A Study in Crimson and Viridian
Rating: PG-13 (ratings vary per chapter)
Characters/Pairings: FrostIron (Loki/Tony), canongirl!Tony Stark(i.e. Natasha Stark), and the rest of the Avengers movie cast.
Warnings: Movie spoilers, obviously, and in a major way. Spoilers for various events throughout the comic-verse, including Civil War, Dark Reign, and Siege.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Well, except Earth-199990, but that's pretty useless to me without all these great Marvel characters.
Notes: Coulson and Natasha have a moment. Then Natasha ruins it.
CHAPTER NINE:
Don't Pay No Mind To The Demons
(They Fill You With Fear)
When they reach the Helicarrier they are met with about two dozen heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Director Fury, Agent Coulson and Agent Hill. Fury instructs the agents to take the prisoner, cutting the Thunder God a look that stays any protest. Thor seems cowed, in a way, and she is a little surprised by this, given how quick he'd been to assault her. Sure, she has that effect (quite often) on people, but she's pretty sure that Fury is twice as much of an asshole than she is. Fury pisses her off by breathing.
Fury orders the rest of them to convene on the bridge and wait for him to return while he has a word with their prisoner. He takes his leave while Hill takes point and leads them inside the Helicarrier.
Coulson cuts Natasha off before she can follow.
"What—"
"You need to go to medical," he says without prompting, his eyes level with Iron Woman's slitted ones.
Natasha snorts. "I'm fine."
"I'm not giving you a choice. We also need to put that armor to rest. We still have a Mark VI variant onboard, in storage."
For once, Natasha is glad that Fury had conned her into allowing him to hold on to one of her suits. For emergencies, he'd said. Damn man could be eerily prophetic at times.
She nods to Coulson and follows him; she doesn't want to talk and Coulson doesn't press. She hasn't gotten this thrashed since she'd gone against Obadiah's creation—it's humiliating. If she were anyone else, it might also be humbling; a reminder that she wasn't perfect and there was always going to be someone stronger and better than you, so you just had to roll with the punches and get back up. But she's Natasha Stark—she doesn't lose. A part of her wanted to find Thor and demand a rematch, but this dark animosity for the God was unwarranted. Thor hadn't done anything wrong. He had merely been defending himself—attacking first and asking questions later, like her.
When they reach the medical wing, Coulson parts ways with her. She stands in the doorway to the examination room and watches him go, distracted with her thoughts.
"Iron Woman?"
Natasha glances back to see three lab technicians watching her wearily from within the examination room. Faceplate rising, she waggles her eyebrows at them and says nothing. Natasha catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the stainless doors of the lab equipment locker. It's bad—she looks like she went a couple rounds against a brick wall and lost. There's a bump and bruise already forming on her forehead and her lips are looking a little swollen. Her face is littered with numerous nicks and small scratches from getting knocked around with the helmet.
She frowns and walks out without a word, setting her HUD to track down her second suit.
She finds it where Coulson said it would be. The suit is on display in a case and she notices that the room holds several other similar, but empty, cases. She knows immediately that one must belong to Rogers and that ridiculous getup he'd been wearing earlier. She snorts with distaste. What a loyal puppy.
The case is locked with a keypad and retinal scanner for user identification. Natasha stares at these security measures for a moment, then from a storage compartment along her right thigh, she fishes out her Stark phone and holds it up to the keypad. She punches a command for JARVIS. There's a beep as JARVIS completely overrides the security on the case and reprograms it to accept only a specific code. On her phone, a wireframe replica of the case and the suit within are displayed. She slides a finger along the phone's screen and the glass door on the case lifts.
She studies the suit for a moment then takes her phone and powers the suit on, using its backup reserves so she can load up the suit's specs on her phone. After a minute, she presses her thumb to the phone screen, allowing it to read her print, and the screen pulls up a different window. It only reads: JARVIS.
