Thor knelt, the golden floor of the throne room cold beneath his hands.
"All-Father," he said, head bowed.
"Odinson," his father replied. No, not his father. His king. As he had been since Thor had freed him from Loki's plot. Since Thor had told him he would not take the crown.
"It is your birthright," Odin had told him, "It is your duty. Your rank is both your privilege and your responsibility. You cannot have one without the other."
"Then I will have neither."
Since then, he and Odin had not spoken to one another outside the throne room, and even then they were formal and restrained. Thor had found himself wishing that the Enchantress had never informed him of Loki's trickery. Or that, perhaps, the Odin who had looked warmly upon him mere months ago was his true father, not this distant man on the golden throne. Guilty thoughts, but they flitted through his mind nonetheless.
"Loki came to Midgard, just as Heimdall said he would," Thor reported, "He was captured and is currently being held by SHIELD." No need to mention that he spent the battle frozen solid, even if the only ones who would hear him say it were the silent guards along the walls. Tongues had a tendency to wag in Asgard.
"He is still on Midgard?" Odin asked, voice sharp, "Why have you not returned with him?"
"Dark tidings," Thor told him, stomach sick with anticipation, "Loki has revealed much since his capture. The one who provided him with the Chitauri army, the one who sought the Tessaract, is none other than the titan Thanos."
Thor expected him to shout, to rage, to curse. He had been dreading this moment since the name had slipped through Loki's lips. But Odin didn't leap from his throne. He sat, frozen, the blood draining from his face. There was no rage on his face. Only fear.
It was the most terrifying thing Thor had ever seen.
Several agonizing moments ticked by. The tension-thick air caught in Thor's lungs.
"Thanos…" The whispered word seemed to release the All-Father, and his shoulders drooped. "Yes," the aging god muttered, "it explains so much. So much…"
"Father?" Thor said hesitantly, their feud forgotten in his concern. Odin seemed to gather himself together at the word.
"Tell me that all you have learned."
And so Thor told him of Thanos, of the promise Loki had made, of the dreams, of the strange link Loki had with a mortal woman, and of the way the mortals kept Loki under control. And then, finally, he told him of the request the mortals made.
Throughout it all, Odin sat, motionless. Thor finished all he had to say, and still Odin sat. A weathered monument to a once-great king.
"Guards! Leave us," he commanded finally. The guards filed out, gold capes billowing across the golden floor.
Odin rose from the throne and descended the stairs to where his son still knelt.
"Walk with me."
The king led Thor through seldom used halls, winding back and forth. Thor cleared his throat as the minutes lengthened.
"All-Father," he began, "I know that you bear the mortals little love, and Loki has committed many crimes…"
"Listen to me," Odin hissed, voice lowered, "I can only say this once. Whatever may happen, you must swear that you will not bring Loki back to Asgard. Do you understand me?"
Thor stiffened. "I understand," he replied gruffly.
Odin huffed a tired laugh. "No, you do not." He halted in a small alcove tucked away in the back of the palace. A window opened onto a hidden balcony, allowing the warm light of Asgard to shine through. "Let me guess; you think I do not want Loki to return because I fear Thanos?" he eyed his son shrewdly, "You are wrong."
Thousands of years of worry seemed to weigh down the king's shoulders. "Loki's crimes are great. I have spared him once for your mother and once for the assistance he gave you against the Dark Elves. But I cannot spare him again." He looked at Thor gravely. "If you return him to Asgard, I will have no choice but to execute him."
A chill ran through Thor's veins. If the mortals had not made their request…if he had insisted on bringing Loki back…
"As king, I must uphold the rule of law," Odin continued tiredly, "I must be a king first, and a father second. No matter what I want…Asgard already wonders at my leniency." He gripped Thor's arm. "Midgard is Loki's only hope now. If he can prove himself against Thanos, I can pardon him again. But until then, you must swear that you will keep him away from here."
His hand squeezed Thor's arm with surprising strength. "Swear that you will," he repeated.
Thor looked at him in wonder. The father he had missed, longed for, the father Loki had pretended to be, stood before him once more. "I swear," Thor told him fervently, "By the Norns I swear."
Odin released Thor's arm. "Do you think the Midgardians can face Thanos?" he asked his son.
"Two years ago I would have laughed at the thought," Thor replied honestly, "But now I would not be surprised to see them face Surtur himself. But they cannot do it alone."
Odin shot him a knowing glance.
"Meaning, I assume, that you will be assisting them."
Thor remained silent. Odin chuckled drily.
