Three days passed without much incident. I started reading the books I'd been given; both from Steve and Banner. It would not be uncommon for one of the Avengers to enter a room and find my sprawled out on the floor, lying on my stomach, my elbows propping up my head, chin in my hands as I studied the thick tomes. The laptop Tony had given me (which did have some security things that I had to ask him about) would usually be sitting directly next to me, playing one song or another, the internet readily accessible for anything that I might possibly need to figure out. Sometimes, I would be sounding out some crazy-sounding Danish syllables, trying to read through the book that I'd gotten from Steve, and I'd freeze when I realized there was someone else in the room.
But I also started training regularly with Clint and/or Natasha. The two of them gave me some tips on the weapons that they'd given me; Natasha even had me sparring with her, learning a bit of hand-to-hand combat. After all, I had the gun for long distance; the knife would be for enemies that were a bit closer. They also taught me a little about throwing knives, but my aim totally sucked. I was a better shot with the gun.
The usual array of dreams continued; interspersed with brief flickers of my father, because Loki didn't know what 'crossing the line' meant. Moron.
But there was still no contact with him. He hadn't spoken to me in a few days, and I was almost starting to worry about him. He couldn't normally go for too long without having a sociopath-arrogance-rant.
Then again, he'd once gone a whole month without saying a word. Whatever suited his interests best, right? This shouldn't worry me so badly. But it did.
There was no sense in worrying if I didn't do anything about it, though. Sighing heavily, I pulled myself away from my books and headed to my room. I could feel Loki tensing in my brain. He'd been watching. Watching very carefully, it seemed, but never saying a word.
Ok. Something was definitely wrong.
Once I was safely inside my room, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We need to talk.
No reply. I frowned; I could feel him there. There was no doubt that he could hear me, no doubt that he was listening. So why wasn't he replying? What possible reason could he have?
Please?
Still nothing. I folded my arms across my chest.
Answer me, I growled. He was in my head and manipulating my brain. The least he could do is talk to me when I wanted him to. Answer a few of my questions.
What is there to say? His voice whispered in my head. You continue to forget, Miss Frost, that we are enemies.
If I do, that's your fault, I answered. You came to me and acted all mushy-gushy sweet with sugar and candy fluff. At least… you used to act that way.
It was true, he had acted kind to me at first. But these days… my heart sank to my toes. We were enemies. I knew that. I was fully aware of it. I cussed him out on frequent occasions, I hated his guts, I had nice little thoughts of ripping his smug head off. But…
You know that was a figment. He broke me out of my thoughts. An illusion.
A lie is best when based in truth, I replied easily. Some of that was the truth.
He sighed heavily. Is there something you want, Natalie?
Yeah. I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you.
I waited for a long moment, giving him time to establish an illusion of himself standing in front of me, as he did so frequently. He hadn't done so the last time, hadn't let me see him. And now again, he was resisting. I wanted to know why.
He did not reply for so long that I scowled. If you don't, I'm going to do this. I started mentally singing. I know an annoying song, annoying song, annoying song, I know and annoying song and this is how it goes. I know an-
Oh, enough, He snapped, and I was surprised by the pronounced exhaustion in the words. There was something cold in my chest as he said, I have no time for your foolish games, your petty requests.
He was lying. I didn't know why he was lying, or what exactly he was lying about, but I did know that he was lying. Why won't you let me see you? I demanded, folding my arms over my chest. Ok. Let's see who's the most stubborn here. Nano-girl or crazy Norse god.
Because I've no time for it.
Pain. There was definitely pain there. As well as the lie; that was it, right there. That was what he'd been lying about. He had time. He had all the time in the world. I didn't know why, but this fact hurt him. I glared at the mirror across the room.
You're lying to me. Something is wrong, and I want to know what it is.
Does it matter? There was the barest of emphasis on his words. Why would you care? Why would you care for even a second?
Why wouldn't I?
Because I am your enemy. And you are mine.
Exactly. If something's hurting you and it isn't me, I'm gonna get pissed.
I thought I could sense his eyes rolling. But he fell silent.
There was a long pause in the conversation. Then, very gently, I said, Loki…
I didn't get to finish; I blinked, and he was there. I gasped aloud.
He still held himself high, with all of his usual regality, his arrogant manner. His gaze still stared down at everyone else, colder than ice, frozen and bleak. But the little smirk was gone, and there was almost a defiance in his posture; as though he was daring me to think less of him. Daring me to laugh, to scorn him.
Daring me to make a remark on the bruises that ran along his jaw line and ringed his eyes, the cut that split his lip.
Unable to help myself, I took a hesitant step forwards; Loki did not move. The bruises were dark, but healing. The cut wasn't bleeding, but scabbed over, a few days old. His eyes, blackened and sore-looking, also showed signs of healing. I reached towards him, barely aware that I was doing so, until my fingers touched his face.
They passed right through, of course; this was only an illusion. But, for a moment, both of us seemed to forget that; Loki stiffened, and I thought for sure that my fingers would touch the purple-black skin of his bruise. But we were both illusions; unable to touch each other, able only to talk, only to see each other.
I pulled my hand back, and Loki relaxed slightly, letting out a breath that I'm sure he wasn't aware he was holding. I couldn't stop staring at the injuries. They were clearly not accidental; first, because it takes quite a lot to injure an Asgardian. They don't get bruises from being a klutz. Second, because he likely wouldn't have gone through those great lengths to hide it from me if that were the case.
And third: there was a feeling of malice that surrounded those injuries. Every time I looked at them, I could just sense the hands that struck him, the fury behind each swing. Though that was probably my link with him; showing me impressions of things that I had never seen, thoughts that I'd never had.
I tried to tear my eyes away, to look up and meet his gaze, which I could feel boring holes into me. But I couldn't. I couldn't stop looking at the bruises, at the red scab on his lip. My hands, which had fallen to my sides, started trembling; but not from fear this time. Not even close.
