

"He knows exactly what he's doing. It was mind blowing. The serum enhanced everything, if you know what I'm saying." Maria wiggled her eyebrows and Natasha couldn't hold back the laugh. Wanda looked confused, until Maria made a lewd sign and then she snorted.

"You Americans are so crude. At first I thought it was just the men but…" She gestured at the two of them and laughed again.

"So Wanda," Maria started.

"Our girl Natasha has been holding out on us. Apparently she's been getting laid!" Wanda looked at Natasha warily, but she just grinned.

"Don't ask me to tell you who it is." Natasha said with a wink, and the other two nodded. They both knew exactly who it was.

"Well he better be treating you right." Maria announced. Natasha reassured her that that was the case.

"So… how's the sex?" Maria asked. Alcohol made her brash. Natasha grinned.

"Intense. And kinky." Wanda held a hand up as they all giggled round the table.

"Stop. No more."

By the time Steve arrived to pick them up they'd made their way through the bottle and had moved onto tequila shots.

"Steve! Just in time." She handed him one, poured the salt on his hand. He joined them, and then looked shocked at himself.

"I'm driving. Damn it Natasha." Maria draped herself on Steve's shoulder, and Natasha and Wanda smirked as she attempted to stand straight. She had always been a lightweight.

"Steeeeve don't be a spoil sport. It's not like you can get drunk." He was mollified by that. It probably had something to do with the way Maria was rubbing herself against him. Natasha started heckling them and Wanda joined in.

"Do a body shot!" Wanda giggled, having only found out earlier what a body shot was. Steve shook his head.

"Do I want to know how much have you lot had? Come on, let's head back." Natasha and Wanda ambled out the bar arm in arm and leant on the car as they watched Steve try to persuade Maria to leave. Eventually he lifted her up and put her over one shoulder, to both of their amusement. Natasha reckoned that was what Maria had been angling for, and whispered it to Wanda. They both smirked at Steve as he placed Maria in the front seat. He ignored them and they slid into the back of the car.

"So Steve, you've done us a huge favour." Natasha said. Wanda started giggling again. Steve glanced over his shoulder at the two of them as he started the engine.

"That's okay."

"No really, it's massive." Maria spluttered in the front, and turned to glare at them. Steve gave her a confused look. Where was Stark when she needed him? He appreciated innuendo.

"We owe you a big one." Wanda said, and Natasha couldn't hold in her laughter as the quiet girl ribbed Captain America. They'd definitely drunk too much. It was worth it.

"Will you two shut it." Maria hissed, although Natasha could see her shoulders shaking from laughter. From where Natasha was sitting she thought she could see the faint flush of red creeping up Steve's neck as he cottoned on. She grinned and watched as they neared the base, content to sit in silence for the rest of the journey.

Steve was still rosy as he parked the car.

"I'll can handle Maria. Are you two okay?" He asked. Ever the gentleman.

"I'll bet you can handle her." Natasha said and both she and Wanda snorted as Steve turned on his heel and carried Maria off, muttering about drunk assassins and bad decisions.

Natasha woke blurry eyed, fully clothed on her bed. She'd walked Wanda to her room last night and then collapsed when she'd gotten back to her own. She rose to get a shower and wash away the remnants of last night's antics. She didn't have a hangover (she'd need to drink a lot more for that), but it was nice to feel clean.

She checked in on Wanda, who groaned and forcibly ejected her from the room with her magic and locked the door behind her.

She knocked on Maria's door. There was no reply. She tried the handle. It was open. Steve had probably tucked her into bed then left the door unlocked. She wandered in.

"How's the hangover?" She called out.

"Oh shit." Said a very manly voice that was definitely not Maria, and sounded a lot like Steve. She resisted the urge to call out 'language'.

"You didn't lock the door!?" That was Maria's voice. Natasha snorted with laughter.

"Sorry. I'll see myself out." Oops. They should have definitely locked the door in a base full of noisy spies. She could hear Maria berating Steve as she left. She pulled the door shut behind her, and then heard the click of the lock which suggested Steve had been harassed out of bed... At least they were both alive and moving.

She was on her way to grab some food when she bumped into Clint. (Not literally. She was far too graceful to bump into someone.)

"How was last night? Cap seems mentally scarred." She smirked.

"Good. And Cap will survive. I think Maria's making it up to him now. He's just lucky Tony wasn't around." Clint groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I'm off to see Laura and the kids. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." She hugged him, a rare sign of fondness from her.

"Used that up last night. Send my love." He nodded and left.

She paused in the entrance to Bruce's lab, debating whether she should knock. On one hand, she didn't knock for anyone. On the other hand, if she was here to make amends then she probably shouldn't start off on the wrong foot. She could see Bruce bent over a table, making notes on an experiment he was running. In all honestly she was surprised he was still here. She had expected him to have found his way to Stark after her unpleasant greeting. There was nothing to keep him here that she knew of.

By all appearances he was wrapped up in his work, oblivious to the world, but she knew better. He was always aware of his surroundings, of any threats to his tranquillity. She supposed that meant he was ignoring her. She didn't blame him. To be fair he ignored most people, but they didn't notice because they were busy trying to ignore him too.

"I brought lemon cake." She said. She wasn't about to start knocking now, damnit. He looked up, wide eyed.

"Oh, hi." He said, for all purposes an absent-minded and slightly batty professor. He made himself appear as small as possible, as least threatening as possible. It helped other people cope.

"Bruce-" She started. He interrupted her.

"I thought it was Doctor Banner now." She sighed. She really did owe him an apology. She helped herself to a slice of lemon cake, and placed the rest on the table before him. He eyed it. She wondered when the last time he ate was, who was looking after him when she wasn't there.

"It's not poisoned, Bruce." She said, with a slight emphasis on his name. It was his favourite. They both knew that.

"I'm not hungry." He said, soundly like a petulant child. She didn't believe him.

"I've not come to take back my words, or say I didn't mean them, because I did. But I didn't have to be mean about it, and I'm sorry. I understand why you left." There. She had done it. She just had one last thing to address. The trigger. The reason why he'd left. She could acknowledge it now he was back. It had hurt too much before.

