Author's note: in which Lynn shows that she has learned a few tricks.
Tony stood in the center of Lynn's fully furnished apartment and crossed his arms. SHIELD agents were inspecting every possible nook and cranny of the rooms, searching for some traceable evidence to follow up on. Tony moved out of their way for the kitchen. The window sill was clean and inhabited - a small betta fish drifted lazily in his bowl. When Tony moved closer, the fish floated upward expectantly. Tony picked up the food container, sitting on the sill just a few inches away from the bowl, and uncapped it.
"Bloodworms? Ugh, kid." Tony pinched a few in his fingers. "Hey, Maxwell," he said. He dropped several flecks into the water.
"Maxwell?"
Barton walked up behind him and looked at the fish; his face was grim.
"For the singer, I think. Or maybe just because she liked the name. She's a little weird."
"Fits right in," Barton said. "What do you think of all this?"
"I think I'm an idiot for hooking JARVIS up to one mainframe," Tony said. "I should have seen this coming."
"This isn't on you," Clint said. Tony turned and caught the man's hard stare.
"Who are we blaming?" he asked. "I could use a good scapegoat."
"This was Fury's plan." Clint crossed his arms. "You argued with him about it."
"Fat lot of good that did." Tony capped the fish food and set it back on the window sill. "Next time I'll start with hell and end with no and get there with a lot of angry profanity in the middle."
"He might listen," Clint said. He was certain that Nick Fury would listen carefully to anything Tony had to say, then disregard it all in favor of his own goals.
"No he won't," Tony said angrily. "Maybe he'll listen - he'll listen real hard. And then he'll ignore everything I say."
Clint nodded. Behind them, an agent tapped his shoulder. Clint turned and took the offered tablet. He read over the information, nodded, and handed it back.
"The blood isn't hers," he said to Tony. The inventor let out a short breath.
"Then it's his. That doesn't do us any good."
"We know she's not hurt," Clint said.
"She wasn't hurt then." Tony rubbed his chest, an absent-minded gesture. "She might be hurt now."
She might. Clint didn't agree because he didn't need to - Tony knew how quickly captivity could turn painful. He turned to watch the goings-on in the apartment, supervising. The landline began to ring. Both of them turned to stare at the corded phone, practically an antique, and several of the agents rushed out of the bedroom to join them.
"We've got the line tapped," Clint said. "We can trace whoever it is." He motioned to the phone with his elbow; Tony moved forward and picked it up just before the answering machine.
"Who is this?" he demanded. His knuckles were white from a tight grip; he blinked and creased his brow. "I'm Tony Stark." A pause. "Yes, that Tony. No, she won't make it to practice tonight."
Clint raised both eyebrows and mouthed, practice? Tony shrugged, still listening.
"I'll tell her," he said. He hung up and tugged at his jacket to straighten the sides. "It wasn't them."
"Practice?" Clint asked.
"For a band." Tony was fiddling with his fingers now, nervous tension manifesting in a variety of gestures. He poked at the answering machine, tinkering with the keys. "Apparently, Lynn is in a band."
"A band on a stage?" Clint asked. He was doubtful.
"That's the kind. Have you heard of Brent?"
"No."
"That's who that was," Tony said. "I think I'll pay him a visit." He raised his voice, looking at the agents. "Get me an address." At Clint's skeptical glance, he shrugged. "Maybe he saw something strange."
"Or maybe you want to interrogate him," Clint said.
"You're coming?"
"Of course."
They shared a brief, cynical smile. Outside, a sudden clap of thunder preceded a swirling vortex of wind and lightning; the agents all shot to their feet or ran from the rooms without windows to stare outside. Tony tugged at his jacket and nodded at the door.
"We have company," he said, and left the apartment. Clint followed. Together, the two men descended the stairs rather than use the elevator, both preferring the relative openness of the stairwell versus the confined space of the metal compartment.
The stairwell also opened directly to the outside. Tony shoved open the heavy metal door at the bottom of the steps and walked out into the open; Clint moved more slowly, his eyes roving the skyline before walking into potentially hostile territory.
