The fourth, fifth, fifteenth, forty-sixth, and seventieth times I saw him were all with a matter of days. I couldn't stop seeing him. He was everywhere. On every television channel, on every radio station, in every conversation.
Those days that followed The Battle of New York were the second darkest of my life.
I had made my way back to Sharon's apartment in a daze, not truly comprehending the death and destruction around me.
I had climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and sat in a chair at her kitchen table.
And that is exactly where I remained for two days.
When she had finally come stumbling through the door, bloodied and near passing out from exhaustion, she had taken one look at me and silently sat down across the table.
It had taken me a while to form words but I finally, unable to meet her eyes, whispered, "How many?"
She tried to reach for my hand but I pulled back quickly as though I was stung.
"We won't know for sure for weeks," she stated somberly. "They're estimating around 200,000."
I would have thrown up again if there was anything left in me.
"Loki Laufeyson led the attack," it wasn't a question but Sharon nodded.
"Yes it looks like he led the alien race here with intentions of taking over the planet," she clarified.
I finally looked her straight in the eyes and stated the three words that had been playing on repeat like a mantra in my mind over and over.
"I did this."
The normal reaction would have been to assure me that I was sleep-deprived, that I was feeling survivor's guilt, that I had PTSD.
But Sharon did none of the above. She was either just that good at her job or she saw something in my eyes. Maybe both.
"What do you mean?" she had calmly asked instead.
"Those 200,000 people… their deaths are on me," then I did dry-heave.
She was sitting a little straighter then, and I pretended I couldn't see her pointer finger tapping on her thigh.
"Violet," her tone was steady, too steady. "I'm going to need you to explain."
I held her stare and in a whisper practically under my breath admitted, "I saved him."
She sucked in a breath.
"Who Violet?" she asked in a way that told me she already knew exactly who.
"I didn't know who he was, I didn't know what he was," I swore. "I just saw him standing there and I saw the archer taking aim and well…" I gestured to my arm that was stilled tied together with my sleeve.
"The archer," she repeated as her eyes widened with realization. "Oh god Violet. You're the girl who got Barton thrown off the skyscraper?"
"I didn't know," I repeated weakly. "Loki, he didn't look like the other aliens. I just reacted."
"Agent Clint Barton is an Avenger," Sharon told me. "Hawkeye ring a bell?"
"Is he…" I couldn't say the words but I had to know.
Thankfully she shook her head quickly. "No, no, he's got a couple of cracked ribs but he'll be okay."
The slight relief made no difference.
"It could have been stopped right there Sharon, all of it," we both knew I was right. "I aided one of the greatest terrorists this world has ever seen."
She was studying me intently, planning her next move, and I could tell the exact moment she decided and her eyes shifted from agent to friend.
"Okay we're going to handle this," she promised. "I've got your back."
She made no attempt to console my guilt. She was fully aware it would have done no good.
"Did you speak to Loki at all?" she asked and I nodded in response.
"Okay then," she looked at me regrettably. "I'm going to have to call this in. You could know something that could help us."
I nodded again.
"I want to take responsibility, no matter the cost."
"I can respect that," she was quick enough to grab my hand that time and held on hard. "But you need to follow my lead on this. You can't go in there claiming you killed all those people, we just have to give a factual account of what took place and that's all."
"I did kill all those people," I corrected her but she shook it off.
"That's a matter of opinion," she insisted.
…..
After Sharon disappeared into her bedroom to call her supervisor, she returned with the news we both expected.
I was to be taken into her agency's base.
Sharon had never been able to tell me, or anyone for that matter, what she did beyond the fact that she was an agent. I had always just assumed CIA due to all the hush hush. But when our car entered a network of tunnels that appeared to run beneath the entire city, I began to doubt that even the CIA had that kind of power.
"It's going to be fairly intimidating," she was telling me.
I'm almost positive that she was fully aware I wasn't at all listening as I was basically running on autopilot at that point to avoid my emotions, but perhaps she was attempting to uphold some semblance of normalcy.
When I had exited the car about an hour later into a massive cavern bustling with activity, I was certain the me from three days ago would have been losing her mind with excitement and curiosity. The me who hadn't been awake for three days. The me who wasn't still covered in crusty blood that wasn't my own with an arrow wound that was quite possibly infected. The me who wasn't a mass murderer.
The me after The Battle of New York was entirely incapable of processing emotion. I had decided it must be my body's automatic defense response, possibly to keep me from grabbing any of the numerous guns around me and, well, you know. I had laughed right out loud at the insanity of that thought, a laugh devoid of any actual joy, and Sharon had cast a concerned sideways glance in my direction.
She thought I wouldn't notice, but I did.
We were ushered into a holding room and then Sharon was quickly ushered back out of it, an order which she attempted to argue before she was reminded of her rank.