"Also, I'm sorry I pushed you off a cliff." She turned to leave, but paused at the door when he spoke.

"Natasha." She shivered. His voice and the way he said he name brought back memories she'd done her best to forget.

"I deserved it." She turned to face him. He ate a piece of cake then stared at his hands as if they'd betrayed him.

"I deserved all of it. Being pushed of a cliff, you telling me about how badly everyone had taken me leaving. I guess I didn't think about my actions. I'm sorry too… for everything. I didn't expect people to care so much." That was the exact reason why she had decided to forgive him. He truly had believed that they wouldn't care. It almost hurt more than him leaving. She gave him a smile that she reserved for only a small amount of people. She knew he was also apologising for the near-Hulk incident, for freaking out about Loki. She hoped he knew that she was trying to apologise for that too.

"It's okay. I forgive you. I'm glad you're here, and you're safe." He smiled back at her, and she remembered why she'd fallen for him in the first place.

"Friends?" He asked hopefully.

"Friends." She said with a nod and left. Friends, but nothing more. She couldn't get tangled up in that again. As she walked away she realised that she had no desire to be more. She tried not to dwell on the reason why.

The first time she received a message from Loki she was cleaning up an operation in Mexico. I'm on planet. These devices are useless. It would be far more efficient if I were to just appear. She grinned, and replied. The cabin, two days.

They were walking through the forest. The snow was like a million glistening diamonds, sparkling in the winter sun. The weather was mild, for January, and they'd gone for a stroll, a different form of exercise to their usual activities.

Loki grabbed her by the arm, staring over her shoulder, eyes wide. She span, searching for the threat, and saw a bear sitting on it's haunches, watching them.

"Are you going to wrestle it?" He said, tilting his head slightly. She stared at him in confusion. She then recalled their conversation months ago, and covered her mouth with a gloved hand to stop herself from laughing.

"No" She hissed.

"That was a joke! I don't wrestle bears – I'm not mad." Actually, she might be mad. That was debatable. Clint would certainly think so.

"Then I shall."

"No." She said. He looked at her curiously.

"Let it be, unless it attacks us." She told herself it wasn't because she was worried about what a bear might do to him. She wasn't. Bears were an endangered species.

The fifth time she received a text from Loki she was playing poker with Clint, Bruce and Steve and she was winning (of course). What is Scrabble?She'd bought one with him in mind and left it on her desk. He was here. She checked her cards. They were average. She grinned at the boys.

"I'm all in." Clint groaned.

"Damn it. I know that face." He tossed his cards in. She smirked as the others followed suit, and she collected her winnings. She flipped over her cards as she left and Clint swore.

"You bluffed!" He said, astonished. She laughed and pointed at herself.

"Professional liar."

She and Loki proceeded to play scrabble with a different sort of prize in mind. She let him win.

The twelfth time she received a text from Loki she'd requested the weekend off and was already at the cabin. She heard him arrive, and she guessed that he didn't know she'd beaten him to it. I'm here. She opened the bedroom door to his shocked face.

"I know." She said, and slowly slipped the corner of her dressing gown off to reveal nothing beneath it. She barely had time to blink as he swept her up and deposited her on the bed.

"Hello." He said with a sultry grin.

"Hi." She said, and drew him down for a kiss.

"I've missed you." He said, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"I've missed you too." She murmured, and was surprised to realise she wasn't lying. She let him run his hands along her arms, slowly caressing and drawing the silken gown down. She halted him before she was completely naked.

"Wait. I've got a present for you." She said, and drew out a small shallow box. She opened it. It was a silver bracelet in the form of a snake, the head and the tail forming the clasp. The snake's eyes were sparkling emeralds. (It also contained a tracker, one of her own devising. In case she ever lost access to S.H.E.I.L.D. Everyone she cared about had one, even if they didn't know it.)

"Will you always wear it?" She asked. His eyes glistened, and he snapped the bracelet around his wrist. It fitted perfectly, like she knew it would.

"Always and forever." He said, and kissed her with a passion that made her breathless.

Loki eyed the phone in his hand. He was sitting in her cabin, enjoying the peace after the chaos of noise and light that was Asgard. However the voices inside his head had not quieted and he craved the silence that being with Natasha could give him. He debated texting her. Was it too soon? Bah. This was not something a god dwelled on. He flicked the phone open. I'm bored. He sent it before he could change his mind. He set the phone aside and twisted the bracelet she'd given him around his wrist. The emeralds sparkled up at him, reminding him of her eyes.

The moment he'd first seen her he had known that she was something unique, that she was different. Her eyes had blazed with a fire that matched her hair, and at the time he thought it had been the adrenaline that had drawn him to her, like a moth to flame. He had never been more wrong.

He realised, without doubt, he was in love with her. It scared him, but didn't surprise him. He'd known for a while, but had tried to ignore it, to push it away. He struggled to pinpoint the exact moment it had happened. 'Love is for children,' she'd once said. He wondered if she truly believed that, and he wondered if she believed it still.

His phoned beeped and he snatched it up. Only boring people get bored. He snorted. He was not boring. It beeped again before he could reply. I'm on a solo recon mission. If you promise to behave I'll let you visit. He snorted. He wasn't a child. Of course I can behave. She replied with a location and room number. Peter Island Resort, room 205. He only needed to glance up at Heimdall and he was transported there. (He actually glanced up at the ceiling, but it seemed to be the signal that Heimdall took to mean that he should transport someone. He was unsure what direction Asgard was in relative to Earth, if it even worked like that. That was a question for another time.)

"Hello." She said.

"Greetings." He replied.

She was reclining in a chair, watching a video feed on a laptop, a headphone held to her ear. On the feed was a bald man relaxed on a bed in a room similar to this, watching TV. It was not interesting. She motioned him to the chair next to her and he sat, taking in view of sapphire waves lapping at golden white sand. Stunning. However, it was nothing compared to Natasha, one eye on the screen, the other on him, chewing on a pen. Pathetic really, that Loki Silvertongue was reduced to clichés to describe her. She was in a black bikini that offset her creamy skin, and was covered but not concealed by a translucent blue kaftan.

