"Natalie! Natalie…Natalie!"
The man burst through the door. He had black hair that stuck up in a tousled, just-rolled-out-of-bed way, handsome features, and deep eyes the color of dark chocolate. His skin was pale, and his body tall and lanky, built with wiry muscle. His voice was smooth and deep, but in his anxiety it had become hoarse and strained. Still, relief was clear inside of it as he caught sight of the unconscious girl on the table.
That girl, by the way, was me. And though you wouldn't know it to look at him, that man… well, that man was Loki.
The doctors operating on said unconscious Frost (AKA still me) looked up at the newcomer in alarm. A harried, anxious-looking nurse in pink scrubs walked inside, apologizing swiftly and profusely. "I'm so sorry, I've been trying to get him to leave, he simply won't!"
Another two nurses arrived to help her; a man and a woman, who both stepped towards Loki cautiously. He ignored them all, brushing past the doctors and gripping my hand tightly. "Natalie?" he whispered, a trace of panic returning to his voice. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.
"Who is this guy?" one of the doctors asked, seeming offended. Loki ignored his offense and gripped my hand tighter.
"I'm her fiancé," he responded coolly, a tone of dangerous ice, cracking beneath a person's feet. His eyes, still dark brown, flicked up to the man. "And you would be?" he demanded lethally.
"The man who's trying to save her life," the doctor answered curtly. Most of the others were giving him harsh looks, and one of them leaned closer to Loki.
"We're trying to help," he said, quietly. "We're doing everything we can, but you're going to have to leave n-"
"That," Loki assured them all, in his most deadly tone of voice. "Shall not be possible."
"Look, we are in the middle of an operation!" The first doctor shouted. "If you want us to save her life, you'll leave this room right now, and let us do our jobs!"
"Your job?" Loki inquired, as one of the nurses stepped forwards. He reached out to grab Loki's arm and lead him out, but before he could, Loki promised, "I will see that hand removed if you so much as move one fraction of an inch closer." The nurse froze. Loki had been certain to put enough of his real voice into the illusion's that, on a subconscious level, the nurse might recognize the former king's orders inside of it. Having not turned to the nurse, but keeping his eyes instead on the doctor, Loki said, "And I know of plenty who can do this particular 'job' far better than you, sir, so I suggest you stand aside and allow me to-"
"Even if that's true," the second doctor said, quickly, before things could escalate any further. Another doctor was working to stabilize the patient (yep, still me) throughout this skirmish. "There is no way that we can move her right now. She has to stay here. She has to."
Loki regarded the man for a long moment. Finally, "Continue."
The man sighed, a little sigh of relief. "Even if you have another, personal doctor that you want her to see, she's not stable enough right now. We can't move her; if we tried, she'd die."
Loki looked at the man for a long time, a hard stare that bored through to the doctor's core. Swallowing against the bitter taste that flooded his tongue, the Trickster admitted to himself that this, indeed, made a vast degree of sense. Stepping back to allow the doctors back into their places, he said, "Very well, then." Slipping his fingers out of mine carefully, he stepped back. "But I will not leave her."
"Oh, for the love of-" the first doctor raged. Looking to the nurses, he ordered, "Call security, get this fool out of here!"
Loki's eyes flashed and gleamed. "I invite them all to try," he said, in a poisonous, toxic tone. "But I believe I shall only leave you with more patients in the end, good doctor." He said the last words with only a layer of sarcasm; but it was all that was needed.
"Look, pal, we're just trying to-"
"Woah, okay!" A new voice cut in. Loki's eyes flashed as they locked on Stark, who came into the room. The doctor threw up his hands, muttering under his breath about the OR not being a zoo. "Look, Lo… Um… Lawrence." Loki gave him a dark glare, and Stark shrugged swiftly before continuing, "Lawrence, these doctors are only trying to do their job, okay? Natalie's going to be fine." His eyes flicked to my prone, unconscious body on the table, and Loki noticed the way that he turned a few shades paler. It was very clear that he was not certain of that assessment. But, after clearing his throat, he charged on through his words, anyway. "Come on, don't cause a scene, okay? We'll wait for her in the waiting room. She's drugged up; she's not going to know the difference."
"But I shall," Loki replied dangerously. He planted his feet in the corner of the room and stayed there.
"Look," the first doctor snapped. "This is a sterile environment. And you… you are not sterile. You are also very obviously not in control. Ipso facto, you need to get the hell out of my OR!"
Loki gave the man a very deadly look, taking a step forwards. Tony stepped up in front of him. "Hey, hey! Take a step back, okay? Just keep calm. This isn't what she'd want, remember?"
Loki's nostrils flared, but he took a step back. Tony nodded, slowly. "Good, good… okay, now we need to back off right now, okay? They're not going to give in and… and we need them to operate on Natalie right now… and, oh, great, hello, security guards, nice to see you."
For, indeed, a bunch of men in police uniforms had stepped inside. "Sirs, we need you to come with us," one said. Tony raised his hands and said, "Yes, yes, working on that," while Loki's lip just curled.
"Stark?" A voice cut in through the commotion. The doctor threw up his hands again and cursed violently. Steve walked through the doors. "What's going on, have you got him out yet… ah. No. Apparently not." He stepped forwards. "Lok-"
"LAW-rence," Stark cut in, giving Steve a hard look. Steve blinked. "Yes, I was telling Lawrence here that he needs to leave before he causes a scene…?" He lowered his voice. "And maybe something else… a little more interplanetary…?"
Steve cottoned on and nodded swiftly. "Yes. Absolutely. Come on, Lawrence, you know she wouldn't want this, she just needs-"
"Brother!"
At the introduction of this fourth person, the first doctor gave up, stalking off in a huff and cursing even worse than before as the other two swarmed in quickly to stabilize the crazy blood flow that he had left behind. Loki had been wise enough to disguise Thor in illusion as well before entering the hospital, (though admittedly, in his… 'haste', he had been far less kind to his brother's false features, making them look decidedly uglier than his own).
As Thor stepped forwards, he took Loki's shoulder in a firm grip. "What news? Can we take her to the Healers?"
The other doctors gave him quizzical looks- those who weren't working frantically on my prone figure. Loki shook his head as the other doctor pointed out, "She can't be moved just yet."
"Okay, this is getting out of hand," one of the security officers said, gripping Tony by the shoulder. "Sorry, Mr. Stark," he added, "But you have to leave. Now." He started to drag Tony from the room as another man grabbed Steve's shoulder. The Captain shrugged him off. "Trust me," he promised, gesturing to Loki. "You'll want some extra muscle if he gets violent."
"Are we not allowed here?" Thor asked of his brother. His eyes fell to me, still in surgery, and he swallowed. Loki nodded mutely, watching me. "Then we should leave, brother. Allow her to get well." His hand rested on Loki's arm.
"Remove that hand, brother," Loki promised, though without much venom. "Or I will remove it for you."
Thor didn't respond in kind. His features merely softened. "Come now, brother," he said, very quietly. "You cannot assist her now. We can do nothing for her… but wait."
Loki stared at me. Stared for a while longer. And then he moved forwards, around the doctor, and leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. Blood smeared across his cheek as he straightened, but he walked out of the room without another word. Relieved, Steve and Thor followed.
The OR was silent once more.
"Okay, everyone," the doctor said, relieved, as the nurses and security officers poured out of the room. "Let's save this girl." He looked down, holding sterilized needle and thread in his hand as he said, "We've got too many people counting on us bringing her back."
"Brother?" Loki asked as they all walked towards the waiting room. Thor turned, curious, to Loki. His eyes were strangely blank and empty. "May I speak with you? Privately?"
Thor looked to him, curious, his eyebrows furrowing. But he nodded, and Loki found them an empty room; a place without occupants where, for the time being, they would not be disturbed. The other Avengers had moved on to the waiting room; and so, for now, they were alone. The Trickster removed the illusion surrounding the brothers, so that they were themselves once more.
Thor looked to Loki. He was worried, that much he would admit. After all that we had been through, Loki and I, it did not seem right, did not seem just or fair, that such a horrible, tragic accident could separate us. It did not seem right, that he should lose his brother, his sister, so soon after getting them both back.
"What is it, Loki?" he asked, gentle and careful.
The Trickster studied the Thunderer. For a long time, he did not speak. He said not a word. He merely looked into his brother's rain-blue eyes and wondered. Wondered if he could ask this. Wondered if it was right. Wondered if there was anyone else he could ask. Wondered if he would get the answer he wanted, the answer he needed.
But one can only wonder for so long, and, after a long moment, Loki sighed. Looking away, already feeling the pain of being separate from me, his other half, he said, "I need to ask something of you, brother."
Thor's eyebrows furrowed. But, true to form and loyal to the bitter end, he said, "Name it."
Loki looked up to him. Still so trusting. His heart ached; his brother needed him. His brother needed me. He needed us both, needed us to protect him, to keep him from agreeing to things like this, to promising things that he could not deliver. But right now… right now, Loki needed that promise and if he had to get it in this way, if he had to rely on Thor's unconditional trust… then so be it. One last Trick.
Swallowing, he looked up at Thor and said, "I need you… I need you to promise me something. One thing. I need you to swear to me that, whatever I ask, no matter what it is… you will do it for me."
Thor's forehead creased as his eyebrows furrowed just a little more. "Of course, brother," he said softly, then repeated, "Name it."
"No matter what it is, brother, swear it! Now!"
"I…" Now, at last, Thor looked somewhat nervous. But Loki would no longer allow him to back away. This was too important. Far too vital.
"Swear it!" he spat.
"I swear!" Thor replied almost immediately, looking worried, haggard. "I swear, Loki, whatever it may be!"
Loki sighed in relief. His trembling hands grew a little steadier as he ran them through his hair, as he pushed it back, away from his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stabilize himself.
"Loki…" Thor said, very worriedly. Loki looked back to him. And then he looked away again. No matter what, he could not look his adopted brother in the eye as he said this. He simply couldn't.
"Very well, then," Loki said, quietly. "If… If Natalie Frost dies today…"
"She will not," Thor said firmly.
"Of course not," Loki snarled, even more firmly than his brother, his words tinged with hate. But then the hate died and, after a moment, he said, "But… if… if she does… you know what will become of me."
Thor swallowed. Carefully, he reached forwards, taking his brother's shoulder. "We'll find a way," he promised. When Loki looked up to him, the Thunderer swallowed and added, "I will help you through it, Loki, if I must. You will carry on. Jotunheim will carry on."
Loki smiled weakly. Such a naïve, trusting heart. Always willing to believe in the good of the universe, always seeing another way out. But not this time, Loki knew. There was no other way this time.
"It is for Jotunheim that I must ask you to do this," Loki said softly, taking his brother's hand on his shoulder, removing it and allowing it to fall. "Brother… if Natalie Frost dies… if I become… as I was…" he paused. And this time, when he looked down, he did not dare to look up at his brother again. Not until the words were said and completed. "I need you to kill me."
Silence rang through the room. Loki could not look up. He couldn't.
And then, "No."
Stubborn fool. Loki's eyes flashed as he turned his eyes back to his brother again. "You swore," he reminded his brother.
"Then I am going back on my word," Thor responded fiercely. "You should know how that works, Loki, you've done it often enough yourself."
Loki's face twisted in anger. "If Natalie dies, Thor, then I do not know what I-"
"You will live, brother!" Thor's voice rose. "You will live! You must live! For her sake if not your own, for the sake of her memory!"
"You saw what I was like, Thor! You saw what I became, the last time she was removed from my mind! I cannot do that again! I will not!"
"And I cannot lose you both!" Thor half-shouted, half-moaned. Gripping his brother's shoulder, he demanded, "Is it not enough for you that I may lose the woman I call sister… but I must also destroy the man I call my brother with my own hands?" He shook his head. "No. No, Loki, do not ask this of me. I cannot do it. I will not."
"Who?" Loki demanded. "Who, if not you, could I ask?" Thor kept shaking his head, back and forth, still moaning quietly. Loki went on, "Even if one of the Avengers agreed, who among them is capable? Very few, without releasing Banner's Other. And if they did… you… you are my brother." His hand gripped the top of Thor's arm as the Thunderer avoided his eyes. "I can only ask this of you. Can only ask this of family."
"You needn't ask at all!" Thor's voice was a full-fledged yell by now, likely drawing attention to the fact that there were people in this room. But neither brother seemed too troubled by the idea of discovery. "Even if… even if I could, Loki, this world needs you! Your world needs you! Jotunheim needs you, Loki! You are a king now, you cannot abandon your subjects…!"