It surprised me, how absolutely furious the sight made me. How badly I wanted to choke out whoever had done it. Fire started to boil my blood, but ice took over my heart, my thoughts turning cold and black, tuning out everything but those bruises and the one who had caused them. My vision turned red, and I tasted blood in my mouth; my heartbeat roared in my ears as I spoke through clenched teeth. "Who did this?"
Loki didn't respond for a moment. I looked up at him at last-he stood a little taller than me, I only now realized- and I met his gaze. He was watching me curiously, his head tilted to the side, like he just couldn't quite figure me out.
"Who did this?" I repeated, and somehow my words grew even darker.
"It doesn't matter," he answered loftily.
"Bullshit," I growled, hands clenching in tight fists. "Give me a name."
He smiled wryly. "You would not know him."
"Who was it?"
I don't know what I planned to do when I found out who had mangled Loki's face like that. It wasn't like I could go find them and give them a beat down. It wasn't like they would deserve it even if I could. Loki, after all, was less than innocent. It was probably self-defense. Or maybe someone saw him on the streets and tried to be a hero. Hell, it could even have been one of the Avengers.
But it didn't feel like that to me. From the look in Loki's eye, from the background thoughts in his head (which he was mostly blocking, but I still had a fair impression of things)… I could just tell that it wasn't. This was intentional. Somehow, Loki had been rendered helpless. Alone. With no means of defense. And someone had capitalized on it.
Loki's eyebrow arched, and he turned away from me. He wasn't leaving; he just wasn't looking at me anymore. He was studying his surroundings. Ignoring me.
I growled in the back of my throat. I was furious, and he wasn't helping things by not answering my questions. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I'm a psychiatrist. No one keeps me out.
Now, I knew that I'd been crossing a line before, invading his mind and pulling out his thoughts on his father. But this was different. This wasn't about his daddy issues. This was about him, and what someone had done to him. I was going to stop it from ever happening again, even ifI was going to end up beating Loki up myself sometime later in our lives. Picking on someone helpless, no matter who they were, did not settle right with me.
I had to stop it.
Loki froze, stiffening as he sensed me poking around in his brain again. Immediately, black walls were thrown around all thoughts of his past, and he clamped down on anything family-related. But I wasn't looking for that.
He whirled to me, eyes on fire. I met his gaze steadily, the ice in my own eyes battling against him.
This time, neither of us spoke to each other. There were no taunts, no cutting remarks, no sniping. There was just the battle inside our minds. Ice and fire clashed and twisted in my head, sending pain flaring throughout my entire body. But my own fury battled back, holding me upright, standing steady as a rock. My feet locked in place; no more falling to the ground, no more accepting the pain. I was fighting back. Loki was going to tell me who had done this whether he liked it or not.
Loki started pulling up some gruesome images, making them flash before my eyes. But I'd been expecting that; I barely batted an eye as I saw my mother's limp and lifeless form, April's body covered in blood. I kept pushing at the black, fiery barrier that kept me from the truth.
Loki stepped it up; the images twisted into my own bloodied hands, my laughter ringing in the air as I pulled the trigger, or stabbed with the knife. As my hands wrapped around April's throat. Still I kept fighting. He wasn't going to beat me. I'd been beaten too many times before.
I started throwing my own thoughts into the game; showing him my feelings on the matter. Showing him my fury. My indignation. Showing him how wrong this felt to me.
Loki pushed it aside, and the images in my brain intensified. My father's lifeless corpse. Memories of the things that he'd said to me, long before he left. The two of us, my father and I, locked in a death match, with only one survivor and yet none at all…
I felt my resolve weakening just the slightest touch; Loki pounced on that, throwing everything he had at me. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and my entire body felt so numbed by agony that I was barely conscious of even being alive anymore. But I clung to my battle, clung to my war with him, the war of our minds. In desperation, I threw out one last emotion, showed him one last thing…
I showed him how sorry I was that the two of us had to be enemies… and I made him feel it.
Loki gasped suddenly, stumbling backwards. I felt a breakthrough; the walls shattered, dissolving into thousands of glass shards. The pain stopped, and Loki ripped himself away from his side of the battle, protecting himself. Like the way you reflexively curl your arms to your body when injured.
For once, I'd won.
For an eternity that was really only half a second, the two of us just looked at each other in shock; neither of us could believe it. Neither of us was sure if it was actually real, if it had actually happened. And then I started searching, scrambling for a name, a face, anything that would tell me who had done this…
"Natalie! Get down here! It's important!"
Stark's voice over the intercom shattered my concentration for only a split second; but that was all it took. Loki, still wide-eyed, tore himself away from my mind. He vanished from my sight, our link all but severed as he tucked himself away at the farthest corner of my thought. He was no longer even daring to watch; all I could sense from him was the softest of background whispers, so quiet it was unintelligible.
Still I tried; I ripped at those voices, clawed at them, tried to snatch at them. But it was like holding sand; the tighter I grasped them, the faster they slipped away from me, until I was left with silence.
For a second, I did nothing. I just stared at the blank wall, doing nothing, thinking nothing, feeling nothing.
And then I snapped.
I slammed my hands into my bookcase, almost toppling it over. I whirled around and picked up my mattress, flipping it over and onto the ground, where it landed in a mess of sheets and pillows. I kicked at one of these pillows, throwing it upwards with my foot so that it knocked against the ceiling fan. As it fell back to the ground, I started jumping up and down on the rest of them.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" I shouted, followed by a whole mess of even uglier swears. I threw every foul word I knew into the air; and I know a lot. In three languages.
I tore through the room, my blood hot and my vision still crimson; and strangely, the room seemed a little… brighter. Like my rage was lighting up the whole Tower. I didn't take much notice; I was busy destroying things.
My little rant lasted about five minutes, and when I was done, there was hardly anything left standing in my room. I looked around at the chaos I had wreaked. It hadn't helped. I still felt wretched. Miserable. And now I was out of breath as well.
I'd been so close…
I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair, grasping a handful and leaving my hand on top of my head. I closed my eyes, trying to relax. Then, carefully, I walked over to the little intercom button next to the wall. I knew my voice would be broadcast over the whole of Stark Tower, but I could've cared less at the moment.