"Want to go out for dinner?" She asked. He eyed her. They had not gone out for food before.

"He's got a reservation at 6.00. I want to see who he's meeting." Ah. He nodded. Human food was an experience of its own. They mixed the most curious flavours. Who had even thought up peanut butter and jelly?

"Do you have casual smart wear?" She asked. He laughed.

"Of course." The illusion around him rippled and reformed so that he was dressed in fitted khakis and a white shirt, a navy sweater draped around his shoulders, similar to how he'd seen human men dress. She smirked.

"Let me go put something more appropriate on." She said.

When she emerged from the bathroom she took his breath away. She was clad in a green silk dress that clung to her figure, and showed just enough skin. She was dangerous and beautiful and his, at least for tonight.

"Zip me up?" She asked, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and glancing over the other. He was there in an instant, gently tugging the back of her dress closed. He pulled her into him and planted kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. She smelt divine and she moaned as his lips brushed her throat.

"Do we have to go out?" He pleaded, running his hands over the curve on her hips. She leant into him for just a second and sighed. It was over far too soon.

"Yes." She said, and pulled him after her, one of her hands capturing his. He followed.

"Do you have a reservation?" The maître d' asked. He looked suitably awed by Natasha, and Loki rested an arm over her shoulder, warning him away.

"We do. A table for two under the names Larron and Natalie Rushman." She replied smoothly. They were ushered to their table . He realised that she must have booked this before he'd even texted her. When they were alone Loki turned to Natasha.

"Did you know that I was coming?" He said, one eyebrow arched.

"I hoped." She replied. That was a pleasant surprise. She watched the area around them, and he realised she was keeping track of her target.

"Larron and Natalie Rushman?" He asked to distract from the silence that followed. She grinned.

"You know what Larron stands for?" She said, biting her lip.

"A cunning thief. Quite apt, although I wonder if I should be offended." He drawled. He was not offended.

"You are a trickster. The Trickster, in fact. It comes with the territory." He shrugged at that, unwilling to deny the truth.

The rest of the meal was pleasant, relaxed. When they finished she led him to the beach before her apartment. They sat in the sand, hand in hand, and she leant her head against his shoulder. He felt peaceful, for once in his life. All he could hear was the rush of ocean and the gentle sigh of her breathing. The sun was setting, reflecting against the water in a burst of oranges, pinks and reds. It dazzled him. He wished he could freeze this moment, stay here forever. But it could not be. Instead he clasped Natasha's hand tighter and committed each perfect detail to memory.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon Natasha stirred. They went to bed, moving quietly together. As he made love to her and she came apart beneath him, a single tear traced its way down her cheek. As he kissed it away he thought that she knew. From the first time they met she had always known his mind before him. He shouldn't think that this would be any different. He fell asleep with that thought echoing around his head, and three words on his lips that would, could never be said.

I love you.

Winter turn to spring, and with spring came the melting of the snow, and the rise of snowdrops. One day Loki appeared at the cabin with a handful of them. He held them out to her and she placed them in a vase wordlessly.

"They interest me," was all he had to say, at first. After much quizzing she discovered that flowers didn't grow on Jotunheim, and that there was only snow and frost and ice.

Their meetings were infrequent and spontaneous. Clint shook his head each time she left, but didn't remark further. Wanda smiled each time she returned, and they chatted about everything, from the best way to kill a man, to her favourite perfume. She realised that she came to desire Wanda's quiet, unassuming company. Sometimes Maria joined them, sometimes not, as she was often occupied with Steve, who seemed bemused and pleased by the attention. Natasha tried not to draw similarities between Peggy and Maria, and any she did draw she kept to herself.

Occasionally she noticed she missed Loki's presence, when something interesting happened and she turned to show him. Those days she spent locked in the gym.

She told herself she was keeping an eye on him. The lie sounded like bullshit even to her. So she enjoyed the time they spent together, and refused to allow herself to dwell. All good things must come to an end, so let the good times roll, while they could. Isn't that what everyone said?

He came to her in more frequent intervals as summer drew near, and the strain of living a life of lie was evident with the way he talked, and snapped at her, trying to draw her to anger. The one time she'd snarled back was when he'd called her a sheildwhore. It struck too close to the truth, even if he hadn't realised. They'd shouted and screamed and half torn the cabin down (literally the kitchen was missing half a wall), and then had unbelievably good angry sex. He'd been full of apologies the next day, especially when he noticed the bruises he'd left on her. She brushed them away, the truth ever present in the back of her mind. She'd opened her mouth half a dozen times to tell him the truth, but the words caught at the back of her throat as she imagined Steve's disappointment, Fury's anger and Clint's confusion at her betrayal. When she returned she'd locked herself in her room. She could only imagine the boy's reaction if they saw her. She resolved to never go back, and that lasted until the next time he texted her. How could she refuse?

He'd kissed away her doubts each time she saw him, and kissed her again until she forgot everything, even her own name. Those were the best days, when she could pretend that he wasn't a war criminal, and she wasn't a spy.

It continued like this, until she didn't receive another text from him. One week turned into two, and two into three. She stared at her phone, and dwelled over the last time they'd met. He'd been happy to see her, and sad to see her go, exactly how it should be. What had gone wrong?

A code red flashed up on her work phone. Movie night. They had one monthly, and she told them the same thing. Loki wasn't a threat, he was stressed about Asgard, all was well. Lately her and Fury had been holding hypothetical discussions over how they could recruit him, but they'd never developed them further. She checked the date. This definitely wasn't planned. She was first to arrive, and perched on a table to wait. The others filtered in, and once they were all present Wanda rose her shield.

"No need for that, Maximoff." She stared, then made to leave after dropping the shield.

"Stay – you're part of this as much as anyone." She nodded and sat herself next to Natasha, who stared at Fury, waiting for him to get to the point of the meeting.

