Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Chapter 9: Paper Trail
Pepper lay quietly in bed within the hotel, unable to sleep knowing that Tony was out there in the cold, probably digging through the wreckage. She had wanted to go with him, but he had insisted otherwise, saying that she'd be better off waiting in their room; that she'd fall asleep, and that the time would pass by quickly. Really, Pepper would have felt a lot better if Tony had just told her she'd be getting in the way, instead of sending her off to be on her own.
She sat up, the sheets falling off her shoulders as she reached up and adjusted the strap of her tank. The silence that accompanied her was one the sort that nobody wanted. The awkward kind that hung over a group when someone, like Tony, popped off with an easily inappropriate comment.
The remote lay on the bedside table, her finger depressing the power button to set the screen alight. They always watched the news, except when it came time for their movie nights together, and the broadcast shone brightly through the room. Pepper set the television on mute, selecting the option for subtitles, watching as they scrolled across the screen.
From the helicopter's camera, she could see the Avengers as they tore the tunnel apart, Thor and the Hulk tossing rubble into the back of a large construction vehicle. Clint and Natasha slid through a hole in the rubble after the Captain, but Tony was nowhere in sight. He was likely inside with the victims, and, even knowing that he had the suit to protect him, the very thought had Pepper on the edge of the bed, phone in her hand.
At that moment, she decided that, if in the next five minutes, Tony didn't come out of the tunnel...
Pepper stopped, the thought dawning on her as a foolish idea. Who would she call, Tony? Director Fury? They were all on the scene, doing what they could to save the people buried in the subway. The phone dropped from her hand and onto the bed. Were she to make that call, she would only be a distraction, a hindrance, and might even cost someone their life.
Scooting across the bed, she looked away from the screen and grabbed his pillow, feet falling against the soft carpet as she crossed the room to the wide balcony window. With her face in the pillow, Pepper breathed in his scent, hoping she'd smell it coming off him as soon as he walked through that door, covered in dirt and sweat. But, until he returned, she'd have to satisfy herself with this, watching from their hotel window as searchlights waved around the site.
"You'd do well to get some sleep."
Pepper turned, her eyes like saucers as she stared incredulously at the man who had appeared on the opposite side of the room. Nails dug into the plush of the pillow as she held it closer to her chest, as though, if he really were there, it would somehow protect her. For several long minutes she stared, but he remained fixated on watching the searchlights as they shone down between the distant buildings, refusing to take notice of the fact that she was watching him.
Quickly as he'd come, he was gone from sight, her hand abruptly being lifted into the air as the man stood mute behind her. Pepper pulled away from him and stepped back, fingers slipping away from her wrist as he watched her passively, seemingly unperturbed by the action.
"I find it rather dense," he said in leveled tones, "that a woman as brilliant as yourself would deign to partner with the famed 'Merchant of Death.'"
Her nostrils flared, legs carrying her quickly across the room where, with an open palm, she struck him.
"You do not know Tony," Pepper leered. Tony wasn't the man he had been four years ago.
The man's hand moved slowly to his mouth, slipping a finger between his lips before withdrawing a smear of blood. He raised his darkened eyebrows at the sight, shocking blue eyes seeming to grow wide, and Pepper could see the subtle twitch of his upper lip.
She hadn't thought that striking this man, whom she still did not know, could have been a bad idea. For all Pepper knew, she was sound asleep in their hotel room, and the man was just a part of a very strange dream. Perhaps she was tossing and turning in bed as Tony walked through the door, leaving a kiss on her cheek before taking a quick shower prior to retiring to bed.
His hand closing around her throat, however, dispelled all of that. He was very real.
"Would you scream for me," he hissed, "were I to drop you over the edge?"
Wind howled through Pepper's red hair, and they were out on the balcony, even the warmth of his skin fading into a numbing chill. Cold air snaked its way into her nose and throat as, ever so gently, he pressed her back to the railing, tipping her over backwards until her eyes could look down at the icy street below.
The woman grit her teeth, nails clawing at him through the sleeve of his coat, lips pursed in open defiance. She would not scream. No matter what he did to her, Pepper would not allow herself to scream.
"Would you?" he repeated, this time with force.
Pepper shook her head. "No..."
"Would you scream were you to find his blood on your hands?"