"JARVIS, I've got a Mark VI, Variant-4. Run a system update on it and then back up everything on the suit I'm wearing to the home computer. When you're done with that, copy it over to the Mark VI as well."
"Very well, ma'am. Preparing the Iron Woman Mark VI, Variant-4 for a system update. Data Recovery on standby. Will that be all?"
"Yeah. How's the Mark VII coming along?"
"The Mark VII has been integrated with a new core. With further testing we can determine if it will be compatible for the nano-tech beta."
"We're gunna have to hold off on testing for a while," Natasha mutters.
JARVIS is silent for a moment. "Ma'am, I'm detecting a significant increase in heart rate and temperature. Also—"
"Right, JARVIS. Thanks." She hangs up and closes the case, returning her phone to its compartment. She is still very aware of the throb in her arm (and, really, everywhere-fucking-else) but she's managed to ignore it thus far. The suit is doing its job by preventing her from bleeding out to death and keeping her stable but she knows she should probably get herself checked out by an actual professional. She's pretty sure that goddamn hammer bruised more than one rib, given that breathing is becoming a laborious task the longer she dicks around and avoids treatment.
Sighing, she turns to leave—and stops abruptly when she sees Nick Fury pass by in the corridor up ahead. He doesn't notice her—and she's not even in his blind spot—so she waits, motionlessly, for him to pass. When she's sure he's gone, she moves forward and takes the same corridor in the direction Fury had been coming from. Simultaneously, she links the Helicarrier's security feeds to her HUD through a backdoor and minimizes the footage to the lower left corner of her screen. She flips through useless footage and comes to a current one of the bridge where Romanoff, Banner, Thor and Rogers are settling together at a conference table. She flips through more footage.
A hall camera catches Fury as he enters an elevator and she traces his path backwards with each shot of security footage until she comes to—
"In case it's unclear: you try to escape—you so much as scratch that glass—"
The grainy image shows a cavernous chamber. At its center is a large, rather unique prison cell: a tube of glass and steel. It looks more like a quarantine zone, no doubt equipped with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s latest technology. The cell is cradled within a containment space, almost precariously. Loki is locked within, standing in a wide stance, hands at his back, and looking for all the world like he wasn't a wanted terrorist who'd just tried to subjugate an entire city or stolen the single most powerful artifact on this Earth. Fury is standing by a large control station. He pushes a large, red button and the floor beneath the glass cage opens, revealing a long drop into nothing. The wind howls and she can't catch Fury's next words over the sound. He flicks a switch on the console and the floor seals shut.
"Ant. Boot."
Loki chuckles, backing away from the glass, unafraid. "It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me."
"Built for something a lot stronger than you."
"Oh, I've heard." Loki turns to face the security camera and Natasha falters in her steps, reminding herself that Loki's piercing green eyes can't actually see her because this is recorded footage, not live. "A mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"
Fury steps towards the glass cell. "How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace and cause chaos because it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did."
She can't see Loki's expression, but his tone is almost a little too like her own when she's bating Rogers just to get a reaction out of him. "Ooh. It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power—unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share? And then to be reminded what real power—"
Natasha cuts off the feed with lead in her stomach. The fear is back—if it is fear. She's not sure anymore but it's not a good feeling and it makes it hard for her to believe that they can win this. Loki has been playing them all for far longer than Fury or S.H.I.E.L.D. realizes and it's her fault. She let him get that close.
Summoning up her courage as she reaches the chamber, she sends a message to JARVIS to edit her out of the security footage from the storage facility and then proceeds to put the security cameras in the chamber and exiting corridors on a loop, silencing all other mics and hidden cameras. Loki is expecting her when she reaches the glass cage, facing her as she comes to stand where Fury had stood.
His is smirk gone. She matches his expressionless face with one of her own.
"Is that really you in there?" She asks because it's the most reasonable thing she can think of.
A small, ghost of a smile twitches at his lips. "Perceptive, as always."
She looks away from him to study his prison. It's only moderately impressive but she already sees a dozen different ways it would fail. "I'll figure out what you're up to, eventually."