"Loki's been captured by General Ross."

They emptied his pockets and took his weapons, which he didn't care about, but then they took the phone that Natasha had given him.

"No!" He cried, then bit his lip to stop any more words tumbling out. His wrists tore against the handcuffs that secured his arms to the wall above his head. Blood trickled down his skin, staining his shirt. He had thought he was stronger than any metal alloy that the human's had found. His mind flicked to Natasha's dagger, the one that had made him bleed, but his mind couldn't grasp why it was important. The drug they'd used to block his magic numbed his mind, and slowed his reactions. He hated it.

The man in charge, General Ross, grinned at him and waved the phone in the air. He was dressed in a military uniform the colour of mud.

"Not sure why you're so attached to this. How do you think we found you? It's has S.H.I.E.L.D. issue tracking chip in it." Loki recoiled. Ross almost looked apologetic. Natasha had given him that phone.

He looked around, each movement sending spikes of pain through his skull. He was in a cell. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, or where he was. Pieces slowly clicked together and his brain finally caught up with what he was hearing.

"You're working with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" He asked, dazed. Damn this drug. He shook his head in attempt to clear the fog and instantly regretted it. His mind went blank with pain and is vision went black. He groaned as the room came back into blurry definition.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is finished." The general said dismissively.

"There's a new agency that's working with The Avengers. They're using S.H.I.E.L.D. tech. We're piggy-backing off them. They just don't know it yet." Ross laughed.

"What I want to know is how they managed to get you to keep the phone. I'm impressed."

Natasha. She'd given him the phone. This meant something. If only he could just think. He realised he'd said her name aloud when the general echoed it back.

"Natasha Romanov?"

"Don't touch her." Loki growled. The general laughed again. Why was that funny? He was so confused. Pain pounded an incessant drumbeat on his skull. He tugged on the chains again and hissed as they bit into his flesh. He reached for his magic, for the ice, for Heimdall, but his mind was slippery and could barely focus on forming coherent words. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him and he started to panic. His breath was coming in gasps that didn't quite fill his lungs.

He realised the general was talking again and the words made their way slowly into his hazy mind.

"Explains a lot. Poor fool. You were taken in by that woman, weren't you?" Ross snorted, shook his head, and walked away, the click of his boots fading behind him until Loki was left in silence. Loki bristled at the thought of him being fooled by any woman and the anger helped the panic reside slightly. There was only one woman on all of Asgard and Earth that could fool him. The thought of her calmed his breathing.

Her name pierced the fog clouding his mind and he clung to it.

Natasha. He focused on the brightness of her eyes, the softness of her hair and used it to block the pain. She was like a shining beacon on a stormy night, his refuge in the rain.

Why had Natasha given him a phone with a S.H.I.E.L.D. issue tracking chip in it? Maybe she hadn't known. There was one obvious explanation but he shoved it to the back of his mind.

She wouldn't do that.

Natasha who was an Avenger, and before that worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.

Natasha. His Natasha.

Natasha who was the only woman on all of Asgard and Earth that could fool him.

She wouldn't do that. Would she?

Would she?

And with moment of stunning clarity he saw himself through her eyes and he crumpled. Tears blurred his vision and he slammed his head against the wall behind him with a scream, the pain lancing through his body no match for the pain of her lies. He'd been biggest fool of them all. So stupid. So blind.

She warned him.

Love is for children.

The one woman who could trick The Trickster.

And for her final trick: the disappearing act.

"Loki's been captured by General Ross."

Natasha was frozen to her perch on the desk. Everyone had questions and opinions and they all talked at once but she couldn't hear what they were saying over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Everyone apart from Wanda, who gripped her arm in an unusual display of affection. Her warm touch calmed Natasha slightly. She had a million things to say but she couldn't seem to form the words. She took a few breaths. Get a sodding grip. She had never reacted like this before.

Of course, Tony Stark chose that moment to walk into the room.

"I hope I'm not late. Got chatting with Vision. What's a code red anyway? I know we've got a code green but code red?" Everyone in the room fell silent and he paused his incessant babble to look around, seeming to notice that no one was smiling, and they were all staring at him.

"What's going on? Hi, by the way. Long-time no see." Maria slipped in behind him, with a very reluctant Bruce in tow.

"I really can't see how I'll be needed for anything involving Loki." He began, then saw Tony.

"Oh hey." He mumbled. Tony stared at him, then around the room.

"Loki? What." He said, head flipping from side to side to look from Bruce, to Fury, back to Bruce. It was at that point that Natasha regained the ability to speak.

"Why. Is. He. Here." She hissed. Tony looked vaguely offended.

A knock at the door distracted them all from the unfolding drama. Tony did a headcount. Thor wasn't the type to knock, and no one else was due to be coming, Natasha was certain of it.

"Did someone order room service?" Tony quipped. Before Fury could berate him there was a crash and soldiers burst into the room. They were in a military uniform that she didn't recognise and that worried her. They paused, obviously not expected to be faced with the entirety of The Avengers.

"We've got an arrest warrant for Natasha Romanov." One of the soldiers said, eying them uncertainly. Everyone apart from Fury surged forward to form a blockade between her and the men. She felt a surge of warmth but it was tinged with the bitter taste of guilt. She didn't deserve this. (Or need it. She could protect herself.) The soldiers wavered. She didn't blame them. They were pretty formidable individually, and united they were brilliant. She thought she saw Tony call the suit, and Bruce seemed to fill more space than usual. Where Clint had pulled his bow from was beyond her. She pushed her way past Steve, and risked a glance at Bruce. His eyes were green but he didn't seem to be struggling.

"Why?" She said, in a tone that suggested that they should run, and never look back. The spokesman gulped.

"You've been compromised by Loki." The silence that followed was deafening.

"I have not." She said.

"Haven't you?" Said Fury, and she turned to stare at him, the betrayal like a knife to the gut. She hesitated just long enough for him to notice before she looked away. She was. She was so compromised it hurt every fibre of her being.