"Tony," I said, very sweetly and kindly despite the fact that I was speaking through my teeth. "So help me, if this isn't good, I'm going to rip your head off and stuff it down your throat."
There was a pause. Then, "I don't know about 'good', Pizza Girl, but it's definitely something big. Get down here."
I sighed and obeyed, taking the stairs so that I could delay the inevitable; and so that I could burn off a bit of my lingering anger. I kept a close watch on Loki's whispers in the back of my head, but he kept his thoughts locked up tight. I had no access whatsoever.
That is, until I entered the room where Stark and the other Avengers were sitting. Because that's when I saw him.
I did not need Loki's unconscious little sigh to tell me who this was; I had seen him in my dreams. Loki's nightmares. I had seen him when I'd been scrounging around in Loki's skull the first time. I knew what he loved, I knew what he feared, I knew his very heart.
So I was almost offended when Tony acted as though I didn't know his name. "Natalie Frost, this is…"
"Thor Odinson," I cut in, my eyes narrowing a little. I folded my arms over my chest and leaned my shoulder against the doorframe as I scanned him up and down. Bright blue eyes watched me, a little warily, his confusion very clear. Obviously, no one had told him about me yet.
But I had other things to think about. In the darkest tone of voice I could, I called across the void that Loki had put between us. Just answer me this. Was it him?
There was silence in my head.
Don't lie to me, Loki. Was it him?
Again, silence.
And then Loki spoke.
No.
I guess I was relieved to find out that Thor hadn't smacked his brother around a bit. While that would've made things a lot easier, having him here so I could deliver some swift Frost justice, the Avengers viewed Thor as the 'good guy'. Which meant that I'd seen him that way, too. Despite Loki's attempts to change my mind.
Loki wasn't lying. I'd gotten better at telling the difference between his lies and his truths; and besides, what reason would he have for telling me his brother wasn't the bad guy? It wouldn't make much sense.
Now that I knew that Thor wasn't my culprit, I let my hostile demeanor relax a little. Not much, though. There were still plenty of other reasons to be mad at Thor. The first of which…
"So," I said curtly, arms still folded as I glared at him. "Why'd you let him escape?"
"Natalie," Bruce chided quietly. I turned my harsh gaze to him.
"What?" I demanded. "We're all thinking it. Sorry if having the Norse god of Crazy Pants in my brain has made me a little less willing to make polite small talk."
There was silence for a moment. Then, Tony joined the party.
"How did it happen, anyway?" he asked, perfectly open and honest about it. Thor's eyebrows furrowed.
"And why didn't you come and get the Avengers the second it did?" I demanded. Thor turned his confused gaze to me.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." He looked back to Tony. "Who are you referring to?"
"Who else?" I sneered. I wasn't in the mood for games. "Your brother, of course. Loki."
There was a stab of ice down my spine as I said the words aloud; and a sudden tightening around Loki's thoughts. If I'd thought his mind was impenetrable before, it was nothing compared to now. I wondered what had set it off.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding," Thor said, his eyes very sincere. "My brother has not escaped." He looked to me, way too rational for my emotion-crazed brain right now. "He is on Asgard. I visited him only yesterday."
Dark premonition started churning in my gut. I had an idea of where this was going, and I did not like it.
There was silence for a beat as his words sank in. Clint's hand tightened around his bow, Steve's jaw clenched, and Natasha looked pensive. "Could it have been one of his illusions?" she asked.
"No. We made certain of that beforehand."
I snorted. Yeah, with a fist to the face. Just because Thor hadn't smacked Loki around didn't mean some other Asgardian hadn't. Most of the Avengers ignored the sarcastic gesture-they were so used to it by now- but Thor looked puzzled and-I realized, a bit guiltily- slightly hurt.
I tried to reign myself in. This wasn't Thor's fault. It was Loki's. Everything was Loki's fault. Everything was always Loki's fault.
The mental walls between us grew thicker.
"If he's still in Asgard, then what the hell is he doing in my brain?" I asked dangerously. If anything, Thor looked more confused than ever.
"Your brain…?" He inquired. There was a collective, inward sigh from the group as we all realized what needed to be done.
"Maybe we should start at the beginning," Bruce said, then gave me a pointed glance. "Natalie, could you bring us your sketchbook? I'm sure he'll want to see the pictures you drew."
In other words, 'Natalie, get the hell out of here before someone turns green and cranky'. They didn't necessarily need my sketchbook, so I was loath to obey, but after a moment's deliberation, I left the room.
I took the stairs again, slowly and deliberately this time, so that the others would have time to talk. Loki was taking furtive glances at the situation from time to time, but otherwise he was keeping his distance.
As I walked, I tried to think of what I'd just learned. Thor, at the very least, believed that Loki was still back on Asgard. Whether or not he was right was another matter entirely; but I knew, with a sickening certainty in my gut, that he was. Because it all made sense; why Loki was 'hiding', instead of attacking us directly. Why no one could find out where on Earth he was; because he wasn't on 'Earth' to begin with. Why Thor had been 'missing' for so long; he hadn't known anything was wrong. Perhaps it even explained why our link was so permanent; why he wasn't removing himself from my brain even now, when he feared that I could breech his mental defenses. Maybe it took a lot of energy to establish a link like that; energy he wouldn't have access to in prison. Like starting a car engine; that extra little boost that it took to kick-start the thing sometimes wore it out faster than if you just left it running. Maybe the same principle applied.
Or maybe Loki was just crazy. Who knew anymore?
On reaching my room, I opened the door and went inside. I searched around in the chaos, grabbed my sketchbook… then sank into a chair. They wouldn't be done talking about the whole thing yet. It would take time for Thor to grasp the situation properly; and of course, he'd have his own anger at Loki to deal with. I shuddered subconsciously; Loki's fear was infectious. And he was afraid of his brother, for a various number of reasons. Most of those reasons, however, had less to do with Thor's ability to kick his butt and more to do with Loki's own feelings.
I shook out of it. I had enough to deal with right now, without delving into the inner workings of Loki's mind. I could do that once I had him out of mine. But the outlook seemed grim; if Loki could invade my thoughts even behind bars, then how were we ever going to stop him?