"I've no doubt you will. The questions is: will you figure it out in time?"
Natasha looks to him and scowls. "Where's Agent Barton?"
"Around. He's a little preoccupied at the moment. I can have him give you a call a little later, if you'd like?"
A flicker of anger so dark it tastes like hate broils in her belly. "You're a bastard."
It's all she can say because it's not like he owed her anything. He was the bad guy in this. Of course he would use any methods he could to obtain information on his enemies. It just fucking sucked that he'd chosen to make a fool out of her, pulling tiny, seemingly innocuous secrets from her regarding each member of the 'team'. Every cell in her body thrums with a certainty that if she'd just kept her damn mouth shut, Barton would never have even crossed into Loki's radar.
Without a warning, Loki starts forward. He walks right through the glass cage, body shimmering for a second. Natasha watches him approach her, eyes narrowing, but she stands her ground. He stops in front of her, green eyes dark and unreadable. His looks even worse for wear than when he'd visited her in the penthouse.
"Wow—sure. What the fuck is a prison cell for, anyway?" Natasha grunts, somewhere between shocked and completely not.
His gaze drops to her suit and his mouth twists in a sneer. He says, almost conversationally, "My brother can be a brute."
Brother? Had the reports mentioned they were brothers? She can't remember right now. She glares but can't will herself to look down at her armor and take stock of the damage Thor has done.
"He's a fuckin' beast," she grumbles.
Loki huffs (and it almost sounds like it could be a laugh), then reaches out with a suddenly blue hand, setting it over her right forearm. She feels the chill through the metal and body armor and watches in shock as the metal seems to ice over and then disassemble before her eyes. When the segments of armor hit the ground they shatter—then disappear in a magic mist. Her bare arm is bloody and bare, the body suit underneath having been burned away by the sheer intensity of the cold.
Natasha grimaces when she catches sight of the steel shard lodged into the meat of her forearm and forces herself to look away. The pressure of the suit had slowed the bleeding and the wound had begun to coagulate; without the armor, however, the arm bled anew and throbbed. Jaw clenched, she looks up in time to see Loki's blood red eyes fade back to familiar green—which, huh. Was that an Asgardian thing or a Loki thing?
He is studying her face, waiting.
She rolls her eyes and swallows past the pain. "You know what nobody likes? Nobody likes a showoff."
Something seems to uncoil fractionally from Loki's shoulders. Enough that he takes his hand (back to normal-color, now) and places it just over her injury, not touching. She looks back to her arm and watches in awe as the screw slides out, as if pushed out from within, and then the skin begins the magically stitch itself shut.
"Thor is a brute," Loki murmurs as he takes her wrist and inspects his work. Her arm is perfectly unscathed, but for the drying blood crusted along its length. "But he is sentimental to a fault. If he had known you were a woman, he would not have attacked you."
She frowns at him, tugging her arm away despite the inclination to let him continue to touch her—remembers the last time they were in the Tower together, just before he left, and her stomach twists with something like nausea. It's not the same anymore. He's an enemy now and she can't forget that. Still, she falls comfortably into their usual banter and replies, "Well, if I'd known that earlier, I could have saved on the millions it's going to cost me to repair this."
He hums absently and brings his palm to the side of her face. Out of her peripheral, she can see the faint green glow of his magic. The skin on her face itches, and both her lip and forehead ache dully. She knows without have to look that, like her arm, her face is perfectly healed.
Natasha sniffs. "You're handy, aren't you?"
"In more than one way," he replies with an empty smirk. She averts her eyes with a frown, lips pressed tightly together to keep herself from responding. It was too tempting to forget he was a criminal, now—too easy to forget he was not Olson.
Loki studies her for a moment and, strangely, she feels the smirk evaporate like his armor. Turning, he steps back through the glass and back into his cage.
Natasha struggles with herself, debating whether or not to bring up something that has been bothering her since they'd landed on the Helicarrier.
