Chapter 21: The Rite Thing To Do
Aboard the helicarrier, Stark frowned at the information he was receiving from Jarvis. At first there had been a transmission that had implied there had been an intruder, but then after only a few seconds the system had informed him that there had been an error because of a surge in the arc reactor. Now, Stark could see through cameras in the tower itself that all was well and Jarvis was functioning as he should, but something within him told him that this wasn't right. The only person that knew even a modicum of the extent of Loki's ability to deceive was miles beneath them restoring himself with a deep sleep. Even had Thor been aboard the carrier with the others even he had no idea that Loki could create such an illusion for the man using Jarvis' very energy itself. Loki felt simply elated that so much of the human world relied on electricity which was more easily manipulated by his powers than magic itself.
Rogers had done his best to try and formulate a plan to locate Thor and Banner, regroup, and then find Loki. He was receiving no cooperation and had even been angrily told by a very testy Natasha that he should go and sit still for a few hours, something he was obviously very good at. Rogers didn't allow the hurtfulness of the comment to register. She was, after all, tending a serious head-wound on her closest friend, practically her brother. Barton was recovering fairly well, but he was having difficulty remaining conscious with full memory at all times. The physicians had assured her that this would pass by morning and he had been kept a little less restrained than Darcy had been. Rogers abandoned the idea of trying to see if he could help that situation after her outburst, but he hadn't yet abandoned the idea of trying to locate the necessary parties and formulate a battle plan.
After a fruitless conversation with a very irritated Tony Stark, Rogers felt like doing something he hated doing when not in the heat of battle . . . raising his voice. If anything was going to get done everyone that was capable needed to be at the conference table discussing what to do next instead of off in their own corners brooding about their personal issues. What they needed was organization, leadership, and focus. What they were doing was selfishly either seeing to their personal property and keeping any ideas to themselves, seeing to a wounded agent that should've been aided by doctors and not a fellow field agent, or storming around shouting at the staff on the carrier about working too slowly or inefficiently even when they weren't (as Fury had been doing since being forced out of Coulson's room). Fury had been forced to leave when Coulson had suddenly lost consciousness and gone into cardiac arrest with the valve collapsing. Fury had been rushed out of the room as his 'one good eye' had been rushed into emergency surgery. He had been given no news since then and it was making him angrier by the minute just as the lack of control and coordination was making Rogers angrier by the second.
"Captain Steve Rogers?" a voice suddenly asked, interrupting the captain's anger and frustration. He turned to see a nurse holding a clip board with a solemn expression on her face, her blonde hair dangling behind her in a ponytail that she kept adjusting with a subtle jerk of her head every few seconds.
"Ma'am?" he replied.
She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. "Agent Phil Coulson is asking to speak with you," she said. Rogers sighed heavily and nodded. Now was not the time for Coulson to congratulate him or give him any praise for his work on helping to repair the carrier. When they had returned from retrieving Loki it had taken Rogers several minutes to remind Coulson of his duties and get him to cease congratulating him on diving out of a Quinjet and taking on two Asgardians. "He's asked to speak to you instead of Director Fury so if you'll follow me . . ."
"Ma'am, I think Director Fury should speak to Agent Coulson before I have any contact with him so that any debriefing . . ." Rogers began. The woman cut him off quickly.
"He won't have a chance to speak to Director Fury, it won't be necessary," the nurse replied sternly. Rogers stared at her in confusion. She sighed and gripped the board more tightly, shaking her head as she looked back up at the captain more somber than before. "Agent Coulson is not responding positively to the surgery. He's conscious, but the valve was rejected and the temp isn't going to hold for very long."
Rogers froze as his heart sank. His mind buzzed and went back to the moment he lost Bucky and how much he had wanted to crawl into the earth and disappear. He breathed sharply as the nurse sighed and continued explaining the situation a little further in medical jargon. If Coulson was at himself enough to ask for Rogers and not Fury, then he obviously had nothing else he could give S.H.I.E.L.D. to help them. This wasn't a matter of relaying information, Rogers realized, it was a dying man's final request. He held up a hand and the nurse's voice quickly trailed off. Rogers drew in a deep and strained breath. "Ma'am, are you saying that Agent Coulson wants to speak with me because he's going to die . . . tonight?"
