The Tail of The Dragon is a sequel to The Q Word, already published. You can read this separately, but I will reference Q in Dragon. Of course, I do not own the characters - I'm just putting them all together in a dark closet to see what will happen.

As always, thanks to my readers and reviewers. Writing is glorious, but feedback is divine.


1. Lovebite


Firing range.

Gym.

Vodka.

Solitude.

Shuffle, repeat. It was Natasha's life, the one she had chosen. Each day she bugged Fury to send her on a case, any mission at all. Nothing would be too small, she insisted.

"Our case load is pretty light, to be honest," he said, "thanks to the Clerkenwell takedown, as well as the Nigerian sex ring and Midwest drugs busts…"

Natasha spun on her heel and left the office. She knew exactly why those cases were closed, and the reason was being held in a deep dungeon in Asgard - or so she assumed. It was the same reason she practiced in the firing range until her arms shook from weariness, the same reason she downed drink after drink alone in her room or at a local bar at night.

Her reflection stared back at her from the window in the door to Fury's office as soon as it closed on her. She had given up looking for anything more in mirrors and reflecting glass – now, like always, the only she saw was her own face, pale and solemn.

She went to the gym, pulled off her jacket, and slung it in a corner. Not bothering to change the rest of her clothes, she stretched before starting a series of drunken boxing moves ending in a series of whirling leaps designed to take down a group coming at her from behind.

The exercise pounded her body, and grimly she repeated the familiar routines over and over again. When she was out of breath, it still wasn't enough; she moved to the bags, to the treadmill, to the track around the gym to bring herself to the point of exhaustion.

As she ran, she tried to drive a succession of images out of her mind: green eyes, looking down at her tenderly. An intelligent mouth, laughing at something she just said. Dark hair, spilling over white shoulders. Even teeth, bared as they bit into her neck. On the treadmill she ran faster and faster, but she couldn't decide whether she was chasing or escaping those memories.

When at last her legs trembled from the long workout, she picked up her jacket and headed back to her room. There she took a long shower, put on pajamas, and ate half a leftover burrito from her fridge while she checked her messages.

Nothing in her inbox that was out of the ordinary. She knew it would be the case, so why did she feel disappointment hit her like a left hook to the gut?

As soon as she started in on the vodka, she knew the evening would be over. The trick was to drink quickly so she didn't have time to catch a buzz and become sentimental. Instead, her routine was to chug as much as she could at one time; once reality blurred she had a chance of falling asleep.

First, however, she had to check in on the Petrovitch Foundation. It was founded by the very being she was working so hard to forget, as a good-bye gift when Loki was forced to return to Asgard. Natasha was trying to ramp up the staff so the group could continue its expansion into several other countries; her goal was to block sex slavery from both ends of its ugly pipeline, cutting off the money lifeline for the groups who thrived on it.

Her search for a good manager to run the group had gone nowhere; the latest candidate had been won to an oil tanker business with more money. She cursed him and the company, sighed, and sent orders to continue the search. Without a CEO the group would fall apart like a slowing solar system; the components would go wheeling off into space. The very thought was unacceptable.

That done, Natasha went to the freezer and removed the vodka. She sat on the couch, surfing the web while she drank steadily straight from the neck of the bottle. It wasn't elegant, but it got the job done.


An hour later, she fell into bed. Her gun went under the pillow, the phone glowed on the table by her bed. She had dulled her senses enough to fall straight into a stupor, a velvet darkness tinged with flashes of green light.

"Darling," someone breathed in her ear, "you simply cannot go on like this."

Natasha felt her body twitch, shift in the sheets, but she was too deeply asleep to wake up. "'M fine," she mumbled, before a pair of cool lips descended onto hers, and a delicious tongue surged into her mouth.

She moaned and held out a hand, drew Loki closer. In her fevered dream, their bodies clung together, rolled onto the floor, legs tangled together. "You cannot escape me," he said in an intense whisper. "You are mine. Now that we are lovers, you truly are mine. I will never let you go, do you mark me? No matter what happens to either of us, your fate and mine are entangled. And nothing – nothing will change the fact that we are meant to be thus."

Her brow furrowed and she meant to argue that she was her own person and belonged to no one, but Loki's lips claimed hers again. Her thighs loosened, his hips rolled down to meet hers. The dizzying length of him plunged inside her, and she thought of nothing else.