"That's rubbish." Said Tony. The suit shot in through the door, barrelling soldiers over and Tony became Iron Man quicker than she'd ever seen. His repulsors hummed threateningly.

"You can't have her." Steve said with a growl. Clint tensed. They were readying for a fight. She couldn't allow that. She was touched, but it wouldn't achieve anything. Besides, she should be detained, if they were following regulations. (For the moment.) She didn't want to get the team involved in the mess she'd found herself in. She knew what she had to do.

"Guys. Don't." She said, resigned. They all turned to gawk at her. Clint met her gaze and she stared at him, willing him to understand her unspoken message. I got this. She smiled her most dangerous smile, a grin that showed all her teeth but didn't reach her enraged eyes. It was positively terrifying. She had practised it. She turned to the soldiers.

"Alright boys. You may escort me to our destination. But don't touch me. You'll regret it." She smirked. Bravado had never failed her. She walked out the door and the team of soldiers flitted anxiously, eventually falling into formation. They kept a healthy distance away.

She could hear shouting erupt from the room behind her as they marched off. Tony always liked to be loud. She didn't try to listen. What was the point?

She was Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow and she needed only herself.

She was directed to a helicopter, and was taken from there to a supermax prison. She could hear the men who had escorted her receiving a bollocking for not handcuffing her as the prison guards took over. As if that would have stopped her if she had decided to escape. As they walked her down an aisle of cells the inmates roared at the sight of her, a female in a jail full of men. It was supposed to be an intimidation tactic, but when she caught the eye of a Russian mobster who knew exactly who she was word rapidly passed around. By the end of the march to her solitary holding cell the prisoners hushed as she walked past and stared with wide haunting eyes. She knew it spooked the guards. She had perfected her reputation in the criminal world, sculpted and moulded it until she was the nightmare in the dark, the monster under the bed. Those that walked in the sun could never comprehend the depravity that was the Black Widow, but those that walked in the shadows knew, and they knew to be scared.

She lay back in her cell, and debated her next move. Escaping was easy. Not being chased was hard. Perhaps she could fake her death? It had worked before. Still, that would take time, and Loki's was running out. She could only hope that he could hold out until she got there.

Don't give up.

Don't give up Loki.

She was coming. Hell or high-water she was coming. Nothing and no one could stand in her way.

Hopefully she wouldn't be too late.

Loki slumped against the wall. Every four hours he'd be injected with the nauseating drug that blocked his magic and blurred his mind, just as the tendrils of power and comprehension reached out to him. He'd struggled and fought, but they'd run enough electricity through his body that it left him shaking and weak, his throat hoarse from screaming. Eventually he stopped struggling and lay prone and unresisting. Occasionally they shocked him anyway.

On the third day the general had come to see him. At least he thought it was the third day. He was losing track of time in this hell hole.

"What is your name?"

"Loki." He replied dully.

"Where are you from?"

"Asgard." The general smiled.

"Cooperation. Wonderful. You're doing a really great job Loki." Natasha had praised him. He should have known. Nobody praised him, not unless they wanted something.

"How do we get to Asgard?" He stared at General Ross. This is what he wanted? Information?

"Second star to the right and then straight on til morning." He had at least some wits about him. One of the general's lackeys was writing this down, and general lashed out at him, sending the clipboard clattering to the ground.

"He's messing with us. Haven't you ever seen Peter Pan?" The general growled. He turned to another man, a doctor, judging by his white coat.

"Don't feed him for a week, and shock him before you drug him each time. Let me know if it's killing him. If not, I've got other work to do." Loki would have shuddered, if he had the energy. The doctor grinned, and it made Loki's skin crawl.

He longed for Natasha.

He burned for her. He wasn't sure if he hated her or loved her still. He felt the metal of the bracelet she'd given him resting under his shirt sleeve. They'd thought it was a just a piece of jewellery,

It wasn't just jewellery. It was the last reminder he had of her. It was a reminder to be strong. Strong enough to escape. Once he escaped he would find her. He swore to himself that he would find her, and then he would have his reckoning.

He wasn't naïve enough to believe that she had any feelings for him. She had not been manipulated or tricked into doing this. She was her own woman. It hurt more, knowing that.

He never fully realised the implications of her name. The Black Widow. First she had lured him in with sex, then spun her web, and now she was devouring him from the inside out.

He tried his best to hate her.

He weakened as each session of electricity and drugs burnt through his system. The lack of food made him lightheaded, and he was thirsty, so thirsty. He could survive far longer than a human on this treatment but somehow they knew that. His shoulders ached from his arms fixed above him and his wrists were constantly bloody. His tears had long since dried up, and his skin burnt. His only respite was the coolness of the room. It would be uncomfortable for a human or Asgardian and for once in his life he was grateful for his true origins.

Loki's didn't bother to lift his head when someone entered his cell.

"It's time." It was the doctor he'd seen the day Ross had tried to interrogate him. He'd not seen him since. Loki registered the words slowly. Time for what? It had only been two hours. He was sure of it. He had nothing better to do than count the seconds that passed. The doctor flicked a syringe, checking for air bubbles.

"We're increasing the frequency of your doses." No no no. The doctor moved to the machinery that sent the electricity burning through his body.

"We've been too easy on you. You can take more, I think." He was smiling as he flicked the switch and Loki's body arched without volition as electricity coursed through his body. He tore at the cuffs on his wrists, digging deeper into the bloody wounds in a futile attempt to break free. He could hear horrific screams and he realised that they were his own. He collapsed back against the wall, thrashing wildly as white hot pain consumed him until it became the only thing he knew.

When the torment ended and he came back to himself the doctor was standing over him, frowning.

"Fuck you." Loki rasped. The doctor twitched a brow and turned back. Loki blanched.

