Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

Chapter Twenty-Five: In Which There is Judging

Loki didn't get even – he paid back with interest. Bea spent the rest of the night locked inside a grueling nightmare. Eyes pierced her, claws scrabbled for her, and through it all she was falling. Whatever she reached for turned to dust under her fingers. Nothing could stop the gut-clenching freefall. She kept tumbling until she crashed into herself – jerking awake in her borrowed room.

For the rest of the day she was understandably out of sorts. So it was unfortunate that Tony was her assigned babysitter. She dragged herself out to the common area and began rummaging around the kitchenette for coffee and filters. It would take a heavy dose of java to leverage her past the level of half-comatose. Supplies procured, she set the brew to percolate and turned around. Tony was parked on a couch, absorbed in his cell phone, sunglasses on and suit unrumpled. He had dressed the part of the playboy. That was bad news. That meant he'd gone into one of his roles, that he had his defenses at full capacity. And, as far as she knew, he was still mad at her.

"G'morning," she said. She tried to sound upbeat, but her vocal chords weren't up to lying yet, and the simple greeting came out a full octave below her usual range.

"Good morning," Tony said, still submerged in his phone. "Busy. You know, since my head of design is under house arrest and all…"

"Oh, come on." Ah. Closer to her usual pitch. "This was partially your fault, you know."

"Um, I'm sorry, but I'm not the one who decided to make kissy faces with the god of mischief."

"I'm sure you've made kissy faces with stranger people."

"I wouldn't bet on that."

The coffeemaker gave its last burp, and Bea dumped out a mug-full, flavoring it with half the contents of the sugar bowl. "You're a piece of work, Mr. Stark. I thought we'd already been over this."

"I don't see why we ever had to start it," Tony snipped. "When I hired you, I thought I was hiring class. We all thought you were the best investment of the entire scholarship program. Turns out we were right. And then – not so much."

Bea inhaled half her drink, closing her eyes and imagining the life-giving caffeine diffusing throughout her system. It was too early for this. And it was too late to do anything about the heart of the matter. A time bender she may be, but Bea couldn't change her past. Not yet, anyway. "Just tell me what you want me to say, Tony."

"Words aren't really the problem here."

"Then what's the issue?"

"Actions." He whipped off his glasses and looked her straight in the eye, dead serious. "I can't trust you, Bea. The end of the world is coming, and I need everyone front and center. But you're off making out with Thor's delinquent brother. Honestly, it wouldn't bother me if you got a boyfriend, even in a time of crisis. Everyone relieves stress in different ways. But Loki? He's hurt people important to me, and I thought those people were important to you, too."

"Hey, he kidnapped me twice, bedazzled my chest and locked me in a closet. I get it." Bea shrugged. "Thor wants us to forgive him."

"Thor also thinks Poptarts are the single greatest invention of the past century," Tony said. "The guy can't work a blender. Who's he to give us convoluted ethical advice?"

"Uh, do you know how to use a blender?"

"Of course. How else would I mix drinks?"

"Nice."

"Is that judgment I hear?" Tony asked, cupping his ear. "From you, Kissy Queen?"

Allowing her frustration to get the best of her, Bea dropped (threw) her empty mug in the sink and devoted her full attention to the mounting argument. She barely noticed the ringing crack of shattering ceramic. "I can't change the past. I can't undo what I did. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! There. Is that enough for you yet?"

Tony snorted and donned his shades again. "You think I'm bad? Just wait until lover boy joins the party. Then the real fun will start."

"Oh, the fun's already started."

He actually glanced up from his phone again, but Bea ignored him in favor of marching out of the room.

A few moments later, Thor moseyed in, golden features askew with drowsiness and concern. "I heard raised voices. Is all well?"

"Peachy," Tony bit out.

Thor gave the sink a lingering, meaningful look, but didn't make a comment. Instead he retreated, leaving the Man of Iron alone to steep in his own frustration.

.O.O.O.

New York had a very particular set of smells. On the ground those smells ranged from block to block, but high atop the former Stark Tower, the city smelled like steel, hot dogs and diesel fumes. New York On High was a whole different world from New York Down Low. Both were kinda dirty, but On High had a special kind of freedom. There was sky and space and entirely too many sea gulls. If the building was tall enough, you could almost live among the clouds. Down Low the only clouds came up from the sewers on chilly mornings.