My head spun; I placed it on my desk carefully and just sat there for a moment. A long moment. I let my thoughts wander and ramble, half-dozing.
I have always lied to you, Miss Frost.
The words startled me so badly I almost fell backwards, out of my seat and onto the floor. Thankfully, that didn't happen. But my heart did skip a beat. What? I shot back immediately, but it was too late. Loki had entered my mind just long enough to say that, then left again, clamming up entirely. I tested the barriers between us; rock-solid, air-tight. Nothing getting in or out. I sighed and looked into the mirror. My reflection looked haggard and worn, but at the same time… energized. I smiled ruefully; well, at least you could never say my life was boring.
I thought over what Loki had said. I have always lied to you, Miss Frost. Well, that was basically a confession right there. He was definitely in prison; he'd been lying to me this whole time about his plans, about where he was, what he was doing, how powerful he was. But there was something else to it as well. He was almost… warning me. There was something else he'd been lying to me about, something else he'd let me believe, something else that was false. I frowned. Why warn me? Was it more than a warning? Was it… an apology?
An apology for something he had done… or something he was going to do?
If he was sorry about it, why didn't he just come clean about it now, just tell me everything?
I flipped through the pages of my sketchbook. Loki's eyes stared up at me from where I'd drawn them in those days of long ago, when the sadness there was unexplained. When I didn't see malice in him. When he may have been my enemy, but I was not his.
Why didn't he stop it? If he was sorry, why not? Because he couldn't. He'd set his own path and was now determined to see it through to its end.
Self-fulfilling prophecy.
I felt a chill through my blood as 'Internal Dialogue' began playing in my head again, as it almost always did whenever I thought about Loki for too long. Or even when I just saw his face. But the words suddenly took on new meaning for me. And I wondered if Loki's self-fulfilling prophecy was the only one.
Now, it seemed that there was a taint of sudden, unexpected truths to these words, now that I was aware of his imprisonment…
"For all that they knew/ you were safe home/ but you went through hell whenever you were left alone."
When I returned to the room where the Avengers were seated, everyone was silent. I tossed the sketchbook Thor's way; he caught it with ease. Ok. So now we had another superhero to make me feel self-conscious about my athletic abilities. Good to know.
He didn't seem to need to look at the pictures; I could see from the steely look in his bright blue eyes that he completely believed us; and why wouldn't he? Loki had done worse things in his life than just invading the mind of one girl. And he undoubtedly planned to do those worse things when he escaped.
Still, Thor glanced through the sketchbook, eyeing the crude pictures of his brother. Then, carefully, he set the book aside, looking to me. "And he has spoken to you directly?"
I almost laughed. Instead, I gave him a rueful nod. "He's quite chatty."
Thor frowned deeply, then looked to Tony, who took the conversation from there.
"Thor thinks that you should go to Asgard," Stark told me, wasting no time. "His father might be able to help; might even be able to get Loki out of your head for good."
My eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath my bangs. My head started to feel cold. Eesh, for someone who wasn't steadily watching, Loki seemed to know a lot about the conversation. Well, this was too important to him to let his fear of me getting into his head stop him. I looked to Thor; as much as Tony seemed excited by the idea, seemed optimistic, Thor did not. My stomach twisted. I could see in his eyes; Thor did not believe his father could sever the link between Loki and I. He was offering out of courtesy, out of the need to try; not because he thought it would succeed.
"And if not…?" I prodded, surprising most of the other Avengers; but Thor's eyes went to me. I didn't look at him. I was giving him a way out; a way to feel as though he did the right thing, a way of knowing that I wouldn't blame him if his father failed.
"Then we'll find some other way," Banner answered, as he usually did. No-win scenarios seemed almost as hard on him as they were on Tony; though perhaps for different reasons. I nodded, sighing and leaning against the wall. There. Make it look like I was pessimistic about the whole thing. That way, Thor would know that I thought the chance was as slim as he did.
I was paying so much attention to Thor, and to the way I looked to him, that I didn't notice Loki watching even more intently; in fairness, he didn't seem to notice that he was watching, either. But the instant I noticed him, he fled. I sighed inwardly, wondering how long it would take before the two of us could talk again.
Well, maybe not that long at all…
I looked to Thor, posing my question directly to him, cutting out the other Avengers. "If we do go to Asgard…" I bit my lip. Man, the others were not going to be happy about this. "Can I see him? Loki?"
I was right. They didn't like it. Clint's eyes whipped to me, scanning me up and down. Tony looked at me, both eyebrows raised high. Steve's own eyebrows furrowed; he didn't seem as suspicious as the others, but I could tell the idea of me being next to Loki- a real, live Loki, that could actually hit me or choke me out- didn't sit right with him. I glanced to them.
"What can he do to me?" I asked Steve. "He needs me for one reason or another. He won't hurt me."
Thor deliberated. His eyes were intent on me, trying to figure me out. Everyone wanted to figure me out. I stood my ground; when our gaze met, Thor seemed to realize everything he wanted to know. He sat back and nodded slowly.
"I see no harm in it," He answered. The other Avengers looked at him like he'd just come from outer space. Which he had. But still.
"No harm?" Clint asked, then glared at me. "You don't see him enough when he poisons your dreams at night, now you have to see him face to face as well?"
I didn't back down. "Wouldn't you want to? He brainwashed you. Didn't you want to face him yourself?"
"Yeah, to put an arrow in his eye," Clint shot back. Also not backing down. "What could you possibly gain from just a conversation with him?"
I shrugged. "Closure. Some peace of mind. Call it whatever you like."
"I don't think this is a good idea, Natalie," Bruce said carefully. "Loki is dangerous."
I laughed. "What, you think I don't know that?"
"We can't let you do this, Frost," Natasha said coldly.
Thor looked ready to come to my defense, but I didn't let him. I was holding my own now. Fighting the urge to throw my recent victory against Loki in their face (I didn't want to say anything about the injuries, and I couldn't tell that story without doing so), I snapped at the female spy, "And what are you? My mother? No. The fact of the matter is, none of you are my parents, and none of you can control me. I'm twenty years old, and perfectly capable of handling my own decisions." I stood as tall as I could. "You can try and stop me all you like. But I'm going to talk to him, one way or another."