"Well," said Tony, "look who's here."
Clint nodded once to Thor in greeting, but didn't look away from the man at his side. The trickster smiled wide and looked to be on the verge of laughter.
"Hello, dear friends," Loki said. "I have missed you."
Steve sat with his legs crossed on the mat of the training room, his white shirt coated with sweat. He was breathing hard, out through his mouth, in through his nose to keep pace with his heart. Both of his hands rested against his knees, and he kept his eyes closed. Over a short time, his breathing evened out and quieted until he could only hear the rhythmic thumping inside of his chest.
The training room door opened. Sif's footsteps carried her closer. He smelled food - some kind of meat - and opened his eyes when a cold, wet surface touched his forehead.
"Water," she offered. He took the bottle and sipped until she looked satisfied. He wasn't the only one who pestered.
"What's this?" he asked, taking the offered wrap. He pulled gently at the pita bread to find grilled chicken, lettuce and tomatoes.
"Director Fury told me that you hadn't eaten since you'd been here," Sif said, seating herself next to him. For the time being, she was in Earth-style exercise clothing: a pair of loose, long yoga pants and shirt. Both were black, which made her bright hazel eyes stand out clearly against her pale skin.
Steve took another sip of water and began eating. Sif looked off at the far wall, where several faux weapons hung. They ate together, and when they finished she set her hands on her own knees, mirroring his posture.
"Steve," she began, and he tensed.
"You're about to tell me something I won't like," he said. She nodded.
"Thor has come to Midgard. Heimdall told him of your troubles, and the search for Lynn Creed. He wishes to join."
Steve waited. Sif took the moment to gather herself before continuing.
"He has brought Loki with him."
Steve looked down at his hands. "I figured he would." He tugged at the corner of his pant's bottom seam. "What about Fandral and Hogun? Volstagg?"
"The Warriors Three have been called away to Vanaheim. There is unrest there." She sipped from the same water bottle. "Heimdall has provided some type of coordinates, which Loki is giving to Bruce and Tony now."
"That's good," Steve said. He felt exhausted, and he did not want to talk. Sif watched him for a while, then reached out and laid her palm over his hand. He looked from her hand to her face, and she smiled faintly at him before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'll get back to it," he said. "Soon."
"Of course," she said.
She'd had a headache for the first few hours, and in that time their captors provided another bowl full of steaming hot soup. She'd left it alone, refusing to touch any more of their meals for fear of just what they were giving her. The soup sat untouched on the floor, the grease congealed across the top. The headache wore on, the pounding decreasing in a slow tempo rather than a rapid descent. She rubbed her forehead every now and then, and otherwise ignored it.
Lynn looked through the drawers and shelves of her prison, impressed that she had been provided with so much despite a clear desire to resist. Sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric acid sat in plastic bottles underneath the counters; inside of a metal cabinet, formaldehyde, phenol chloroform and various other toxic organic compounds were housed. The glass bottles holding the chemicals were the only glass she could find; every other supply was plastic.
"Yer makin' me dizzy, babe," Wade said from several feet away. "Sit down for a minute, wouldja?"
"I thought you'd be in more of a hurry. And don't call me that," she said. She climbed onto the countertop and pushed up from her knees to reach the high shelves. She stopped for a moment to look at him. "Or do you not care? I could stop worrying so much if you're volunteering."
"Been volunteered before, babe," he said. His arms continuously twisted and jerked, attempting to loosen the cords. "Didn't work out so hot."
"Don't call me that." She was standing by now, and inspected the various plastic pipettes for something useful. "Are you only good with guns?"
"I have swords, too," he grumbled.
"Is that it?"
"A winning personality."
Her lips thinned.
"I don't think she likes my jokes," he said.
"I don't," she said in direct reply. "Now is not the time."
"I'm focusing," he said. "See? Look at me focus." He pulled at his arms and grunted with the effort. She climbed down from the counter and sighed.
