Description: Caroline Woods is a Ph.D. student in Colombia University's Department of Germanic Languages. When she hits a road block with her dissertation research, her well connected advisor secures her an interview with SHIELD's most dangerous captive. Whether or not Loki will speak to her during their interviews becomes the least of Caroline's problems, however, when an otherworldly force breaks into SHIELD's secure detainment center. Loki's body may be missing, but his voice is now in her head.

It's a race against time to put his mind back in his body, and as their thoughts and memories begin to blur Caroline realizes they'll need all the help they can get.

A/N: This is set post-Avengers, but before Thor 2 (or possibly in place of). I've also not seen Captain America 2 yet (though I've figured some things out from tumblr), so for all intents and purposes, SHIELD is a fully functional, legitimate agency.

Comments, Questions, or Constructive Criticisms? Please feel free to message me!


Chapter One: Deal With the Devil

Present Day

Caroline frantically dashed around her small apartment, stuffing things into a leather satchel. Cursing, she flipped through a stack of books, notebooks, and loose papers precariously stacked on her desk, eventually finding a black folder. She threw that in the satchel too, and, grabbing her keys from off the arm of the sofa, flew out the door.

"fuck!" she cursed, pulling the hood of her raincoat up under the sudden downpour of rain she'd stepped into.

Caroline sprinted towards the subway stop around the corner of her apartment building, taking in the unique smell of the city in the rain as she did so. After scanning her metrocard at the gate, she anxiously checked the time on her phone as she boarded the southbound train. Of all the damn days to be running late! she mentally scolded. Taking her seat, and having nothing better to do, she rummaged around in her bag making sure she actually grabbed everything she needed—not that she had the luxury of going back to retrieve something in the event she had forgotten anything. Still, she need to do something to quell her nerves; today was going to be one of the most important meetings of her life.

Pulling out her tablet, she flicked through documents until she found one entitled "dissertation notes: interview" and started going over the questions she had written, tablet stylus balanced between her teeth.


Two Weeks Earlier

"I dunno Dr. Hill, I feel like I've hit a roadblock. There's not enough variation in the syntax and vocabulary of the sources for a serious argument," Caroline sighed, throwing her arms up in the air. "I have miles of spreadsheets comparing it—concordats stacked all over my apartment. I've totally screwed myself over. My whole argument hinges on variation in the Ragnarok mythos."

Dr. Hill was head of the Swedish Language program in Columbia University's Department of Germanic Languages, and Caroline's dissertation advisor. A middle-aged woman with silver hair and delicate features, Dr. Hill had made her mark on academia twenty years ago by proposing a new argument for the importance of blood-oath and blood-rite in the ancient Norse religion. Her office was packed to the gills with books, and the smallish window looked out over the narrow park that ran between the edge of Manhattan and the Hudson River.

"Too bad I can't just sacrifice a freshman for an interview with Odin," Caroline joked; but really, some of the freshman in the early civilization course she for were prime candidates for human sacrifice. Snotty little devils.

Dr. Hill gave her a look somewhere between amusement and disapproval. "You could change your focus slightly, instead of looking solely on apocalyptic literature, widen your sights to any battle sequences found in the sources. It would put you back at least a year, though."

Caroline slumped down further in her chair. Ph.D. programs could take anywhere from five to ten years and she was desperately trying to keep her own track within the seven year mark. When drafting her prospectus, she had been so sure the National Library of Sweden would have the right documents for her—manuscripts that hadn't been translated or published yet that would unlock the key to her research. Unfortunately, two trips to Sweden and an empty bank account later, Caroline realized she had been sorely mistaken.

Dr. Hill leaned forward, hand's folded in front of her. "Don't panic, Caroline. Listen, I've done some consulting work for this agency, mainly translation stuff. I'll call my contacts and see what they can do."

Caroline knit her brows in confusion. "No offense, Dr. Hill, but how is that going to help me? Are they sitting on a stash of ancient Norse manuscripts or something?"

"Something like that. Or at least, that's what I hear."


Present Day

The subway train lurched to a stop, and Caroline pushed her way through the crowd of people to the surface. Midtown was abuzz with activity, even considering the present weather. Though the tourist beacon of light that was Time Square was only a few block away, boring grey office buildings lined the streets around her. Double checking the address displayed on her phone, Caroline made a b-line for the nondescript building on the corner of the street.

The lobby space was minimalist in design, with large airy windows and sleek white furniture. She approached the security desk, next to which was a metal detector and bag scanner. Caroline felt like she was at an airport.

"Name and purpose?" the bored sounding security officer asked, not looking up from her computer screen.

Caroline handed over her passport, opened to the page with her information.