There was a long, very heavy silence. I stood tall despite the pressing weight of the Avengers' stares. Again, I did not look at Thor. That would've been seen as a sign of weakness; looking to someone else on my side for help.
Tony spoke first, running a hand down his face. "Hey, why not?" He looked up to me. "Let the little idiot get herself killed. I, for one, would love to put Loki in the same room as a shrink and see how long it takes for him to snap."
That seemed to hit home for Steve. "This isn't a game, Stark," he said cuttingly.
"Who said it was?" Tony shot back. "Natalie made her choice. Let her deal with the consequences."
"What do you know about consequences?" Steve growled; Natasha stepped in. Surprisingly, in my defense.
"He's right. Natalie made her choice." She sat back; I was about to shoot her a grateful look, but the coldness in her eyes stopped me.
Clint stood and left the room, not even bothering to give his opinion. That was ok. I was fairly certain I knew what it was, anyway. Bruce shook his head slowly.
"I can't say I agree with this," he articulated slowly. "But if your decision is made, then it is made."
I nodded at him, curtly. Steve looked to me, seeming almost… betrayed. Not quite, though. He stood and exited as well; I frowned. We were supposed to be headed off to Asgard, weren't we? But Tony cleared that up.
"So we leave tomorrow morning," he said, giving me a nod.
"Tomorrow?" I questioned. Tony nodded again.
"Thor used the Tesseract to come here. If he uses it again, so soon… the energy buildup could potentially threaten New York."
"Ah. That would be bad."
"Yes it would."
The remaining Avengers shared a glance, with me standing in the doorway. Still in the sidelines, sitting in the bleachers. Not a player in the games. I shook the thought out of my head, then waved over my shoulder and left, calling, "See you tomorrow, then!" I couldn't think of what else to say; what hadn't already been said? We knew the plan. We knew what we were supposed to do. We were all going to head off to Asgard tomorrow and I was going to speak to Loki face-to-face for the first time. There was nothing else to talk about; nothing that I was willing to talk about.
It was only six o'clock in the afternoon, so my plans to just go and pass out in my bedroom until morning were for naught. But I went to my room anyway, opened the door, and looked woefully at the mess that I'd created in my earlier hissy fit. Sighing heavily, I got to work.
I wasted a good hour cleaning the space up again, fixing my bed, my nightstand, the drawers that I'd ripped out and flung across the room. I wasted another hour stripping all the books from their case and putting them back in alphabetical order. It was busy work; something to keep my hands moving while my brain did other things. I zoned out a lot, my room getting neater and tidier as my mind grew crazier, more chaotic. I knew I should probably talk to Thor a bit more, seeing as I'd never met him before. But with Loki's brain in my own, it already felt as if I'd known the man for my whole life. I also knew that I should apologize for my earlier hostility, but I couldn't find it in me. I was in shock.
Loki. Imprisoned. Not free, not roaming the streets, just planning something from the confines of a cold, unforgiving cell. My thoughts kept returning to the things he'd said to me when we'd first met, when he'd been pretending to care about his past monstrosities, when he'd been pretending to be my friend, to care about me. So many different things:
"Alone. I am alone, Natalie Frost."
" Don't let them take me away."
"It's so lonely here, and so dark…"
How much of that was based in truth? How much of it was his true terror, his true heartache bleeding through?
And then those little snippets of poetry that had plagued my dreams…
"A quiet dark, an unsettling time, a broken heart, a tired rhyme. A silent day, a measured hour, a saddened child, a father in power. An endless dream, a restless sleep, a tear unseen, an unlocked keep."
I shuddered. The poetry had less to do with Loki's imprisonment, but each phrase had more meaning now than it ever did when those words had first been whispered in my nightmares. And some of it certainly did apply to this new information: 'A quiet dark', 'an unlocked keep'…
Another shiver ran its course through me. Loki was tucked away where this world should never have heard from him again, and yet… here he was, causing trouble once more.
My head ached as I put the last book away and collapsed onto my bed. It was still only eight o'clock, so I picked up a book and tried-unsuccessfully- to read. After about five minutes, I put it away in its neat little slot and sat on the edge of my bed, staring unseeingly at the mirror. My reflection watched me with hollow eyes, her thoughts clearly somewhere else.
Well, this cleared up one thing; it was now easy to tell how Loki had been rendered defenseless enough for someone to injure him. He was a prisoner; and another Asgardian could do some serious damage to him, unlike most humans. The only problem now was figuring out which Asgardian it was.
Was it Odin? I questioned. Loki didn't respond; he wasn't really watching, so I threw the question across the dimensions that spanned between us. His background thoughts stirred a little; he'd heard the question. But he didn't answer me.
I didn't think it was Odin, though. It didn't seem his style. But I was left in the dark on who else it could be. The room was all but spinning as all of these questions taunted and tugged at me, twisted my mind until I could think of nothing else. I curled up on my bed, hugging my pillow close to my body and closing my eyes. Loki's face lingered behind my eyelids, and 'Internal Dialogue' was playing on a loop. Over and over and over again, the haunting melody wavered about in my brain.
I stayed like that for a very, very long time; I must've dozed off a few times, though it felt like I never did. My dreams were so intermingled with these twisted thoughts that I could barely tell the difference. But, when I opened my eyes again, four hours had passed; it was midnight already. I sat up, my stomach churning so badly that I found myself unable to lie down any more. I quickly checked to see if Loki was paying attention, but he wasn't. He wasn't taking the risk.
I made a swift attempt to breech his defenses again, trying to reach out with the same feeling that I'd used to beat him before. No good; Loki's thoughts cringed at my touch and receded even further. Well, I'd be able to speak to him one on one soon enough. I just had to wait for morning; which I suspected I would be awake long enough to do so.