"No knives," she said absently. "No glass I can use. There's acid…"
"No," he said firmly. Lynn looked at him. Despite the mask, she could see worry in the lines of his face.
"You'll heal," she said.
"She's crazy," he said to no one. "I gotta get outta here."
"You and me both," she said. She was kneeling on the bare ground, rummaging through the lower shelves. "So that's it? You heal really fast? No super strength, no laser eyes?"
He scowled at the cabinet door she was sitting behind. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"We don't have to like each other," she said. "We just have to get out."
He wriggled his wrist and tugged. The chair underneath him creaked in protest; he smiled. "Right."
"I need better friends," she muttered.
"Probably true," he said. The arm of the chair was cracking under his constant movement; he continued twisting, twisting until he heard a quiet pop.
"It wasn't my shoulder," he said.
"What wasn't?" Lynn leaned back and closed the cabinet, wiping a hand over her face in frustration.
"That'll work?" he asked. She looked over at him and tilted her head. He spoke to no one, a lot - she had chosen to respond as though he were talking to her, but right now she didn't know how to respond.
"What, Wade?" She stood; he watched her.
"I dunno," he said, "she seems nice."
She saw his arm twitch at an angle just outside of what the bindings should allow, and grabbed a bottle of sodium hydroxide in the same moment he surged from the chair. She tried jolting to her feet, to put the counter between herself and him, but she was too slow; he crashed into her and they went down together.
She scrabbled at the bottle she'd grabbed, trying to uncap it to throw into his face; he slammed an elbow into her wrist and she dropped the bottle with a cry. He slapped it away, then shoved her head backwards against the ground. She saw stars and fell still.
"Whistle while you work," he sang. He began whistling as he dragged her to her feet and walked her over to the chair, which was now lacking both arms and two front legs. She saw the destination and swung a fist around, clocking him in the ear.
"Ow!" he cried, and dropped her. "You hit me in the ear!" She crawled; he gripped the side of his head with one wide palm. "Why the ear?" he demanded.
"It hurts," she said. She stood up and braced herself to lose. He was bigger and stronger, with more training. She shook her injured wrist and waited. A sudden clatter of footsteps drew her eyes to the plastic barrier, where armed guards were gathering; in another moment, a thick arm wrapped around her throat from behind and began to choke her.
"The brigade is here," he said as the men stood on the other side of the Plexiglas. "Think they can save ya?"
Lynn kicked at his legs with her bare heels. She hit what felt like a knee and he grunted; she hit it again and he shifted her weight.
"Feisty," he said. "I need a hose here."
Afzal entered the room on the opposite side of the barrier. His face was a mask of apathetic interest, barely registering a conflict. His bright eyes alighted on Lynn, who was gripping the arm around her throat and clawing at the fabric covering it.
"Hey, it's that guy," Wade said.
"What do you want?" Afzal asked through the glass, tilting his head. Wade rolled his eyes.
"He wants to know what I want. What a mystery. Two guesses."
"We cannot let you free," Afzal said. His glittering eyes crinkled with a smile.
"Then I kill your little scientist here. Done. Finito. No more experiments!"
Afzal walked closer to the barrier and flicked a small plastic cover from a smaller blue button. Lynn felt the arm around her throat tighten.
"He's going to press the button," Wade said. "Don't you press that button."
"There are others," Afzal said calmly. He was still smiling. "We will kill you both; you will live, and we will find someone else to do our work." His eyes drifted to the side, where the broken chair sat on display.
"Nothing may enter or leave that room without my will," he said. "You are as trapped as you were in that chair."
"Do we have a plan B?" Wade asked. Lynn felt the arm loosen; she kicked and clawed at the same time, and he released her. She stumbled a step and grabbed her throat, gasping and glaring at Afzal.
"Was it your plan or his?" he asked. Lynn glanced over her shoulder and decided not to answer.
"I would rather not kill you, Miss Creed," he said. "You stand to benefit as well. Your name will become renowned for your work."