"Caroline Elizabeth Woods. I have an interview with…let me see," she quickly rifled through her bag, looking for the note Dr. Hill had sent her with the contact information. "a Mr. Coulson. Um, Phil Coulson."

The security officer stopped her typing and looked up at Caroline, surprise on her face. "If you want to take a seat over their ma'am," she said, indicating a cluster of white couches and chairs, and handed the passport back.

Caroline nodded, and made her way over. She hopped Mr. Coulson hadn't decided to cancel their interview, given that she was late. Nervously, she sat and fiddled with a damp lock of dark hair.


One Week Earlier

Caroline was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her kitchen-living room, various stacks of papers spread out around her. Next to her knee was a half-eaten carton of Oreos and a glass of milk. She was typing furiously away at her tablet keyboard when the knock at the door came. Disembarking from her fortress of journal articles, manuscript transcriptions, and notes, Caroline checked the peephole on her door before unlocking the deadbolt and opening it.

"Are you Ms. Woods?" The mail courier asked.

She nodded, and signed the slip he handed her. "A little late for deliveries, isn't it?"

"Rush delivery, ma'am," the man said, before handing her a white sealed envelope with a stylized eagle stamped on the front in black ink. "Have a goodnight!"

"You too," Caroline called absently, as she studied the package in her hand.

Closing the door, she tore open the envelope on her way to the kitchen table, her research momentarily forgotten. She took out the contents of the package one at a time and laid them on the table. There was a handwritten note which she recognized was from Dr. Hill. A slick black folder about an inch thick, about half a dozen confidentiality agreements, and another note, this one typed on white stationary with the same eagle insignia stamped in the corner and signed "N.F.". Caroline started with the note from Dr. Hill.

"Caroline,

I spoke with some associates and got you an interview with Phil Coulson of SHIELD at 3pm on Tuesday next. These are the people who have connections to the individual the media are referring to as 'Thor'. I hope this helps.

-Dr. Hill"

Caroline raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Though she had been in Stockholm when the city was attacked a year ago, she was very familiar with the Avengers, especially the one calling himself Thor. It was nearly impossible not to be, considering she and half of her colleagues worked on some aspect of Norse mythology or another. A rush of excitement ran through her. Thor. Did her advisor get her an honest to god meeting with Thor? That would be amazing for her research. Surely no other scholar would have had the opportunity. She knew most of the department faculty didn't believe the red-cape wearing superhero really was the ancient Norse god of thunder, not publicly at least, but it seemed the students were more open to the idea. The students and, apparently, Dr. Hill—she wouldn't get Caroline this interview if she didn't think the information would be usable. Still, she'd have to treat any information gleaned from the interview carefully, but it would still be more than worth it.

Caroline turned her attention to the other letter, her hand still trembling with excitement.

"Ms. Woods;

This letter is to provide you with the necessary information for your interviews. As Dr. Hill is greatly respected in this establishment, we are willing to grant you five sessions, each an hour in length, with the prisoner. Come to the address listed below half an hour before your appointment. Bring your passport and the contents of this envelope.

-N.F.

P.S: You may ask as many questions of him as you'd like, but I can't guarantee he'll answer you. Good luck."

Caroline frowned.

"Prisoner? What the hell does that mean?" She asked out loud to the mostly empty apartment.

An inquisitive meow answered her back as she felt soft fur brush up against her leg. Caroline reached down and scratched her black kitty's ears.

"Yeah, I dunno either, buddy."

She shifted her attention to the black folder. Paper-clipped to the inner corner was a black and white picture of a glowering dark-haired man. Just looking at his sharp face made Caroline nervous. That certainly wasn't Thor. Opposite was a thick personnel file, much of the contents obscured by black marker. Picking up Captain Mittens and settling him on her lap, she began to read out loud.

"Loki Laufeyson, alias Odinson, alias Silvertongue, alias Lie-Smith, alias God of Mischief and Lies, alias the Trickster. Damn, Mittens, what have we gotten ourselves into?" she asked, petting the top of his head.

Mittens flicked his tongue over his nose and blinked at her.

Caroline closed the file and set it back down on the table for the moment. She knew enough about Loki from mythology. Out of all the gods in the Norse pantheon, Loki was probably the best she could hope for in terms of insights to the Ragnarok; he was meant to start it, after all. But the thought of being in the same room as him made her stomach tie itself in knots. He had tried to take over the world, for god's sake. She wondered how much she would be able to trust his account, given his reputation for trickery and lies.

A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. This all sounded completely insane—her advisor had set up an interview for her with the Norse god of mischief, through some shady government agency. This was not happening. Still, she had reconciled her disbelief in Norse gods when she had seen Thor whooshing over the New York City skyline a year ago. She just never thought she'd have the opportunity to meet one.