Finally, she tells herself to man up and says, "You didn't kill anyone."
This halts Loki abruptly, leaving him standing in the middle of the cage; he keeps his back to her.
"Well," she amends, "You brutally cut out that guy's eye and probably caused thousands of dollars' worth of therapy for those people, on top of all the general havoc you caused on the streets, but—you didn't kill anyone."
Loki waits too long to respond and Natasha grows impatient, tempted to hack into the cell and march in there to demand answers because it's pretty obvious that there is more to all of this and Loki is the only one with answers.
"That man—Heinrich Schafer. He was not a good man. I should have killed him."
"Well, I was immediately suspicious when I found out he had personal access to iridium. Did some research into him—and, let's just say, I don't think I'd have shown your restraint."
Heinrich Schafer is a different issue altogether. She's not ready to deal with that yet when her biggest problem is the stupidly gorgeous man in front of her.
"Loki," she says, and it's the first time she's called him by his real name. He turns, brows pinched, and meets her eyes. She doesn't know why it's hard for her to speak her next words. With an honest emotion she cannot name, she asks, "Why are you doing this?"
It almost seems like he's considering her question.
Then his eyes narrow and his eyes go cold. "I thought you didn't care?"
"I don't," she replies, instinctively defensive. She averts her gaze, feigning nonchalance. "Look, I feel like there's something more going on. If we can avoid a bloody war, all the better." She hesitates. A flicker of guilt breeches her façade. "I've told you before, I don't want to be responsible for any more deaths."
"You can't save everyone."
Natasha looks up and holds his gaze so he can see just how serious she is. "I'm still going to try."
Loki takes a moment to consider her words, then nods.
"You heard my conversation with the Director," he says. It isn't a question and he doesn't wait for her response. "Don't trust him. Even if you won't side with me—promise that you won't join him."
It was too easy to answer.
"I promise."
Natasha stops by the medical wing after leaving her battered armor in a heap back at the storage facility. The technicians assure her that none of her ribs are broken, merely bruised. All she can do is let them heal on their own and they advise her against donning the Iron Woman suit for the next couple of months. She snorts out loud at the suggestion. She gets something to wrap her arm in before they notice that despite the blood, there's no more injury, and when they try to give her shit for not letting them check all her wounds she just deflects them all by giving them the Stark treatment.
Coulson is waiting for her by the door (had been waiting since she'd returned and had leveled her with a disapproving look and a sardonic, "You could try worrying a little less about your armor and more about yourself.") and hands her a bundle of clothes and a pair of all black All-Stars .
"Courtesy of Ms. Potts," he explains. "She says you never remember to pack a change of clothes."
"Well, usually I can just go home and change." Natasha stares at the clothes for a full five seconds before Coulson rolls his eyes and sets the clothes on the counter along the wall.
She starts slipping out of the two piece bodysuit, cautious with her ribs. Coulson turns his back to her like a gentleman, clearing his throat nervously. As she changes into the navy button-down and grey slim-ankle slacks, she studies Coulson's back carefully. In the last twenty-four hours, her life has done a complete one-eighty back into Crazyville. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to put on the suit and go up against real bad guys. Her life had almost gone back to normal and she knows a little part of her is glad for this diversion from the mundane.
Loki is … something.
His betrayal still stings like a fresh wound but she knows that the majority of her anger (still boiling just under the surface of the wall she'd built against genuine emotions) is directed at herself. She is too close to snapping. She isn't sure she can take another brutal disgrace. First Loki, then getting thrashed by his gargantuan brother—and worst of all, getting her ass saved by Captain-fucking-America off all people, in a pansy-ass leotard to boot! It was just a little too much for her ego to digest. Not to mention the fact that Fury was clearly hiding something from all of them and even Loki deemed it necessary to warn her against him.
"Let's focus on one thing at a time," she mumbles to herself, sliding into her slim fitting blazer. She grabs her black tie from the counter and loops it around her neck.