"It is for Jotunheim that I ask," Loki said. "Not only for myself. I have already worn a crown without Natalie at my side. I killed needlessly and recklessly and never knew what I had truly done, what orders I had given and what ones I had not. Had it continued, I would have led the world to ruin." Gripping Thor's arm tighter, he said, "I cannot do that to Jotunheim. Particularly not when it has begun to create such a prosperous alliance with Asgard." His eyes softened, just slightly. "You have seen what I become. You have seen… how uncaring I can truly be. If this happens… I will not care, not about Jotunheim, or Asgard or Earth or the Avengers… or even you, brother. You know this."
Thor looked to him at last. Loki's eyes were pleading. He was swallowing his own hysteria, trying to speak logically… but in truth, all he wished to do was shake Thor, to shout in his face, to scream of what he could not do and would not do, and what he wouldn't do was this. He wouldn't go through this again, not without another way out, not without a release. The same release he had given Fraye.
"Loki…" Thor said, and Loki could see it in his eyes that he was close. That he was near breaking. That one more chip in the stone would send it crumbling down.
"Please, Thor," he begged. No more logic and no more manipulation, no more lies and no more shouts. Just pleading, just begging, pure and simple. "Please. I cannot live without her. I won't."
Thor looked to him. Loki had no more words; he could only wait, wait and watch, as Thor studied him. And then, looking away and closing his eyes, looking as though the movement was beyond painful, beyond agony, he nodded.
"Very well," he said. "Very well," he repeated.
And then he seemed to have no more words. Loki considered him… then stuck out a hand for Thor to shake.
"Swear it?" he asked.
Thor looked at him. He took Loki's hand. And then he pulled the Trickster into his arms, clapping on hand against his brother's back.
"I swear it," he said into Loki's ear. And then his voice dropped into a growl so fierce that it actually frightened the Trickster. "But it will not happen. Not today." His words grew even darker, filled with the power of the king of Asgard. "Because Natalie will not die."
And then he released Loki and, without another word, without even looking back, he stalked out of the room.
It had taken some work, to get here. But Natasha was nothing if not clever, if not thorough. She knew those Jotun sentries who had taken note of her the last time she was on this world, knew which ones might follow her commands, if she voiced them in the proper way, if she laid out subtle hints and suggestions that it was the Shadowslayers behind them. Or, at least, the one Shadowslayer; the one still conscious.
Still, the sentry had taken some convincing. At last, however, he led her to the prisons- after all, what could one human do? - and allowed her inside of the cell of the half-breed.
He was on the floor again, facing the wall. He said nothing, silently contemplating the stone and ice around him, as though they were the single most fascinating things in the universe. Natasha, however, could see the signs of boredom in the confines of this cage; the chips in the wall, scratched there with a rock, the blood on his fingernails, from where he had picked at them ruthlessly, the way his hair had become messy and unkempt. She noted these things but pushed them aside, kept tabs on them in the back of her mind but found them of little relevance to the situation at hand.
"Natalie Frost has just been in a very severe car accident," she said, with no attempt at pleasantries, no greetings or salutations. Merely an exchange of information.
"Oh?" Puck asked. "It must be very painful. All of those broken bones."
"You knew."
"I know many things, Agent Romanoff. Who is to say that this accident was not one of them?"
The spy studied the prisoner; or rather, the prisoner's back. And then, casually, she pulled a knife from in inside of her boot. Barely taking the time to aim, she flung the knife inside of the cage, past the bars which separated her from the half-breed, and watched it bury itself, briefly, in the ice beside Puck's head, before clattering to the ground. For perhaps the first time, he jumped, seeming startled, and whirled around to her.
"I have had enough of your games, Puck," she said blankly, her eyes a dark abyss. Her features were expressionless as she said, in a black velvet voice, "The closest thing that I will ever have to a friend, besides the man whom I am currently engaged to, is lying as a bloody mess in a hospital bed. She already has enough PTSD to wipe out a number of planets; and after this event, it's highly likely that everything will merely be that much worse. I don't care if you knew it would happen or if you didn't; all I want to know, all I need to know, is this." She stepped forwards, crouching down in front of the still-somewhat-startled Puck. "What is the fallout?"
Puck looked back at her for a long three seconds. And then Natasha carried on, elaborating on her query. "Clearly, she lives; you would not be here, would not be so calm, if she did not. But what does the continuation of her existence mean for her, for the realms she is meant to protect? What does this… 'accident' do to her mental condition?"
Puck was silent for a long moment, his gaze on the Black Widow. Though her features were empty and her body language expressionless, save for her emotionless intensity, he read all that he needed to know from her eyes; and read it aloud, so that even she could hear it. "And will she become a threat that you must eliminate?"
Natasha didn't respond, and he sighed, deeply. Sitting back, entirely facing her now, he told her, "I know enough of this incident to tell you that it had to happen. That it is this reminder of Natalie's mortality that will force her and Loki to act." He kept his tone even and smooth as he promised, "Natalie may suffer a great trauma from this; but what she does suffer, from her past and from the other things that haunt her… well, that will not be your problem any longer." His head tilted to the side. "This is how things must be, Natasha Romanoff. I cannot change what Fates decree."
Natasha contemplated that. Then, carefully, she stood. Sliding the second knife, which she had removed but not used, back into her shoe, she asked, "Would you wish to? If you were capable of it?"
His eyes seemed suddenly… faded. Sighing deeply, heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his chest, he said, "Would you not wish that, for the ones you loved? To change those things that would hurt them?" he shook his head. "But life is a mess. A chaotic tangle of love and hate, joy and hurt. I could no more remove the pain from her life as I could remove the easing of that pain. For, in her case… most of her happiness is derived from that." He smiled, so very weakly. "She defines happiness as simply… the absence of pain."
Natasha's eyes flicked to the ground as he added, "But then… you know that feeling very well… don't you, Agent Romanoff?"
The spider looked away. And then, in complete silence, she left the cell for a final time.
Loki had seen Benjamin in the waiting room. He had also seen Tiff, Vicky, Adrian and Jade for a while, but many of them had left. But not the Avengers. Not Tiff. Not Natasha, though she had arrived somewhat late. Stark, Romanoff and Barton were all getting looks, and people were whispering about them amongst themselves, but Bruce's and Steve's identities were both secret, and Loki had cloaked himself and his brother beneath an illusion of another face and form. My other friends… well, they were also ignored. They were not famous. In fact, other than Tiff, they didn't even know that these Avengers were all waiting on the same person.
Benjamin left after a while, claiming that he needed to 'get some fresh air'. Loki gave it a long minute before following, saying that he would return soon. Thor wished to come along, just to be certain that nothing went wrong… but Loki swore that he would do nothing, and for once, his brother believed him. Well, that wasn't entirely true; his brother did not believe him. But Romanoff did. Either she had read his mind or she knew what his intentions were in some other way, or she simply knew the sincerity in his promises when she heard it; but either way, when she vouched for him, Thor stopped pressing the issue.
Loki began to search for Ben silently, but there was really only one place for him to go. He was almost certain that he would have truly gone for 'fresh air'; and so Loki took the elevator, down, down, down the floors, down to the ground floor and out of the doors, out to where he could see Ben, struggling to strike a match. His hands seemed to be trembling too badly to do so, and Loki could see the cigarette held between his middle and forefinger, pinched between the two as he continued trying to set fire to the match. Giving up, he flung the match to the ground and stepped on it, pulling another one out of the book.
Loki glanced around. He could see no one anywhere near who was overtly looking at him. No one would notice him, no matter what he did; this was a place of both healing and death; and the people coming here were there for their loved ones. They did not care about anyone else who may be standing around the building.
Carefully, making certain that no eyes were directly on him, Loki removed the illusion, allowing it to drop away, allowing his shield to drift off into nothingness. Allowing his true self to shine through; albeit in his Asgardian form. A person who bore some resemblance to the old king may be looked over, but a man with dark blue skin was quite possibly pushing it.
Benjamin finally managed to light his match; he muttered under his breath about needing to buy a decent lighter as he put the thin white tube between his lips and took a long pull. He let it out in a sigh, relieved and exhausted and trembling all at once. The stinging smell of tobacco filled the air, sharp and harsh, as Loki walked up beside him.
With no introduction, he announced, "It's a filthy habit."
Ben did not jump. His eyes flickered, briefly, to Loki. And then they looked forwards again, entirely uncaring. Loki added, "She'd kill you if she knew."
"Yeah," Ben said, taking another pull and sighing it out again. "Yeah, she probably would." He didn't look back to Loki, but rather, watched the cars in the parking lot as they pulled in and out of their spaces, as they disgorged nervous-looking people, or excitable families. He did not seem to care that the king whom he had rebelled against only months ago, the king whom he had been told was dead, was standing naught but a few feet away from him. "But, you know," Ben said, looking at the burning cinders at the end of his cigarette, "When you're staging a revolution, you tend to need some stress relievers."
"True enough," Loki said. "Though I would've thought that a runner would wish to keep his lungs intact."
Ben grunted something that could or could not have been a response. But he said nothing further, and the two fell silent.
At last, feeling more weary and pale and sickly with each second that passed, with each worry that plagued him, Loki asked, "How long have you known?"
Benjamin took his longest drag yet. He coughed a few times, spitting smoke, his throat sounding crackled as he did so. But once the fit had passed, he flicked the cigarette onto the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" he asked, before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Looking bitter and hurt and more than a little bit angry, he started listing things off. "She 'works for the government', and everything about her 'job' is classified. Somehow, she knows Tony Stark; and, from all of those others in the waiting room, she clearly knows the other Avengers as well." He seemed to regret snuffing his cigarette and fumbled in his shirt pocket for another one. He pulled it out, and the book of matches, but as he opened the book again, Loki held out a hand.
"Allow me," he offered. Ben hesitated, then handed the thin, white cigarette to him. Loki pinched its tip with his fingers, and sparks flared between them, crackling as he rubbed his fingerprints together, setting the end of the tube aflame. Ben took it back from him without comment, though he watched Loki for a long moment before, taking a swift pull, he carried on again.
"And then she tells me she has a boyfriend named 'Loki'," he said. "Kind of a dead giveaway; though, granted, I didn't know who you were back then." There was a pause, then he went on listing his facts, trying to remove his own anger and cynicism from the words. "Then there's your regime; where she just falls off the face of the planet; yet her parents were so certain that she was dead. And they fight like maniacs in the revolution… the Manhattan rebellions were supposedly the most successful, you know," he added, almost as an afterthought. "And of course, it was because of them. They were active leaders in the rebellion; and why wouldn't you be," he said, and here his voice became wry, sarcastic, "If you were under the protection of the very man that you're trying to dethrone?"
Loki said nothing. He could feel Benjamin's eyes on him, but he couldn't respond to them, could say nothing to that intent stare. Finally, tapping off some ash from the end of his cigarette, Ben said, "And it wasn't just her parents. All of these people who were close to Natalie, who shared her last name… not to mention seeing Jekyll around the Tower- your 'palace'- from time to time. And the fact that you burned her house to the ground." He laughed once, quietly, dryly, and took another drag. "Then the rebellion ends, and she comes back with your name in her arm, claiming that she's engaged to that same boyfriend. That same Loki. And then, and then, the real icing on the cake: a spy ends up using me for her cover." He laughed, so hard that a coughing fit began again. It took a moment before he could carry on, saying, "To get close to Natalie. Oh, she didn't say that was why, but, well…" Holding out his hands as though they were a weighted scale, moving each hand up and down a few times in contrast with the other, he said, "Two plus two is four."
And then he took another pull of his cigarette.
Loki looked forwards. "It's an impressive deduction," he said, very quietly. "I would've assumed that… you would have wanted to believe the story you were given. That you would have wanted me to be… dead."
"Believe me, I wasn't happy when I figured it out," Ben answered, glaring at Loki out of the corner of his eye. Loki did not turn to meet his gaze, did not bother to. Again, they were quiet. This time, Benjamin broke the silence.
"And you know what I don't get?" he asked, and suddenly, Loki could hear his anger. He could hear the hate from an old soldier of the revolution. "Natalie had a boyfriend, right? A long time ago, one of her first steady relationships. She'd been going out with this guy for months… and all of a sudden, one day, he hits her. Just straight-up slaps her in the face. And she kicks his ass to the curb without a second thought." He tapped more ash off of his cigarette and took a long, deep pull, blowing out the smoke as casually as he could manage. "But you… you freaking torture her. You torture her and you carve your name into her arm and… and somehow, she's still head-over-heels for you." He shook his head. "I thought… I dunno." The cigarette had all but burnt itself out by now, and Benjamin flung the butt onto the ground, crunching it beneath his foot, next to the first. "I thought she was stronger than that."