"I have learned by now that my words will have little effect on your actions. If I had any idea what the consequences of exiling you to Midgard would be…I do not know whether or not I would still do it. You have grown, my son. Midgard changed you.
"We can only pray that it will do the same for Loki."
"Indeed," Odin agreed, "Now come. If Loki is to remain on Midgard, we must make arrangements." As he spoke, the father disappeared, shuttered behind the guise of a king. But Thor recalled the pressure of a hand on his arm and remembered.
"End this now."
Fury faced the ceiling to floor windows that stretched across an entire wall of his office. His office was one of the few places he knew Stark had never managed to hack. And considering how the billionaire had reacted to his news, chances were he was trying to force his way through the security protocols as they spoke.
"You have the power to stop this," Coulson insisted, "To stop all of this. Don't do this; you owe me that much."
I owe you all of that and more. The plane, the team, everything he'd done for Coulson, given him, and it still wasn't enough to pay Fury's debt to the man. Not after what he'd done to him. Not after Tahiti. It was a debt he could never repay - and one he couldn't even attempt to.
"Agent Ayuma has already expressed her willingness to remain linked to Loki," he answered, "This is her decision, not mine." Not that this would satisfy the man.
"Her consent does not mean that this is a wise course of action. We should allow Stark to break the connection before she suffers permanent damage." Fury could feel Coulson's glare burning through his trench coat. He turned to meet it.
"Ayuma has undergone extensive mental and psychological training," he reminded him, "At present we have no reason to believe there will be permanent damage." There was no way Coulson way going to buy that.
Coulson looked at him incredulously. "You can't seriously expect me to buy that." Called it, Fury told himself. "She has the thoughts of crazed, power-hungry, homicidal alien inside her head, sharing her dreams. There isn't a training regimen in the world that can prepare her for that."
As if there was a training regimen for half the crap SHIELD agents went through, Fury thought sardonically. Out loud he merely said, "She has undergone extensive psychological and mental training. If she really is one of the best, I'm sure her mind can handle this."
"There's something you don't seem to understand. I've been keeping an eye on her since she was eighteen, Fury. Eighteen. I've seen her through her best and her worst. Miya doesn't cry. She analyzes and compartmentalizes. She doesn't give in to that kind of emotion, even in private. But sharing just one of Loki's dreams caused her to cry hysterically for several minutes, in front of Stark, no less. Do you have any idea of the damage long-term exposure could do to her?"
"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" Fury asked. He sank into his chair. "You think I like making decisions like this?" Decisions like Tahiti? "I know the girl is important to you, but she and Stark's disks are the only handles we have on Loki. For all we know, severing her connection with him could remove the disk's influence. We are facing a war that makes New York look like child's play. I am not in the position to sacrifice any advantage we have, however slight." I can't give you what you want. I can't give you what you deserve. All I could do was save you, and all I might have done is kill you slowly.
Coulson's fists clenched.
"And what if Loki decides to kill her?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.
"We're going to take every precaution to ensure something like that doesn't happen. We already have a cap on his magic, and if he misbehaves, he'll be out like a light."
Coulson scoffed at his attempt at reassurance. "This is the god of lies and tricks. Do you really think Stark's little toys are going to keep him down for long?"
"They've worked so far."
"How comforting. I'll be sure to include that quote at her funeral."
Fury's one eye narrowed. He ran a hand over his bald head.
"Coulson, I understand your concern. I know what you've invested in the girl. But I need you not to allow your personal feelings to skew your judgment. Ayuma is aware of the risks involved, and we will make every effort to keep her from harm. As your friend, there is nothing I would rather do than take her out of harm's way. But as the Director of SHIELD, this is the choice I have to make."
"I will hold you responsible for any and all harm that comes to her."
Fury smiled grimly. "Of course," he said, a weary look on his face. As Coulson turned to leave, Fury called out after him. "Coulson."
Coulson froze, his back stiff.
"I'm sorry."
Coulson didn't respond; he simply walked out the door.
Fury leaned back in his chair. To sacrifice the one for the many. Sometimes I hate being myself.
Natasha watched Clint pace. He'd stalked off the moment they heard the news, and she'd followed him into what looked like a glorified broom closet. She was wedged in a space between two shelves to give him room to walk. Even so, his shoulders would brush up against the shelves. Not that he seemed to notice.
"This is wrong." Clint said suddenly.
"She's agreed-"
"-To hell with agreeing! She doesn't know what she's doing. But I know, and you know, and Fury sure as hell knows. This shouldn't even be an option!"