"We're not sure," the nurse replied slowly, frowning. "But the prognosis is not good and we're not sure he's going to be conscious again."
"Where is he?" Rogers asked quickly. The nurse nodded and turned, gesturing for him to follow. Rogers' thoughts were completely changed for the moment. He had now abandoned entirely the idea of reprimanding the others and organizing them until they had a proper plan of action. What did he say to a man that had dedicated his life to serving his country, to helping innocent people, and now was going to die having faced an enemy not of this world after only just meeting the only person he had ever truly looked up to? Rogers fought back any emotional displays and straightened himself, breathing as calmly and deeply as possible as he was led down the hallways and into the medical center. The intensive care section was small and it was hoped to not be used at all or at least infrequently. The sequestered section was loud and full of the sounds of the equipment meant to help the wounded. The nurse paused in the entrance to the room where Coulson lay looking very pale with numerous pieces of equipment hooked up to him for his life's sake. The sounds and the sight made Rogers ill for a moment, but he fought it away and turned to the nurse. "How long do I have?"
"Just take all the time you need or until the doctor asks you to leave," the nurse replied before hurrying off.
Rogers nodded and moved closer to the bedside. It felt as though he was moving through a fog, unable to see or hear much of anything but the form of Coulson's face and the sound of his labored breathing. Rogers glanced up at the bags leading into the intravenous lines; several were clear or clear-like and then there was a large unit of blood as well. He frowned and looked down at Coulson, remembering the man's words. I was present while you were unconscious, Rogers remembered. Now it was his turn, although the nurse had told him that Coulson was awake and coherently asking for him. Rogers felt his heart sink further as the man's eyes fluttered and he stirred a little, turning his head towards the captain. His lip had been cut badly when falling to the floor and it cracked a little more as he began to smile brightly at his hero.
"Oh my goodness, you're here, you're right here," Coulson said in a soft and morphine-laced tone. "You were amazing, I mean, I didn't get to actually see you and I wanted to see you . . . I wanted to see you doing something incredible for us."
"You did a brave thing trying to apprehend the enemy and rescue a civilian," Rogers offered. He didn't know at all what to say, not to Coulson in general and certainly not to a dying man, but those two put together just made it all the more awkward. He sighed as Coulson's eyes began to glitter with a familiar and excited twinge of hope. Rogers looked away for a moment, trying to formulate the right words. A thought came to him and he snapped back to attention. Say to him what you wanted to say, what you would've said to Bucky, he told himself. That's all you have to do. Coulson smiled more brightly and began to explain that he had managed to stop Loki for a moment but that the trickster had the power to make an illusion of himself and be in another place entirely. He cleared his throat. "Agent Coulson, you have been an incredible credit to this service and I am honored to have known you let alone serve with you. I cannot express enough . . ."
"Hey, hey, hey, don't . . . don't do that," Coulson suddenly said a little louder. Rogers stared back at him in further confusion. Coulson drew in a deep breath and gestured for Rogers to lean closer. "Don't, just don't talk to me like I'm on my way out. It's what cowards and losers do." Rogers stared at the man in disbelief. Maybe it was the drugs talking and not Coulson himself. The man drew in a deeper breath and closed his eyes for a beat, sitting up less than a fraction more. "I need to tell you three things," Coulson announced in nearly a whisper.
Rogers leaned closer, feeling a little more hopeful after the remark even if it had been drug-induced. "Agent Coulson, is there something that can help us find . . ."
