The Norse were right in saying Hell is cold, because that was what the bottom of the crevice was- Hell. Somehow, Natasha had survived the fall to the bottom of the South Pole; the gravel under her feet was proof of that. For thousands of years nothing living had set foot down here, but now here she was, miles under the ice and snow in perpetual darkness. Where no human had ever stepped.

The only thing lighting the way was the flashlight on her gun, but even that was turned down. She was afraid that if she let the battery burn out, she would die in the dark; an old fear of hers.

Natasha had woken up less than an hour ago at the bottom of a natural ice-slide- one that led up further than the eye could see. Somehow, she had survived the fall, missing the car sized chunks of ice that littered the floor of the cavern; hard as steel, they would have turned her body into a smear. A thought that sent a shiver up her back and several minutes of silent prayer to whatever higher being kept her alive. She had not only survived the fall, but also managed to keep all of her equipment with her.

Natasha wasn't oblivious to the fact that the fall had probably saved her life. If she had stayed up top, she would be dead by now; frozen along with any survivors of the crash. But down under the ice, beneath thousands of feet of insulation, the temperature was a bearable negative forty degrees Celsius. So, being unable to see the top of the ice, she started to walk.

Miles passed by without her noticing any changes besides in the walls. Walls that had started out stretching far above her head had turned into tunnels barely six feet high. The tunnel walls were perfectly circular and seemed to go as straight as an arrow with no hint of changing direction. From where she had dropped down into this underground passage, the natural pressure of thousands of tons of ice had shorn the frozen water and, taking the path of least resistance, had broken through the top of the tunnel and onto the bedrock floor.

They were not natural.

Whatever had caused the storm up above could have made these tunnels to travel, but she had yet to find anything that proved this. However, that didn't stop her from glancing over her shoulder every few minutes. The spy just couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her, and if there was one thing she had learned in her time with SHIELD, it was that you should always trust your instincts.

But at one point, her concentration wavered and she found herself lost in her thought, how would she make it out of this? Even if these tunnels lead anywhere, did she really want to find out where? "Dammit!" She practically hissed out, "Why am I the one who always ends up in these kinds of messes? You never see Clint strapped to a chair while fifty-year-old perverted politicians stand over him with baby oil." She couldn't help but shudder at the, what she thought was repressed, memory. She was just glad the parking garage collapsed, ending up killing the man, or she would have. Lost in the less than pleasant memory, she continued on through the tunnels, barely noticing in her irritated mood that the tunnel was starting to bend up ahead. What Natasha failed to notice though, was the shadow of a black hound that filled up the tunnel behind. Somehow the goliath of a dog snuck up on her without her noticing. It wasn't until it was almost too late that the spy threw a quick glance over her shoulder and spotted the threat.

With a snarl the dog lunged forward, but in its haste its back paws slipped on the smooth ice, making it lose much of its power, so instead of landing behind Natasha as it meant to, and ripping her into pieces with its powerful jaws, it landed ten feet away, stumbling to regain its footing.

This mistake gave the agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. time to twist fully around, aim, and fire. All three bullets that barked out of the barrel of her gun passed clean through the monster's head in rapid succession, and for a second Natasha was proud of herself. It wasn't every day that she could fire with that speed while in the position she was in. But her brief moment of celebration was ruined as she realized that the bullets didn't seem to harm the monster in the least. The black hound just kept moving, even with several ounces of hot lead having just passed through its brain. So the battle hardened woman did the only thing she could do… she ran.

The crampons that were strapped to her feet gave her more traction than her opponent, the metal spikes tore into the ice, giving the agent the upper hand over the stumbling dog, but the creature soon caught up with her. Moving down the small tunnel with no were to run but forward, Natasha could do nothing as the heavy paw crashed into her side.

Anyone who has ever broken a bone knows that they broke it; flying through the air, she felt most of her ribs crack and shift dangerously as she was thrown out of a tunnel. She was lucky the dog hadn't hit her spine instead, or she would have been crippled.

It was only after she came to a rolling stop in a bank of snow, that the spy realized that she had been thrown into a huge chamber, filled with icy pillars and illuminated with a soft blue glow of light behind the ice.

It was probably one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen, but her battle hardened mind was not distracted from what was important

With a painful grunt, Natasha rolled over, against the odds her gun was still in her hand. As soon as the dog ran out of the tunnel she had been sent flying out of, bullets ripped their way into the ice at the feet of her assailant. For some reason, her bullets couldn't hurt his thing, but judging from its pained yelps, ice could. Ice splintered into its unprotected face.

Even with the cold splinters, it still kept coming, and Natasha's gun fell silent as she shot the last bullet.

For what felt like forever, she just stared at the black piece of metal and plastic in her hands, the one thing she always counted on had finally failed her. The gun wasn't out of bullets, she could tell that much at least. No, it had just stopped working, leaving her laying without any hope.

So she closed her eyes and laid there, waiting to die. But it never happened. Before the dog could kill her, an old man stepped in front of the charging monster and pointed what, she would later come to call a giant fork, at her adversary.