For murder, she thought. She said nothing.
"The strain will be here tomorrow," Afzal said. "Try to get along until then."
The men left; Wade and Lynn watched until the last footsteps were gone. Lynn turned to him and stepped closer, vibrating with anger. When she was close enough, she slapped him as hard as she could.
"I might've deserved that," he said, and she slapped him again. He raised his hands when she prepared for a third.
"Hey, look, it was worth a shot," he said, rubbing his cheek.
"I know," she said. "Now we know."
And she slapped him a third time.
Loki stalked the laboratory like a wounded cat, his eyes flickering toward any slight movements he caught in the shadows. Bruce was at home; he'd stayed away when Tony and Thor both assured him that Loki's temper was under supervision. Tony had taken the high route of completely ignoring the trickster unless it was absolutely necessary to engage. Clint addressed him directly, making a point to meet Loki's eyes as often as possible.
"You know," he'd said in the first tense minutes of reunion, "with everything that's happened, you've done what you did to me twice now."
That had not helped Tony's blood pressure, and was right about the time the inventor decided that Bruce had better just stay home.
Now Tony was on video conference with the scientist, hashing out the coordinates Loki had supplied.
"It's nothing like the ones before," Tony was saying when Director Fury entered the room. "That included planetary location. We had to get there first. We already know where Earth is."
"So it's narrower," Bruce said. His eyes were looking to the side, at the screen on his own desktop. "We need to figure out what the starting point is and work from there."
"Where's Jane? Fury, get me Foster." Tony turned to Nick. "She's better at local systems."
"Use a video conference."
"We need to get these guys GPS," Tony said. "Except for the universe. UPS? No, that's taken."
"Loki of Asgard," Fury said to the trickster, "why are you not in chains?"
"Longing for olden times, Director?" Loki folded his hands behind his back; Thor watched him fingers twitch from behind and gripped Mjolnir's handle. "How you've longed to imprison me once more. I hope you realize how futile an endeavor that is."
"It has occurred to me," said Fury.
"Then by all means." Loki raised both arms, spreading them wide. "Arrest me."
"Enough, Loki," Thor said. Tony looked up at this statement and watched the trickster as he lowered his arms with a dramatic, fawning huff of air.
"Ah, the peacemaker - how I've missed you, brother."
"Isn't he a sassy pants," Tony drawled. "Get over here Kronos, you're pissing off the guests."
"Insufficient hospitality is a grave offense," Loki said as he approached the inventor. Despite himself, and despite Thor's presence, the movement still resembled the slow approach of a predator. "Tell me, Stark, how are you sleeping?"
"Like kittens," said Tony. He pulled up a full map of Earth on a side monitor, then spun the monitor to face Loki. "What do you see?"
"Land, and water," Loki said.
Tony hit a few buttons; the land and water changed and became alive, some images jumping forth while others sank back.
"And now?"
Loki stepped in close and examined the images. "Mountains," he said after several moments, "and valleys. Even within the water."
"Good job," said Tony, "gold star."
"The coordinates Heimdall gave us are specific not just to a spot, but to an elevation," Bruce said from the video feed. "We've narrowed it down to the elevation so far - that gives us a flat plane at twenty five hundred feet." Tony clicked a few buttons; the majority of the oceans and a portion of the lands vanished.
"You need to other two axes in order to localize your search," Loki said. Tony nodded.
"You see how much of Earth is at twenty five hundred feet?" He reached out and spun the virtual globe with his fingers. "Hello, haystack. Where's my needle?"
"Why can't you just find her?" Clint asked from behind. All of them turned to look at Clint, who watched them back. "Are you stalling?"
"No," Loki said. The word was short and crisp; Thor watched his fingers.
"Then what? You've got magic. Where is she?"
"I do not know," Loki said. Behind him, Thor drew Mjolnir and looked at Barton.
"Why are you here?" Barton asked. Fury had taken a place behind him, watching his agent's back with concern. "You expect us to believe you want to help?"