Images of Tony's broken body invaded her mind, the metal of the suit cracked, dented, and flaking off as if it had merely been painted on, a costume. In her mind's eye, she cried for him, called his name, begged him to open his eyes to look at her, if only once.
She swallowed, and his eyes grew sharp.
"No."
He watched her a moment more, and leaned in close to her ear. "You lie. You love him. You would die for him... wouldn't you?"
She made no answer.
Pepper was wrenched forward, and found herself flying through the frost until she landed firmly on the floor by the bedside, looking up to find that the door to the balcony was indeed open, snowflakes melting down to water beads in her frazzled red hair. And, sitting there, she knew that the city's inhabitants had not been seeing a phantom.
They had seen the devil.
# - # - # - #
It was nearing midnight when the team, weary and starving, in Tony's case, found themselves being seated in a lavish hotel restaurant, courtesy of the billionaire and his status, where a bottle of wine came to grace every occupied table. They sat awkwardly, noting the obvious dirt and sweat upon their clothes as Thor inspected a fork, and Tony rushed to the restroom to see if he could manage to remove his armor without Jarvis' assistance.
Natasha brushed debris out of her hair, earning a dirty look from a waitress as she passed by with meals for another table. The assassin, far too tired to give the woman the tongue lashing that she had coming, simply waved it off and dropped her forehead onto the tabletop.
"I am so tired," she murmured as Clint rubbed her back.
Steve removed his mask and set it aside. "We all are."
"I want to go home and sleep..."
Thor pounded the table with a heavy fist, causing the silverware to jump and clatter. "Rejoice, my friends! For we have saved the lives of thousands on this day! It is one to be celebrated and remembered by all!"
"That's nice," Clint remarked, "but we don't all have your godly endurance."
Bruce drummed his fingers on the table and slipped quickly out of the booth. "Well, I'm going home before the big guy rips one of you a new one. So, if you'll all excuse me..." He waved, and headed right out the door without another word.
Natasha looked up and frowned. "Yeah, that's just what I wanted to think about before I ordered something: One of you with Bruce's hulking, green hands tearing open your–"
"Is that not Pepper?" Thor interrupted, holding the tiny glass shakers in a palm. "She appears rather distressed."
Steve chortled, clapping him on the shoulder. "No, Thor, that," he pointed to the dark shaker, "is a pepper shaker. I can see how you'd be confused, considering Stark's girlfriend is named Pepper, but..."
The god shook his head and stood from the table, bumping it against Natasha's head.
"No. She is there," he pointed to the door where a flustered-looking woman with red hair and a coat stood, attempting to get the receptionist to allow her to pass.
Natasha watched with tired eyes as he and Steve left the table, hurrying across the wide room to reach Pepper before the receptionist grew tired of her and called up security. She sighed, turning her head away as she closed her eyes once again. Maybe just sitting here with Clint, not having to listen to the god prattle on about the function of his cell phone and other nonsense, would relax her somewhat.
At least, she hoped so.
The table rattled again and Natasha seethed, sitting straight up as she contemplated soaking her offender in kerosene before setting him on fire.
"Hey, sleepy head," Tony chuckled, sliding into the booth beside Clint. "Why so serious? Did all that heavy lifting tire you out?"
The assassin gave him the nastiest look she could muster, watching with great satisfaction as Clint gave the man a good shove, telling him that he really ought to keep his mouth shut, and just get someone over to the damned table so they could get something quick to eat.
Sometimes, Clint just made her so damned proud to be his partner.
The billionaire, now sporting a dark suit and tie which, Natasha assumed, he must have jetted back to his hotel for, was promptly drained of all glee that he had possessed, slouching over a bit as a morbid expression fell across his face.
"That was some crazy shit today."
"Stark."
"No, really. I... I saw things today that I thought I'd forgotten."
Natasha nodded, red hair bobbing across her forehead. They had all seen another piece of hell today, watched people fade away as the scourge of their wounds and the bitter winter weather had come to rage against them. They had seen children walk shakily out of the tunnel without mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters; had seen citizens of all ages as they were rushed to the hospital for near-fatal injuries, some of them having even lost limbs to the collapse. It was sickening to her that anyone, be they god or man, could bring this kind of torment upon another living being.