The pitchfork let out three beams of light that covered the distance to the hound in the blink of an eye, reducing it to a pile of ashes. If the man's sudden appearance was surprising, it was soon overshadowed by the ease at which he killed the hound. Turning to the injured girl, the man found his vision blocked by the barrel of an overly large gun. One that they both realized was broken.

NATASHA POV

I got my first real look at the face of my rescuer, and was surprised to see how old he looked. The man's face was covered with graying hair that once could have been black, coming down into a long unkempt beard, but had now turned into a dull gray that matched his lifeless eyes. Eyes that spoke of a hard life that had broken him.

With a small smile that revealed deep cut laugh lines, the man turned and walked away without saying a word. I just stood for a moment, before running after the old man, keeping my gun trained on him as I tried to keep up the façade of it still working...

He was no human, not considering the way he vaporized the dog.

He could be another Asgardian, or maybe some other alien. Whatever he was, he was the first sign of life I had found besides the dog since the crash, and judging by his actions he wasn't any threat to me, at least not yet.

At one point I lost the old man, him having passed around a corner and through an archway in one of the ice walls.

Going through the thick ice wall, I exited out into what could only be a man made room, and I could only stand in awe. I had passed through a small opening in the ice, something that was more of a crack and could have been missed by anyone who didn't know it was there, and now in front of me was the most amazing room I had ever seen, the icy walls were shaped like Greek columns spaced out evenly along the perimeter of the room, and the domed ceiling was carved into breath taking battle scenes of a man in armor fighting mythical monsters and wars. Each scene seemed to depict the man's life, from that of a child to a young adult.

Everything looked as if it was hundreds of years old, as if a group of ancient Greek explorers had been stranded here and spent their spare time recreating some sort of temple under the ice.

After several minutes of visually exploring the room, my eyes landed on the man who saved me. There, on a throne of ice off to the opposite side of the room from the hidden entrance. There the old man sat, not moving a muscle. His seat was simple and made of flat plains, probably extremely uncomfortable too, judging by the way he held himself there. Finally, siting in the center of the room like some holy object, was a massive shard of jagged ice tearing its way out of the smooth floor, as clear as glass it stood there and, in the center, was a man.

A man dressed like the warrior carved in the roof; covered in the same armor, and carrying the same sword. The man looked as if he had gone through some war centuries ago, frozen blood and ash covered the bronze armor, armor that was damaged in several places.

It was like some exhibit out of the history books, a warrior out of time waiting to be found.

My observations where cut short by the old man, "I am sorry for you being trapped down here," he spoke, "But there is little either of us can do about it, so you might as well sit down and put away that gun." At that, my look of wonder turned into my signature 'agent's face'; cold and devoid of emotion. I ignored his suggestion.

"What are you?" I demanded, without putting down my only defense; even though it didn't slow down the dog one bit, and probably would not work against him, "Are you an Asgardian?" I questioned after a moment of silence.

At that the man snorted "Me, one of those imposters? No. I am the real thing. I am a god, not some alien mistaken for one. I am Poseidon, Ruler of the Seas, Bringer of Storms, the Earthshaker! I am not one of those Norse pretenders, I am the real thing," He practically bellowed out. Apparently my questioning had led to a sore spot. He went on for several minutes after that, continuing to rant about how the gods didn't get respect in modern times, but thankfully he soon fell silent. After Poseidon's little rant, he looked apologetic, but still didn't say anything.

"Wait, you're the god of storms?" I began making the connection. "So-"

"No, I am not the one who made the storm," interrupted Poseidon, "It was my son," he continued, gesturing to the man in the ice, "He's the one who started it, and to answer your next question, he is the only one who can finish it."

"Well why won't he? Doesn't he know that this storm has and will kill millions?" I yelled in frustration.

"Yes he does!" yelled the god back, "But he doesn't care, everything he had in this world is gone, they are all dead! Everyone; his mom, his sister, all of his friends, they are all dead."

"Well, then tell him to suck it up!" I screamed, matching the god's volume, "This world is more than just him and the people around him! He doesn't need to be so selfish, he doesn't need to kill more families and friends!"

"He can't help it… nobody can." The god before me suddenly looked as if he had aged twenty years, falling back into his seat tiredly.

"What do you mean he can't help it? He can control his own actions can't he?"

"…. You don't understand, it's not his fault, it is mine. He… he is going through something that hasn't been seen for a thousand years. His human side, the part that makes him who he is, the part that keeps him stable, is broken. Because of this, he has lost all ties to your mortal world.

"The only emotion he feels now is anger, and that anger is fueled by his godly side. He isn't just using up his energy; he is tapping into his blood line. He is taking the power from me and, through me, the whole pantheon of Greek gods. That power is fueling the storm, and that power is what is slowly killing me."

I cautiously walked up to the sobbing god who, at this moment, was more human than anything, and placed a hand on his shoulder, albeit somewhat reluctantly. "Isn't there anything that can be done?" I asked softly. It was unnatural for me to try to help the man, but there was just something about him that screamed desperation, and it was because of this that I felt the need to console him.