"I never tortured her."
Ben looked to him. Loki's words were so quiet that he hadn't even heard them, that he had to ask, "What?"
The Trickster looked up to the former Revolutionary. The Message Runner. And he said, "I never tortured her."
As Benjamin looked confused, curious, and more than a little wary, Loki admitted, "I have done many terrible things to Natalie Frost. Many unforgivable things that, somehow, she had forgiven me for regardless. But that is not one of them." He looked down at his hands. "It was not these hands which tortured her."
Ben blinked. And then he snorted. "Big deal," he said, turning away. "So you got your shadow-controlling puppet to do it for you."
Loki laughed without mirth. "Fraye was anything but my 'puppet', I can assure you."
"So what, then?" Ben sneered. "Your 'ally'?"
"Hardly."
Benjamin gave him a hard glare, and, after a moment, Loki sighed. "She was my nightmare, Osner. Fraye was my worst enemy." He looked to the mortal, to the human who had once loved the woman who could only love Loki, and who was the only person Loki could love in return. "But beyond that, she was my torturer."
Ben blinked, clearly surprised, and looked away. The boy wasn't a bad liar, wasn't horrible at secreting away his emotions… but, to Loki, he was an open book. He could never match the level of those people that we worked with on a daily basis. Loki half-smirked and looked forwards again, double-checking to be certain that no one had noticed his face yet. But, hiding in plain sight as he was, he was completely invisible; no one expected to see him. And no one expected to see him here.
"Not what you expected, is it?" Loki asked. Ben shook his head minutely, in what was almost an admission. Loki chuckled without humor, looking ahead into the parking lot. "There is a great deal to our story that you haven't the slightest inkling of," he told the other man. When Ben looked to him, this time, Loki looked back. "I could tell you, if you wished," he offered. "I could tell you everything."
Ben's eyebrows pulled together. "Why?"
Loki shrugged. "Because you have already guessed those facts which will put you in danger. Everything else… well, knowledge is power." He looked forwards again. "And besides… Natalie wishes for you to know."
Ben's eyes fell to the concrete. Loki's voice lowered as he said, "She has always wished for you to know."
There was a long quiet. And then Ben walked over to a bench, seating himself down and gesturing for Loki to take the seat next to him.
"All right, then," he said, pulling out his cigarette packet and setting it down next to him, so that it was within easy reach. "Tell me everything."
As Loki smirked and walked towards him, Ben held up a hand. "But you might wanna change back," he said, gesturing to Loki's form. "I have a feeling we're going to be out here for a while, and I don't think we should be causing a panic."
Loki's lip twitched up at the corner, but he obliged, allowing the illusion to cloak his entirety. And then he sat down next to Benjamin. For a long moment, he merely contemplated his position, and what he was going to say next.
Finally, he spoke. "Very well," he told Ben. "It all started twenty-two years ago; when Natalie was first born; and I was learning of a new form of magic…"
The story had taken longer to tell than Loki had thought it would; and it was almost an hour and a half later that the two men walked back inside the waiting room. But it had done what he had hoped; it had given him a temporary distraction from what was happening. It had wasted time. Because time was the enemy now.
The Trickster sat back in his seat, watching the doors. Already, impatience was beginning to creep in, anger and fear overwhelming him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to clear the pressure that had started to build behind his eyes. His head ached. He knew not what was happening, what the situation was- and that alone was making him anxious- but he did know this:
She's still alive.
He knew this because he could see the dreams, flashing behind his own eyelids every time he closed them. The gory nightmares of blood and death, of a little girl with hands painted red and blue and black and green, of Shadow Hounds and Crows, of all the terrifying things that we had ever seen in our lives…
Loki tried to push them away. He tried to manipulate them, to transform them into lighter dreams, to do something to assist me, when he could not be nearby, could do nothing else.
Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and tried to think, tried not to. In his mind, over and over, he could hear the words that could very well be my last: Loki, I love you.
His hands started to shake again, and he closed them into fists in an effort to stop the trembling.
He waited, in that waiting room, in that uncomfortable chair, in utter silence, for almost an hour. During that time, he remained immobile, working to remove the darkness from my dreams, working to banish them with light. But, by the time someone sat next to him, disturbing his concentration, he was no nearer to this goal than he had been when he first started.
His eyes opened, and he turned to the person next to him. He was of half a mind to demand what right they had, to interrupt his task, but when he saw who it was, the words died away.
Agent Romanoff wasn't even looking in his direction. Her eyes were off-focus and far ahead, her finger continually running across her belt, where he knew a knife would be, if it had not already been confiscated by security. She alone, of the Avengers, of the entire waiting party, had never once seemed overly anxious or stressed. Instead, she was thoughtful, composed. He knew the spy to be a fairly cold individual, who took emotional shelter in secreting away her feelings, so this did not entirely surprise him. Regardless, he found her manner unsettling, and immediately wished that she would simply leave, and allow him some peace.
That, however, was clearly not meant to be. For as Loki turned and glared forwards, Natasha opened her mouth and spoke. "I know what you asked him."
Loki looked to her. Her eyes flicked to Thor and back, a silent gesture towards the Thunderer that would not be seen by anyone outside of the conversation. Loki felt a sour taste creep up in his throat, and he looked away, quickly.
"Did he tell you?" he asked, very quietly.
"You know better than to think that he had to," she answered, the volume of her voice just as low as his. There was a little smirk in her tone, though, that Loki could no longer match. Not at this particular moment. He attempted a watery smile in return, but it was weak and short-lived, and it died a second before hers did.
"You shouldn't have asked him," Natasha said, after a brief silence.
"I will not live without-"
"I know that," She interrupted. "But you know Thor as well as I do." She crossed her legs and stared at the wall, purposely keeping her eyes well removed from the Thunderer. "He's too soft. He can't make that call. There's a very real possibility that, when the time comes… he'll be incapable of delivering on his promise."
Loki heard his own worries in her words and found himself turning to look at her. She kept her eyes on the wall and did not look back to him, so that he was forced to study her profile. "Are you suggesting that I should have asked you, Agent Romanoff?"
"Or Clint, yes," She answered bluntly. "That's precisely what I'm suggesting."
"That eager for the task, are you?"
"We saw how you were without her, Loki. We won't let our world be threatened like that again. Not by you."
For a while, Loki didn't have a response. When he did, his gaze, too, turned to the wall, finding the patterns there that Natasha herself was staring at. At last, he reminded her, "You are mortal. You may find the task far more difficult than he would."
When she said nothing, Loki looked down to the floor and added, "And, regardless of this… I thought, perhaps, it might be best if… such things… 'remained in the family', as it were." His green eyes, hidden in an illusion of dark brown, watched the ground beneath him, as though, if he looked away or blinked, it would disappear out from beneath him, leave him plummeting down into darkness. "I believe it is… safer, better for all… if this is kept as a family matter."
"And what the hell do you think that we are?"
Loki looked to the agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., startled by the vehemence of her words, the ferocity. It seemed to have surprised even Natasha, who looked away again, looked away from where she had been staring at him.
"You are an Avenger," She said tersely, after a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence. "You are one of us. We're bound by battle if not by blood; and I've found those binds far more permanent." Her eyes flashed, just briefly, as she looked back at the Trickster. "So don't discount us."
She stood, straightening. "You didn't ask, so I'll offer. If Natalie dies and Thor fails to do what you wish… then I will." She hesitated, just for a beat, before she added, "Though… I truly do not believe that today is the day we must worry about such things."
And then she walked away, back to her seat beside Clint, who had fallen asleep almost two hours ago. Loki watched her in stunned silence. He wasn't certain of the name of the feeling in his chest; and, after a long moment of attempting to identify it, he pushed the entire incident from his mind.
I'll ask Natalie when she wakes up, he promised himself, rubbing his chest, trying to quell the… whatever it was.
And he closed his eyes, relishing in the words. When she wakes up, he repeated to himself. When she wakes up.
And then he closed his eyes, and returned to his attempts at banishing the dreams.
This scene repeated itself a while later, when Clint woke. His promise was much simpler: without premise or pleasantries, he sat down beside Loki and said, "If the kid dies, I'll kill you."
When Loki had looked at him, he'd shrugged and said, "I think, after everything, I'm the one who most deserves the chance to shoot you in the face."
Fair enough, Loki supposed. But before he could respond, Barton left.
This conversation actually repeated itself a number of times; and in the end, it was really only Stark who didn't really catch on; or, if he did, he did not offer his support. But that much, at least, was expected; Stark had a history of refusing to play along with such deals.
At last, after hours of surgery, a doctor came out to give the news. By this point, the only people still in the waiting room were the Avengers, Tiff, and Benjamin. The latter had fallen asleep, as had Banner and Stark, but as the doctor came to speak with them, their surrounding fellows shook them awake. My mother and father both swallowed hard; they had been informed by Benjamin, and though they had arrived last of anyone, they had, in fact, arrived. Loki moved to the edge of his seat, closer to the doctor, looking up at him expectantly. He knew I wasn't dead, but other than that, he was still entirely in the dark.
The doctor smiled wearily at them all. But it died away quickly as he said, "She's stabilizing. We've gotten her out of critical condition, but… well, only time will tell." He looked, momentarily, just a little helpless; but he regained control in no time. "We should know by tomorrow morning."
Loki felt a tightness in his chest as everyone around nodded their understanding. He swallowed, tried to breathe, and stepped forwards, clearing his throat. "May I see her?" he asked, trying to sound meek and mortal and whatever these people expected.
The man looked the Trickster up and down, swiftly. His eyes softened. "I can let in one family member," he said, "But that's it. I'm sorry."
Immediately, the other Avengers all shrank back in their seats. Even Ben and Tiff settled back down. My father remained perched on the edge of his own chair, however, though my mother also sat back. Cameron and Loki exchanged a long glance.
"He's her fiancé," my mother said, gesturing to Loki before my father could stand. Holding Cameron's arm down, keeping him in his seat, she added, "He should go in first."
The doctor nodded and gestured for Loki to follow him. Immediately, he was on his feet and moving forward, walking after the other man. He heard Anna Rose and her husband arguing in hissing whispers, but he ignored it as he walked forwards.
"I should warn you," the doctor said sternly, "It was… a messy business. She's stabilizing for now, but… well, she's broken a few ribs, and her leg. She smashed up the side of her face pretty good, too." He looked at Loki, watching his reactions. Seeing no change in the intensity of the Trickster's eyes, he nodded slowly. "Just… be ready."
Loki nodded once as the doctor led him into the room. Immediately, his breath caught.
The sterile scent of hospital had been clogging his nose since he'd arrived; but now it washed over him again, the reek of cleanliness, the too-clean sheen of the walls and tiles around him. The continuous beeping of the monitors beside my bed set up an immediate, constant rhythm at the back of his skull. All of the injuries that he had seen earlier were swamped in gauze and bandaging; the bruises and the bleeding all covered in white. He could see the minutest rise and fall in my chest as I slept, an oxygen tube in my nose and about a million wires linked to all different places on my body. A plaster cast was already on my leg, propped upright, and Loki's hands started trembling again.
He'd seen a number of wounds in a number of wars. This was no worse than any of those; and so he stepped forwards, sitting in the chair directly next to the bed and taking the hand that was not linked up to the monitor that was watching my pulse. He pressed his lips to the back of my hand, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, the scent of my skin somehow piercing through the sterile, chemical smell of everything else.
The doctor waited for a moment, then, quietly, cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry to have to ask," he said, stepping forwards. Taking my other arm, he carefully lifted it, so that he could display the inside of my forearm, where the letters of my fiancé's name had been cut into my skin. "But, as these were never reported, and we have no record of them…" He trailed off, a little weakly, as Loki looked up to him. He said nothing.
"It was the old king, I take it?" the man asked, very quietly, before repeating, "I'm so sorry, we just have to confirm."
Loki looked down to the hand that he still held, then allowed his eyes to travel up my arm and to my face. The doctor was right; it had been smashed up pretty badly. The entire side of my face was swollen, both eyes were black, and there was bruising all along my chin and jaw line. There was also a cut on my forehead, just like before, just like when Fraye had me the last time…
"No."
As the doctor looked to him, Loki looked back. "It was not the old king," he went on in a whisper. "It was Fraye."
The man sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting it whistle out of them in a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, carefully placing my arm back on the bed, tucking it next to my body. "He must've truly hated her," he said, shaking his head. "To give her to that… thing." He smiled, very weakly, at Loki. "She must've been a fighter, eh?"
At this, Loki laughed. It was mirthless and cold and painful and cracking and dead and numb. "In more ways than you can know."