I wasted some more time, going through outfits for tomorrow. What do you wear when going to an alien dimension? Something nice, obviously. Formal, even. I wondered what the Avengers would wear; if they might suit up and go into Asgard looking like freaks. Tuh. This would be so much easier if I had a suit like them…
My cheeks flushed, and I pushed the thought aside. I had way too much to worry about without adding that to the list; Loki, Thor, Odin…
I thought to the reason why we were going in the first place; not so that I could see Loki, but so that Odin could try and sever the link between myself and his adopted son. I tried not to think about what it would mean if he failed.
And what it would mean if he succeeded.
My heart plunged down to the tips of my toes, and I suddenly felt dizzy. I could barely remember what it was like, not having Loki in my brain. Not having his snide comments, his arrogant blustering invading my quiet, private thoughts. Not having to worry about him at all. There were even memories of mine; memories that he'd searched through when bored (and he was bored a lot; he was in prison, after all). Past experiences that he had twisted slightly, or remarked on casually, so quietly that I wouldn't even notice until I thought back to the memory later. Like a hidden message in my brain.
And in these now-changed memories, it seemed as though he was actually there with me. Like I'd known him since the day I was born.
But that wasn't even the worst of it. If Odin did manage to break the link… then the Avengers would have no reason to remain together. They would split off, go their separate ways, leaving me at Stark Tower; just until I managed to control the nanobots. And then I would be back at my old home, back in my old life again. Back to 'normal'.
If Odin succeeded tomorrow, then we would have won. There would be no more battle to fight.
I wasn't ready to say goodbye.
I wasn't ready to be alone.
I turned away from the closet and looked into the mirror again. The fear in my own eyes scared me; what would I be without this battle? What would I be without this war? I had changed so much in the past few months, and I hadn't even realized it until it was almost too late. I placed my hand on the cold glass surface, and my reflection did the same. I looked at myself, deep into the depths of my own eyes, as though pleading for answers that only I could give.
What are we, if we are not enemies? I asked of Loki, though I knew he wasn't listening. What will we be, if we are no longer at war?
Will we be anything?
The obvious answer, of course, was 'no'. Loki and I quite literally came from two different worlds; without our telepathic link, there would be no contact between us. There would be nothing; nothing but the emptiness, the solace in my own head. And I wanted that. That was everything I wanted.
Right?
Well, if I could choose someone to hang out in my head, it wouldn't be him,I thought, then snorted aloud. It would take some getting used to, the sudden quiet, without the lingering whispers that were always with me. But I wouldn't miss a lot of things; the nightmares, for one. The constant fear. The way Loki drew lines, then crossed them, then obliterated them.
I wouldn't miss his little arrogant rants, or his smug laughter. I wouldn't miss his little tantalizing hints about his plans, or the way he always said I was so 'ignorant'. I wouldn't miss our constant inner battles.
This would be a good thing.
As I looked in my own eyes, I thought I could see his blue ones staring back. I would miss those blue eyes. I would miss the thought that I could help someone in a way no one else could. Even if that someone was Loki the Loco.
There were a lot of cons to this relationship, and not nearly as many pros.
This would be a good thing.
If it succeeds.
I almost thought it was Loki's voice; the thought came from no where. But then I realized that it was something else; some other part of myself that rebelled against the very idea of losing this link. Foreign and alien, it sent fire surging through me.
If it succeeds. If Odin wins.
I felt my blood begin to heat up, molten lava flowing through my veins. Thor did not seem to think this a very likely possibility. It probably wouldn't happen. And I was scared by how happy that thought made me. I knew I should hate Loki. But I didn't.
I hated the things he did.
But I could not hate him.
I moved away from the mirror, feeling a bit unnerved. Ok, that was enough introspection for now; I had to snap out of it. I chose my outfit for the trip to Asgard tomorrow; a simple black dress that was too short to wear without pants, and sturdy-but-nice jeans. Formal enough, without going too far. Though I would probably fit in better with a proper dress, I didn't care much; if I did get involved in a fight with Loki tomorrow, I didn't want to do it in a frilly, lacy ball gown and high heels.
Once I was finished, I walked out of my room, heading towards the roof. Since Steve had shown me how beautiful it could be up there, I'd been spending more and more of my sleepless nights standing in the cold snow, in the city's golden darkness. Sometimes I would meet Steve up there, and the two of us would talk, drink hot chocolate, or just sit in comfortable silence.
Not today. As I burst into the fresh air, I realized that I was not the only one seeking the serenity and peace of the snow-muffled view; but it was not Steve.
It was Thor.
He didn't notice me for a moment; he seemed very wrapped up in his own thoughts. I took that moment to study him. I hadn't really seen him before, not for long, not with my own eyes. He, like every other one of the Avengers, was completely gorgeous; blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, thick muscles… and a very tough-but-kind face. I would've been supremely jealous, but the tortured look in his eye kept me from hating him for his looks. There was so much regret in his slumped shoulders as he stared out at the streets below, leaning against the railing, his hands grasping it tightly.
I cleared my throat, announcing my presence. Thor turned, and he smiled weakly at me.
"Greetings, Miss Frost," he said, very politely. His eyes watched me carefully, waiting to see how I would react. I hadn't really made the best first impression.
"Hey, Thor," I answered, a little less formal than him. I shifted my weight to my right foot and gripped one arm at the elbow with the other hand. "Listen… about earlier…" I looked up at him. He waited patiently for me to speak.
"I think we kind of got off on the wrong foot," I told him. "And that was my fault. I… I'd just gotten a bit of…" I rubbed the back of my head. "A bit of bad news from your brother," I finished, looking up to him. "And I kinda took it out on you."
He half-smiled kindly, but the remorse in his eyes was still very clear. "I understand." He turned away from me, back out to the squares of golden light. I walked a little closer to him, until I was just a few feet to his right, looking out at the darkness with him. Most people might've been intimidated by his tall, commanding aura, or by the biceps that looked like they could squash skulls, or even by the plain and simple fact that he was an Asgardian. But I was not most people. Besides; I'd been living with a hulk for the past few months. Another Asgardian? That was nothing.
"I must apologize for my brother's behavior," Thor said suddenly. "And for my own failings; I should've seen this sooner. I should've prevented this."