"What was that?" Coulson doesn't dare glance over his shoulder.
"Nothing. Help me with my tie." When Coulson hesitates, she rolls her eyes and reaches forward to jerk him around by the shoulder. "I'm decent."
Flushed, Coulson nods and raises shaky hands to her neck as he begins working her tie into a proper knot. She watches his face, sees him slowly regain his composure as several deep wrinkles appear upon his brow.
"Coulson," she says, seriously.
He doesn't look up until he is done with her tie and he forces a smile that neither one of them are buying. She gives him a flat look, brow arched, and he sighs, shoulders slumping a little. "Don't worry. I haven't said anything to Fury."
She's aware of this. That's not what she wants to know. Her face gives nothing away. "Why not?"
He doesn't have an immediate answer for her.
Natasha knows without a doubt that due to recent events, protocol dictates (common fucking sense dictates!) that Coulson report to the Director any information pertaining to Loki. It goes without saying that the fact that the terrorist had been lurking behind enemy lines all this time while acting as an employee at Stark Industries as Natasha Stark's personal assistant is something Fury would be interested to know about. She has no idea what would stay Coulson's usually infallible sense of duty towards Fury but can't help but feel infinitely grateful. It's a degree of loyalty she would have never expected from a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. She doesn't want to protect Loki—he made his bed when he decided it was a good idea to steal the Tesseract and then proceed to wreak havoc in Germany—but she's never trusted Fury with more information than absolutely necessary.
"When are you going to tell Ms. Potts?"
She starts for the door and Coulson follows her into the hall. With a determination that's shaky at best, she says, "Maybe after I've fixed this fucking mess."
"I'm not sure this is a situation that can be rectified by normal means."
She casts him a sidelong grin as they reach the lift. They both know Natasha is anything but normal.
Coulson returns the grin with a small smile as they step into the lift. He punches the button for the bridge and they stand for a moment in silence. Natasha is thinking about Loki's warning when Coulson breaks the silence with an awkward little cough that catches her attention and has her throwing him an amused look.
He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet for a moment, cheeks noticeably flushed under the unreasonably bright lights in the lift. "I wanted to—ah—thank you."
She blinks. "For?"
He clears his throat again, refusing to meet her eyes. "The, uh, gifts. Mister …. Ah—Olson—dropped them off the other day."
Natasha blinks again. "Oh." She had completely forgotten. Why would Loki even … ? And when would he have had the time?
For a fraction of a second, she is horrified. She'd never actually intended to give the presents to their intended parties. Barton and Romanoff didn't even like her and Coulson barely seemed to tolerate her on her best days. Natasha was just an impulsive buyer.
"—and I can't thank you enough." Coulson is saying.
"Yeah. No … problem," Natasha replies uncomfortably. "Just you, or—uh—"
He shifts, his expression dissolving a bit into displeasure. "I have Clint and Natasha's gifts, but they've been away on assignment for some time, and now …"
Natasha nods curtly. "Right." Well, that was fine. Maybe she could convince Coulson to return the gifts to her later. They seemed silly now and Natasha is already bristling with the blows to her ego that she doesn't think she can stand for another person to see her as weaker than she already feels. Gifts meant sentiment and to be sentimental was to be weak.
Starks are never weak.
Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose, feeling an incoming migraine, Natasha asks, "Did you get 'em—uh—signed, yet?"
"Ah, no. Not yet…" Coulson admits. Before Natasha can supply a scathing comment about the man's idol, he adds, "But he promised he would as soon as he got the chance."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm pretty sure I can forge his autograph, if need be. My dad had so much old Captain America junk I could write his biography. I've got, like, a gajillion copies of his autograph. It wouldn't even be an issue."
Coulson looks scandalized; the lift doors slide open and Natasha steps out while Coulson gapes at her.
"Ms. Stark! You can't just forge Captain America's signature!"
Natasha keeps walking. "I said autograph, not signature. They're not the same."