Shaking her head, Caroline turned her attention to the confidentiality agreements. Scanning through them, it seemed about half were concerned with what she might see inside the facility where the interview would take place, and the other half were over how she could use the answers she received. Annoyance flicked through her when she saw her finished dissertation was to be subject to SHIELD's approval. She hoped they didn't seriously think they could make her change what she wrote—a dissertation took years of careful research, writing, and editing. There was no way a bunch of government bureaucrats could have the understanding to censor her nuanced arguments.

But the only way you'll get your dissertation written is to sign these forms, she reasoned with herself. It was true; better to make a deal with the devil she knew, and all that.


Present Day

"Ms. Woods?"

Caroline snapped out of her daze and hurried to her feet at the security guard's call. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Place your personal belongings on the conveyor belt and step through the metal detector. Someone will be here in minute to escort you."

Caroline nodded and did as she was told, though she couldn't stop the slight trepidation from coiling in her stomach at the thought of letting someone rifle through her satchel. After walking through the metal detector, she stood awkwardly to the side as another guard flipped through her bag. He took her tablet out and turned it on, flicking through the screens one by one. Next he examined her phone in the same way, jingled the keys on her keychain, and thumbed through the billfold of her wallet. Caroline's stomach clenched when he reached the black folder with Loki's file in it. She was sure one of the confidentiality wavers had specifically said not to show or relinquish it to anyone. She bit her lip, unsure if she should, or rather, could say anything. She was spared the decision when a middle-aged man in a sharp suit and glasses put his hand on the guard's wrist.

"I'll take it from here, Ricky. If you could please give Ms. Woods her things back?" He turned to Caroline and held out his hand, "Caroline Woods? I'm Phil Coulson, pleasure to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she said, shaking his hand before grabbing her bag back.

"Walk with me," Coulson said, taking off down the hallway.

Caroline dutifully followed him to a bank of elevators, where he slid an ID card into a scanner on the wall and punched the down button. The silver doors dinged open, and Coulson motioned for her to step in. Once they were inside, he pressed his thumb against a blue touch screen, and then keyed in something on the pad. The elevator whooshed down.

"I just want to say, I really appreciate…all of this." Caroline said, trying to fill the silence.

"Not at all. Dr. Hill was an invaluable help to us, a while back." He paused, and pulled something out of his breast pocket. "You have four more interviews after today, so you'll need this to get through the front door. My assistant will be waiting at the elevators for you next time, to escort you down."

He handed Caroline a thin plastic card, with what looked like her university ID photo on it. Underneath, was the stylize SHIELD eagle and the words "special privileges" in big red letters. Her rounded face and honey colored eyes smiled back at her, and she wondered how on earth they had access to her school file.

"Thanks," she murmured, putting the badge into her wallet. "Oh, I've got the confidentiality wavers for you, somewhere…ha!"

She pulled a stack of papers out from her bag and handed them to him. Coulson flicked through the bottom of each page, checking for her signature. "Thank you."

The elevator doors suddenly slid open revealing a long white hallway. Coulson motioned for her to follow as he set off to the left. They passed through a series of doors for which he had to scan various parts of his body to unlock. Finally, they reached a small white room with two doors. Another guard, this time in a black jumpsuit, approached.

"Unfortunately, we're going to have to search you and your belongings again. You read over the list of items allowed in the interview space, correct?" Coulson asked.

Caroline nodded, as she surrendered her bag and held out her arms for a pat down. Though it was mildly embarrassing, she focused on the fact that on the other side of those doors waited a person who could answer all her questions. Once they were done with inspections, Coulson handed her the bag back.

"Remember, you can record sounds, but no videos."

She nodded again and waited for the far door to be unlocked. Once it was, she took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold.

The room itself was white, like everything else, apparently, in the building. A glass wall intersected the middle of the room, separating the guard sitting at the corner desk, from what appeared to be a one roomed apartment of sorts. There was a small desk and chair set up in the middle of the room for her, to which she quickly moved to and set her bag down before draping her raincoat over the back of the chair. All the while, she kept her eyes trained on the room beyond the glass. There was a bed with a rumpled green quilt pressed into the far corner, a small bookshelf serving as a nightstand. A desk, table, and chair populated the front two corners, and the back right was screened off, probably a bathroom of sorts. In the center of the room, his back turned to her, stood a man.

Raven black hair tumbled down past his board shoulders, and his pale forearms seemed carved from marble as he held his hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be a green long-sleeved tee-shirt with the sleeves haphazardly pushed up past his elbows and black cotton trousers. His feet were bare. Though his clothes were somewhat baggy, she could tell his muscles were tensed throughout his long body.

Caroline glanced at the guard, whose face remained impassive. Tentatively, she sat down and pulled out her tablet and keyboard. Once she had her things in order, she glanced at the small microphone on her desk and flicked it on.