"He is invested in her welfare, Barton," Thor said. Tony and Bruce exchanged a look through the video feed; Bruce sliced a hand under his chin, keep out of it. Tony turned back to the conversation in progress. Barton had crossed his arms and was speaking in a quiet, near-monotone voice.
"You had better just remember, Loki. None of that happened this time. But it could."
An unspoken threat hung in the air, and Loki tilted his head back.
"You have no spinning disc, Agent Barton. Will you have me call your bluff?"
"Call it whatever you want," Clint said. "Just remember."
"Bringing him along was a great idea, Battlefield," Tony said to Thor. "Just dandy."
"I could not leave him," Thor said. The other men turned to regard him; Loki looked away last.
"See, brother?" he said. "See how well we get along."
She has a plan. You should ask.
"Plans are for suckers." Wade was standing at the back corner of the room, prodding the wall with his fingers.
How's that feel, champ?
"What the fuck is with this room," he said. "There's no doors. There's no hinges. There's no cracks."
Where'd the soup come from?
Lynn was several feet away, leaned against the countertop. She had found a felt pen and composition notebook in one drawer, and was busy making a list. "What?" she asked absently, paying him little heed. It drove him wild.
And not in the good way.
"Pay attention to me. I've found something important. Crucial. You should give me a raise."
She has no money. She doesn't even have shoes.
"She could get shoes," he muttered.
"Shoes," she repeated, and scrawled across the page.
Hehe. Again.
"Pants," he said.
"Pants," she repeated. The pen moved.
"Hookers," he said. She looked up at him and waited.
"What?" he said. "A man's got needs."
"Duct tape," Lynn said, looking back down at the page. "Lots of duct tape."
"Duct tape is the best." Wade opened his hands and framed her between the thumb and index finger of both. "Duct tape, duct taaape."
She's not laughing.
"Well I'm not going to sit here and stare at the wall," he said. "It's not my fault she's boring."
"What did you find?" she asked. She had put the pen down across the page of the notebook and was watching him with dulled eyes.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Not smart.
"Oh come on," he said angrily. She raised her eyebrows; she still wasn't laughing. She thought he was talking to her.
Let her.
"I wasn't talking to you," he said. Lynn pushed herself off of the counter and rolled her head from one side to the other, cracking her neck.
She's pretty quiet.
"She's ignoring me," Wade said.
"No I'm not," she said. He scoffed. "I'm not. Here, look." She picked up the notebook and walked closer to him. She stopped when she was close enough for him to reach at arm's length, and offered the notebook. He took it and read the list.
"I have no idea what most of this shit is."
"It's supplies I need," she said. She sounded tired. "I can't do anything without them."
The hell is an autoclave?
"What's -"
"It's how I can make media. Liquid, to grow the strain on. And sterilize things." She didn't want to explain anything to him, so she kept the information brief. He stared at her.
"It's a giant pressure cooker," she offered.
Sounds dangerous.
"You think they'll get you one?"
"They'll have to," Lynn said. "I can't work without it."
Look. She really was listening.
At the bottom of the list she had written shoes and pants.
"Huh," he said.
"Tell me what you can do," she said. He scowled through the mask; she ignored it. "I need to know."
What a lie.
"No you don't."
"Wade," she said, and his name sounded like dried paper from her mouth. "It's important."
She's been through this before.
"What?" He squinted at her. "You've done this before?"
She took the notebook back and turned away. "Not like this."
That's a yes.
"I know it's a yes." He felt gratified. "You show me yours."
He thought she would keep hedging until he provoked her into an angry, lashing confession. She stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Hypocrite.
"What -"
"It was a long time ago," she said. She was adding more items to her list. "For no good reason. I didn't learn anything."
Except how to take it like a champ.
"No shit," he said. "I haven't seen you cry once."
"It never helps," she said.
Does the air seem cold?
"And it doesn't matter anyway," she continued. "It's like it never happened now."
"How's that work?"