"Would you let me tell you instead of interrogating me?" Coulson said with an odd look in his eyes. Rogers noticed that they seemed to be spinning a little and his mood was shifting between irritation, calm, and solemnity. Rogers remained silent as Coulson glanced to either side as best he could and then turned back to his hero. He spoke more quietly. "First, there's something up with . . . uh . . . oh, great what's that green goblin's name, anyway? Loki! There's something up with Loki just like there was with Agent Barton, I think, I heard Darcy Lewis say that he was being controlled by someone else, someone stronger, someone bigger." Rogers stomach lurched at the thought of dealing with a stronger enemy after having faced off with Loki himself. He nodded to the man, still computing the information. Coulson gestured for him to lean closer and Rogers complied, confused as to what would be even more important than that last piece of information. "Second, you can't see Star Wars unless you see it in release order," Coulson said in a firm whisper. Rogers raised a brow at him. Coulson seemed to stare sternly at him. "Promise me, Captain, promise me you won't start with Episode I."
"I Promise I won't start with Episode I," Rogers replied with bewilderment. Coulson smiled and muttered 'good' before lying his head back against the pillow. This must have been the pain-killers, but what could possibly have made him think about that at a time like this? He shook himself and waited for Coulson to reveal the third item. Coulson smiled and nodded after Rogers' promise and closed his eyes for a moment. After waiting a beat and noting that Coulson was breathing comfortably and drifting back off to sleep, Rogers became a little frantic. He drew in a sharp breath and moved an inch closer. "Uh, Agent Coulson?"
"If you don't see them in release order you won't see everything you need to!" Coulson suddenly exclaimed. Rogers took a step back cautiously as the man stared at him sternly at first and then softened his gaze. Rogers watched as Coulson struggled to get a hand out from underneath the blankets, weakened from the blood-loss in surgery and the medicines to slow his heart. He finally freed it and reached weakly for the Captain. Still confused, but sure that he didn't want to ruin this if it did indeed turn out to be the man's last few moments. He reached out and gripped Coulson's hand. The agent smiled and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I am so glad you're here . . . you always do what's right. That's the last thing, Captain, you just have to do what you know is right. I know you'll do the right thing, you always have."
Rogers squeezed Coulson's hand a little more and sighed as the man smiled back. He cleared his throat. "Agent Coulson . . . Phil . . . I . . ."
"Sir, we need you to leave now," a doctor suddenly interrupted. Rogers turned to the man in the long white coat angrily and then back to Coulson whose eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow yet again. It suddenly occurred to Rogers that the man's breathing wasn't shallow, it had stopped and the machine monitoring it was making an odd set of sounds. More doctors began to swarm the area shouting orders and yelling out 'codes'. Rogers stepped away, unable to fight a tear as it streamed down his cheek. He gripped one hand into a fist, feeling the loss of Bucky, the anger of awakening and being lied to, the frustration of a new society and no friends sweeping over him yet again. He growled softly as the doctors closed the curtains around the room with the noises from the machines and the voices growing louder and more desperate. The captain suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, facing the one person that might've been the only one he should've spoken to next.
"I've got Stark and Romanoff at the conference table on the bridge," Director Fury said. Rogers detected the sorrow that tinged the man's emotionless words. Rogers nodded to him and breathed deeply. "I think there are a few things we need to discuss before we continue."
"Continue with what?" Rogers asked, a measure of anger filling him.
"With whatever we need to do to stop the enemy," Fury replied.
Rogers frowned and nodded slowly as he sighed. "Yes sir," he said. "We need to discuss a plan of action." He began moving back towards the bridge, speaking softly to himself. "It's the right thing to do."
(*)
"Darcy if you do not eat willingly, I do have the power to make you," Loki observed as he looked casually into a golden chalice still mostly filled with Asgardian wine. Darcy, Selvig, and Loki sat at the table Stark had left in the largest dining room with the most decadent spread it had ever seen. Golden dishes, large portions of meat, fresh vegetables and fruit, and large loaves of fresh breads and cheese as well. Selvig had already eaten and had only just been ordered to go and rest for exactly six hours, no more and no less. After the man had left, Loki had given the command to Darcy, who had not eaten anything as the trickster sat at the head of the table, reclined and looking as comfortable as a cat on a pile of old books. He had felt more than regal with all this grandeur and control over two individuals, one of them a female. The female might not have been entirely under his control, yet, but he would soon have all the answers he needed to wrap his powers around her mind and wield it as fluidly as his own. Darcy continued to glare back at him and huffed. He smirked and set the chalice down with a sigh. "You might have control over your inner faculties, my dear, but your limbic system is quite separate from your mind and with the control I wield over electricity and clearly over your fluids at least from within, I can assure you that you will not be able to fight away that sort of supremacy."