The doctor's weak smile strengthened just a little. And then he started to walk out, saying, "I'll give you some time alone, shall I?"
And then he left. Loki stared at my unconscious form and let out a heavy, exhausted sigh.
He planted himself firmly in the chair and pulled it closer to my bedside. Keeping my hand in his, his eyes on my face, he stayed where he was. Even when the doctors came to retrieve him, he stayed. Even when the Avengers came to retrieve him, he stayed.
And he stayed, regardless of their words or their threats, at my side, until they finally gave up. Until they found it impossible to remove him and simply allowed him to remain where he was.
And he stayed, right beside me, as I slept.
One: pain.
Two: heavy. Everything felt heavy. My limbs, my head, my eyelids. All of it. So heavy that I couldn't move them.
Three: the sound of gentle breathing nearby.
Four: more pain. Not just in my side or on my face, but in my throat as well, which was dry and hot, like someone had poured desert sand inside of it.
Five: Heartbeat. Two of them. Two was good. Two meant okay.
Six: Memory. I groped at the thoughts inside of my head and tried to realize, tried to understand.
Seven: name.
What was mine?
Where was I?
My eyes opened. It took a long time, a fierce struggle, as my eyelids were even heavier than the rest of me. There was a soft glow nearby, like that of a night-light. For some reason, it was comforting; I didn't like the idea of waking up in the dark. I didn't know why, but I knew I didn't.
The person breathing beside me exhaled, and I turned to him before he inhaled again. I didn't recognize him- he was handsome, sure, with pale skin and dark hair, but I didn't know him- but, for some reason, he felt right. I knew it was his dreams in my head. And having someone else's dreams in my mind, having their heartbeat shadowing mine… well, that was as natural as breathing. There was nothing wrong or different about that.
I reached forwards, as though to wake him from his slumber, but as I moved my arm, a horrendous pain stabbed through my entire body. I gasped in pain, pulling back and writhing. This hurt. Why did this hurt so bad? What had happened to me?
The man sleeping beside me stirred as I did, as I lay back, staring at the ceiling and gasping repeatedly. His head lifted from the bedside, and he looked to me groggily. But, as he caught sight of me, he immediately snapped awake.
"Natalie?" he asked, reaching forwards. His voice broke in relief.
I stared at him. Who was he? Where was I? I felt my own thoughts panicking and twisting and recoiling in my head. But I also felt his, soothing and calm, reaching inside of my mind and trying to cloak me in security, in serenity.
"Natalie…" he said, very quietly. "It's all right… it's me."
I stared at him, this man whom I had no name for, as a golden-green light swept across him. It was not unnatural, when this face dropped away and a new one took its place. It was just an illusion; another thing that was as natural as breathing. But this second face, the one he wore now, with its brilliant, beautiful green eyes and sharp cheekbones and long black hair, was also nameless to me.
"Who… Who…" I managed to rasp out. The man immediately hushed me, standing and moving to the other side of the room so that he could retrieve a glass of water. Holding it out to me and helping me sit up, he said, "Don't talk. It's all right."
So I didn't talk, not out loud. I talked in my head because I knew he would hear me, trying to suck the water down greedily but choking every time that I took more than a sip. His hand stayed on my back, holding me propped upright, as I asked, Who are you?
He was so startled by the question that he almost crushed the little paper cup that he'd given me; he was holding it while I tried to cough out the water that I'd choked on. Confused, I saw his eyebrows furrow; and his thoughts crept deeper into mine, scanning them, looking through them. After a moment, he seemed to understand. At first, his eyes were wide with panic; and then, some logical thought passed through his mind, and his eyes softened. Carefully leaning forwards to plant a kiss on my forehead, he responded, I am you.
I swallowed, hard, taking another sip of water. And who am I?
He smiled weakly, wearily. My fiancé.
For some reason, the sarcasm that came to my brain was, perhaps, even more natural than breathing. Quirking an eyebrow at him, I said, you must think very highly of yourself if you plan to marry her.
He smiled, setting the paper cup back on the nightstand and letting me fall gently back onto the bed. Carefully retrieving a chair, pulling it closer to me, he said, I admit I do.
I couldn't help but smile back. His smile was warm and sweet, though I knew it could be cold, knew it could be cruel. Taking my hand in both of his, he ran his fingers delicately across the damage there; it was half-hidden by bandages, but I could see the scars there, spelling out a word. As his fingertips traced them, he asked, Shall I tell you who you are, Natalie? He asked quietly. His thumb gently ran across the 'L', tracing and re-tracing, again and again. Or would you, perhaps, prefer to forget?
I looked at him for a long time. It was clear in his eyes which one he would have preferred. And maybe that's what I would have preferred once, too. But in my brief time awake, I had realized one thing: I was in incredible pain; not just from my injuries, but from something else. Something deeper. And I didn't know why.
And, despite that pain… I was also happy. Filled with joy with even less of an idea as to why. And these emotions… they needed to be explained. My life needed to make sense. I needed to know who I was and who he was, this man whom I was supposed to be engaged to.
I didn't need to reply to his question. He sensed the answer in my thoughts. Chuckling softly, he said, of course not.
And then his mind slipped into mine. It was only natural, to wrap my own thoughts around his, to allow our minds to merge. Mind and memory unlocked, thoughts and dreams, the two of our minds becoming one. Two halves of one whole, reuniting, as his memories began to fill in the blanks of mine.
And, where his memories touched, they began to stir old ones of mine; buried deep, hidden, broken, damaged recollections. Slowly, steadily, they came to life, glowing and quiet and alive; and though one or two remained faded, as memories could often be, soon, even the ones that he was not directly related to came back. Including the ones with Fraye. The memory of all those months of pain…
But in the end, I could never forget forever. After all; Loki's memories were my memories and vice versa. We could never forget. Not everything.
It was a long time after all of these memories returned that we allowed our minds to drift apart again. Moving in sync like that, being the same exact person for that brief amount of time… it had been a while since we'd done that. Since we'd allowed ourselves to be that; because usually, one of us was too far out of control to allow the other to slip into our emotional madness. As we separated, I kept Loki's hand in mine, carefully pulling it forwards, wincing as the movement made pain spike through me. But I'd been through worse pain. I could handle it.
As we disconnected, Loki turned away from me. His hand was still in mine, but his mind… his mind was on my scars. He could have let me forget them. Forget the pain. Forget everything. But he knew I wouldn't want that; and it was true. Regardless of that pain… it made me… me.
I couldn't give it up. Even if I didn't really want to be me anymore. I had to be. Because if I wasn't me, then who would be?
I smiled, very sadly, at my fiancé. Guess I lived, then.
He looked back to me as I leaned back, lying my head on the pillow and closing my eyes. And at least we can cross 'amnesia' off of the list of things we have to worry about happening to one of us.
He didn't smile back. He didn't say anything. I glanced around the room, looking for the shapes of my friends, as though the Avengers would suddenly appear out of thin air because now I remembered them, remembered who they were. But it was just Loki and I, entirely alone, in a hospital room. The windows were dark, and I could see the silver crescent of a moon peering at me across the sky. The light I'd seen earlier had, indeed, come from a nightlight; Steve, I realized now, had brought it, after realizing that Loki was leaving all the lights on whenever the night came, knowing that I would not want to wake in darkness; but also despising the dark himself. Tony had gotten a kick out of the Norse god of Mischief needing a nightlight, until Loki had, offhandedly, made the shadows swarm around him in a chaotic blaze; a little reminder of what, exactly, the dark had put us all through.
Questions had been asked by a lot of people; the doctors had wanted to know a number of things. Not surprisingly, they were curious about the scars, though that was not their main query; after all, concerning events of previous months, it wasn't altogether unobvious who 'Loki' was and why he would do such a thing to a person.
No, their questions revolved around other things. Namely, the nanos; all of their tests had revealed freaky crap about my blood, and there had been a question of whether or not a blood transfusion would be safe for me, and (for all those in the know) if it may dilute my abilities. Tony had been offended that anyone would think his tech would be so unhelpful, and had very firmly pronounced to anyone listening (and anyone with the clearance) that the nanos were self-replicating. Even if the number was diluted by a transfusion, it would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.
And then there had been the Healers. It had been a huge political scene, trying to get them onto Earth, and if it hadn't been for Fury tricking the Council into allowing it, it probably would never have happened. The doctors had been pushed out of the 'need to know' category as the Healers did what they did best: they healed what injuries they could, speeding my recovery along its way.
Not that my bones weren't still broken, or that it didn't all still hurt. Because they totally were, and it totally did.
Loki seemed unsure of what to say. He wasn't the gooshy, romantic, candy-fluff type, but he didn't need to be. I knew how he felt about me, knew how frightened he was, when I had been so close to death. How angry he was at anything and everything that hindered him. I knew all of the things he had done while he waited for me to wake once again, knew all of the things that he had whispered to me while I slept; even if they were pure nonsense, even if he was reading from a book or muttering plans for Jotunheim under his breath. (After all, a person cannot stay in that state of stress forever; and I had been asleep for almost two weeks).
But now… now he had nothing to say. He was just watching me, his fingers still steadily tracing across the letters on my arms. I watched him back, studied his green eyes, the dark circles beneath them, his pale face.
I swallowed. The movement didn't burn so badly after that drink of water, but my throat still felt thick, still hurt. Every bit of my body ached, even with the medicine that I knew was dripping into my IV, even if the Healers had numbed the pain as best they could. It all hurt. And, feeling this, my eyes began to well up with tears. It was almost a relief, to be able to cry again; but I'd forgotten what a nuisance tears were. Looking at Loki, I said, I'm not okay, am I?
It was a surprisingly weak question. I felt childlike as I asked it, felt very small. Loki's eyes tightened as I added, I'm not all right.
He closed his eyes and took my fingers, bringing my hand up to his lips so that he could kiss it. He didn't open his eyes, didn't look up to me, just kept his lips pressed against my fingers, unmoving, silent, immobile. His head shook a fraction of an inch; but it seemed more of a denial of reality than a direct answer.
What Fraye did to me, I went on, and the tears burned their way out of my eyelids and down my cheeks. All of this fear and pain and rage… it's not okay. I'm not okay. My breath hitched, and I gulped down a sob, which made my ribs ache and shift in ways that they just shouldn't shift. Loki released my hand and reached forwards, running his hand up my arm.
"No," he ordered out loud, before returning to his mental voice. No, Natalie, we don't need to talk about this now. You shouldn't talk about this now. You need to rest, to get better…
Then when?I asked, feeling desperation creep into my thoughts and allowing it to do so. When, if not now? Loki, this isn't getting better. I could have… I could have died, Loki, I could've been killed by this, by her! I took his hand in both of mine, ignoring the shooting pains that it sent through my body to move like that. Holding his hand tightly, I said, It's not just me anymore, Loki. It's not just me who would get hurt if I died. And it's not just you. It's not just about… about us anymore. We have a whole planet to look after, a planet that needs us. And if I had died… if I had died then you would've had one of the Avengers kill you and… and… Another sob. I grit my teeth against the pain but couldn't hold back the gasp of pain. Squeezing his hand ever tighter, as though I wanted to break his fingers, I carried on. We can't afford this. We can't afford for me to… not be okay. I looked him in the eyes- which were wide and a little bit frightened- and said, It has to stop.
All right.
Now.
All right.
It didn't seem to be enough. It never seemed to be enough. And Loki didn't even seem to know what he was promising; though I could feel his thoughts, already beginning to turn, trying to determine what had to be done in order for this to stop. More tears squeezed out of my eyes. And… and I can't… I can't die, Loki. My hands were shaking now, and I held them against the bed, wrapping them up in the white sheets, in an effort to stop it. I'm too… too fragile. I'm supposed to be the queen of a planet, here, and I get taken out by a hunk of metal? By a freaking car? I'm powerful enough to destroy planets and I get hit by a car? I shook my head, violently, which made my face throb. No. No. This sort of thing- Fraye, me, this 'mortality' thing- it just… has to stop. And… and if Puck is right, if there is a way to make me immortal, if… if… I gulped, another painful motion. Loki was staring at me by now, outright staring. Then… then we have to try.
If there's any chance… I gulped once more. Any chance at all… we have to try.
He continued staring at me for a long few moments. I could feel his heart, beating just a little too fast, speed up even more. And, slowly, his shock began to melt away off of his features. His eyes became thoughtful, his entire face studious, as he contemplated this.
Very well, he said at last. I felt relief rush through me as his eyes flicked back to me. Very well, he repeated. We shall try. If you are willing to trust Puck with your fate… then undoubtedly it is for the best. He nodded once, firmly. When do you believe we should take this journey?