I glanced sideways at him, smiling a little. "No one could've seen this. Loki fooled everyone."
"He's my brother," Thor said, his hands clenching the railing again. "He is my responsibility."
Ice spiked through my spine at the word 'brother'. Loki was listening. Intently. He realized that I'd noticed and almost pulled out, but I quickly backed away from him, gave him space. This was a conversation he wanted to hear; and one I wanted him to hear.
I looked to Thor. "Loki's not your baby brother anymore; he's a big boy now. He can take responsibility for himself. For his own actions." Thor looked away, not facing me. I reached out a hand and placed it on his arm; had he been anyone else, I would've felt uncomfortable with the gesture, so soon after meeting him. But this felt… natural, almost. I realized that this would be the gesture that Loki would've used and shivered a little, but I didn't pull my hand back. Thor looked to me, his blue eyes round. Almost pleading. He did not seem uncomfortable with it, either.
"I don't blame you for what your brother did, Thor," I told him. "And you shouldn't either."
Thor's gaze found mine. I stared back into his eyes for a long time, studying him, reassuring him. But he was studying me, too; not in the malignant, calculating way that Loki did, but definitely curious.
Finally, he sighed and looked away again. "Thank you, Miss Frost." I nodded, turning my gaze back to the black buildings, all but swamped by light. There was silence for a moment. Then, carefully, Thor said, "May I ask you something?"
"Shoot," I answered easily. He frowned, not seeming to understand, and I fought a grin. "Go ahead," I corrected myself.
"When Stark told you of the purpose for our journey to Asgard… you seemed less concerned about my father removing your link and more concerned about speaking with my brother. Why?"
I didn't face him. I traced patterns in the leftover snow on the railing, my finger numbing in the ice. Thor hadn't exactly been opposed to me speaking with Loki; in fact, he'd seemed fairly confident that it was the right thing for me to do at the time. These thoughts prompted my response: "I think you know."
There was no reply for a few seconds. Then, "Do you care for him, Miss Frost?"
"Do you?" I still didn't look at him.
"Of course."
"Then there's your answer."
I could feel his eyes boring holes in the side of my head, but I still didn't face him. I couldn't bring myself to. Something inside me was shattering as I admitted to this; especially since I was doing so in front of Loki. But it wasn't like he didn't already know. In fact, he seemed more surprised by Thor's easy, affirmative response than by my words.
"You have every reason to hate him," Thor said, and his voice had gone very soft. "Every right."
"So do you," I answered truthfully; a truth all three of us knew, even if no one wanted to admit it aloud. I felt Thor stiffen a little at my side and went on, "Just because you have a right to do something, doesn't mean you should."
Thor's piercing gaze finally left me. "I do not believe that I could hate him even if I wanted to. Even after everything that he has done."
I knew the feeling. Very well, actually. "He's your little brother. You're not supposed to hate him." I shuffled a little, my eyes on the ground. "You're supposed to take care of him. To stick by his side on the first day of school, to kick ass on any bully that dares to come close, to be there for him when his first girlfriend dumps him. You're supposed to get pissed at him when he tries his first cigarette, to yell at him when he starts crossing lines, when he begins to travel down the wrong path… To bail him out of jail time and time again and become more and more disappointed… To bear the brunt of his hatred for you, because you were always the 'good son', and the person that he could never be… And, in the end… you're really just supposed to be there, waiting patiently in the wings for the day that he finally hits rock bottom and comes home. You're supposed to welcome him back with open arms, to let him know that you were always there for him… even when he didn't want you."
My eyes had lifted upwards in this time, so that I was watching the stars; a light snowfall had started a while ago, and the gentle flakes drifted to the ground. They were dyed silver in the moonlight, so it seemed as though the stars themselves were bleeding. Or maybe weeping.
"Do you speak from experience?" Thor asked quietly. I shook my head quickly.
"Not my experience, no." I looked to him at last. His eyes searched my face for a few seconds, then turned away. We fell silent for a very, very long time. Even Loki was quiet; still watching, now that I'd given him free reign to do so, but quiet.
"I guess it's not really my place to say anything," I shrugged after a moment, "But… I don't think you should give up on him just yet."
"And what makes you believe that I have?" He inquired; not impolitely, but perhaps a shade defensively. I gave him a rueful smile.
"I didn't say you had," I answered softly. "But I know you're considering it." I turned away from the city and leaned back against the railing so that I could look at him. "Because if you weren't, you wouldn't be talking to a complete stranger about it." He didn't respond. There was a flash of pain from Loki, though he smothered it in seconds. He would not admit to anyone-least of all himself- that he needed his brother to love him.
Again, I placed a gentle hand on Thor's arm. "I know…" I said slowly, considering each and every word. "I know that it's… easier to… to try and forget him. To try and… stop caring. It's easier to let him go. But most of the things in life that are worth a damn aren't easy. Not in the slightest." I let go of his arm as he turned to me again. "You can't give up on him. No matter how hard it is; you've got to hold on, no matter how much he claims to hate you. Keep your distance, maybe; for your own sake, and for others. But… hold on."
His eyes softened. Loki did nothing. I smiled a little.
"And yes. That one is from experience," I said. Thor gave me a sad, tired smile in return.
There was silence again. Then Thor inquired, "May I ask…?" He didn't seem to know how to phrase the words right. But that was all right; I knew what he was going to say; he wanted to know what experience, in particular, I was referring to. I swallowed back my apprehension; I'd opened myself up to this line of questioning. Time to deal with it.
"My father," I answered. "He… he left me when I was seven." There it was again, on his face; just like every time before. Shock, embarrassment, pity. The emotions displaying themselves in the same order, over and over again. How many times would I say those words before someone else reacted differently?
I ignored him, listing the facts. Throwing a switch and turning my own emotions off just long enough to tell the tale. Everything I'd been doing for thirteen years.
Though this, perhaps, was more than I usually said. But I knew I could trust Thor. It wasn't just intuition; I physically knew as much, from Loki's memories.
"I'm the reason he left." I said.