"There's nothing about you that has any supremacy," Darcy shot back, seated not far but glaring at him in a manner that clearly stated she wanted to be elsewhere while leaving him in a quivering heap. Although it was also clear after all of the incidents before that this feeling was conflicted with the curiosity of who held him captive and if he could be made to seem as noble as his brother. This amused him and it kept her nearby, a duet of pleasant purpose.
Loki lifted one brow at her and grinned. "Care to test that theory?" he asked with a more smug tone than ever before.
Darcy growled and reached out, snatching a corner of bread and an apple. Loki lifted his chin proudly and watched as she ate both very quickly. It was a pity that the apple she had selected had been red, but at least she had obeyed. Loki watched as she quickly finished the apple and thought back to the few moments he had spent away from the tower after returning from Asgard. He had left a golden apple purposefully in his brother's hand as he slept, knowing that the warrior would mindlessly consume it and regain strength to a small degree in the morning. It would be a terrible shame to have The Chitauri thoroughly thrash him when he was already weakened. She finished the two quickly and then shoved the remnants of the apple on the golden plate in front of her away firmly, trying to be as improper as possible in the presence of the arrogant trickster. He smiled and rose slowly, holding out a hand towards her.
She stood quickly, folding her arms and taking a step backwards. "What now, huh?" she said angrily. He raised a brow in confusion at her, a genuine confusion that almost mirrored hurt. She huffed and threw her arms out to either side. "You-you-you keep taking me with you, threatening me, wounding me, healing me, terrifying the living daylights out of me, feeding me, and now what?!"
"You have had food and water in this shelter," he said simply. "I believe the last thing you stated needed for human survival was sleep."
"Great so you expect me to just drift off to dreamland while you perch out over the city getting ready to take over the world like an evil gargoyle?!" she shouted furiously.
Loki put both hands in front of him as if calming a spooked horse and shushed her as best as he could without sounding too condescending or kind, either. Darcy glared at him, growling as he inched closer. "Darcy, there is little need to do anything else for anyone of us this night other than rest. Your world is at peace and my army is not yet ready to do battle," he said soothingly, but commandingly.
"Do you ever stick with one emotion, just one?!" Darcy shouted. Loki sighed heavily as he moved closer to her, raising his scepter and shifting it in his hand. "Or what about one train of thought or one, just one activity! You change more often than . . . than . . . than . . ."
"Than what?" Loki asked suggestively as he inched even closer. Darcy stepped back, still glaring and instinctively reaching for her taser and growling as she realized that it was gone. Loki chuckled and slowly slipped his hand into one of the leather straps that made his leather vestments. Darcy's eyes narrowed more hatefully as she watched him hold up her taser, looking it over with amusement. "You know if I didn't know any better, and perhaps I do not, then I would say you're at a complete loss of more than just physical power without this."
"Yeah, but you're still a prisoner, too," Darcy retorted, still wanting to see him react more fully, more fearfully at the mention of the creature that had threatened him in the vision.