"No, please don't, I'm sorry. Please, please-" His babble fell on deaf ears. The pain tore through him again and he was lost to a world that was searing heat and endless torture. The agony grew and took a form of its own and each moment he thought it couldn't possibly get worse it did. An eternity passed and yet it didn't stop, it never stopped. His blood was boiling and his skin was being flayed off and he was being crucified, impaled by his own sin. The Hulk? That was a walk in the park. He would welcome it. A thousand bones splintering? It would be a caress. He'd lean into it. If he thought he had felt pain before he knew nothing. Every inch of him was on fire, slowly burning up his will to live. Darkness crept up on him and Loki relinquished himself to it.

Loki woke to a comforting arm around his shoulders and a wet flannel dripping against his lips and into his mouth, soothing his scorched throat. He realised he was sobbing, dry wracking breaths followed by a wail that was more a whisper. Each breath tore his throat in half like someone had lit a flame inside it. The doctor spoke and he flinched as he realised it was his arm that was around him.

"There, there. It's okay." The doctor was petting him and Loki shuddered with each touch. Every bone in his body ached, each muscle was screaming at him, but the pain was a comfort because at least he wasn't being shocked with electricity and anything was better than that.

"Would you like a glass of water?" The doctor asked. Loki looked up at him and nodded, not trusting his voice. The wet flannel hadn't done much to relieve the burning thirst. The doctor took a step back and held the glass out before him, just out of reach.

"How do we get to Asgard?" Loki slumped back and pressed his lips shut. Of course.

"Aren't you thirsty?" Loki scrunched his eyes shut. He would give anything for the water. Almost anything. If he couldn't see it, then he could resist.

"Well then." Loki heard the water being poured out before him, taunting him. It trickled along the floor next to him, soaking his trousers. So close, but so far.

"You'll regret this." The doctor promised and left Loki alone with his thoughts.

The doctor held true to his word and the torture and the drugging repeated itself every two hours. Loki slipped in and out of consciousness between sessions, the frequency of the cycle not allowing him any real rest. Sometimes he hallucinated. Thor, his mother, but mostly Natasha. Natasha soothing him, Natasha torturing him, Natasha freeing him. Sometimes she was dead and when he looked down her blood covered his hands.

Every so often after they had injected the drug he was asked questions: where was Asgard, how did they create weaponry, what were their weakness? Information in exchange for water, for food, for them to stop the lightning that burnt his veins. Each time he felt himself weaken he touched the bracelet on his wrist. Natasha. She wouldn't give in, so he couldn't. He refused to answer and they wordlessly left him to his torment. He knew he should be planning an escape but he was so weary. The determination it took to resist sapped at his strength and the most he could do was endure. He just wanted this to end, but they never pushed his body that far. Close, but not quite.

Sometimes they asked him about The Avengers, about Natasha and her strengths and weaknesses. It was then that he was most conflicted. General Ross had even stated it. I don't know why you keep protecting that damn girl after she betrayed you like this. He didn't know either. He loved her and hated her in equal measure but he couldn't bring himself to expose her. He rationalised it by telling himself he would enact his own revenge and pushed away the part of him that said that he was shielding her.

How could she do this to him?

He had thought, for a moment, in the Caribbean sun, perhaps…

No use tormenting himself further.

Natasha was sleeping in her cell (more like meditating, she never truly slept when there was potential danger) when she woke to the clanging sound of the door to this block being opened. She slipped to the most tactically advantageous point in her cell, pressed up against the wall just next to the door. It wasn't a typical guard's patrol, which meant they were here for her. Several of the other inmates were slowly rousing. Like her they knew what was and what wasn't ordinary in a prison.

The soft pad of footsteps neared her cell. A large shadow stopped outside it and fumbled the keys in the door. Only one? Foolish. The moment it opened she swung herself out, using the bars for leverage and knocked her assailant down. She palmed a knife from him and pressed it against his throat.

"Natasha?" A voice hissed in the darkness. Steve's voice. Oh for fucks sake. She relaxed and slid off him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She growled. The door clanged again before he could answer and they both swivelled to face it. A bright blue light shone in their faces.

"Tony, cut the light." Steve said irritably. She could hear the nearest inmate mutter 'the fuck'. The light dimmed and she saw Tony, all kitted up, with Clint leaning on the door behind him.

"Clint, what the hell?"

"Wasn't my idea." He replied grumpily.

"I said, let Natasha do what she wants, she'll be pissed if you try to rescue her but oh no bloody Captain America thinks he knows you better than I do and Bruce agreed, and we all know that Tony has a hero complex so here we are." He was rambling. He only rambled when he was stressed. That was probably her fault.

"I do not." Tony muttered. They all ignored him.

"I have a fucking plan." She hissed at Steve. He went red.

"But you're in prison." He said looking around.

"Yes…" She said.

"We're here to rescue you?" He said, unsure now. She rolled her eyes.

"It's part of the plan you idiot. Get arrested, fake my death, rescue-." She cut herself off.

"Yeah man part of the plan." One of the inmates echoed, obviously enjoying Avengers sitcom. They all turned to him.

"Shut up." She, Clint and Steve growled simultaneously. The inmate shrank back in his cell. Steve turned back to her.

"They're going to use you to get you-know-who to talk." He hadn't talked yet? That was good… wasn't it? Tony snorted.

"Like that would work." She glared at him.

"It would." He looked shocked. She didn't blame him. They all looked shocked. Damn it.

She bit her lip as she gazed at them. Tony, so determined to help even if he liked to pretend he didn't care. Steve, so innocent despite his many years and many wars. And Clint, the most important, who knew that she could handle herself but helped anyway. A plan started shaping itself in her head.

"Where's Wanda?" She asked. This would only work if they had Wanda.

"Sabrina the Teenage Witch is keeping the guards occupied." Tony said. She bit back a growl at his ridicule. It was how he coped with things that scared him.

"Do you guys really want to help me?" She said. Steve jumped at her words.

"Yes, of course!" He was so sweet it was almost sickening.

"Even if it means helping you-know-who?" They all nodded, Clint reluctantly. She beckoned them closer. They huddled together to prevent their onlookers from hearing what they said.

"You're going to let them take me to Loki. That way I'll be on the inside. Wanda can spell the guards to believe that nothing happened tonight. Have you got a spare comm?" She said. They did.

