"Loki! Loki, wake up, I have news," Bruce prompted.
Loki awoke, stretching, before assuming his own form. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
"What have you learned?"
"Well, there's good news and bad. The good news is that they didn't give Clint anything that is untreatable or decidedly fatal. Unfortunately, that's the best that can be said. I have no way of knowing how long Clint will remain unconscious. The drugs given to him are not the only problem. Your...well, he was going through a hard time and then there's the torture to consider."
Loki looked away, considering what had caused his son stress.
"So, he's locked himself away, retreated, is that what you are saying?" Loki asked.
"He needs time to rest and heal. Staying unconscious allows him to do that, both mentally and physically," Banner explained, trying to make the news more positive. "He could come to at almost any time. His body is breaking down the drugs given to him."
"They'll have no permanent effect on him?" Loki asked, not bothering to hide his worry. "They were trying to create a super soldier serum, were they not?"
"They were. Uh. Dr. Jeffers seems, from his notes, to be a competent doctor and researcher, but...no more than that. He wasn't even close to creating anything extraordinary, as he seems to believe. The drugs were little better than very powerful steroids."
"I see," Loki responded, rage and relief both evident in his voice.
"I know it seems like Clint went through a lot over nothing, but...this is actually good news, in the long run, for the sake of his health."
"Well. Thank goodness, then. It'd be a real pity, if one man lost his health, but gave us a serum to create better and stronger soldiers. Much better he wind up in the hospital for nothing," a dry, bitter voice announced.
Banner stiffened. A tall man, with short white hair and thick mustache walked toward Loki, casually shoving his shoulder into Banner's back and making the Doctor stumble. Loki's eyes narrowed.
"I care nothing for your fruitless search for so-called super soldiers. A true warrior does not need drugs to perform great feats."
"What do you know about being a warrior?" Ross mocked. "You spend your time coming to Earth to birth kids and using magic to play childish pranks, from what I've heard."
"Oh, this is going to be good," Bruce muttered, smiling tightly.
Banner moved out of the way, going to hover protectively over his patient. Loki smiled at him approvingly, his clothes transforming into his full armor. He seemed to tower in the small room.
"I am Loki, prince of Asgard and I know everything about it. I ask again, who are you?"
"This is General Ross, of the U.S. Army," Banner told Loki, with strained calm.
"I'm representing the Army in the investigation into the events surrounding the tests done on Agent Barton. I've also been instructed to work with Dr. Banner," Ross explained distastefully. "The testing was done, no matter how illegally. I'm hoping to convince Banner to let some of my own doctors look at him."
"No," Loki stated, firmly.
"No?" Ross repeated, his tone full of belligerent surprise.
"No doctors, except Dr. Banner and those under him, are gaining access to my son."
"That's not your call to make," Ross snapped, his face red with anger.
"Is it not? Do you want to know what I can do to anyone who tries? I could burn your heart out in your chest, where you stand, General Ross. Do not tempt me."
"Is that how warriors fight on Asgard?" Ross sneered.
"No, that is how a mother defends a child," Loki corrected. "If you want to contest with me, as a warrior, I'll be glad to spar with you or any champion you care to name."
"I might take you up on that, eventually. For now, we have work to do, while you mother hen your boy. Dr. Banner, Director Fury has, at least, ordered that you give me copies of Agent Barton's medical records and access to Dr. Jeffers's notes."
"I'll have copies made for you," Banner agreed, mildly, while Ross glared at him.
"Staying calm, Banner? Nothing has changed," Ross fumed.
"No, nothing has," Banner said, smiling slightly. "You'd think the Army would learn, but it doesn't look that way."
"You betrayed the Army and your country, keeping the creature from us," Ross snarled. "You should be in our custody. You're property, Banner, and someday..."
"Enough!" Loki interrupted, angrily. "Dr. Banner has helped save my son's life. I will not sit idly by, while you threaten him."
"Why? Is he your kid, too?" Ross sneered.
"He's my son's friend and his physician."
"For now, I'll settle for the information I've been granted."
"I'll be right back," Banner muttered, going to retrieve the requested files.
Loki watched him leave, frowning lightly. The doctor had provided diligent care for Clint, over the past few days. Loki owed him a debt, something he understood well, despite appearances. He found himself beginning to like the tortured scientist.