He said nothing, examining the taser and finding the switch to change the weapon to firing long or close range. He then looked at the dial that controlled the intensity. She suddenly noticed a glint out of the corner of her eye. A knife, a large old knife that was meant to cut through the sinews of beef. She reached out quickly and snatched it, whirling around and trying to hold it back out in front of him. He laughed and slammed the taser right at the edge of her sternum. Darcy screamed as electricity sparkled and popped. She squeezed her eyes closed, but curiously she felt no pain, none at all. She didn't even feel the tingling that the smallest doses of electricity produced in any human. She slowly opened her eyes and looked down. The electricity fizzling from the device was changing not her internal functions, but something else entirely. Pale blue cloth, soft as silk itself, began to appear over her from the very edge of the taser. Darcy gasped as her jacket, sweater, leggings, and even her boots were overtaken and the azure cloth took their place in the form of a gauzy, flowing night dress. She looked back up at him as he withdrew the taser leaving her thinly clad and barefoot.
"Perhaps that will change your spirits before you sleep." he offered. Darcy huffed again and turned to the knife she had been holding. She snarled and glared at it, noting that it had transformed into a silvery rose with a wooden stem. Loki smirked and dodged as she hurled the knife-blossom at him. "Perhaps all of your needs have yet to be addressed, then."
"What else is there, you nasty piece of work?" she snorted.
Loki waved his hand and the two suddenly appeared in the large bedroom that Stark had designed to be perfectly sized, sound-proofed, and soft enough for both himself and for Pepper. Darcy's eyes widened in horror as he snapped his fingers, turning off all but one dim light in the room as he swept behind her and placed both his cool, smooth hands on her warm, trembling shoulders. She stayed perfectly still as her heart began to race. "I do believe you mentioned that carnality was also a human need," he crooned. Darcy shuddered all the harder as he swept a lock of hair away from her ear and leaned down, whispering huskily. "Though I, myself, would classify such things less as a need and more as a desire."
Darcy whirled around and shoved him harshly away. He laughed in sheer amusement at how bold she continued to be with him even unarmed. He smiled and looked back at her with a terribly powerful expression hidden behind his seductive smile. "Do you forget that while your mind is your own, I told you that I can, and will, command your body?"
"I never should've helped you," Darcy hissed.
Loki sighed heavily and stood perfectly still. Darcy stared back at him unyieldingly before she felt a strong hand grab her by the arm and drag her towards the bed. She gasped and, before she had time to react, the real Loki pulled her over to the bedside, pulled back the coverings unceremoniously, and then shoved her onto the mattress, throwing the covers back over her. She growled, sitting back up and folding her arms as he began to walk away, clapping once and causing the false vision of himself to disappear. He slowly made his way to the door and turned to glance over his shoulder a beat. He smirked. "It's a shame, really. Even not as king, I can give you all that you need . . . all that you desire."
"You wouldn't be doing it for me," Darcy replied hotly.
Loki snickered and turned away. "I never claimed to have done anything for you, Darcy," he replied. "Not even healing you."
"If you try anything at all and I mean anything . . ." Darcy began furiously.
"Go to sleep, Darcy," Loki called back.
Darcy frowned and leaned back against the pillows. She cursed herself silently for having eaten anything when it could've been enchanted or poisoned. She knew that the scepter didn't work on her, but she couldn't be sure that any other forms of magic used on her very person would be just as thwarted. Why in the world had she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her or her outrageous compassion for even those in the wrong? She groaned at realizing that the very same curiosity is what had spared her life and was now taking care of her; his curiosity of why she had evaded the scepter's control. He was nowhere in sight, but something told Darcy that she would not be alone at all that night. This was terribly unsettling and she doubted that anyone would sleep peacefully, certainly not the trickster who would be pacing and watching his prey from a distance. She sighed heavily and leaned back against the pillows. At least Dr. Selvig had been fed, had drunk some water, and was now sleeping for a short while. She had done at least part of what she had set out to do in the first place. She laid back further and pulled the covers up to her chin. What else was there to do? She couldn't escape, that would be fruitless. She didn't know how powerful or dangerous taking hold of the cube with her bare hands would be, especially now that it was settled neatly atop a cylinder of iridium. Darcy sighed and shook her head. She had eaten, she had downed some water, and she was safe within the tower for the time being. All that she needed to do now was sleep. She could deal with the rest of this in the morning, but for now there was at least a little pause in the chaos.