"Let's just say I know a guy," Lynn said. She straightened and put the pen down. "I can't think of anything else."
Something else is going on here.
"What's the list for?"
"I told you. Supplies." She pressed her finger against one item. "This antibody will take a while to ship. It comes from Australia. I need it to do any work." She was looking at him hard, her face firm. He understood in a moment.
How long can she stall for?
"I heal freaky fast. Super fast. Like a superhero, but better."
Not enough.
"And parts of me stick around."
Maybe too much.
She looked interested at that last part.
"Any parts?"
He grabbed his crotch. "All the parts you want, babe."
"Don't call me that," she said. She sounded excited. "Your blood too?"
"Don't go vampire sparkles on me."
"That could work," she was mumbling. "That could solve it."
That sounds bad.
"I haven't volunteered," Wade said. He didn't like how his voice sounded. "And there's laws against that kind of thing."
"I don't think this guy cares about that," she said. He could see it now, as though it were written across her forehead, scrawled across her cheek in the same obnoxious red color as the highlights in her hair.
I can use you, it said. You are useful.
"Yeah well, I care. In case that matters."
It never does.
"I know that," he said angrily. Lynn raised her eyebrows.
"I care," she said quietly. She tapped the list. "Any supplies you need?"
Chimichangas.
"My soul mate," he mourned. Her sudden laugh surprised him.
Holy shit. She can laugh?
"Do that again," he said. Miracle of miracles, she actually smiled.
It was that voice you used. So pathetic. Chicks dig that.
"You're lightening up," Wade said. He propped himself against a counter and folded his arms. One hand groped at a pocket - empty.
Of course.
"It comes and goes," she said. "Don't get used to it."
Wouldn't dream of it.
"Maybe I want to. Maybe I like good company," he said. He was starting to inspect more pockets, checking if they'd missed any.
"Where'd the soup come from?" he asked.
"I didn't see," she said. She looked to the corner, closest to the cot. "It just appeared."
There's only one bed.
"Flip you for the cot," he said. "Heads you win, tails I lose."
"You can have it." Lynn pulled herself up onto a countertop and sat, her little legs swinging almost a foot above the floor. "I won't sleep much."
You could wear her out.
He opened his mouth to say as much, then closed it when he heard the footsteps. Clonking, angry, heavy footsteps. They both turned to the clear barrier and watched Afzal Bakaar and his entourage file in.
"You have something to show me," Afzal said to Lynn. He looked honestly amused.
"I do," she said, and hopped down from the counter. She picked up the notebook - Wade saw her hands shaking before she grabbed it - and approached the barrier. She raised the list and pressed the page flat against the Plexiglas. Afzal scanned the words.
"And stop putting stuff in the food," Lynn said.
"Some of these will take a great amount of time, Miss Creed," Afzal said. Wade tensed behind her; he stayed propped against the counter. His fingers dug into his arms.
"They will," she said. "Some won't. You want me to work, you give me supplies."
"In the meantime, you will do what? Plot your escape?" The amusement was back. Wade dearly wanted to punch the man right in his smug face.
Stay quiet.
"I want to punch him," he said. Lynn turned; the men all turned. Wade looked back.
You said that out loud.
"Shit," he said. "We're best friends. Like brothers."
Good save.
Lynn's expression disagreed. She turned back to Afzal, who was again looking at the damaged chair.
"I'll work," she said. "I have some ideas to test."
"What ideas?"
He's smart.
"He doesn't trust her," Wade said. Lynn's shoulders twitched.
"Is it true that, that parts don't rot?" She didn't glance back, she didn't look at him in the reflection.
Cool as a cucumber.
"That is true," Afzal said. His eyes moved past her to settle on Wade, whose fingers might just dig a hole through his costume.
"She doesn't trust me," he said, as though explaining. "Can't imagine why not."
He's buying it.
"That's because it's not a lie," he said. Lynn dropped her arms and flipped the notebook around. She turned to an earlier page and pointed at a short statement written there.