"I'll give you the signal to attack from the outside once I'm in."

"What signal?" Tony interrupted. She gave him a death stare.

"Something like 'Attack!'." She said. He looked suitably sheepish.

"You should scope out the situation before I get there. If there's a chance, extract him. But I doubt there will be. Ross is no fool." Tony put his hand up. She nodded.

"How will we know where he is?"

"I placed a tracker on him. One of my own." Clint snorted.

"Seriously?" He said. She chose not to reply.

"Clint knows how to access it. Also, Thor needs to work damage control on Asgard."

"He's there already." Clint said. She was impressed. He must not know the whole story. Thor had a soft spot – understandably – for his brother and probably wouldn't take well to knowing what they'd been up to.

"Let's do this." She said, and moved back into her cell. Steve locked her in after one last attempt to persuade her to abandon Loki and leave with them. Just before they filed out she caught Tony's arm.

"Why?" She asked. Steve would do it because he thought it was right. Clint would do it because it was her. Why was Tony helping Loki?

"I may not trust him, but I trust you." He said. His honesty surprised her and she released his arm. It must have shown on her face because he flipped the armour's face plate down.

"Thank you." She whispered as he turned to leave. He paused in acknowledgement, then gunned the repulsors and followed Clint and Steve out. She was alone again. Now, however, she had a plan.

The guards came early morning and escorted her out. This time she was placed in handcuffs. They hadn't even searched her. Ridiculous. Handcuffs wouldn't hold any determined lock pick or escape artist. She was experienced at both. (Obviously.) As she left she heard the echo of prisoners talking about the Avengers, claiming that they had been here. The guards laughed in their faces, as she had known that they would. Why would the Avengers break in, only to leave one of their own imprisoned? Besides, the security feed showed nothing. She knew they had Tony to thank for that.

She was ushered into a jeep, and then a blindfold was placed over her face. She slumped, pretended to be defeated. It took 2 hours and 36 minutes for them to arrive at the military base. Good. It mean the others had had ample time to prepare. She memorised the journey through the warren of corridors in the base that they lead her into. Then the blindfold was wrenched off and she was face to face with General Ross.

"Sir." She said, a tear trickling down her face.

"Why am I here?" His eyes flicked to her, then to the men that had brought her here.

"This is the Black Widow?" He said. He sounded bored. The men nodded.

"Alright." He said. Good. Ross had always underestimated women. She'd been counting on it. Nobody in their right mind would believe that she'd been so easy to detain. The sexist pig didn't doubt that she'd been broken by a night in a supermax jail. Moron. She peered up through her lashes to see him grin.

"Wait until his next session of electroshock and drugs then take her in, beat her up. See if that will get his tongue to loosen." That wouldn't do. Now she was here she wasn't waiting around. She faked a sob and used the opportunity to gaze about surreptitiously. Through a half opened door a doctor was reviewing medical charts and staring through a window into a cell. She couldn't see Loki, but she thought she could make his name out on one of the pieces of paper he was holding. It was enough.

"Sorry General, but that will have to be postponed." She said with a smirk. He had turned his back on her but span round at her change in tone. She waved her handcuffs at him from one finger.

"Attack now. That's the signal Tony!" She said and snapped her elbow into the face of the soldier next to her and grabbed his gun. The effect was almost instantaneous. There was a booming noise that caused the floor to shake, and a fearsome roar. Bruce had arrived. She heard Tony muttering on the comms about understanding what 'attack' meant. She took the next two soldiers down with a bullet to their skulls before smashing Ross across the face with the butt of the gun. He didn't deserve a quick death.

"What's it that Tony says? Don't take my stuff." She hit him again and he staggered and clasped his hands to his nose, blood pouring from it. She snapped the handcuffs round one of his wrists and secured it to a table.

"I'll be back for you." She hissed. The sound of action outside drew closer and she smiled ferally. She launched herself through the half open door and took down a medic who was holding a gun in shaking hands, before rounding on the doctor. He was gazing through window that she suspected was one way glass. Past him she could see Loki. He seemed dazed and defeated. No. That was not acceptable.

"He's so beautiful when he screams." The doctor said wistfully. It was all the incentive she needed. She threw a knife into his back and he fell to the ground with a sigh. For good measure she kicked his chest, breaking a few ribs and collapsing a lung. She wrenched the door to Loki's cell open and fell to her knees beside him.

"Loki." She breathed.

The ground shuddered and Loki started awake. An earthquake? He heard screams and the sound of a fight. A trick then. They would make him believe that someone had come to free him, and failed at the last hurdle. He would not fall for it. But perhaps he could use it. His head felt clearer than it had in days. They hadn't administered the drug in over two hours. At first he thought it was a mistake, but now he realised it was part of the ploy. Two gun shots rang out from just behind the door. Did they truly think he would believe this?

The door swung open and Natasha fell to the floor beside him. Oh. Of course. A hallucination. He must have been so out of it that he hadn't noticed when they'd given him the drug. These were the worst dreams to wake up from. She called his name and he stared at her. She was bloodier than he normally dreamed and her eyes were filled with sadness.

"Loki." She said again, and touched his cheek. He flinched away and she pulled her hand back. She stood and looked around and her eyes fell on the machine that would shock him.

"Please no." He begged. He couldn't take it. Not again. Not even in his dreams. "Please I'll be good." She turned back to him, her green eyes almost black, and seemed be holding herself away, almost careful not to touch him. She fished some picks from her suit and freed his hands from their chains. He curled in on himself, gasping at the combination of pain and relief from moving his arms from their fixed position. It's just dream, he thought.

It's just a dream.

Natasha chocked back a sob. Oh Loki. He rocked himself on the floor repeating the four words over and over.

"It's just a dream."

"It's just a dream."

"It's just a dream."

She could cry when this was done, when he was safe, and there was no one around to see her weakness.

On closer inspection Loki was frail and his skin was almost translucent. The cuts on his wrists from the chains were almost bone deep, and when she had touched him it felt like he was burning up from the inside.