"Good Afternoon, my name is Caroline Woods. I'm a Ph.D. candidate at Columbia University's Department of Germanic Languages and I'd like to ask you a few questions," she could hear her muffled voice reverberating beyond the glass, but the man didn't turn around. "A large part of my dissertation concerns variations in the Ragnarok mythos. Are you familiar with the Ragnarok prophesy?"

Silence met her question, and after it was apparent he wasn't going to answer, Caroline tried again. "Are you familiar with any apocalyptic prophesies from your world?"

More silence.

"Could you please tell me the name of the place you come from, and where it is in relation to the Earth?"

After a long pause, she tentatively ventured: "Mr. Laufeyson?"

If at all possible, his body became even more rigid at her words. Slowly, like a predator who knew his pray was cornered, he turned around. Despite the fact that she had seen pictures, Caroline was taken aback at how handsome he was. High cheekbones framed his angular face and his red lips were twisted in something between a snarl and a smirk. She tried not to look at his eyes as some deeply buried primal instinct was screaming at her not to look—he would eat her all up like the big bad wolf of her childhood nightmares if she did. Still, her gaze was drawn upward, despite her screaming instincts. Emerald eyes, framed by a thick curtain of black lashes met her own honey colored gaze, before he let them trail over her, sizing her up, deciding which part would be the juiciest to eat first.

With movements faster than she could see, he was suddenly at the forefront of his room, fist slammed against the glass. "Do NOT call me that."

She jumped, her back slamming against the back of her chair as adrenaline coursed through her body. Her hands gripped the sides of the desk in a deathlike vise. The guard behind her was on his feet in an instant, some sort of weapon drawn. Caroline's eyes widened, and it took her a moment to realize Loki had yelled at her in Old Norse.

"Step away from the glass!" The guard ordered.

Loki held his hands up before him, and took a step back, his eyes still trained on the woman in front of him.

She held out her hand to the guard hoping to defuse the situation, "it's okay. I'm okay. Please."

"Are you sure, miss?" the guard sounded skeptical.

Taking a deep breath, she swiveled around in her seat and smiled, "Promise. I've lived in some pretty rough neighborhoods. At little yelling isn't going to scare me."

He gave her a hard look before sitting back at his desk in the corner. Caroline turned back around.

"What should I call you?" She asked in Old Norse, making sure to use the formal, polite version of "you".

Loki raised a charcoal eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, his lips relaxing into a smirk.

"You lied to him," he countered, still speaking the ancient dialect.

This was good; he was actually speaking to her, though not necessarily responding to her questions. Caroline decided to press her advantage.

"Are you aware of the Ragnarok prophesy?" She asked, returning to her first question.

"I can taste them, lies that is. Yours taste like…"Loki, closing his eyes, tilted his head up, his tongue flicking out between his lips for the briefest of moments. "Honeyed apricots."

Jesus H. Christ, she thought. Why did that sounds so...unseemly? This guy certainly knew how to distract people. Caroline cleared her throat and flicked her stylus on the screen to scroll down. Professionalism was important; not letting him know his words bothered her was even more important.

"Have you ever encountered an individual named Hodor?" she asked, deciding to take a new direction on the questioning.

He was pacing back and forth now, taking decidedly exaggerated turns when he reached a wall, his hand still clasped behind his back. If she didn't know better, Caroline would say he was having fun. Like a cat playing with a mouse before he ate it.

But she supposed that made sense, to a degree; it wasn't like he got many of visitors. He stopped again, when he reached the middle and eyed her up again.

"You, little apricot, can call me Loki," he gave an exaggerated bow, even clicking his heels together.

Caroline blinked. Did he really just call me apricot? She ran through all his words, trying to find alternate translations, but failing. Determined not to be unnerved by him, she returned to her mission.

"Have you ever met Hodor?" She asked again.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. "What the fuck is a Hodor?"

Behind her she heard the crackle of the guard's walkie-talkie. "Alright, Miss, time's up for this week."

Caroline stared at Loki for a moment longer, trying to read his demeanor. One moment it was menacing, the next, playful. She couldn't figure out what was going on in his mind, and it bothered her.

"Miss Woods?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you," she murmured, standing and putting her things back in her bag.

She made her way to the door, feeling awkward and uncoordinated under Loki's stare. The metal barrier slid open, but before Caroline when through, she turned around and nodded to the man behind the glass wall.

"Thank you."

He didn't respond, though his eyes followed her out the door and into the room beyond, before she disappeared as the metal barrier slid back in place.

As she sat on the subway on her way home, Caroline realized her hands were shaking. Holy shit. I've just met a Norse God. I've just met Loki. Not that anyone would believe her; not that she could tell anyone. She took a deep breath. Suddenly her obscure life and taken a turn for the surreal.