She wasn't quite used to it yet. She had a mixed history with heights, and it took effort to find the beauty in them. But she wanted to try, and she needed to escape the testosterone inside (Tony plus Thor plus Loki equaled He-Man Stand-Off). She could smell the manly grandstanding all the way in her room. It wouldn't surprise her if they hiked and started physically marking their territory. Tony and Loki in the same room was extremely uncomfortable for other reasons, as well. The first time it happened, Tony got thrown through a window. It was a painful reminder of how painfully stupid she'd been. Thanks to her freakishly un-cool abilities, she got to watch the nightmares play out over and over again. And because that particular bit of history was on everyone's mind, she had to watch Tony simultaneously arguing with Loki, texting on his phone and flying out the window – all at the same time. She'd been cooling her heels in various cupboards while Loki made his show as the Great and Awful, but the scars were still bleeding when she emerged. The damage was clear. Tony had been part of the damage. It was just too much.

So she gathered up some big sheets of paper from the floor's little office nook, dug her charcoal out of the bags Pepper brought, and marched out to the balcony armed with enough paperweights to keep all the paperwork in New York flat. She spread her gear and got down to work as quickly as possible. Ranks of seagulls, skylines and architectural wonders grew, rough and smudgy, mere sketches for future reference.

For a few minutes she didn't realize that she was sketching a Chitauri chariot zipping by the Empire State Building. Then she swore.

It was all crap. She came out here to escape from the monsters and the memories for just a little while, but now monsters and magic were just all her world contained. There's where one of the space whales landed and squashed three blocks flat. Below a thousand ghosts of New Yorkers and tourists caught in the crossfire. Above stretched the bright blue sky through which Loki ripped a hole into darkest space. It was there in her memories and there in the nebulous shreds of past fluttering specter-like in her vision.

With a roar, she threw the nub of charcoal as hard as she could, watching with glum pleasure as the wind snatched it up and yanked it in a new direction off the edge of the building.

"Have your tools offended you?"

The prince was standing beside her. Bea had no idea how long he'd been there or how much of her temper tantrum he'd been witness to. He was busy looking innocent, one of the greatest lies he'd ever told.

What made Loki's innocent face so obviously false was the dramatic contrast between his wide eyes and his usual closed expression. He was a talented liar, though, which led Bea to the inevitable question: what was Loki like before he went darkside? He'd always been clever, and he wouldn't have cultivated such an obviously insincere mask. That meant that when he first started practicing, it hadn't been so different from his usual expressions. It was a strange thought. Loki – innocent. Maybe even sweet. Kind might be a bit of a stretch.

"I don't think we should be talking," Bea said, picking up a new piece of charcoal. "The grown-ups don't like us chatting un-chaperoned. "

"And since when have their concerns bothered you?" Loki asked.

"Since I got stupid," Bea muttered.

"And…" Loki sank to sit beside her, "upon which date, exactly, did you become 'stupid'."

"Oh, I think you know which one."

"That was not folly. That was… enthusiasm."

"Enthusiasm?"

Loki grinned. "You were very inebriated, and I'm certain your memory of that night is foggy at best, but I was perfectly sober, and my memory is clear."

"Memory or fantasy, you perv?"

"All memory adopts an air of fancy."

"Pfft." She looked towards the Chrystler building, trying to focus on the white balloon spiraling up past its ranks of windows and not the visual memory of a Chitauri sled gunning down civilians."Thanks for the dreams, by the way. Nothing like waking up with an adrenaline rush."

"Oh, I would be happy to repeat the process this evening if it was so invigorating for you."

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Lies can get you into trouble."

"Yeah… I think that's the pot calling the kettle black. And I wasn't lying. I was just being sarcastic."

"Sarcasm is the art of painting a truth with the shades of a lie."

"Everything I said was true. I did wake up with an adrenaline rush. You would, too, if you spent the entire night stuck in a free fall. My thanks weren't really genuine, though," she admitted.

"And thus you prove my point."

"You know, I was busy. Doing stuff." She waved at the ocean of art spread around her knees.

"And I would be loathe to keep you from it," Loki said. "May I join you?"

Bea rolled her eyes. "You aren't fooling anyone, Loki. Stop sucking up."

The prince canted his head, and even though she knew it was just another ploy to continue their conversation, she couldn't resist rubbing her knowledge in his face (See? Who's the dumb bimbo to seduce now, huh? I know the game, dude, and I'm gonna toast you.). "You think because I kissed you I'm not a registered member of the Loki Fangirl League, and you can just win me over with a few bats of your eyelashes." She pointed at her chest. "Gift giving is clearly not your forte."