Clint was distraught. Natasha needed to be strong for him. Rational. "Ayuma's smart," she said, voice even, almost clinical, "She'll adapt."
"And if she breaks?" Clint asked.
"Then she breaks," she told him, "She'll heal, and she'll get stronger." She could almost hear Clint's teeth grinding together at her answer. Natasha tilted her head.
"What?" Clint snapped.
"You're angry," she raised an eyebrow, "And not just angry with Fury. You're angry with me as well." The archer didn't respond.
"I understand that you're upset, Clint. Loki unmade you, and you don't want to see that happen again. But Agent Ayuma has accepted the situation, and if she breaks, she'll survive, and she'll be stronger for it."
"So I guess it's a good thing that Loki messed with my head, then, right? I mean, if I'm better for it now, I should go down and shake his hand and thank him. Maybe he'll do me a favor and do it again if I ask nicely."
"That's not what I meant," Natasha protested. Perhaps "strong and rational" was not the route she should have taken.
"Then what did you mean? You seem to think that just because you survived the Red Room, everyone else should be expected to survive it too." Natasha blinked at the vitriol in his words. Clint didn't seem to notice. "But in my experience, Nat, things don't get stronger when they're broken. They just break."
"Clint." Natasha reached out for him. Barton flinched and moved away from her touch.
His hands were trembling.
"They just break, and they stay broken. Bones and mirrors and china dolls, all smashed to pieces. You can pretend that they're whole, piece them back together, but the cracks are always there and they never go away…" Barton was backing up, slowly, his voice going higher and higher.
"Cracks everywhere, and you can't escape, can't be whole, cracks inside your mind, your thoughts, your soul…" He had backed himself into a corner. "…Jagged edges rubbing against each other, grinding away, bits falling off and never finding them, just dust on the ground…"
Natasha held him as his body shook. It was all she could do.
Miya half-listened to the murmur of voices in the hallway. One of them was Rogers, she knew. He'd stopped knocking a few minutes ago. It was a good thing, too; she'd been around Coulson for so long that it felt wrong to ignore Captain America.
Several people had tried to talk to her, but after Fury left she had locked the door and refused to open it. Coulson, Stark, and Barton had all had their tries. She could hear the anger in their voices: restrained in Coulson, righteous in Stark, rough in Barton. The anger wasn't directed at her, but it was infectious all the same. And she couldn't let herself be angry. Not now. Her self-control was already frayed and she would need all her strength in the days to come.
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Agent Ayuma?" a voice said quietly. Miya tensed. Not him, she prayed silently, not now.
"Look, I know that you and I don't really know each other, and I can't claim to understand what you're going through. But I know what it's like living with something inside you. To be afraid you're going to lose yourself."
Always angry, the report had said. She'd wondered before what it was like to have to live with that, every second of every day. She'd pitied him. Feared him.
Now she had become him. A time bomb.
"I'm not a psychiatrist or anything," Banner was saying, voice muffled by the door, "And you probably don't want to talk right now. I get that. But later, if you need to talk, if you think I can help you…Stark can get you in contact with me. If you want."
Why wait a day, a month, a year to talk? He might be the only one who could help her in the days to come. Why not open the door now and take what wisdom he could give her?
Slowly, her fingers crept up the door, sliding across the smooth white surface. They traced the outline of the doorknob with a teasing grip before she let her hand drop back to her side.
She couldn't face him any more than she could face the others. In the end, his compassion was more dangerous than their anger. Miya listened as Banner's footsteps faded away.
She sat on the floor in a dark, empty room, ignoring the knocks as she stored her emotions deep inside of her.
She could not let them in.
Author's note:
I'm baaaaack.
I can only blame this long hiatus on a mixture of compulsive editing, a lack of inspiration, and pure laziness. My apologies to everyone who's stuck with it, and my thanks to the newcomers who surprised me by following this story months after it was updated.
I wasn't sure how I was going to fit Cap II into the story for a little while, but now it and Agents of SHIELD have done wonderful things for my plot. The major catastrophe was a fic I had half-written centered around Bruce that was going to involve Hydra infiltrating SHIELD, but obviously that seems a bit tame compared to what happened. I've got some ideas on how to salvage it, but obviously Dream Walker comes first.
Anyway, reviews are always answered, and ideas are welcome as well as any comments and critiques. I plan to be more regular with updates, but I can't make any promises since I just started working on my masters degree.
Thanks again for reading.