Immediately. I said, and when Loki lifted an eyebrow, looking over my injuries, I amended, as soon as I'm better. The second I can walk and move and fight, we're out the door.
And Jotunheim?
We'll have someone take care of it for us. You've been thinking of candidates who could take the throne after your death for days now; surely you've thought of one or two who can watch the crown for us for a few months?
His lip curled wryly. A few, he admitted. One in particular comes to mind, however.
I nodded. I didn't need to ask who the 'one' was; even if I had really wanted to know, I was confident enough in my assessment of Loki that I pretty much knew who he would pick. Good, I said, as a combination of anxiety and relief went through me at the same time. So we go alone. Just you, me, and Puck. If he is the 'bad guy', we don't want to risk too many other lives.
Loki nodded back, slowly, thoughtfully. We would have to postpone the wedding until our return…
At this, immediate dismay struck me. What?!
I looked up to him, sitting bolt upright so quickly that I had to fall back on the bed and gasp a few times. Loki hovered by my shoulder worriedly as I did so, as I tried to regain my composure. What… what do you mean? I asked, surprising even myself by how upset the idea made me. Hadn't I been so frightened of our wedding arriving so quickly? Hadn't I been the one who had continually postponed it? Why did it suddenly matter so much to me now?
It's only logical, Frost, Loki said, slowly and calmly. You wish to leave as soon as you are capable; and you will be so long before our marriage comes to pass. His head tilted to the side. Or do you truly wish to wait for another six months before allowing yourself to leave the planet? Allowing yourself to leave all of the people whom you could hurt? All the people who could hurt you?
I flinched. As usual, Loki had read me like a book; half of the reason I wanted to go-needed to go- so quickly was because… well, I needed a break. I needed to be away from this, from all of it, from Earth and Asgard and Jotunheim, from all the people who had brought me into this mess… I mean, obviously, I wanted Loki to tag along, but Loki didn't count; he was me. I couldn't leave him behind on a planet that I wanted to have no contact with; it would force me to separate from him; and I obviously couldn't do that.
But I needed to be away from these people. From Tiff and Ben and Adrian and Jade and Vicky, sure, but more importantly, from the Avengers. I had to be away from Tony, who had started it all, the first Avenger I had ever met. Away from him and his Tower that I had delivered pizza to.
I had to be away from Bruce, the second Avenger I'd met, the ever-calm scientist who knew what it meant, to have a monster inside. The man who had been there when April had died and had told me how to fight back against the man who had destroyed her. Away from the Hulk, and the images that flashed through my head whenever I thought of him: green blood, shadows slipping out of his teeth, enormous hands that crushed the life out of hounds.
I had to be away from Steve: the Captain that I had thought so kind and gentle, that I had immediately formed a bond with and eventually became distanced from. The soldier who could never understand the mechanisms of me, the spy. The man who, after Fraye, I could never relate to in the same way again; and yet, related to all the more at the same time.
I had to be away from the spies: from Clint, who had offered to kill me before I had asked, who had done the same for Loki now. Who had seemed so frightening, at first; but was now marrying the woman that I tentatively called my best friend; tentatively only because I knew that, in most ways, she would never call me hers. From Natasha, from that woman who had also frightened me, whose first real conversation with me had ended in her drugging me. From the woman that I now trusted with my life, trusted with anything, but could not stay with now, because I saw myself in her eyes, I saw the torture and the blood, and every time I did, I shook with fear.
I even had to be away from Thor; my happy-go-lucky, goody-two-shoes brother, soon-to-be-brother-in-law, with his straightforward thinking and his simple mind and his humongous heart, who could smack a person in the face with a hammer and then go out drinking with his buddies the next day, never blinking, never looking back, never fearing. I had to be away from the man who had the innocence that I once did; the innocence that, somehow, I had lost along the years.
But above all… I had to be away from Earth. From the Tower that my best friend had died in. From the apartment that I only lived in because my first house had been burned down. From my parents house, where I had crashed after the battle, which held, perhaps, the worst memories of them all, for that was where I recovered, that was where it all ended; and the Tower was where it began. My two homes had been corrupted. My entire planet was awash with the stink of Fraye and what she had done, by giving Loki that deal, by making him that promise, by handing my world over to him and conquering it with shadow.
I had to be away.
And Jotunheim… Asgard… these places were no better. I had memories of bleeding in all of these worlds, memories of the fear and the fury of the times. Going to the Jotuns, seeking an alliance. Meeting Kiross and Iecera, who were both now long dead at Fraye's hands. Going to Asgard to meet Loki for the first time; and sending my parents there, to keep them safe from Fraye. Meeting Shale, the Asgardian Healer, who was also dead now, also long lost. I had memories of blood and death and destruction on all of these worlds and it had to stop, it had to end, I had to run…
For the sake of myself, yes… but for the sake of everyone, now, I had to run.
And it couldn't wait six months. Not even for this, the most important moment of my life. Not even for my wedding.
A pit started to form in my stomach. I don't… I said, then bit my lip. It hurt to do so, even worse than it should, because of the bruising, so I stopped. I don't want to wait that long, I admitted. We have to leave soon, or there's no point. But… I twisted the sheets, picked at my nails, looked at my hands, did anything and everything I could to distract myself from the sight of Loki's face. I don't want to… I mean, there's every chance that we could die on the way, you know? Even if Puck is telling the truth, the Faden could decree that we're not what the universe needs. That we've done what good we can for the realms, for the universe, and our time is up. And the journey itself is supposed to be dangerous; even with our abilities… something could happen. I swallowed, hard, and took a deep breath, trying to say what I wanted- and needed- to say.
And… I don't want to die, sure… but what I really don't want, what I can't stand even thinking of… is dying without… without you. Without having it out there, somewhere in the world, somewhere in our universe, as something official. I don't want to die without being able to say that you're officially mine and I'm officially yours and we're officially husband and wife and there isn't a thing that anyone can do about it.
Throughout my little rant, Loki remained entirely silent. At last, he stood and, somehow exuding arrogance once again, he said, then that shall have to happen.
He leaned forwards and kissed me, very gently, on the lips, avoiding my bruising with expert ease- it was always very easy for one of us to avoid hurting the other, if there was an injury on either- before pulling back again and standing upright. There is a great deal to be done, he said, turning away and walking with his old, overconfident steps, striding to the door. As he reached it, he turned back to me and smirked, just lightly. Get some rest, Frost. You need it.
My eyes widened, and I felt my heart skip a little. You're leaving me here? I demanded. Alone?
He chuckled softly. I never leave you, Natalie, he reminded me slyly, tapping on his temple pointedly. And I shall see you tomorrow. As he turned away again, he added, besides that, I highly doubt that you will find any motivation to stop talking and fall asleep, if I am here.
And then he was gone, leaving me entirely stunned. For a little while, I huffed and well-I-never'd, but after a while, I realized that was pointless. Loki had effectively and neatly cut our minds off a bit; though, obviously, if I spoke directly to him or tried to get into his mind in any other way, the walls would come crumbling down. It was really more of a symbolic thing these days.
Besides, he was right; despite having slept all that time, I was still exhausted. I settled back on the pillows, wishing briefly that he'd remained behind to help me do so, then closed my eyes and started counting sheep in my head.
I got to five before I was out cold.
I did see Loki the next day; though not for nearly as long as I would like to have. Apparently, he was working double-time to make this wedding happen a number of months before we'd originally planned, which made me feel guilty, because he came back to me looking haggard and worn and exhausted and couldn't talk for more than a few minutes. When I tried to protest, to tell him to forget about it, that it wasn't such a big deal, anyway, he gave me a dangerously harsh glare until I shut up.
But we kept up a running dialogue with each other throughout the day nonetheless; he felt nervous, staying away from me for so long, after not having left my side for weeks. And, whenever I got bored, he immediately felt antsy, wondering if he should come over, wondering if he could leave Jotunheim now, if he could quell that boredom, since my other friends were clearly neglecting their jobs and not coming to see me…
But, thankfully, that didn't happen often. Mostly because my friends did anything but neglect me. In fact, over the next few days, most of them swarmed. I hadn't noticed on the first night that I'd been awake, but there were get-well cards and flowers all over the room, taking out the harshness of the chemical scent that otherwise polluted the place (I guessed, after a while, that this was probably the reason that people brought flowers in the first place; because that sterile scent was awful). There was also a boatload of chocolates, most sent by classmates who barely knew my name, but maybe had seen me around. People I hadn't seen in years had sent me cards and crap; which made me feel a little better about myself, I'll admit.
And then there were the visitors themselves; most of the time, my room had at least two people in it at one time. It started with my parents, who stayed for most of the day, talking about how frightened they were, about how they were so glad I was okay. My dad even admitted, quite grudgingly, that Loki had certainly pulled through with the Healers, before muttering under his breath that he was still an ass. My mother had glared, but I had grinned and said, "Well, no arguments here."
After the parents came the school friends, starting with Vicky and Jade, who were eventually bustled out by a bunch of burly, steely-eyed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They were taken completely by surprise by their appearance, but I was not. Politics were discussed and the discussion of my move into Jotunheim was brought up multiple times. Eventually, a doctor that the agents brought in themselves, a man who was full aware of everything, was told to look me over. I let him do so in silence, bored and falsely cheerful, until he finally finished his checks and told the agents, in no uncertain terms, that I was not to be moved.
"Oh, of course, she can be," he'd said, "But she should not be. And certainly not through that portal. Do you have any idea what that magic could do to her in this state?" he'd shook his head. "No. Leave her here and leave her be. Allow the Healers to do their work, and for the love of god, get your agents out of her face."
And then he had stalked out. I decided I liked him.
Of course, it was discussed that I should be moved, anyway; but the Healers said that they could continue their work here easily, entirely unhindered, and also asked that they could be allowed to do so without agents around to interfere. They had finally left, with promises that they would eventually return, but the Healers assured me that I would likely not be leaving this hospital until I was completely recovered; not even to return to the Healing Room, which I was strangely glad to hear.
When I confessed to them that I preferred it that way, one of the giants- who was cloaked in an illusion that made him appear as a (fairly tall, but not abnormally so) pale-skinned man with amber eyes- said, "And rightfully so, Lady Shadowslayer. We are not as well versed with Midgardian physiology as these… 'doctors' are, after all."
"Though we do our best," piped up an illusion-blonde Healer from the other side of the room.
"And it's more than enough," I said gratefully, which made them all leave with big grins.
After that came the Avengers. They'd tried to get in earlier, admittedly, but they had been coming almost every day for a while now, and their schedules had to be returning to normal at some point; so now it was a little more difficult. Still, they tried. I talked with them all about what had happened- Thor claimed that it was a battle worth telling about, which I thought was stretching things a bit- and told them about my plan to leave Earth when I was well. I'd decided not to make it into a big deal; but just to tell them all immediately. Most of them thought I was nuts, but Thor, Natasha and Clint all approved. Thor, actually, seemed absurdly happy about it. I guess he was thinking about not having to lose me eventually, like he would all of the other Avengers; but he was probably thinking more about Jane than he was me. If there was one way to make a person immortal, perhaps there were two.
Loki stayed with me that night, but we pretty much weren't able to talk; and the next day, he returned to Jotunheim, and I returned to my visitors; and to the crappy TV in the corner of the room with its six channels and horrible volume controls.
This pattern continued for a while, though the third day arrived with a bit of a shock; my aunt, one of the few people in my family who could not speak English at all, arrived with a boatload of little cousins. Okay, only three little cousins, but they made enough noise for NASA to hear, so the room kinda lost its calm-and-quiet atmosphere.
The boys leapt around the room, jabbering excitedly about this and that and video games and stuff, and I talked and laughed with them while my mother talked mostly with her sister. Amy, the littlest girl, sat on the bed next to me, while I scooted over to make room for her, and swept her in my arms to squeeze all the giggles out of her. I tried to ignore the dark color of her hair and eyes and focus instead on the tan overtones of her skin; she was nowhere near as pale as Fraye was. And her eyes and hair were brown, not black. Fraye couldn't make me frightened of Amy. Not of my cousin, not my family.
I got a lot of other surprise visitors, too. Family from my dad's side that I hadn't seen in years; who had stuck around even after my father had left my mother, because, well, we were still family. Other cousins. Other aunts and uncles. It was a right fiesta and I loved every second of it, even with the pain. For a while, I even managed to forget Fraye, and to forget that Loki wasn't beside me.
But the biggest shock of them all was when two people I hadn't seen in months walked through the door: Anita Blackthorn, April's mother, and Kevin Blackthorn; her uncle.