For several minutes my question was met by the gods crying, before his shoulders suddenly stiffened under my hand and, for the first time, him his eyes had a sparkle of hope in them.

"There might be one," he said softly, almost to himself, before looking at his son, "But I would need your help, the help of a mortal."

"Well, what do I need to do?" I said, with a matching look on my face. If I could help save one person, it would be worth it.

He didn't talk for a long time after that, but when he finally did it was with an almost depressed voice. "You would need to be his anchor, his focal point…. Your minds would need to be brought together and your memories shared.

"It would create a bond; one that cannot easily be broken." He looked at me nervously for the next part, "All of your memories, the good and the bad, the painful and the embarrassing; would be shared.

"Your thoughts and the pain you felt would need to be relived again. It will be dangerous and, if not done properly, you would die and he would be free of his prison; free to kill and destroy before letting lose all of the energy he has taken."

For a long second no one spoke.

"What do I do?" I asked with conviction. I would do what needed to be done even if I died in the end, and when the god looked into my eyes he saw that. Yes, maybe I hadn't thought things through enough, but this was my life and to give it up so someone else didn't have to is all I ever needed.

Nodding his head, he continued, "In order for this to work you cannot be in contact with anything that has once been living, or touched by another living thing. That means no clothing, weapons, nothing. The energy would corrupt the binding and could kill you.

"Once that is done, you will need to be emerged in a substance that has never been touched by a living organism. Luckily for us there is one such place we can get that, and it is right here under the ice."

"H-hold on one second, nothing that's been touched by anything living a-are you saying that I need to…"

The sea god looked confused for a second before a look of understanding flashed across his face.

"You don't have to worry, I won't be there for the entire process, all I will do is take you to the location of the well and melt the ice. I can't be on the same continent once the process starts. If I was, my natural energies would disrupt the ritual and could lead to his escape.

"Me seeing you without clothes on should be the least of your worries. My son will see everything you have ever done and vice versa. He will, by the end, have lived your life exactly as you have as if it was his own."

Standing up, Poseidon led me through a tunnel that I had not seen when I came in. Less than a minute later, we came out into another, smaller, room. The floor, instead of being ice, was a rough stone. Ice crystals more than ten feet tall came from the surface, and at the center of what could have been Jack Frost's playground, was a small frozen pond that could have been no more than twenty feet across.

"The only untouched water on the planet," he said, "What you are standing on is a meteorite that fell to earth more than one hundred thousand years ago, formed in space and surrounded by super-heated air as it made its descent to earth, this water has never felt the touch of life.

"It is this water that makes me the god of the Seas," Lost in memory, he continued, "When I was young and my brothers and I had defeated our father, I saw this rock fall out of the sky.

"I followed it, and when I found it, I heard some voice speak to me, telling me to take a drink, so I did. I bent over and drank a small amount of the water. Water from another crater, one that had melted in the sun. It was that other worldly water that gave me my domain over the seas, and it is these special properties, the lack of anything living ever having touched it, that could make the plan work.

"There are places all around the world like this, where the gods received their powers; special places like Mt. Everest and Stonehenge. These places are what give us our power. Each one of the areas a god of the Greek pantheon received their godhood, was a place where the veins that carry the life-force of the world intersect. Places with more intersections make more powerful gods, and it is this power stores that my son is tapping.

"For the ritual, all I can do is melt the ice in the crater and around my son, you must do the rest. If it does work, the storm should disappear and your people can come and pick you up. But if it doesn't work… then we all die."

After nodding my head to signal that I was prepared to do this, the god disappeared in a golden flash, leaving behind a now melted pool of water, and a fully clothed and armored, comatose man on the floor.

It was now or never.

Letting out a breath that turned to frost in the cold air, I got to work.

Now the armor the son of the sea god was wearing was not easy to take off; it was bent out of shape in many places, and the places that weren't bent were almost melted together. It was so hard that I just ended up cutting the armor off of him, wishing for a can opener the entire time.

The whole time thinking of why it couldn't have been someone else in my position. Dammit, couldn't I have gotten a break at least once. How about instead of almost being frozen, I find a hot spring under the ice with some five-star resort for heads of state hidden away from the public. But no, that wasn't my luck. Instead I'm undressing some random person that I have never even met before and was about to share my most embarrassing secrets with him like some kind of telepathic slide show.

Just wonderful. But once that part was done (with me trying to ignore the attractive half god I was undressing) I got to the part I was dreading.

Now, I'm not normally shy at all, I mean, I once changed my clothing in front of Tony's driver without a second's thought. But I had never been truly naked in front of a man before, even if he was in a coma. Even though I didn't like it, I also began to strip in front of a man who was basically another Tesseract in terms of power.

When his shirt was gone, I couldn't help but cringe at the amount of scars that covered his chest, and maybe blushed just a little. If I was going to live through all of his pain, just judging from his scars this wouldn't be the most pleasant experience. I didn't even look at the man once I took off the rest of my clothes. Just trying to pretend that this whole situation wasn't happening.

Once the probably most embarrassing moment of my life was over, I have stripped myself naked in the freezing underground temple. I dragged him into the water.

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