Coulson doesn't run to catch up to her, per se, but he's not quite walking a steady gait, either. It's adorable how flustered he gets for Rogers. Natasha can't help but laugh out loud.
"You're such a fanboy, Coulson!" Coulson doesn't refute this so Natasha adds, grinning cheekily, "You know, I think I should have my own trading cards. What do you think?"
Coulson huffs, clearly frustrated with her. He mumbles, "Might as well just make trading cards for the whole team and quadruple your profits that way."
It's obvious that Coulson is being sarcastic but Natasha stops, wide-eyed. "That's perfect."
Coulson halts, frowning at her. "What?"
She looks at him, her expression flat with shock. "Coulson, that's perfect."
It takes him a moment to register what's going on; he actually groans. "It was a joke."
She shakes her head and takes his arm, resuming their walk. "Maybe. But it's brilliant. Coulson! Why aren't you on my marketing team?"
"Because I hate corporate America."
She gawks at him, releasing his arm. "Did you hear what you just said?" Shaking his head, Coulson speeds up his pace. Natasha is undeterred. "Coulson! Seriously, though!"
"I know it may be hard for you to conceive, but not everything is about money," Coulson grumbles.
Natasha rolls her eyes and jogs to close the distance between them, falling into step beside him once more. "Of course it is. What else do you think keeps all your favorite merchandise afloat? To satiate consumer demands you have to have the means. Beside, you know I provide only the best quality of products. I'd even run everything by you. You know—to make sure I'm not committing some form of irredeemable sacrilege against your beloved idol."
Coulson is quiet for a while, keeping his eyes forward, mouthing twisted in a frown. "Fine. I suppose that would be acceptable."
Natasha laughs mercilessly. "Such a nerd! But you've got a deal! Verbal contract. I'll have Pep write up something official later." She's pretty sure this is what a sulking Coulson looks like. It's unacceptable—if anyone has any right to be in a sour mood, it's her—so she drops an arm around his shoulder and leans her face in close so she's looming just outside his peripheral. "Coulson. Don't be mad!"
"I'm not mad." Stiff lips and a deepening pinch between his brows. Yeah. He's not mad, alright.
"Nerdy is the new sexy!" Natasha exclaims, pulling back enough so that he can clearly see that she's checking him out. "I'm sure your girlfriend is—"
"I don't have a girlfriend," he states matter-of-factly.
"No?" Her eyes widen with curiosity. "What happened to the cellist?"
Coulson shuts his eyes for a second, shaking his head. "Are there any secrets between you and Ms. Potts?" Natasha just quirks a brow at him and he sighs. "There's no cellist. At least, not anymore. She moved to Portland."
Pulling away, Natasha crosses her arms over her chest as her mind begins plotting. "Permanently?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think it would have worked out, anyway."
"What? She didn't approve of your man-crush with the Ice King?" She asks in mock seriousness. "Because if a girl can't appreciate a good bromance, then she's not worth your time."
Coulson frowns at her. "That wasn't the case."
"Then what was it?" She is genuinely curious. Coulson is a rarity among men—kind, honest and respectful. Natasha couldn't imagine what self-respecting woman could turn him down. The bald spot might be an issue, but if a woman was too shallow to look past that, she didn't deserve Coulson in the first place. Natasha doesn't say any of this, of course, but she's pretty sure she conveys the sentiment by giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.
"It's the job," Coulson replies, glancing down curiously at her hand before looking back at her. "You can't maintain a healthy relationship over long distances. Especially not with a plethora of secrets hovering overhead."
Oh. Relationships. Natasha wasn't really good with those, but she could give it a shot.
"Have you tried … talking?" That just felt weird coming from her mouth, but it's what couples did, right? Talk?
Coulson's eyes soften, the expression within them dejected. "Yes. And she understands that my job requires a certain amount of discretion, but I couldn't bring myself to ask her to sacrifice a comfortable life just because of me."
"Wait. You broke it off?"