"Blood agar. Heard of it? We can't get Ridley, whatever it is, to grow at all - it can only grow in human hosts. If his blood can, can hold up, I can put it in and, and grow the strain, maybe."
She doesn't like that.
"Maybe she's nice," Wade said. Afzal ignored him; Lynn glanced back at him, once, and turned away.
"You will need to extract blood," Afzal said. She nodded.
Is that possible?
"Worth a shot," Wade said. Lynn jumped on the comment.
"He's alright with it. We just need, need a needle and tubing, and vials." She sounded miserable.
"Done," Afzal said. He turned and shot a set of commands to the men behind him; two left.
"You will have your needle in the morning," Afzal said. "Let me see the list again."
"One more thing," Lynn said as she raised the notebook and pressed it against the plastic. "I want my music."
She was very persuasive. Compared to her other requests, her music player seemed to be a cinch. She'd argued, and demanded, and finally said that if they were going to keep her here for months, the least they could do was make her comfortable.
"It helps me to think," she'd said. That was when Afzal gave in and issued orders in a language neither Lynn or Wade knew. He could've told his men a joke for all they knew. Lynn had taken the high road and thanked him, pretending he had clearly agreed. Now Wade was moving restlessly while she sat cross-legged on the cot, writing thoughts as they occurred to her.
"What the hell good is music, babe? Look, I love me a hot Latin beat same as the next guy, but why?"
Lynn smiled to herself. "They'll have to go get it. Someone told them about me. They'll go into my place." And then Tony can catch them.
A surge of homesickness. Don't think about Tony, or any of the rest of them.
"Should've asked for stationary. We could write a letter, address it to Stark Industries. 'Please help,' it'd say. The return address would be a great clue."
"I'll try that next time," she said. She was getting better at appreciating his mouth. At least it was better than silence.
"Could that blood thing really work?"
She looked up from her notebook and met his eyes - close to his eyes. Did he even have eyes?
"Maybe," she said. She didn't want to talk about it, think about it, consider it. Maybe. What if it worked? What if she'd found the way? She looked back down at her notebook. Kyle Brogan was standing next to her. Her stomach rumbled. Out of habit, she looked at the congealed soup in longing. If only it weren't poisoned, she thought. She missed home.
"Damn right," Wade was saying. The conversation never ended, with him. He was doing a cartwheel in the center of the room, rolling around the counter and saying wheee! She'd liked him better after she ate the soup.
Eat it next time, she decided. At least the time goes by faster.
"Eyes in the sky," Wade was saying. He was waving at the corner where she thought the camera might be; she didn't know for sure. It was shadowed and somewhat concealed. It was as good a place as any.
Eyes in the sky, he'd said. Eyes in the sky.
"Heimdall!" Lynn jolted from the cot and looked up into the air around her, turning. She cupped her hands; she didn't know how this worked, she'd only seen Thor do it. "Heimdall! Can you see me? Help! Help!"
Wade was watching her. "Oh shit," he said, "she really is crazy."
She had tried not thinking of home; now the thoughts filled her up until her eyes watered. It was so close, so close if only Heimdall could hear her.
"Heimdall, please," she said to the air, and she started to cry. Dammit, dammit. She dropped her hands and looked out through the barrier; nothing happened. She pressed her fists to her eyes and willed the tears away.
"Aw, c'mon babe, don't cry," Wade said. He sounded honest. "I'm not such bad company. I do tricks and everything."
"Heimdall," she said, "if you can hear me, if you can see me - send help. Help us."
She heard a small noise, a crackling, a tearing. She looked down toward the bowl of long-abandoned soup and found a new, fresh plate with a sandwich and chips. Wade stepped up beside her and nudged the plate with the toe of his boot; it moved, sandwich and all. It was real.
"What the hell," he said. "Where'd it come from?"
Lynn decided she didn't want to know the answer.