"You'll never be able to replicate the creature, to find one you can control," he told Ross.
"Won't I?" Ross asked, stubbornly.
"No. It wasn't merely the right combination of radiation and drugs. It was the right person."
"Banner is the right person?" Ross scoffed, indignantly.
"Yes. I could explain, but you wouldn't understand. You humans have such quaint ideas about magic, science, and fate. Banner is beyond you."
"It's not over, until it's over," Ross said, with grim optimism.
"It was over a long time ago and certainly once Banner joined the Avengers."
"The Avengers are a SHIELD unit and subject to the orders of the World Security Council."
Loki grinned.
"Oh, I think the Council will see things my way."
"Why is that?" Ross asked, suspiciously.
"Hmph," Loki chuckled. "I'm not called Loki Silver-tongue for nothing, General."
"Oh, I'm sure," Ross agreed, ironically.
Dr. Banner returned and handed two files to Ross.
"Those are the notes and Barton's medical charts," he told Ross briefly.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Banner," Ross said, dryly. "A pity you won't make a habit of it."
"Funny, I didn't think you knew that word, pity," Bruce answered, agreeably. "I'd say you're welcome, but I don't want to set a bad precedent."
Loki smirked, internally applauding the Avenger. Ross glared at both of them, before silently storming out. Loki stared after him, sensing unfinished business.
"Dr. Banner, will you bring Thor to me, please?"
Banner looked at Loki in surprise. So far, the brothers had tiptoed around each other, keeping their exchanges distant and polite. Banner knew Thor had been trying to respect his brother's wishes and assumed that Loki was being polite only for Clint's sake. Still, he nodded, willing to be helpful.
"Sure. Just give me a few minutes," Banner agreed.
"Thank you."
Thor came in a few minutes later, looking puzzled, but pleased.
"You wished to see me, Brother?"
"Yes, well, I need to speak with you, at least. Are you aware of General Ross being here and trying to make claims on both your friend and your nephew?"
Thor shifted, uncomfortably.
"Yes. I have spoken with Fury on this matter, but he answers to a council. Ross wanted to be allowed to send in his own doctors and take custody of Bruce," Thor explained, shooting his fellow Avenger an apologetic look. Bruce just shrugged, looking away, but his expression was forgiving. "Fury convinced them to approve only an exchange of documents."
"For now, yes, but this general must have powerful friends, to come even this far. What if the Council or Fury has a change of heart?" Loki demanded.
"Fury would not do that," Thor protested. "He is our director and it is in his interests to keep us safe."
"As ever, you are far too trusting," Loki snapped. "I want you to guard Clint. I will speak with Fury, myself."
Bruce and Thor exchanged a worried glance, but Thor nodded.
"If that is your wish, brother. I hope you are successful, but I would recommend not antagonizing Fury."
"I'll keep that in mind," Loki promised, dryly, striding towards the door, where he turned back. "Do not leave his side, for anything."
"I won't, Loki," Thor assured him.
Loki nodded, turning back and leaving, heading for Fury's office. Using magic, he changed his clothes from armor to the court clothing of Asgard. He wore leather trousers and a dark green, long coat, over a green silk tunic, embroidered in gold thread. Loki found the director inside, sitting at his desk. Fury looked up at Loki's entrance and sat back, his expression sardonic.
"It's traditional on Earth to knock on a closed door to someone's office. Then, you wait for them to answer and go in after they say it's okay."
"It's traditional on Asgard for a leader of warriors to protect those under his command," Loki responded.
"Yeah, I figured I'd be hearing from you about Ross. He complained about you."
"I'm not interested in his whining. I'm interested in the well being of my son."
"So am I, but I answer to others and they think Ross could prove useful, if given a little leeway. I'm keeping the council from giving Ross direct access to your son and Dr. Banner. For now, that's the most we can hope for."
"For now is the worrisome part. What if they decide later that Ross should be allowed to have custody of them?"
"Them?"
Loki shrugged.
"Ross wants both my son and Dr. Banner. Keeping him from one protects the other; giving him one puts the other at greater risk."
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Nothing. I want you to allow me to speak with your council."