"No. Not exactly. She said she was moving to Portland. I took it to mean … well …"
"Uh." Natasha stares, stunned (and a little unnerved by the raw emotion). "Coulson. I'm pretty sure that doesn't constitute as a break up. The words have to actually be spoken—or a version of them, anyway. You should go talk to her. Might perk you up a bit. You always look—" she breaks off. 'You always look like you're in desperate need for a lay' is probably not the best way to convey sincerity. She runs her words through a WWPS (What Would Pepper Say) filter, then amends, "Everyone needs someone, Coulson."
Coulson doesn't reply because they've just reached the bridge. Rogers, Romanoff, Hill, Thor and Banner are in the middle of a discussion. Rogers and Romanoff are the only two seated while Thor and Banner stand in similar defensive postures. Neither Banner nor Thor look comfortable to be present, whereas Rogers looks like he's right at home (even in his obnoxious outfit).
The bridge is a massive, dynamic space that fitted the majesty of the Helicarrier's exterior. Like most of the interior spaces within the vessel, all of the interior chambers on the bridge were suspended from the decks, giving the impression that they were hanging from the decks above. The main viewing window is framed by massive struts—it's huge, granting the bridge area a clear view of the sky ahead; an eye in the sky.
Banner is speaking. "Iridium. What do they need the iridium for?"
"It's a stabilizing agent," Natasha calls out, drawing the rooms' attention. Before she makes it any further she twists around and leans conspiratorially into Coulson's side; he looks bemused and doesn't stop, forcing her to walk backwards. "Look, I'm saying—take a weekend. I'll fly you to Portland."
Coulson's eyes flash with a warning—'not here!' they read—and then breaks away from her. Natasha leaves it at that and walks around the table.
"Means the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D.," She says, addressing those gathered by the table.
She catches Thor's eyes on her and heads for him. Now that she's looking, she can see the slightest trace of guilt in his eyes as they flit over her figure. Without the additional height of her suit, she is considerably shorter than the Thunder God. Looking at him now, she thinks it's a miracle she escaped with her limbs intact at all. She holds out a placating hand, summoning her most sincere look.
"No hard feelings, Point Break," she says, watching the open confusion in his eyes. It's amusing mostly because he looks torn between feeling guilty, being angry, and just trying to figure out what's going on. Facetiously, she pats his overly developed arm as she passes him. "You got a mean swing."
Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she can feel everyone looking at her and thinks she deserves her own pat on the back just for managing to remain the center of attention even amidst all these other larger than life characters. To her left, Agent Hill is watching her with her usual dour expression. Natasha ignores her and heads for the command station.
"Also," Natasha continues, "Means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants." She lets that sink in with the would-be heroes while she scans the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel attentively at work. She swivels around, gesturing to random departments, "Ah—raise the mizzen mast. Ship the topsails." She points sharply at a blond to her left. "That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."
She is making a mockery out of a base of covert military operations and she loves it. If it weren't because the situation actually called for her involvement, she would have never been caught dead on this vessel. She hates that for all her self-assurances that she'd never let Fury talk her into serving him (especially after the man had the audacity to reject her for his Super Secret Club), in the end, she is still standing here just like the rest of his loyal puppies.
Fury's station is located at the very center of the bridge, giving her a three-sixty view of the room. Natasha glances between the four display panels erected on the command station (she remembers the infamous Captain's Chair from Star Trek and seriously considers purchasing it for Fury because it's ridiculous that a man his age would have to stand for any long period of time). She covers her left eye with her hand like they ask you to at the optometrist's when they're testing your vision. Immediately, half the room either goes blurry or is completely obscured—including the leftmost display panels.
"How does Fury even see these?" She asks, glancing over her shoulder at the perpetually humorless Agent Hill.
"He turns," Hill replies simply.
Natasha swivels on a heel, face scrunched in distaste. "Sounds exhausting," she mutters, stepping up to the panels on the right. Natasha grabs a couple windows from one screen and moves them to another, taking up a more serious tone. "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source—of high energy density." She brushes her fingertips just under one of the panels then turns to face the others. Without missing a beat, she adds, knocking her hands together for emphasis: "Something to—kick start the Cube."