Things were awkward, at first, as they were bound to be. But I was beyond relieved to see that Anita was no longer as pale and worn as she used to be, as she was in the days after April's death. In fact, she had never looked more alive. I originally put it down to the fact that she and Kevin were holding hands as they walked in- she was finally seeing the right brother, thank you very much- but eventually, shaking and nervous, she told me the real reason. Well, asked, really.
"I saw April," she said, with a trembling voice. She had such a hard time meeting my eyes, understandably enough. "After Loki's downfall. I saw April. She was in my living room and I thought… I thought it was a dream, or a hallucination, or something… but then Kevin said he saw her, too, and I thought… maybe a ghost…?" She looked to me, frightened, as she lowered her voice and said, "Or was it something… you know. That… magic stuff?"
I glanced to Kevin. Clearly, Anita had told him about those parts that she knew about me and Loki. I nodded, once. "Yeah," I said, very quietly. "Yeah, that was us."
They both fell quiet, exchanging long glances. Finally, swallowing, I asked, "What did she say?"
Anita swallowed. "She told me that… I needed to keep going. That it wasn't just about me. That people needed me around." Here, she squeezed Kevin's hand. I looked to him.
"And did she say anything to you?" I prodded.
"Yeah," he said, looking weak and just a little bit grey. "She told me to 'be one with the cheese'."
When they left, Anita apologized for everything; even the fact that Loki had died- 'I knew he meant something to you, I suppose'- and Kevin closed the door behind her. I waited until they had gone a respectable distance away, and their footsteps had faded from hearing.
And then I laughed so hard that I ended up crying; and kept laughing until the nurse came in and told me off for disturbing my broken rib.
On the fourth day of my incarceration, I was starting to get supremely bored; but Loki was not able to return, not yet. Which was all right; I had given up on trying to bug him into coming back. He was determined to see this wedding through, which, I admit, gave me a few butterflies. It was exciting, really.
It was on this day, later in the afternoon, that they finally came. After days of avoiding me, now that I was awake, even though I knew that they had been there while I was asleep, Tiff and Benjamin finally showed up.
I knew that Loki had told Ben everything. It was both a relief and very frightening at the same time, knowing that this human was aware of all of my secrets. Of all the things that I had hidden from him for years.
On seeing him, I immediately tried to explain myself. To say that I had my reasons, that they were very good reasons… but Benjamin wouldn't hear any of it.
Instead, he took the lead on the conversation. Sitting himself down on a chair, while Tiff did the same, he pulled something out from his book bag; a six pack. "I come bearing booze," he announced, "Except it's not really booze because alcohol is super not allowed in hospitals." He set the cans on the table next to me and pulled one out of the rings for each of us. "This is soda," he told us, tossing us each a can. Tiff and I both caught them with a scarily expert easiness. "But for now, it is booze, for we are going to play a drinking game. Clear enough?"
No. No, it wasn't clear at all. But then Ben sighed and, holding his hands in front of him, clasped together between his knees as he hunched over, he stared at the ground. "I'm really sick and tired of the lies. And, all right, I get it, you had to do it. I'm not so much of an asshole that I don't understand where you're coming from. But now I've been introduced into your little circle of secrets and I haven't got a clue what you still are and are not lying to me about. Now, you know that I'm not going to tell anyone- and I had to sign some S.H.I.E.L.D. document saying that if I ever tell anyone anything, I'll be betraying my country, so there's that- so I want that to end. Like, right now. Once and for all." He sat back, grabbed his soda, and popped the lid. Tiff followed his lead, warily, and I did the same.
"So here's what we're gonna do," he said firmly, but in a rush, like he was tripping over these words that he had rehearsed over and over again. "There's a drinking game, or a campfire game, or whatever, it's a game I've heard of. Seen it played a couple times. 'I Have Never'."
Immediately, I caught on. Swallowing hard, I looked to the soda, wondering what I had agreed to by popping its lid. But hey, it had to happen eventually, right? We had to hash this out. And, for some reason, I was calm enough to let it happen now. Because if I left for the Faden and didn't come back… well, then it never would happen.
Tiff seemed to understand, too, but Ben kept explaining. We had the feeling that he needed to explain, so, by unspoken agreement, we allowed him to. "I don't know official rules, or even if there are any. But here's how we're gonna do it: we go around the circle." He twirled his finger around clockwise, indicating each of us in turn. "One of us says, "I have never…" and then fill in the blank. It can be stupid. It can be serious. If you have done it- even if you're the person who said it- you drink. If you haven't, you don't. And try to give a simple explanation as to why or why not. Simple enough, right?"
We nodded together. He seemed to calm down a little bit. "Okay, then," he said, in a slightly less intense voice. "Okay, then," he repeated. "I guess… I guess I'll go first."
Tiff and I exchanged a long glance. Then, bracing myself, I nodded at her. She nodded back, and the two of us turned to Ben together. He was staring at his soda.
"Okay," he said, one more time. Clearing his throat, he said, "I have never… broken a bone."
I quirked an eyebrow. "Really, Benny?" I asked, gesturing to myself; and to the leg that was still in a cast.
"Drink up, Natalia," Tiff chimed in cheerily, tipping back her own soda. I rolled my eyes and did the same. Ben did not.
"Comes with the territory," Tiff told Ben with a shrug. "Broken bones are nothing new."
"And cars really hate my guts," I added.
"Yeah, well," Ben swallowed. "Never had the opportunity." He turned to his girlfriend. "You're next, Tiff."
She considered. "I have never gotten drop-dead drunk at a party."
I didn't take a drink of soda. Ben did, and I giggled. "I remember that."
"You caused that," he grumbled.
Tiff, too, refrained from tipping back her own soda. "You're not supposed to," she admitted. "I've been an agent for a long time; and we can let ourselves get intoxicated, but most of the parties I go to… I'm usually undercover. So I can't."
"And I don't drink alcohol," I added.
We were quiet for a long moment. Then, Tiff said, "You next, Natalia."
I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with her calling me by her old nickname yet. But I let it slide, for now, and thought of something to say. After a moment, I had it. "I have never watched a single James Bond movie."
"Oh, screw you," Ben exclaimed, setting his can aside without drinking. I grinned wickedly at him; it was a point of much anxiety for him, that he had missed out on such franchises. James Bond, Indiana Jones, and the Matrix: all movies that he had missed out on.
But Tiff set her can aside, too. "Spies hate spy movies," she admitted. "Unless they view them as comedies, and I hate having people giggling through all the serious stuff. So I've never had a chance, really."
I lifted an eyebrow, but took a drink. I'd seen two. I understood the whole spies-hating-spy-movies thing; it got ridiculous, sometimes.
Ben took a long time considering his next question. Or rather, when he asked it, I realized that he'd spent that long time wondering if he should ask it. "I've never… told someone that I loved them."
Immediately, I felt like an intruder to the situation. I took a sip, quickly, as did Tiff and Ben themselves. I tried to study my can. Of course he would bring up the heavy stuff immediately. Why not? That was why we'd done this in the first place.
When all was quiet for a while, Tiff said, "I've never meant it."
I swallowed. Hard. But I remained silent as Ben and I both drank. As Tiff did not.
Her eyes went to the window and stayed there. They were just a little too glassy, and I felt something wrench in my gut. Pity washed through me. Of course she would have said 'I love you'. And of course, many times, she wouldn't have meant it. But I hadn't expected… I didn't think that she'd never been in love before.
It was a long moment before I had my 'I have never'. Clearing my throat and piecing my words together carefully, I said, "I have never wanted to say I love you-and meant it-" as both of them looked ready to drink, I added, "To someone in this room." When Ben looked at me harshly, and seemed ready to drink anyway, I added, with much sarcasm, "Who is not named 'Natalie Frost'."
No one moved. I raised an eyebrow at them both, a dignified arch, and said, "Well? We're all adults here. Now answer the question with the soda that we are pretending is booze."
Let's just say that the irony of the situation had not missed me.
Tiff stared at her soda can. Her eyes were welling up with tears, but she was, somehow, keeping them back. Taking a deep breath, she took a large gulp of her soda. Looking to Benjamin with an almost defiant expression, she waited until, as predicted, he did as well.
"Well then," I said primly. "Someone needs to kiss and make up."
"It's not that simple, Natalie," Benjamin muttered.
"I kinda think it is."
"Is it?" Ben snarled, his temper flaring in seconds. That was rare, Ben with a temper, and it made me jump. "All right then: 'I have never slept with someone I didn't love'."
The tears fell out of Tiff's eyes and splashed on the can, little plinks on the tin.
"Ben, please-" She almost begged. Pity stirred at my heart again.
"No. No, Tiff. We're supposed to be honest here, right?" He looked almost crazed. "So go on. I have never." He shoved the can aside. "What about you?"
I set the can down and tried to bite my tongue. I wanted to throttle the boy, but I understood it. I understood why this would cause him pain; not just her.
"You acted like a 'party girl'," he said, in an increasingly panicked, increasingly terse voice. "You were always flirting with- and all but seducing- all of the guys in school. I assume that's your 'cover' in most places." He glared at the ground now, unable to look at her. "But if I'd so much as kiss you on the cheek and we weren't in public, you'd freak out."
"You were different," she said, in a weak voice. "I didn't… Ben, I didn't want to… to do that to you. When I knew that… that I'd have to leave you. That I'd have to hurt you." She looked down. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Like all those other guys?"
She didn't respond.
"Look," I snapped at Ben. "That's what spies do. They don't like it, they don't want it, but it comes with the turf. They have to."
"Then maybe I don't want to be in love with a spy!" He snapped back, his temper seeming to flare. Tiff was shaking her head violently, her red curls bouncing.
"Don't you get it yet?" She shouted. Immediately, Ben and I shut up. We looked to her in shock. It was so rare, to hear Tiff yelling, to hear her raise her voice above a conversational volume.
"Don't you get it?" She reiterated. The Shadow Crow's cheeks were stained with tears. "I didn't want this! They pulled me in when I was a stupid kid, they made me go on missions, they let me have my fun with guns and explosions and adrenaline, but by the time… by the time I finally realized what bullshit it all was, by the time I realized that I wanted out… I couldn't! Because I've got people on my tail, people who want me dead, and if I leave S.H.I.E.L.D… I lose whatever protection I have!" She threw up her hands. "So I do what I can, all right? I try to help my country, protect it, do what I have to in order to do the right thing, but sometimes… sometimes you just can't! And sometimes…" She looked at us both, surprisingly helpless.
And then she grabbed the can. "Sometimes it happens!" She shrieked, then took a drink. "Then it happens again!" She shouted, taking another drink. "And again!" Another drink. "And again and again and again!" One long gulp before she slammed the can down. All of my lingering animosity towards her washed away in that second; because I could see, now. I could see how scared she was. I could see what she'd been forced to do. And I could see the bravery inside of Tiffiana Lively, as she confessed all of these terrible things to someone that she could maybe, just maybe, care about. I'd been there. I'd done that. And it was the most terrifying moment of your life. "Yes, Benjamin Osner, I've slept with other guys! Guys I didn't give a shit about! But you know who might thank me for doing it? Those people who didn't get shot by terrorists because of me! That little diplomat's daughter that I found in the basement of that one dude's mansion! Those people who would have died if I hadn't removed alien freaking tech from the far house at the end of their street! Those people who don't even know I exist!"
She was panting by now. Ben and I both were staring at her, completely blown away. "And I knew!" She went on shouting. "I knew that this mission was crap from the moment I met Natalie! I knew that this was the wrong thing, but I did it anyway, because I had my orders, because that's what I was supposed to do! And I found a guy and I established my cover and I did what I freaking had to do! And in the end, I fell in love with you, okay? I'll say it! I love you! But, apparently, that doesn't matter, because I'm not freaking perfect! So you know what- you know what?" She picked up her soda can. Her eyes were wild and almost feral, a lioness with red-brown hair. "Let's just bring it all up! Let's dig up all this shit! Let's bring it out in the open, let's display my crimes for all to see!" Holding the can up as though in a toast, she announced, "I have never killed someone!"
And then she put the can up to her lips and gulped down every last drop of soda inside. When she finished, she flung the empty tin down onto the floor, let it clatter into the corner of the room. The noise shattered the room into silence for a long time, with the only sound being Tiff's still-heavy breathing.
And then she fell back onto her chair and buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly.
Ben looked to me. I looked to Ben. And then, carefully, I took a drink.
Benjamin Osner, the Message Runner, stared at the can on the floor for the longest time. He continued to stare until, at last, Tiff pulled her hands away from her face and glared around at us both. He kept staring long after that.