"And I'm sure this brilliant theory was offered by my brother," Loki said, the lightest flush of unconcerned mockery warming his words. He squinted towards the bay and the wind caught in his long hair. It was unfair that hair. It made Bea jealous. "This is no dalliance. I do not understand you, and a moment of drunken lust does not serve as a key to unlock every mystery. Any man who thinks so is a fool."

"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you think of your brother as a fool."

"It should not." Pulling his eyes away from their glazed stare into the middle distance, he focused on Bea. "All I ask is you tolerate my presence. My silent presence. It is irritating to remain any longer in the company of my brother, and this quiet retreat seems… pleasant."

There wasn't really a good reason to say no. Actually, scratch that. There were lots of good reasons to say no. But Bea couldn't think of any off the top of her head, and she was tired of arguing – with Tony, with Natasha, with Loki, with everyone. So she slid him a sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal and braced for the inevitable torrent of words.

To her surprise…he actually did what he said he would. Turned out he wasn't such a bad sketcher, either, though Bea didn't have the heart to tell him that horses had four legs, not eight.

.O.O.O.

She didn't go back inside for lunch, and she stayed out all afternoon, until the sun had set and the city's lights were making the ground brighter than the sky. Only Tony was still in the lounge (and still pretending to text; seriously, even he wasn't that popular). Bea side stepped the living area and made a bee-line for the fridge. She was feeling the need for ice cream.

"Wasn't your shift over, I don't know, hours ago?" she asked. She refused to feel bad about eating her boss's food, so she grabbed the carton closest to the front, snagged a spoon from the drawer and sat down opposite the man himself, digging into her frozen treat with relish.

"I volunteered for a double shift."

"Why? So you wouldn't have to see me again for a couple rotations?"

"Because I need to figure out what the crap is going on in your head, Bea," he said. "I need to know why you did what you did, really know it, and know that I know it down in my gut."

"What are you, the Doctor? Straighten out your sentences. You want me to make you like me again? That's not how it works, you know."

"Liking has nothing to do with it," Tony said. "This is strategy. I need to know I can count on you, that this isn't a sign of something broken in the melon chamber. I thought I knew you pretty well, but it turns out I was wrong. So I've been looking for second opinions, and I have to say I'm disappointed by your lack of social media. I can't even figure out who your friends are, let alone where they live."

Bea closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. When she opened them Tony was still sitting there looking at her. Waiting. "I don't have friends, Tony. I have a job at Stark Industries, and a boss who hates my guts."

Tony Stark was bad for his employees' appetites. Suddenly sick of ice cream, Bea set her spoon in the sink and returned the carton to the freezer. She hadn't eaten any of it, not a single bite. That was a crime against taste buds. Her stomach was clenching, though, and there was nothing she could do to make it relax again.

She went to her room without any further conversation.

.O.O.O.

The next day, joy of all joys, she got to suffer twelve hours of endless, awkward, judgmental staring from – the one, the only Captain America! Hey, if she was gonna be judged, she might as well aim for the captain of the Holier Than Thou squad, right?

And it was awkward. And judgy. Awkward and judgy.

Bea emerged for breakfast, ate two whole eggs with a couple pieces of toast… and felt the judging.

She turned on the television and flipped to the scifi channel… and felt the judging.

She finally mustered up the gumption to say hello… and felt the judging. He said hello back, of course. He would've lost a merit badge if he was rude, but it was a very judgy hello. It just oozed judgment.

At lunch, she made herself a salad, and she thought she would escape, but then she grabbed a beer to go with it… and felt the judging.

Thor came out for a few minutes, wriggled awkwardly on the couch, and then banished himself rather than be party to the judging. Loki didn't even show his face. The judgment was just that strong – it would create a toxic substance if mixed with his murderous narcissism.

So Bea suffered the judging all by herself for ten hours. And then it was just too much. "Alright," she said. "There are two ways we can do this."

Steve (The Judge) sat up just a little straighter.

"We can talk like big kids, or I'm gonna have to pull your hair, because you're annoying and I don't know how much I like you right now."

The Captain released a very large sigh. "Bea…"

"A sigh is usually a bad start to a conversation," she said, shrugging. "Just sayin'."

"It's not my place to judge…"

Oh, really?

"…but you must know I disapprove your actions."

"Oh, that's not news," Bea said, leaning back and propping her feet on the coffee table. Heck, she was already far from his good graces. She might as well be comfortable. "You disapprove. Tony disapproves. Natasha disapproves. I disapprove. We all disapprove. Time to move on, don't you think?"