A steady beeping woke her. Natasha groaned, sat up, and looked at her phone. At least she had slept all night, a dark slumber without any dreams she could remember.

The small screen showed she had an appointment. It would be a chance to get the hell out of Stark Towers and breathe some air that wasn't recycled in an H vac unit.

She opened up the calendar app and cursed softly in Russian. Her date was with Dr. Jane Foster, and panic jittered through her stomach. Why had she contacted the scientist in the first place? At the time it had seemed like a good idea to talk to the one person who was in the same position she was. But now she wondered what the hell she was going to say. "Help, I've got boyfriend problems, and since we're both dating demigods from a different dimension, I thought you could, like, relate and give me some pointers?"

Ugh. Natasha made a face and immediately decided to cancel. If she phoned straight away it wouldn't be too rude.

She placed the call but got a polite recording stating Dr. Foster was unavailable. There was no option for leaving a message. With a long sigh, Natasha climbed out of bed and resigned herself to going through with it.

In the bathroom as she waited for the shower to warm up, one look in the mirror told her she needed some emergency repair. Her skin was paler than usual, and her hair had grown quickly to fall below her shoulders. She gathered it up in one hand and frowned as she leaned closer to the mirror.

There was a small red oval on her neck. If it weren't impossible, she would call it a lovebite.

Natasha snorted. Probably scratched myself during a workout, she thought. She climbed into the shower and let the hot water sluice away her worries.

As she washed, dried off, and got dressed, she felt the familiar burn of her muscles, hurting from the intense workouts she pushed on herself. There was another ache, though, a familiar pain she thought she wouldn't feel again for a long while. I feel like I spent the night with… She didn't want to admit it to herself.

She grabbed her guns, some money, and her phone. In the elevator down, she checked her text messages: Fury still had nothing for her. Clint was looking forward to having dinner the following week. A quick note from Jane Foster, acknowledging their appointment.

There was also a text from Anzhela, her only living relative. Hey, Aunt Natasha – just wanted to say hello and send hugs.

Her finger hovered over the screen. At last she typed Hello. Natasha had no idea what else to write, so finally she hit send.

By this time she was out of the Tower, on the street. She trolled the streets, searching for caffeine and calories. After that, the job was to kill the hours until she could meet with Jane.


As the shadows streaked across the streets, she ran into the tiny park, breathless and late. Her intention had been to buy some clothes, maybe a pair of shoes, but as usual she ended up with a new weapon instead.

She caught sight of Jane Foster at once. The woman sat on a bench, intent on a notebook in her hand. Natasha, who had fired a gun at an Elder god and faced down entire lines of assassins, hesitated and felt her palms grow damp at the sight.

Just as she was about to escape and send an apologetic text, Jane looked up and smiled. "Are you Natasha?" she asked in a pleasant, low voice.

"Yes." Natasha stood in front of her, still nonplused. "Sorry to keep you waiting; I saw something in a store I just had to buy."

Jane's eyes crinkled. "Were you late? I didn't even notice; once I got going on a string worldsheet theory I lost track of time."

She indicated the bench, and slowly Natasha sat down, trying to imagine what on earth they could have a conversation about. "String worldsheet?"

"Yes. It could explain some anomalies I have had under observation."

"Are you working for SHIELD now?"

Jane flicked her a cautious glance. "Are you?"

Natasha nodded. "I just thought we could talk more easily if we both knew we are on the same team."

Again the smile, followed by an easy laugh. "Absolutely." She eyed Natasha for a moment. "Forgive my saying so, but you seem a bit tense. Is there any chance I could talk you into a glass of wine somewhere?"

Natasha felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. "Now you're speaking my language."


She took Jane to the local bar she frequented. It was nothing fancy, she told the scientist, but the alcohol was cold and the atmosphere very private.

In the dim interior, Natasha secured a couple of drinks and a booth. With a martini in her hand, she felt able to stick out the interview.

Jane took a sip of white wine and leaned back, her hand curled around the stem of the glass. Her hair was impossibly glossy; her skin glowed with health. "Now, I'm curious. Why did you contact me?"