"What do you think you can say that I didn't?" Fury asked, a bit offended, but curious, too.
"I think there are some...political ramifications that they may not have looked at closely enough."
Fury considered that. He knew a bit about Asgard, from Thor, but only a few, bare facts. So far, Thor was their contact with Asgard, the only source of diplomacy with that far realm. Loki was, or could be, another. Fury admitted to himself that the truth of Asgard and Thor seemed, at times, to be largely theoretical or academic to the Council, something that existed only on paper.
"All right. Come with me," Fury agreed.
Loki grinned and followed the Director to a small communication suite, set up in a circle with a number of screens. Fury issued a code into a computer and a different individual appeared on each screen, their faces out of view. Loki smiled, hearing the round of indrawn breaths and gasps that heralded his appearance.
"What is the meaning of this, Director Fury?" a male demanded.
"Council, I would like to introduce you to Loki, of Asgard," Fury told them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, greetings. I thank you for your presence. I asked Director Fury to grant me an audience with you. As a prince of Asgard, I felt you would not object to meeting with me."
"What is this meeting about?"
"I wish to speak with you concerning General Ross and his attempts to gain access to my son," Loki explained, his voice polite and almost respectful.
"We have already reached our decision on that issue," a female declared. "Allowing General Ross and his doctor's access to medical files does not endanger either of the Avengers."
"It violates their privacy," Loki argued. "It also sets a dangerous precedent. After all, a small cooperation can lead to larger ones. Can you assure me that my son will be kept safe from Ross and his pursuits, in the future?"
"What assurances do you want?" the councilman asked.
"I want you to deny Ross any access to my son, and by extension Dr. Banner, that I or Thor do not personally agree to."
"That is absurd!" the councilwoman protested.
"Is it?" Loki asked silkily. "Need I remind this council that Thor, I, and my son are all not only citizens of Asgard, but her reigning princes?"
"Barton is of Earth," the councilwoman pointed out, but uncertainly.
"Yes, but I presented him to Odin and the Asgardian court on his sixth birthday. He was accepted and acknowledged as my issue. He is a full prince in our royal court."
"Asgard is very far away and you are not on the best of terms with your people, from what we know."
"Perhaps, but know this: anything I have done, so far, was only play. After all, with my son on your team, I was limited in the damage I could do. Fury will tell you how easily I found my son, using magic. I can find you, as well. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen. There is nothing I would not do to ensure my child's safety. Thor might even join me, given that Clint is his nephew."
"You dare to threaten us? You are surrounded by SHIELD agents," the Councilman countered, angrily.
"I prefer to think of it as underlining some relevant truths. Let me sweeten the idea for you, though. I'll owe you a debt and you will have proven to Thor that you are loyal and trustworthy. He will look on you not only as a ruling body, but as friends," Loki offered, his tone becoming sweet and coaxing.
The Council remained silent, each of them considering the implications of Loki claims. Allowing liberties with a human Avenger was one thing, but attacking a foreign prince was another. They did not want a war with Asgard or even just Thor and Loki. Loki was dangerous enough, but they knew Thor from Fury's reports. Thor was extremely protective of his friends and family. Even his fights with Loki proved this to be true. Thor never did anything that would permanently harm the other Asgardian.
"We agree to your conditions. Ross will be ordered to back down, for the sake of our relationship with Asgard," the Council decreed.
"Thank you for your time and patience, ladies and gentlemen," Loki acknowledged, giving a princely bow. "It has been an honor to be allowed to speak with you."
"Good day, Prince Loki," the councilman acknowledged.
Fury led Loki out of the council room, breathing a silent sigh of relief. Things had gone better, than he had expected. Loki himself looked calm and under control. Fury had heard Loki referred to as Silver-tongue, but the princely man next to him seemed far different from the maniac who had waged war on the Earth. Fury just hoped that lasted. He knew Clint Barton and knew, sooner or later, the boy would reconcile with his mother.
Clint Barton was dreaming of his mother and of his eighth birthday. The dream was more memory than anything. In his dream, Clint was small again and rushing down the stairs to breakfast. He could smell waffles and strawberry syrup, his favorites! He didn't notice that one of his shoe laces had come undone. As he reached the second to last step, Clint tripped, falling and banging into a decorative table at the base of the stairs.