"When did you become an expert on thermonuclear astrophysics?" Hill asks dubiously.
"Last night." Hill's expression belays no comprehension—nor do any of the other faces, save Banner's. Natasha almost rolls her eyes in exasperation. "The packet. Selvig's notes? The extraction theory papers?" Nothing. Absolutely blank faces. Natasha balks. "Am I the only one who did the reading?"
"Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" Roger's asks, interrupting any prospective rant.
She looks to him and it takes a second for him to look up and meet her gaze. She can already see just by looking into his eyes that she's getting under his skin.
Banner answers before she remembers to. "He'd have to heat the Cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb Barrier—"
"Unless," Natasha interjects, glancing back at Agent Hill to give her a look. She makes her way to Banner, scrutinizing the man for the first time. "Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the Quantum Tunneling effect."
Due to electrostatic interaction, two nuclei would need to overcome the Coulomb Barrier to get close enough to undergo a nuclear reaction. With something as powerful as the Cube, you would need something powerful enough to control it. Iridium is the most corrosion-resistant metal on Earth, and the second densest element. It was the perfect conduit for the Cube. This, in addition to Selvig's genius theories on Quantum Tunneling, convinced her that it was definitely possible to successfully utilize the Cube. Loki had both Selvig and Barton at his disposal. At this point, Natasha was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Banner looks to her. There's a dismissiveness in his eyes. Unlike Natasha, Banner either isn't interested or doesn't feel it's important to study her—even as the only other intellectual being on this bridge.
"Well, if he could do that," Banner replies thoughtfully, "he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet."
"Finally," Natasha smiles, pleased. "Someone who speaks English."
"Is that what just happened?" Rogers mutters.
Natasha ignores him and extends a hand out to Banner. He takes it uncertainly and she gives him her most charming smile. "Good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on anti-electronic collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you … lose control and turn into an enormous green … rage monster."
Banner blinks, mouth hanging open for several beats before he manages to get out a, " … Thanks?"
"Doctor Banner is only here to help track the Cube," Fury says as he enters the room, leveling her with stern look. "I was hoping you might join him."
"I'd start with that stick of his," Rogers says. "It may be magical but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon."
Something jostles in Natasha's memory at the word. Fury shrugs. "I don't know about that, but it is powered by the Cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."
"Monkeys?" Thor murmurs lowly, confused. "I don't understa—"
"I do!" Rogers cuts in. "I understood that reference!"
Natasha rolls her eyes, feeling simultaneously embarrassed for Rogers and hit with an urge to just throttle him for being such a Boy Scout. This is the guy her father was always waxing lyrical over? This guy?
Inhaling deeply, stealing Pepper's tactic for dealing with Natasha on a trying day, Natasha swivels to Banner. "Shall we play, Doctor?"
Banner nods, gesturing to the exit. "This way, ma'am."
End Notes: I'm really excited to post the next chapters and it's killing me to wait. Chances are ya'll might think they're crap because that would be my luck. Oh well. I'm seriously having trouble focusing at work because of this fic and all these other ideas I keep getting for it. Beyond the LokiNatasha relationship, I want to explore her friendships/or not with the other characters. The movies gave us old characters within a new universe. I'm dying to explore how these characters can come together and form the bonds that they do in the comics. Also, side note, I appreciate your guys' input and some of you expressed interest in one long story, which I think for the most part I could make it work, but it would be looooong. Also, I'd have to take mini-breaks between arcs just to make sure everything is all in order and in that case, I might as well just break up the stories. I still leaning towards multiple fics because I'm strongly debating introducing new PoV's and that since this story has thus far been Natasha-centric, it would bug me to suddenly start throwing in new PoV's.
Well, until next week~ Thank you all to those who faved the story and an even bigger THANK YOU to those who left me a comment! You guys are fantastic!