"Guys I need a medic, urgently. How's Bruce doing?" She said to the comm. Steve answered.

"The Hulk's pretty out of it, seems like he's staying that way for a while. He really doesn't like General Ross." Damn. She wandered out, one eye on Loki, and inspected their medical charts, repulsed by what she found.

"Okay, then we need Thor down here. Asgard must have medical facilities better suited to him than our own." She didn't want him to go to Asgard. But needs must.

"He's on way once he's sorted out their court. Hopefully won't take too long." Came the reply. Fine.

She drew closer to Loki. He was still curled up, and shaking. She held a glass of water out to him.

"Water?" She offered. He screamed.

"No! No. I won't tell you anything." Ah shit. She was good at her job. Very good. And sometimes her job meant reducing her victims to states such as this.

"I'm real Loki. This is real. You're safe now. You don't have to tell me anything." He didn't move, just lay shuddering on the floor. She tried a different tactic.

"Loki. Drink this right now." She snapped. She watched, amazed, as he pushed himself up onto his knees, hands clasped in his lap. Guilt washed over her but she pushed it away. Plenty of time for that later. She knelt opposite him and held the glass to his lips. She only let him take sips, but eventually he finished the whole glass. He stared at her with wild, terrified eyes.

"There we go." She said gently. It was as if something in him snapped. One moment they were kneeling, then next he was pinning her down, both hands crushing her neck, his eyes flashing. Then he froze and his head flicked to the side, and he held one hand out in front of his face. He stared at it curiously as sparks of magic shot from the ends of his fingers. His wrists started healing before her eyes.

"I can feel my magic." He said in a dead voice. The room noticeably dropped in temperature. This was not good. She shifted slightly, attempting to draw some air into her lungs. His eyes snapped down to her, surprised, as if he had forgotten she was there. His grip on her throat tightened.

"Loki." She gasped, but didn't try to fight him. She could see her breath crystalizing in the air.

"If I can feel my magic, then this must be real." He said wondrously. He still seemed unsure but as she rasped beneath him his eyes hardened. He ran a hand down her, pausing over her heart.

"I can feel your heart beat. I can hear your blood rushing." He murmured. He had never sounded like this before. It scared her. He loosened his grip on her neck and she gulped in air.

"I should break your heart. Tear it out and feed it to the wolves, like you did to mine." He hissed. His fingers dug into her chest, hard enough to leave bruises, before he pulled his hand back.

"I can't. I can't do it." He said with a growl. She thought he wanted to. She almost wanted him to.

"How could you do it?" He cried, and a tear fell down his face. Oh Loki. What had she done?

"I loved you." He said. His eyes met hers and they were filled with anguish. She slowly brought a hand up to touch his face and he watched it near him. He disappeared with a crack when her fingers brushed his skin. She lay there in the rubble as the world fell down around her, and whispered her unspoken words.

"I loved you too."

Fury wasn't particularly happy when he'd discovered what they'd done. At least, that's what he'd told them in between the shouting and swearing. Natasha personally thought he approved, in his own secret way. General Ross had always been a pain in his backside, and they'd removed him from the playing field, locked up in prison with little chance of seeing daylight again.

Loki was nowhere to be seen. Thor had taken the mantle of ruling Asgard with a heavy and resigned heart, but refused to instruct Heimdall to search for him. She didn't blame him.

She was sitting next to Tony on the roof of his newly renovated tower. She refused to call it the 'Avenger's Tower'. What a load of nonsense. She told Fury on her return to the base that she was taking all the paid leave owed to her. It was a lot. He hadn't complained. She wasn't sure if she was going back, but she also wasn't sure where else she had to go. While she was trying to figure that out Tony had offered a room to her. A room turned out to be a floor, and the expectation to socialise with him and Pepper and whoever else turned up, but she was grateful nonetheless.

They were watching the sun rise. She'd dragged him out from an all-nighter in the lab after a particularly nasty nightmare had kept her awake, and JARVIS had informed her that Tony was still up. He'd suggested that they come up here. As golden light flooded the sky it reminded her of that evening on the beach with Loki. Oh Loki. He was the source of her nightmares and intense guilt that almost crippled her. She couldn't rid herself of the sight of his face twisted with hatred, glaring down at her as he threatened to remove her heart. It was almost worse than the look of defeat he wore when he realised that he couldn't do it, no matter how much he might hate her. Then he'd left her, like they always did. First Alexei, then Bruce, now Loki. It was her fault. Always her fault. She was toxic.

She hadn't realised she'd stiffened until Tony bumped his shoulder with hers.

"So, Loki, ey?" He said. She searched his face for a sign that he was mocking her, but only found curiosity, and some sadness. In the last two weeks she'd seen a new side to him. He hadn't pushed like she'd expected him to, and like she knew he wanted to. She'd found that they shared a wicked sense of humour, and they both had a fiercely protective streak when it came to those that they cared about.

"I don't know how it happened." She admitted. It was easy to talk to him, easier than she had expected. "One day I woke up next to him and realised I didn't want to leave." She whispered. He nodded.

"I was like that when it came to Pepper. Not that I'm comparing them, shit, I mean, I was this person whose idea of a stable relationship was sleeping with someone more than once, then along came Pep and I didn't care about the sex, I just needed her in my life. It felt so strange, but also it felt right." She smiled wryly. He knew that she appreciated his honesty.

"Pepper will kill you if she heard you compare her to Loki." He grimaced.

"Yeah, Jarv, delete that from your memory okay?"

"Delete what from my memory, sir?" They both laughed and it was easy. Easy to know what she needed to do. She liked to laugh. She thought of all the times she and Loki had giggled at something stupid, how he made her smile even when she was determined not to. The sun was bright in the sky now, bathing them it its warm heat.

"I've got to find him." She said.

"Okay. I'll help you." Tony said.

She stared out at the horizon as she thought about all the places Loki could be, how his illusions meant he could hide from even the most piercing gaze. It didn't matter. She was going to find him, and that was all that mattered.

She was going to make it right.