Natasha hesitated. Quickly she chugged down her martini and held out her hand to a passing waiter for another.

"Goodness!" Jane's eyes spread wide. "Wow, you were thirsty. I won't have to hold your hair later, will I?"

"Since you're part of SHIELD, you probably know about my past – my upbringing and subsequent genetic engineering. Alcohol doesn't work on me the same way it does on you."

Jane nodded. "Sometimes science sucks," she commented softly. "Just don't expect me to keep up with you as far as drinks go."

The new martini arrived. Cocktail in hand, Natasha felt a bit more courageous. "I have to ask you something a bit irregular," she started. Jane's eyebrows shot up, and Natasha hurried on, "I – that is – my life became a bit complicated lately. A month ago, I knew what I was doing. I lived alone, took on any case Fury gave me. And I was good at it. But lately the work has died down, and I guess the lack of it makes me notice an emptiness."

"Emptiness." The scientist took a long gulp of wine. "Yes, I can understand that."

Natasha willed herself not to be on the job, not to force a confession. "The thing is, there is a reason for it. I suppose I became compromised – I compromised myself, really."

"How so? If you don't mind my asking."

With a long sigh, Natasha let go of her final restraints. "I became involved with someone. Except it was someone from another world – another realm."

Jane sat back so suddenly she nearly spilled her wine. "What – who? What?"

"I can't believe I'm telling you this. It all seems so silly… we're two strong women, you and I, and yet…"

"Wait." Jane sat forward and touched Natasha's wrist. "You become involved with someone from Asgard? Is that what you mean?"

"Well, yes."

"Who exactly?" Natasha opened her mouth, but Jane kept talking. "Did – did you and Thor…"

"Oh!" An unwilling guffaw came out of Nat's mouth. "No, not at all."

"Okay." Jane sat back and swallowed more wine. "So, then …" Her eyes narrowed and she looked closely at Natasha. "Wait a minute. Don't tell me it was his brother. That Loki guy. Isn't he a douchebag? Like, a major douche?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Natasha tossed down the rest of her martini and gestured to the waiter. "Just keep them coming," she ordered.

"Yeah, more wine wouldn't hurt either," Jane added.

"And fries!" Natasha called after him. "Bring lots of those."

"Fries would be good." Jane looked at Nat and giggled. "Can you believe I hooked up with a guy called Thor? Hellooooo – I feel like I'm in the WWE."

"Yeah, well try 'Loki'. It's as though I'm quoting the Norse Edda when I talk to him. Not to mention the armor. And the helmet!" Natasha rolled her eyes. "Still, at least your dude is out and about, not chucked into a dungeon somewhere. Dating an incarcerated villain was never very high on my bucket list."

Jane's giggle blossomed into a full laugh, straight from her belly, before she grew serious again. "Actually, I haven't seen Thor lately. We had a long argument and I told him to get out of my life." She snorted. "Thought he could just sweep me up in his arms, rush me to some palace in the clouds, and we'd be married. I could just forget all my work, settle down and have Aesir babies! I don't think so!" Eyeing Natasha, she took another drink. "Did Loki propose to you yet?"

"God, no! Nothing like that."

"He will. Just wait." Jane finished her wine, accepted a new glass from the waiter gratefully. "They're very intense, those two," she added.

"Yeah, intense is definitely the perfect word."

"You know, I'm really glad you contacted me!" Jane picked up a French fry, bit into it, and beamed at Natasha. "I was intimidated at first, I must admit, but it's great to be able to talk about this stuff openly at last."

Natasha shoveled in some fries and nearly fainted at the taste of food that was salty, greasy, and not cold from the back of her fridge. "Me too. I don't know if we can resolve anything, though."

"Probably not. But I must say it helps to have a few drinks and laughs with someone who gets it." She ate a few more fries, waggled her eyebrows, and nudged Natasha's elbow. "Sooooo, is Loki a good kisser?"

Natasha mimed fainting in her chair. "Ohmigod," she moaned. "And Thor?"

"Ohmigod. Guess being alive for a millennium gives you lots of practice, huh?"

"Loki's probably tonguing out some goddess right now," Natasha added with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Jane shook her head, and her mouth grew firm with conviction. "Nope. There's no way. Once those guys latch on, there's no escape. Girlfriend, you're toast."