"I'm certain that isn't-" Thor tried, but I cut him off.
"He said so himself," I gave him a sad smile. He shut up. "He didn't want me; there was no custody battle. He just… gave me up. But… the day he left…" I closed my eyes. As though this would be easier to say if I could not see Thor's face, couldn't see anything. It wasn't. "He… he'd just gotten into a fight with my mother. And… he said…" I'd never forget the words. Never. Not as long as I lived. Most memories, no matter how important, faded. Sometimes they changed, and you weren't even aware of it. Little differences in words, or the color of someone's shirt…
But I knew these words by heart. The second they had been uttered, I had written them down. My seven-year-old hands wrote down the words that destroyed my life; and I wrote them again and again through the years, clearing up the spelling, the penmanship. The words that ruined me. The words that made me into what I was.
"He told her, 'I can't love you. Because you love… that thing.'" I still did not open my eyes. "'Can't you see that it's tearing us apart? Can't you see that it's a monster?'"
I'd heard people gasp before. I'd heard people rant and rave for hours about what kind of bastard could do that. April had even promised to build me a cyber-dad-replacement. But Thor remained completely and utterly silent. I opened my eyes at last, and saw that he was… horrified. His mouth was not hanging open, and he showed no real signs of emotion… but his eyes were wide; and they told me everything. There was horror, yes, and there was anger. But there was also something that confused me, something that didn't quite fit.
Guilt.
It was just a flicker. Faint. Hidden. But definitely there. My eyebrows furrowed. What would he have to feel guilty about…?
"And yet you still love him?" Thor questioned, throwing my thoughts off track. I turned back to the conversation at hand, my doubts forgotten almost instantly.
I gave him a rueful glance. "No. In fact, I hate him. I hate him with everything that I am. Whenever I think about him, my blood starts boiling. I just want to go back in time and rip his head off. Everything that I have ever done in life has been to prove him wrong. The good. The bad. Everything."
Thor looked a bit confused, and I elaborated. "But… a part of me knows that… he wasn't always like that. My mother wouldn't have fallen in love with him if that was the case. And, beyond that, I… I loved him too, once. I know I did. And so I wonder… if maybe things would be better… maybe I'd be able to let him go… if I had just been strong enough to keep loving him. No matter how much he hated me." A little, tragic smile played across my lips. "In trying to prove myself as not a monster, I became one just by hating him. I proved him right. Because, if he did return… I no longer know what I would do. What I would be capable of."
If I thought Thor looked guilty before, it was nothing compared to now. He couldn't even meet my gaze any longer. Loki seemed to be angry about his guilt, but when I questioned it, he clammed up. I didn't probe it any further, afraid that he would vanish again, but it sent my head spinning again. I just wished, for one second, that something the Avengers (or their enemies) did would make some sense.
"Loki needs you," I finished, deciding not to question it for the time being. "He won't admit it, but he does. You've got to be the stronger one. No matter how it hurts."
The two of us plunged into silence again. After a while, Thor said, "Thank you, Miss Frost," in a very quiet voice, and turned to leave. I let him go, turning to my own inward thoughts. Loki seemed to sense that I no longer wanted him there and scuttled away to the shadows before I could tell him to go. It was somewhat unnerving, holding that kind of power over him. I was used to being the powerless one; but one sense of a fight that he could lose, and Loki vanished into smoke.
But that didn't fit his MO. He knew the Avengers could beat him, back in the old days. Maybe not consciously, but he knew it somewhere. He had that whole 'Death Wish' thing going on; he'd never get into a battle that he couldn't lose. Even if he didn't know he was doing so.
Maybe this was different. A man's thoughts were private. Secret. Held away from the rest of the world. No amount of science or technology could let you read a person's thoughts; and I doubted that much magic could do so, either. A person had privacy in their own skull, no matter what else had been taken away.
Since Loki had appeared in my brain, I'd gotten used to the idea of my privacy being invaded; my every thought- past, present, and future- being his. I'm a fairly open person anyway; it didn't matter that much to me. Well, ok, that was a lie; but I got used to it eventually. I had to.
But the link between Loki and I had only recently become a two-way thing. It had been slow, gradual, but it had still caught him off guard. First, I'd started to sense when he was there a lot easier, then started to feel his emotions more intently (even when he wasn't aware he was projecting them) and so on and so forth.
But now I was accessing his memories; even things he didn't want me to see. I had gone toe-to-toe with him, and I had won. The idea that the two of us might be equals… it scared him. He was the king, and I his subject; albeit an annoying, rebellious one. But rebellions don't scare kings until they start to succeed. The little victories that begin chipping away at the kingdom, and at the king's sense of security.
And now we stood on more equal ground. I was starting to invade in a way that hit him hard. I'd accessed his memories once before, thrown them in his face… but this was different. Now I was making him feel my emotions, as opposed to just sensing them. I'd caught him off guard the first time, when I'd discovered the full truth about his 'daddy issues', but now he knew better. He was no longer underestimating me in the slightest, no longer giving me the advantage of surprise.
And I'd still won.
This had to scare him; to know that his mind could possibly become as much of an open book to me as mine was to him. He wasn't used to the idea yet; not like I was. It would take time to accept that, if it ever happened at all.
I sighed and sat in the snow, my butt slowly freezing even through my thick pants. The beautiful night surrounded me, enveloped me. Loki stayed quiet. I stayed quiet. The snow muffled all sound around me, and my breath came out in a cloud. I felt tired suddenly; tired of the constant battling, tired of the nightmares, tired of figuring things out.
But more than that, I was tired of the idea that this was only the beginning. The battle had just begun.
I closed my eyes, and in the frozen world, I began to drift to sleep.
A/N: ARGH the Asgardians are so hard to write for! *slams forehead on desk*
Ugh.I'm sorry if Thor sounds off, ok? It's gonna take me a while to get used to his character and how he speaks. (The same goes for every Asgardian; including Loki. Though I tend to be better at writing for him, for some reason. Maybe it's because I'm used to working with 'villains'. *shrugs*)
As always, thanks to all of my readers/reviewers!