But, she knew, this had been the work of a god.
The Black Widow sat up, elbows resting on the table as she remembered that none of them knew of her encounter with Loki. Sooner or later, she would have to speak up.
Tony rose from the table as Thor and Steve returned with Pepper, removing his suit jacket and sweeping her chilled body into his warm arms.
"God, Pepper. What are you doing here?" He stepped aside, draping the jacket over her shoulders, thus allowing Pepper's escorts to take their seats again. "Why'd you come?"
She held onto Tony with trembling hands, her lips drained of color while her face looked about as red as their wine. "There was a man... in our hotel room..."
"What?! Pepper, who–?"
"You're not the only one who's seen him," Natasha quipped, drawing their attention. "I've come across him a couple times myself."
She motioned to Clint to move over, sliding further into the rounded booth to allow Tony and Pepper some space.
"Now, what's this talk about a man?" Steve inquired, leaning across the table. "Who is he, where have you seen him, and how often?"
"Twice," Natasha said, looking to her partner. "No contact was made the first time, but, when Clint and I stopped for some coffee the other day, he confronted me."
The marksman stared at her, his eyes swimming as he struggled for something to say, to feel. Natasha assumed that, seeing how she hadn't mentioned this right away, he was going to settle somewhere between hurt and betrayal. Honestly enough, she hoped it would be the latter. If she was going to have to apologize, she'd prefer it be for not telling him soon enough, rather than for hurting his feelings.
And, in her defense, she had attempted to tell him earlier that evening.
"Nat, why didn't you say something?" Clearly, she'd rubbed the hawk's feathers the wrong way.
"Remember when we were watching the news earlier, and you completely ignored me as soon as the tunnel collapsed? Yeah, I tried." She sighed, lifting her glass to painted lips. "Really, Clint. I wasn't keeping it a secret from you. I just... didn't know how to say it."
He shifted, crossing his arms with a shake of his head. Natasha ignored him.
"Do you have any idea as to who this man was, Natasha?" Thor said, the jolly twinkle in his eye now gone. A shame. She rather liked being reminded of Santa Claus when she peered into his blue gaze. Especially with Christmas just around the corner.
"It was Loki."
The god looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor. "I see. I too had an audience with my brother just the other evening."
Tony looked to Pepper as she snuggled beside him.
"You too, Pepper?"
The woman nodded, slipping her arm around Tony's. "I think so."
"What did he do to you?"
"He... He talked about you, and... Threatened to drop me off the balcony..."
Tony looked positively pissed.
"So the three of us," Steve motioned between himself, Clint, and Tony, "and Bruce, are the only ones who haven't seen him yet. Why?"
"If we knew, we wouldn't be having this meeting," the hawk snorted.
A light lit up in Natasha's head, remembering that, when she had stepped out of the car, she had grabbed hold of the manila envelope that she'd stashed beneath the passenger's seat. Reaching behind her back, she took hold of it, tossing it upon the table. The papers skittered through the opening.
"He gave me these," she said. "Told me that, at first, he'd made plans to visit each of us while we were separated. But, since he found out that we were all called here on such short notice, he didn't really need to waste time on all of us."
The files were passed around, easily shocking to all who looked at them. And there was no reason for them to not be surprised. It was all information that could only have belonged to SHIELD, and the God of Mischief had surely seen every letter of these pages, right down to the last punctuation mark.
"That still doesn't explain why he's here, let alone why we can't get in touch with Fury."
Tony growled, clinging to Pepper's hand. "This is a real pain in the ass."
Clint nodded in agreement. "I'll say. But what the hell do we do about it? What can we do?"
"I will go," Thor said, "and seek the aid of my father."
"Your father?" Tony murmured, a disbelieving look on his face. "The god? Like, Zeus, or something?"
"Odin."
"Ah, right. Odin..." The billionaire quickly downed his wine. "Yeah, don't know how I feel about that. 'Cause, I'm not really the 'worshipping' sort and all, so–"
"Do it," Steve instructed. "Find out if there's anything we can do to end all this."
When the waitress finally returned, her apron askew and hair wildly disheveled, the Avengers found that, no matter how long they stared at the now open menus, not a one of them had an appetite with which to eat anything.