"Tell them the facts Violet," she reminded with a pointed stare before the door was closed.
It didn't reopen for who knows how long. There was no clock in the small room, an obvious interrogation tactic. The metal table in-front of me was cold and hard, but my eyes were far too heavy to be concerned with its feel on my forehead.
…
I opened my eyes to the sound of the door opening.
And there he was.
"I do wonder how your guilt has been treating you," Loki smirked as the door shut behind him.I sprung to my feet, feeling far too many things at once.
"How are you here?" I asked horrified.
His smirk turned into a full grin and suddenly I could hear sirens and screams and explosions sifting through the door.
"Sharon!" I screamed and charged the door, but his arm easily reached out and caught my waist.
Loki barely flicked his wrist and I was thrown back against the opposite wall.
"Now now," he feigned disappointment. "I thought you and I could have a little chat."
"What do you want?" I shuttered.
He tilted his head. "Why for you to join me of course."
"Join you?" I repeated.
"Yes of course! You helped me defeat New York and now I've come to kill those who have imprisoned you and break you free. I'm not so fond of debts you remember."
"No…" The whisper was all I could manage.
"Can't you hear it?" he pointed toward the door. "All that death. All that death happening for you, because of you."
I was staring at the door in horror when Sharon broke through it.
And then Loki had her gun with one hand and her neck with the other.
"Well isn't this an interesting predicament," he murmured looking at me with an obvious curiosity as to what I would do next.
"Loki, please, please don't hurt her," I begged, hands out in-front of me with wide, hopeful eyes. "I'll join you, I'll come with you, I'll do anything. Just let her turn around and go back out that door."
"I'm not leaving you," Sharon stated with a voice of steel.
"Oh please," Loki interjected. "This is so terribly predictable."
"Name what you want, just name it and I'll do it," I was begging him but couldn't look away from her eyes. "If you're going to hurt someone hurt me instead."
"I'm bored," he stated.
And in the next instant, snapped her neck.
The noise that came out of my throat was not human, and Loki finally looked pleased with our interaction.
"This is what I want," he explained. "I do think it could be quite enjoyable to do this to each and every person you care about one at a time."
He kicked Sharon's body across the floor and she slid to a stop in front of me.
"Welcome to the rest of your life."
…..
I opened my eyes to the sound of the door opening.
It took me longer than I liked to reconnect with reality after I picked my head up off the table.
"Did you have sweet dreams?" A man with an eye-patch was taking the seat across from me.
"Not particularly no," I sighed and ran a trembling hand through my hair.
The man cleared his throat and looked very much as though he was trying to figure me out. Finally, he leaned back a bit in the chair.
"I'm Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D," he offered.
"Shield?" I questioned.
"All that matters is that we're the good guys," he shook his head dismissively. "Now, Agent Carter has informed us that you might have some information on our friendly neighborhood god of mischief."
"God of mischief?" I was really trying to catch up.
"No offensive but I don't have time to sit here and walk you through everything you don't know," he stated matter of factly. "Why don't you just take me step by step through your interaction with Loki."
I didn't tell him about the bridge.
I have no idea why.
In that moment, I told myself that it simply wasn't important, that it couldn't possibly help them in any way so why bother.
All I really knew was that something deep in my bones was telling me to keep that night to myself.
So I told Director Fury every detail of our interaction from three days ago and left it at that.
When I was finished, we sat silently for a while studying each other until he finally spoke.
"Why didn't he kill you?"
The question was simple enough, yet somehow it had never once crossed my mind.
Why hadn't he killed me?
I started crying then. For the first time since it all went down.
It started so suddenly that I didn't even realize tears were dripping down my cheeks until my vision grew blurry.
It wasn't a sob or even an explosion of emotion, it was simply silent waves of tears flowing down my face as I sat still.
Something flashed across Director Fury's face and then he was thanking me for coming in and ushering me through the door.
I wiped off my face with my remaining sleeve before stepping through it to find Sharon waiting right outside. I might have hugged her but she wasn't alone.
A red-headed woman was standing at attention next to her. A woman who brought the phrase 'looks can kill' to life.
"Is this her?" she asked calmly. Another question when the answer was already known.
"Agent Romanoff," Director Fury said slowly with a warning in his voice.
He didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say because the woman was already throwing a well-placed right hook into my jaw.
I dropped as Director Fury yelled, "Agent Romanoff! Stand down!"
"Yes sir," she stated coldly before looking down at me. "That was for Clint."
Sharon collected me up off the floor with a glare at Agent Romanoff's retreating form.
"Sir," she addressed Fury. "Permission to take Ms. Williams to the med bay to get her arm looked at?"
He nodded but then grabbed my shoulder just as Loki had.
"Our mistakes do not define us Ms. Williams."
I swallowed down the sob that threatened to emerge and steeled my gaze as Sharon led me down the hallway.