Clint watched in horror as his grandmother's cuckoo clock, ticking steadily, fell from the table and hit the floor with a loud clunk. It was only a quarter past eight, but the bird, a bright blue jay, popped out, losing one of it's eyes. The clocked stopped and Clint, smarting from the fall and sad for the cuckoo bird, began to cry.
"Clint!" a voice called from the kitchen, followed by footsteps.
In reality, the voice and footsteps had become the comforting presence of the lovely Edith Barton, her soft, but strong, arms lifting her son to his feet, so she could examine him for injuries. The clock had been all but ignored. The sequence of events was the same in Clint's dream, but the curvaceous Edith Barton was replaced by the masculine and angular Loki. He wore Edith Barton's style of clothing, jeans and a dark green dress shirt. Loki held his small son close.
"Are you all right, my fledgling?" he asked.
"Yes, Mommy," Clint sniffled. Part of him wanted to protest, realizing something was wrong, but he was too caught up in the dream and his memories. "No. I broke Grammy's cuckoo clock!"
Loki stood up, lifting the boy into the air. Even at this young age, Clint loved heights.
"Oh, I think I can fix it. I'm just glad you're not hurt," Loki replied, his voice calm, even kind. "What happened?"
"I tripped, Mommy," Clint answered, holding up his foot, with the dangling shoelaces.
"Did you fall on the stairs?" Loki asked, concerned.
Even in his dream, Clint paused to take note of that expression, so full of love and caring.
"I was at the bottom," Clint answered.
Loki kissed his son's cheek, setting him down, then picked up the clock and set it back on the table. Kneeling down, he retied Clint's shoes, double knotting them.
"There. Best double knot them, if they're going to come undone, all right?"
"Yes, Mommy. Can you really fix Grammy's clock?"
"Well, why don't you go eat your waffles and I'll give it a try, yes?" Loki smiled.
Waffles! Clint had almost forgotten the special breakfast waiting for him. He nodded eagerly and ran off for the kitchen, listening to (Loki's) his mother's laughter. Later, he would find the clock, ticking steadily on the small table, completely whole and undamaged. Clint thought his mother was the most clever (man) woman in the world.
The dream faded and Clint's eyes fluttered open. Loki stood at the end of his bed, talking with Thor. Clint blinked, wondering if the image was part of his dream, but they still stood there. Loki looked determined and a bit fierce, but they didn't seem to be fighting. Thor looked relieved and a bit proud.
"Mom?" Clint croaked out.
Clint immediately had Loki's full attention. Loki strode over to Clint and instinctively ran a hand across his hair.
"Clint," Loki murmured, then ran out of words, simply hovering over his child.
"Thirsty," Clint pointed out.
Smiling, Loki grabbed a nearby cup and ran some water. He helped Clint to sit up, placing the cup against his lips. Clint sipped the water slowly, forcing himself to not gulp the liquid. When the cup was empty, he leaned back in his bed. Thor left to fetch Bruce, who had gone to eat lunch, in Loki's absence.
"How long was I out?"
"A few days. It's Wednesday, now."
"Jeffers. Was he caught?"
"Yes, he's in custody."
"Good. They'll have to debrief me."
"That can wait until you are rested," Loki stated, firmly, then recalled his promise to leave, if his son insisted. Clint stared hard at Loki, who prepared himself for being ordered away.
"You used magic to fix the clock."
Loki blinked, surprised and confused.
"Pardon?"
"When I was eight, I tripped and broke Grammy's cuckoo clock. Always wondered how you managed to fix the damn thing," Clint explained, weakly.
Loki recalled the event and laughed.
"Well, I wasn't going to let some souvenir ruin your birthday. I mean, it was a pretty clock, but not that important. You were finally getting over your dad's death," Loki recalled, a touch sadly.
"Yeah, I..." Clint began, before coughing a bit.
Loki fetched him more water, helping him drink, while admonishing, "You shouldn't be talking so much. You were badly injured."
"Yeah, well," Clint agreed, "still pissed at you. Gonna have to talk sometime."
"I know. Later, when you've had time to heal."
Clint nodded, leaning back, already half asleep.