And then he lifted the can to his lips and took a long, slow, steady drink.
No, I thought, the second I saw this. The second I realized what it meant. Not Benny.
Not Benny. Not relaxed, laid-back Benny. Not kind, sweet, gentle Benny. Not the Benny who had asked me out and smiled when I turned him down. Not awkward, bumbling, but somehow never shy Benny. Not the Benny I had hung out with in high school, who knew April and who April liked. Anyone but Benny.
But war makes monsters out of us all.
He set his can down on the little table next to my bed. Folding his hands and looking down to the floor, he said, "I was carrying a message out to the Frosts. If I didn't get it there… a lot of people could've died." He swallowed, hard. "But I had a tail. And… and I couldn't shake them. So I waited for them in an alley, and I knocked them both unconscious." He tugged the collar of his shirt, as though it were starting to choke him. His eyes still didn't meet either of ours. "Except… one guy… well, he hit the wall too hard. And when he went down… there was blood everywhere." He sat back in his seat. "I gave the message to your mother"- he inclined his head to me without even looking in my direction- "and told her what happened. She said it had to be done and not to blame myself." He smiled, so weakly, and said, "And all I could think to say in response was, 'How could I blame myself? He was the idiot who couldn't stay on his feet.'"
The world was entirely silent. It made sense, of course- everyone in the rebellion had been damaged in one way or another- but it still felt… wrong, to know this. To know that Benjamin Osner- my Benny- had taken a human life.
And, sitting there, I said the only thing I could think to say. "The world was a dark, shadowy place." I took a drink of soda that had nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with my dried-out throat. "What else can it breed, but dark, shadowy people?"
When no one responded, I pulled a can off of the six pack that was still on the table. Tossing it to Tiff, I waited until she had cracked it open. Then I swallowed and said the only thing that I could. "I have never tortured someone."
Tiff looked up to me, and our eyes met. It was a long, weighted exchange that passed between us, spoken using nothing but the expressions on our faces, a conversation which, momentarily, excluded Ben. But then she glanced to him, a quick, flitting look, and I did the same, and we looked down to our cans. Almost in unison, we drank.
Ben, thankfully, did not. He held the can in his lap and stared at it. His face looked pale, but he didn't seem confused or upset. Just… tired, maybe. Closing his eyes, he said, "I have never been tortured."
The Shadow Crow drank, as did the Shadowslayer. The Message Runner did not. His eyes went to- and stayed on- Tiff. He'd already known what I'd been through; he'd seen my scars, he'd known that for a long time, even before Loki had told him everything. But it was very clear that this, that what had happened to Tiff, was news to him.
The spy stared at her hands, at the hospital bed, at the walls, at whatever she could for a long time. She didn't ask a question, didn't voice an 'I have never'. Instead, she said again, "It… it comes with the territory, y'know?"
She drank some soda, as though wishing that it really was alcohol, as though wishing that she could wash away everything, burn out the memories. But, at last, she looked up to us. She didn't seem to have anything more to say, so I set the can aside. "I guess we're finished with the games, here."
No one seemed to have any objections, and so, after a moment, the other two set their own soda cans aside as well. For a long time, no one seemed able to speak. I was very aware of how much of an intruder I was on this scene, but I couldn't help but want to meddle in it, anyway, the shrink in me trying to think of the right thing to say, the right way to counsel this particular couple.
So, pressing my fingertips together and peering over my hands at the people that I called my 'friends', I told them, "I think everyone here can agree that no one is perfect. The question is, can we forget everyone else's imperfections?"
The two looked to me. I looked back, eyes hard. Settling back on my pillows and focusing on making my ribs numb, as they had started to ache, I promised, "I'm willing if you are."
The two looked at each other, then to me, then back at each other. Tiff's hand clenched in a fist, and she stuffed it into her sweater pocket to conceal it.
"I'm a spy, Benji," she said, in a soft voice, turning away from him. "I'm always going to be a spy. There's a lot of problems to go around, okay?" Here, she looked up at me. I nodded at her, tightly, and she nodded back. In that gesture, I knew; all crimes between the two of us were forgiven and forgotten. Tiff and I were good. We were friends once again, with nothing in our way. And then she turned back to Ben. "But I'd like to go on living my life knowing… knowing that there is one thing… one person out there in the universe… that I didn't screw up beyond repair. And if that means that you and I… that we have to be… finished? I'll go. I'll go and never come back. If you can't live with this, with me, if you can't forgive me and accept me for what I am… then I don't want you to try to. I don't want you to… force yourself to try and do that just because you think it's… the right thing, or what you should do. If you can't do it… if you can't accept me… don't. Just tell me that you can't." She shrugged, a little helplessly. "And I'll go. You'll never see me again."
There was no doubting that this was the truth. Tiff could vanish from Ben's life a lot better than a lot of other people could, I was sure. And now that I had discovered her, she wasn't much use to S.H.I.E.L.D. here, anyway; the only reason she was still here at all was because she was the only spy that I allowed within fifty feet of me (besides Natasha). She wasn't their most valuable asset while she was here, but she was an asset nonetheless.
Ben looked at her for a long time. Then he sighed, heavily, exhaustedly. "No." he mumbled. "No, I don't want you to leave, Tiff. I've never wanted that." He looked up, blinking a few times, trying to get his thoughts straight in his head. "I guess… I'm just… imperfect enough. You know? Imperfect enough that… I'm having a hard time… getting used to this."
She didn't respond. She sat, immobile, and stared back at him. Then she looked away, biting her lip, which was painted with its usual red-orange hue.
"Can you understand that?" Ben asked at last, looking back up at her. "Please? Can you understand that… I want to try, but… I can't give you any guarantees?"
There was silence for a moment as Tiff looked back at her boyfriend. And then, unexpectedly, she smiled. It was wry, a sweet and sad and sarcastic little smirk.
"I'm a spy, Benji," she said. "There's no such thing as a 'guarantee'."
The room went silent. I looked between Ben and Tiff, Tiff and Ben, trying to determine what the atmosphere in the room had become now, trying to figure out what would happen next.
And then Ben smiled. He leaned back, seeming to force himself to relax, shrugged in a 'what-can-you-do?' sort ofway and said, "Well alright, then."
We were all quiet for a moment. No more looks were exchanged between Tiff and I; she kept her eyes locked solely on Benny. And then, at last, she smiled wearily back.
Taking her can, she held it up and said, "I have never celebrated a birthday."
And suddenly… the games began again. And in that second, the atmosphere relaxed, and the three of us were… friends.
The drinking game continued. Bad points were brought up and harsh words were exchanged… but they always mellowed out towards the end. And, when Ben and Tiff left for the day- smiling and laughing, my best 'normal' friends- they were holding hands.
All in all, I thought to myself, today worked out.
Physical therapy was a bitch.
I'd lost count of the days I'd been in the hospital; it could've been weeks by this point. I was sick and tired of the same four walls, even with the flowers and cards still decorating the place. All of the chocolates had been eaten, mostly by me, and I'd exhausted the re-runs that played, over and over, on my crappy TV. I was going stir-crazy by the time the Healers announced that the doctors were going to give me physical therapy today, and I thought that it would come as a welcome change of pace.
Yeah, give that up.
"Okay, Natalie, slowly, slowly…" The doctor told me, as I inched my way along, with the support of my boyfriend, who had stayed behind today, knowing that this was going to happen. I tried to stifle a groan.
"If I move any slower, I'll be going backwards," I muttered under my breath to Loki. He didn't respond. His main focus right now was on not letting me fall to the floor.
The cast had come off recently, and they'd pretty much wanted me moving immediately. The doctors were all amazed and awestruck at how quickly my bones had knit back together, but they were kept quiet about it under order of S.H.I.E.L.D. They had all long ago learned to stop asking questions from me. They had also stopped trying to remove 'Lawrence' from wherever he wanted to be; and so were shutting up right now, even as he did a job that a nurse was probably supposed to be doing.
I made my way at a crawling, snail's pace over to the other end of the room. There were rails on either side of me, and I walked across with stuttering, lumbering steps. My leg did not want to respond like it should have, which kinda ticked me off. I wanted to be able to run, dammit, I wanted to be able to fight.
Loki sensed these thoughts, and whispered in my ear, "In time, Frost. Just give it time."
I watched him, from the corner of my eye. He was looking as tired as ever; these wedding plans were still really taking it out of him. But, no matter how many times I told him to forget about it, he refused; and so, eventually, I let him have it. Truth be told, these injuries were stirring a lot of the old guilt inside of him; and he'd found a way to blame himself for them (After all, if he'd never given me to Fraye, I never would have seen her there, and I wouldn't have run into that street). So, really, the more time he was away, the more time he was distracted from it, the less time he had to allow his thoughts to go down that dangerous path.
Dr. Barkley waited for me at the other end of the room, and when I finally made it over to him, he gave me a large grin and congratulated me. "Very good, Miss Frost!" he exclaimed. "Take a rest for a moment, that's it, we'll resume in a few minutes. That's it, catch your breath…"
I was winded. I was winded from walking across the freaking room. This was a nightmare.
I sat down, Loki sitting beside me, still in the guise of 'Lawrence.' It had taken a little while, but I'd finally gotten used to those features- the pale skin and dark eyes, the dark hair that always looked kinda windswept- and though Loki wouldn't admit it, it made him very happy that I had. It was just a little reassurance; it truly didn't matter what he looked like-human, Asgardian, or Jotun- it was the personality behind the face, the expressions on his features rather than the features themselves, that I'd fallen in love with. That, even with this illusion… he was still my Loki.
He looked to me in concern, hovering in his usual, nigh overprotective way, as I held my chest and tried to gulp down air. My ribs still hurt, though they had healed by now as well, and it made it difficult to suck in air. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Fine," I answered between breaths. "I'm… I'm fine."
He gave me that 'I'm not sure if I believe you' look of his, but he didn't say anything to contradict me. Instead, he allowed me to rest, to catch my breath again. I leaned my head back and waited until my heart rate fell into its steady norm again.
I was ready for another go around the room, but Dr. Barkley insisted that I take a few more minutes; so Loki and I sat next to each other while I stared down the path that I would have to walk across once again.
After another minute of this, Loki decided it best if he took my mind off of the physical therapy for a bit, and so to distract me, he said, "I've spoken with Natasha about your dress. I assume you wish to follow with human custom in regards to that; so I have removed myself from those proceedings."
Well, at least he knew how best to distract me; because, even knowing that it was a diversion from the world around me, I couldn't resist taking the bait. With every day that I grew better, the wedding day grew closer; and, with all of the plans constantly circling about in Loki's head, it was making me positively jittery with anticipation. "Yeah, she mentioned something about coming over later with a magazine," I responded. "We can't exactly walk into the bridal shop with me all messed up like this. And I'll have to choose her dress, too…" I sighed, shaking my head out. "Fun."
He smirked just a little. "Having second doubts?"
"Not about that," I answered resolutely. "A few about what follows, though." As he looked to me quizzically, I added, "Well, we're pretty much spending our honeymoon on a dangerous journey towards a bunch of insanely powerful people that may or may not exist, following the word of a half-breed former slave that we more than have reason not to trust. I'm not exactly brimming with confidence."
He shrugged mildly. "It was your wish to do this, Frost."
"It was yours, too," I reminded him, not letting him get out of it that easily. "I was just the first person to properly acknowledge the fact that this is all we've got." I watched Dr. Barkley as he scribbled a few notes on his clipboard.
"I just…" I gnawed on my lip for a moment. "I wish there was some way… that we could know for sure, y'know? Someone else we could ask that could verify that yes, the Faden exist, it's worth it, you're not sticking your neck out on the line for nothing. Something that would prove it, once and for all."
Loki considered that. And then, with the sigh and slight slump of the shoulders that usually accompanied all of his resignations to defeat, he said, "Quite frankly, Frost, I haven't the slightest idea of how we could go about verifying it. Puck is the only person I've ever met who claims to know them; and, frankly, Natasha trusts Puck." He looked to me. "That is typically all you need."
"Typically," I agreed. "But not always. And not… not for something this big." I twisted my hands. Actually, I knew exactly who would know, exactly what I would have to do to meet them, to talk to them, to prove it to myself that this was worth it. But I didn't dare mention it. Not just yet. Not before I had sufficiently appealed to his sense of reason and logic. "I mean, I don't like it. I don't like leaving Jotunheim and Earth unprotected. Earth could probably survive without us- it's got the Avengers watching out for it- but Jotunheim is… unstable. There have been a few major power shifts over the last years, and while I'm sure it would survive if we left it for a while… I'd just like to make sure that our leaving is actually… necessary."