Another massive, moderately cliché sigh from the Captain. "Yes. You're right. It's just…" He paused, clearly torn between traditional chivalric values and the gruesome facts of the matter. "Loki?"

"Yes, Loki, I know. I'd tell you what I was thinking, but it's all kind of funny. I blame Clint and his dangerously colorless drinks."

"Alcohol is not an excuse."

"True, but it is a reason." Clasping her hands together between her knees, Bea leaned forward. "Here's what you have to understand. I'm a single woman in her mid twenties with no boyfriend and no social life to speak of. My only friends are people I can't talk to other people about, because S.H.I.E.L.D. might have to shoot me. To top it all off, I'm an alien. As weird as I thought I was, I'm no longer of the species I believed myself to be. So I get drunk, and there's a guy standing there, and he's made it clear he's interested in me, and I'm too drunk to do the smart thing and keep my lips to myself. It could've been an attractive intern standing there and I would've kissed him. Unfortunately, none of those have flirted with me, and none were invited to Tony's private party. So Loki. It had to be Loki. I was drunk. I was stupid. It was a mistake. The end. Fin. Over. Now can we please move on with life?"

The Captain had the decency to squirm under her firm command, and Bea felt validated for the first time in days.

"About that," the Captain said, "I've been meaning to ask you… how do you plan to move on? Once we've stopped the alien invasion…"

Bea couldn't help it. She snorted. Alien invasion. Oh, holy patriarch of sock monkeys, when did that become a part of regular conversation? When had alien invasions become normal?

Steve cleared his throat, "Once we've stopped the invasion… what do you plan to do with yourself? Will you return to work with Stark Industries, or are you considering joining an agency such as S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"I don't think the first option is even an option anymore," Bea said flatly. "But I don't really want to work for an agency. Too militaristic for me. Sorry, Cap."

"No offense taken," he said. "The army isn't for everyone."

"Definitely not for me," Bea said.

"Then what will you do?" he asked. "If not what you did before, or what the agents do… what?"

It was a fair question, and Bea took the time to formulate a fair answer. After a few moments' thought, she said, "Everyone tells me what they think I'll become, or what they want me to become. I'm not even brave enough to admit what I am. But until I accept that, I have no control over my destiny. If I want to make my own future, it's time to embrace the truth." Steve nodded, patiently waiting as she wound her way through the complex logic of the situation. "Once I do that… I don't know. I don't know what a time bender is supposed to do with herself when she's not saving the world. Maybe I'll offer living history tours or something."

For the first time that day, Steve laughed. "I'm sure they'd be popular."

"Heck, yeah! I'd be rich! I'd make this place look like Big Foot's lair."

"Miss Doe," Jarvis declared, "I would advise you to return to your quarters."

Bea and Steve shared a look. "Umm… why?"

"Because Director Fury is in the elevator. He's on his way to this floor as we speak."

Bea very nearly fell of the couch. Keyword being nearly… or perhaps very. Regardless, she did not fall off, but rallied her balance and managed to surge to her feet before tripping over the coffee table and landing face first in the carpet. Steve swooped down and hoisted her to her feet, but they'd lost precious time, and Bea only made it halfway down the hall before the elevator doors opened.

"Miss Doe."

That voice. It could freeze the sun.

"I think it's time we had a little talk."

Slowly, she turned. The Sassy Pirate was standing there in his usual leather coat and eye patch, hands folded behind his back.

"Take a seat, Miss Doe." His eye hardened. "Now."

A/N: Well, I missed another week. Alas. But do not despair - there should be a lot more Loki and a lot more action in the next chapter! The final battle is approaching. Bea is an odd duck (pun somewhat intended). I sit down to write a scene, ready for her to flip out at Loki... and then she just talks with him. Poor Ducky. I think I broke her.

Please review! It makes all the difference in the world to an antisocial hermit like me. Hermits United only meets up once every ten years. In the meantime... there's you. BY THE WAY, a lot's still up in the air, so suggestions and requests will be seriously considered. The sketching idea from this chapter was due to a spark from a reviewer. Another spark from a review will burst into flame in the next chapter... not literally... maybe...

Replies to Anons:

ItsMe: Great to hear from you again! So happy you enjoyed the mirror scene. I have an odd fascination with mirrors. You wouldn't last long if the door was open all the time. We'll have to develop a secret knock or something. Thanks for the review!