He had been given a quarters, grudgingly, when Thor requested it - less for his privacy and more for their relief. Loki knew well that Director Fury was not entirely convinced of his newfound cooperation, and felt that suspicious eye watching him even now, as he stood alone in the center of the room. Only the Avengers and Fury himself had been granted access to this room, and he was confined to wandering the corridors with an escort of Thor in tow.
He was pacing again. He had given up trying to stop the habit and instead embraced it. It was at least movement, and that impulse he could forgive. The door to his chambers opened with a loud click; Loki did not look, knowing who had entered.
"What a wretched creature, brother," he said as he passed, eyes on the ground in front of him. "This should not plague me so." When Thor made no calming reply, he halted and turned to face him.
Not Thor at all, but Sif, quietly watching him. The door was shut behind her. Loki smiled immediately and held open his arms.
"Come for a hug?"
"I have come to observe," she said. He dropped his arms with a flourishing sigh.
"Of course, Lady Sif. And what do you see?" She had always been the wisest of Thor's allies, ever unwilling to believe a word the trickster said.
"I am not sure that I believe you would never harm her, as Thor does."
He appreciated Sif for her frankness, and resented her warning. "I should not have come," he said. "It has only agitated me." He let his own warning drop casually - she would know well that Loki was most dangerous when agitated.
Sif ignored the bait and turned, walking to the side in a slow circle. He mirrored her; they circled together, cautious, wary.
"They are curious creatures, these mortals," she said at length. Loki laughed.
"Curious, and simple. You seem to have found a pet, Sif."
"Steve cares for his own," she said. "His loyalty is sure."
"They are noble heroes, all," he said, his voice dripping mockery. The good Captain was the only decent one of the lot, and Sif knew this well. Again, she ignored his bait. Watching, watching.
"What do you want?" he asked. He grew tired of her stares and wanted her to leave.
"Where is she?"
And this simple inquiry, this tiny question full of bitter betrayal and such certainty in his involvement, unleashed his restrained fury in a quivering onslaught of violence.
"I do not know," he cried, "I do not know!" His power lashed out; the room rocked as items smashed against the walls, the doors, the ceiling. Sif had drawn her weapon to defend herself and stood far back, braced for him to attack her. The trickster could no longer see her through his anger.
"Vile brute! I will kill him - I should not have trusted, should not have expected -"
"Expected what, Loki?" she asked, guiding his furor. His hatred had circled, circled until he was speaking more to himself than his audience.
"It is Stark who is to blame - he was to keep her safe, and concealed, how could he allow this - that machine, he relied too much on the machine, small bits of wiring and prayers offered, circuitry which cannot survive a meager blast of light -"
"I believe you," she said. Loki reared back from his pacing, halted himself and snarled at her. He did not believe her.
"Do not placate me, Lady Sif."
"Do I lie?" she asked. She waited for him to calm down enough that his fingers stopped twitching. He looked her over once, twice, and looked away.
"Can you not find her?" Sif kept her weapon drawn, her knuckles white with tension. She did not have to trust him to believe him.
"No," he said. He tilted his head back to look at the broken lights on the ceiling; outside in the corridor, the sound of footsteps approached. "Director Fury did not appreciate my display."
"It is lucky that I am here to explain, then," Sif said. Loki turned his eyes to her and narrowed them. There was no faith lost between the two; they could only believe in what they saw in each other at the moment, and he was not certain that he appreciated what she saw now.
"I am not Thor," he rasped. "I cannot be subdued by batting eyelashes and heaving bosoms."
"Even a wild raven will come to a feeder," she said. The door behind her clicked; Thor entered first. Behind him, Steve, garbed in practice clothing, pushed into the room. Agent Barton followed, his bow at the ready.
"Everything alright in here?" Steve asked, his intense gaze burning a tunnel through Loki's chest.
"Everything is fine, dear Captain," Loki said, and smiled. "The fair maiden is in no danger from me."
It was Sif's hand on his elbow which convinced Steve to turn away.
"He speaks the truth," she said to the both of them, and all of them heard the wonder in her voice.
"Good enough for me," said Clint. He did not put his bow away.