His eyebrows furrowed. It was a very familiar gesture on this stranger's face. "And what would you suggest?"
I bit my lip again, harder this time, so that it stung a little. "You won't like it," I admitted.
Immediately, his entire form shifted into caution. He eyed me warily, his body language closing up a little- hands moving closer to his body, spine becoming more rigid- as I pulled my idea to the forefront of my mind, where he could see it as clearly as I did.
For the longest of moments, he was absolutely silent. Doctor Barkley called us up again, saying that I could probably risk it now. He was ignored for the time being, as I held my hand up to indicate that I would need another minute. He seemed to nod knowingly, like he had been aware from the beginning that I was just acting tough, when really, I actually was pretty tough, thank you very much.
Loki's lips mashed into a hard line, pressed together hard. I wasn't looking at him anymore- I was turned to the doctor, still waving him off- and his hand abruptly shot out, gripping my chin tightly as he turned my head to him, a little more roughly than was strictly necessary.
It was through both his teeth and his tight throat that Loki managed to speak, forcing the words out as though each one was a physical pain to him. "Are-you-out-of-your-mortal-mind, Frost?"
I stared back up at him, resolutely and serenely. "Given the hallucinations that I've been experiencing lately, I would say yes."
His fingers tightened just a little on my chin. His illusion-dark eyes burned so brightly that I could see hints of green beginning to seep through. His voice a spitting whisper, he told me, "That isn't funny."
"It wasn't meant to be."
He released me with a small grunt of disgust. I stood carefully, and he automatically stood as well, helping me move forwards again. We took the walk down and back across the room once again, just to get the doctor to shut up… but all the while, Loki seethed.
"I won't do it, Frost," he hissed to me when we were finally seated again. And, yet again, I was out of breath. "And you'll have a very difficult time finding a Jotun mage who will."
"Then I'll ask an Asgardian one," I replied, calmly but coolly, keeping a level head and tone.
He gave me a poisonous look in reply. "You'll be hard-pressed to find one of them, either. Even Thor would not be so recklessly stupid as to-"
And then he shut himself up because he realized it wasn't true. Stiffening, he straightened upright in his seat. "Regardless, Thor is not a mage. He cannot activate Elliroth anymore than I could wield Mjolnir."
"But he is in command of other mages," I answered, simply enough. "And he might help me, if I asked."
"And why would you ask?" Loki demanded. Our voices were lowered so that the conversation was kept between the two of us, but his words were beginning to rise into dangerously loud levels. A sneer was curled on his lip. "Why would you do something so utterly idiotic? I thought you, of all people, would know better than to ask her-!"
"She's dead," I replied tonelessly. "Elliroth can show us Fraye temporarily, but she'd just be an echo. She wouldn't have her magic. She'd be powerless to hurt us. And- oh yeah- she'd still be dead."
He gripped my wrist, shoving my sleeve up so that the scars on my forearm showed, stark red, in the light of day. Or, rather, the light of the hospital. "After this, Frost?" he demanded. "After this accident that you are even now, as we speak, undergoing treatment for? Can you truly look me in the eye and tell me that this is the right thing to do?"
"It's a grey area," I admitted in a mumble, yanking my arm back from him so that I could conceal the scars again. "But if it meant that we had one more voice saying that the 'Fates' are real… one more person saying that it's possible- maybe even plausible- for me to become immortal… It'd be worth it." I turned away. "We could let her do one good deed…"
"And what makes you so entirely certain that she would?"
"Because we gave her what she wanted. We ended it for her." I looked away from him. "That's what she created us for, isn't it? That's why she separated us, why she made us hate her so much. If she couldn't get us to hear the same silence that she was, then she wanted us to try and kill her. And we did. We ended it. And now… now, maybe, she can help us."
He didn't respond this time. Instead, he fumed, staring off at Dr. Barkley.
"She's our best chance," I added, very quietly. "She's been to more planets, more galaxies… more universes than everyone in the realms combined."
"And destroyed many of them," Loki added shortly.
"But if these 'Fates' really are the 'Sentries of Time'… if they're really working in the best interest of the universe… then they undoubtedly would have seen her. Would have taken notice of her and everything she was doing." I looked down, twisting my hands in my lap. "So maybe she saw them, too. It only makes sense."
"It does," he admitted. "But you hardly need to convince me of this; after all, you already seem to have decided that this is what you are going to do. You do not need my opinion."
He sounded unbearably hurt, which all at once frustrated me and sent sympathy spiking through me. I immediately gripped his arm. "Don't think that way," I ordered. "You know that's not true. I want you to help me with this, Loki."
"Do you?" He asked acidly. "Do you really?"
"Yes. I do. Because… because I know that this is the right thing- or at least the smart thing- to do. But I can't… I can't see her again, Loki. Not without you. I can't."
He didn't respond for quite a while. In fact, we ended up walking back and forth through the room once again before he finally said, "Well, Miss Frost, I'm afraid that you will have to. Because I will not see Fraye at all."
The reply wasn't exactly unexpected, so I stifled my sigh, my feelings of hurt. He already knew- I'd already told him- that I wouldn't want to confront Fraye, even a washed-out illusion of Fraye, without him by my side. And in refusing to be there… he knew that it decreased my chances of going through with it, of finding some Asgardian who would be willing to help me and asking that nightmare a question that she may or may not answer honestly…
I didn't hold it against him, though. I might have, if his only motivation for refusing was to keep me from doing something he didn't want me to do. But he had other motivations as well; the highest of which being that he could not stand the very sight of Fraye, still moving, still walking around, still alive, even if she was just… pretending.
But Fraye had always been pretending to be alive, from the very moment that we met her. And now… now I was seeing her, anyway, even without Elliroth's help. At least the echo of her couldn't hurt me; not like the version in my head did.
Resolving to figure out my next steps at a later time, when Loki was not looking quite so murderous, I tucked the thoughts into the back of my head and carried on walking aimlessly, back and forth, across the room.
Loki was asleep in the chair next to me while Natasha and I made our final decisions on the dresses. He'd been asleep since she'd gotten here; he'd been working almost non-stop, both with his usual duties on the throne, and our wedding plans. It was exhausting him, trying to cram in about six months of work into such a short time, but he was carrying through it with a stubbornness that I had learned to expect from him; and a stubbornness that I had stopped trying to talk him out of a long time ago.
Though I truly did wish that he would take it down a notch and just… relax. He was trying to be in a thousand places at once- succeeding, on occasion; illusionary doubles had their advantages- and it was driving him to the point of exhaustion. He was starting to wake up tired. And whenever he visited me, he usually just ended up falling asleep in the chair. I let him, of course; he was driving me crazy with worry. I didn't like him feeling like this.
Not for the first time, Natasha eyed the sleeping form of my husband-to-be. She carefully set down the catalogue. I would probably not have a chance to get my dress tailored, but Natasha knew my measurements; and she knew how to fix the dress a little, if need be. She could help out with that part.
I looked at her as she studied Loki. "He's been like that for days," I admitted.
"I'd noticed."
Of course she had. My eyes flitted to the door briefly, then I lowered my voice. "You know, if you still want me to be your maid of honor… we'll have to find some way to fit it in before I leave. I mean, you could wait until I came back… but there's no guarantees, y'know?"
"I know," Her eyebrows furrowed. "I believe I may have to rescind my previous offer."
I'd figured as much, so I just shrugged. "It's ok with me. I just… I would've liked to be there." I smiled, a little sadly. "But I get it. Timing isn't great."
She nodded, trying to give me a little bit of a sympathetic look, as though she thought I needed it. As though she had to cater to my emotions, like I was another one of her marks… I gave her a look in return until she stopped.
"I'm glad you asked, though," I said, very quietly. "I…" I swallowed hard, forcing the words out through a dry throat. "I'm glad that, maybe… you might think of me as a friend."
"You still doubt that?"
I shrugged, smiling weakly. "I dunno. I just…"
"Don't think that highly of yourself?" She asked wryly.
"Pretty much."
"You shouldn't doubt yourself so much, Natalie," She said, very quietly. "You are an Avenger. You are our friend." She squeezed my arm softly. "And… you are my friend."
I smiled back at her as she stood, sliding the catalogue into the purse that I knew held nothing of great value, just in case it was stolen. She nodded to me, quickly, then glanced to Loki again, as though expecting him to wake up. "I'll see you tomorrow," She promised as she turned.
"I'll be here," I joked, gesturing to my still-pretty-much-useless-leg.
She left the room. As she did, outside of my sight, she turned a hallway, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She pressed a number on speed dial and held it up to her ear.
After a moment, the reply came. "'Lo?"
"Clint."
"Hey, Nat."
"Gather the Avengers. We have something to discuss."
"An emergency?"
"Not as such."
There was a pause. Then, "Is this about what you were saying yesterday?"
"Affirmative."
"Right. I'll get everyone together. See you in twenty."
She turned the phone off and slid it back into her pocket.
It happened about a week later. I was still having a bit of a hard time walking, but it wasn't nearly as bad anymore. The doctors were still wondering at my amazing recovery time, and I was to be released from the hospital soon. It was about noon-ish; and I'd convinced Loki to take the rest of the day off. But it was only at the Avengers' behest that he finally agreed; apparently, they had something to discuss with us.
The two of us talked for a while. Loki was a little sick of talking about the wedding, so I steered clear of that topic as well as I could; and steered clear of my still-in-place plans to see Fraye in the Chamber of Elliroth. I even refrained from discussing the fact that he'd gone behind my back to tell Thor not to allow it to happen; and that I only knew this because I had gone behind Loki's back to ask Thor for help. He'd refused, of course, going along with what his brother said; but I wasn't deterred in the slightest. I'd find someone. I didn't know who, but I'd figure it out.
So instead, Loki and I were discussing other things; mainly travel plans. And we were disagreeing over a very important detail.
"It should just be us and Puck," I said, stubbornly. "I don't want anyone else getting involved in this."
"Well, we can hardly tell him to stay behind," Loki pointed out. "Fenrir is a rogue from his planet. A traveler and a wanderer by nature. If he wishes to come with us… I do not see how we could stop him."
I shook my head. "I don't trust him, Loki. He broke into my parent's house, remember?"
He scowled. "We do not know if that was him, Frost."
"We kinda do, Laufeyson."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If this was the case, then would it not be better if he did come with us? At the very least, then we could keep our eye on him. He wouldn't be a threat to your parents if he was on another world with us."
I opened my mouth to make a counterargument… then shut it. Because, well, that was a pretty valid point. I contemplated that for a long moment… and was still thinking it over when Tony came in.
"Hey, Pizza Girl!" He called, somewhat urgently. "Get out here, we need you!"
Loki and I exchanged a glance, then moved quickly. He helped me to my feet- unnecessarily- and the two of us ran out of the room swiftly. The other Avengers were outside waiting for us, and Steve was barking out orders.
"Natalie, I need you with Romanoff and Stark," he said. I looked around; everyone-including the newly crowned King Thor- was here. Everyone but Banner, at least. "Loki, you're with us."
Loki's lip twitched down. "Shouldn't Frost and I-" he started warily. Already, Rogers was shaking his head.
"Trust me, you'll want eyes everywhere," he said. We nodded curtly in return. It made sense, from a tactical standpoint; Loki and I were good for relaying messages to separate teams, and if one saw something, then naturally, so did the other. "Now go!" Steve ordered, and immediately, we fell into line. We were used to that by now.
"So what's happening?" I asked Tony as he and Natasha led me forwards at a brisk pace that, while I had a hard time keeping up, was just slow enough.
"It'll be best if you see for yourself," Natasha answered, her tone giving nothing away. I nodded back, and she led us down the halls. We didn't have to walk far, though we did take the elevator once, which surprised me; but I guessed that it was quicker to take the elevator than to walk down the stairs and have to wait for me to recover.
We arrived, after a few minutes, in a small room. At the far end was a closet, which Natasha gestured to. I immediately went towards it, readying my force field, but not yet flaring it, assuming that the other two Avengers were following me.
I was wrong. Because then I opened the closet.
I was taken aback by a flurry of white; and, as I stepped back, I realized that there was only one thing inside of the closet. Far away, Loki, with the others, seemed to be facing the same predicament; another closet, and inside, a tux.
I stared, blankly, at the wedding dress, which seemed to stare right back at me. Confused, I looked back to Natasha and Stark- the latter of which had a huge grin on his face- and asked, "What… what's this? What's going on?"
Natasha's lip quirked up. "What do you think?" She asked in turn.
Tony's grin grew wide, almost manic. "You're getting married!"
