Insanity: Hi. This is the end. We're sorry for the long break. This was awesome to write, and I'm gonna miss this story.
Alassiel: Well, we finally threw it together! We've had some of these scenes lying around for a really long time. As in, three or four years! I'd feel remiss if I didn't put a TRIGGER WARNING for anybody who is not interested in reading a very dark ending to this fanfic. I don't think it could have ended any other way, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it as well. We're both happy with the way it turned out, and for those of you willing to brave the The End, I hope you will enjoy this final chapter. You guys are the best. Thanks for stickin' around!
P.S. 'Lassie again: I'm still around, cleaning up all the edits we missed in our excitement! There were some unforeseen errors due to this website's strange ideas about formatting (running certain sections together) and I apologize to any of you who read the original version. I've been updating as I go, and haven't made any changes to the plot—just little continuity tweaks here and there. And the formatting. Because that just had to happen. Anyway, thanks for your patience!
Coulson.
I pushed Brita down and toppled over a display of FruitLoops, scattering cereal across the aisle. The drunk teenager grunted and looked up from his Pop Tarts.
"Natasha!" Coulson cried, pushing the teen aside and running toward us. I scooped up Brita and ducked down another aisle, ignoring his cry. "Wait!"
Why was he here? How? Brita screamed, but her words fell on deaf ears. I blocked out the child's noises and listened to the squeak and pound of Coulson's shoes. The rest of the store was echoingly silent. I skidded around another corner, as if the shelves could hide her. Where was the exit? Panic slowed my brain. Coulson? Coulson?! In Canada? How, or why? Did he follow Banner up here? He must have...
"Natasha!"
"What do you want?" I cried through the rows.
Cereal crunched. "I just…"
"You followed Banner here," I accused.
"You would have done the same. Summoned to meet the lunatic who took over Britain?" More cereal ground under his feet as he moved closer. Brita whimpered in my ear.
If he was here, then surely half of SHIELD was too. Could Brita find her way back to Loki? Warn him? I could delay… Talk… As soon as Loki got here, we could teleport away. Running back to him would lead Coulson and who knows who else straight to the still-weak demigod. There was no way Brita could get back on her own though...
"I guess I understand…" I said slowly, letting Brita down. "Go hide," I whispered. "By the cash registers. Tell the man to get help." Police would confuse SHIELD, maybe buying us time to escape.
She nodded, eyes wide, and ran off.
"Where'd you send her?" Coulson asked, voice only one aisle over now. I could see his suit between the metal grating as he paced forward slowly.
"To safety. Away from you."
"When did we become the bad guys?"
"Hm, let me think," I said, forcing sarcasm into my voice. I edged in the opposite direction Coulson was moving. "There was that one time you shot me, I think that was the least annoying thing."
"Speaking of annoying things, remember that time you helped Loki take over all of England?"
"What do you want, then?" I demanded again.
"Just to talk…" In the silence that followed his words, I heard something beep. Seconds later, a walkie-talkie went off.
"Boss?" A crackly voice asked. "Orders?"
Coulson stopped moving. I used his distraction to move down another aisle. "Surround the building. She's here," he said under his breath.
The teen shuffled past, looking at me from under her hood.
Faint voices from the radio surged my adrenaline to a whole other level. "Move! Case Red, Case Red!"
Betrayal shocked my system. How could I ever believed that Coulson really just wanted to talk? I was still Case Red- I was a target to be eliminated, and Coulson was stalling. Anger surged through me, and I completely forgot about Brita. If I didn't take out Coulson, I'd be killed.
I raised my pistol, aimed, and fired in an instant. The bullet pinging off the metal shelving.
"She's got a gun!" The idiot teenager yelped. Coulson fired back, bullets also lodging in the shelves. I sprinted to the end of the aisle and grabbed a box of graham crackers. I hurled the box at him, then fired at his figure at the end of the aisle. My first shot missed, but the second one did not. Coulson grunted, falling onto one leg. He fired back, forcing me to dive behind a round display of DVDs. A door slammed open somewhere in the huge building, setting off the fire alarm. When I poked my head out again, he'd dragged himself around the end of the aisle, leaving a smear of blood behind. The light above steadied, and I checked the gun's clip. Twelve bullets left, and an unknown number of SHIELD agents coming inside now.
Right. I'd had better odds, but also worse.
If I fell onto the defensive, they'd have me surrounded and shot in less than a minute. But if I pushed forward… I darted into the aisle and ran down to where Coulson had vanished. He was still on his knees, gun pointed at me from behind a pile of beanbags.
"Natasha—"
I fired, hitting his arm this time. Coulson fired back, but his one good arm was shaking, and the bullet went wide. Boots thudded toward us from the back corner, and ahead I saw the main doors open. There wasn't time to think. I fired, hoping to hit him through the beanbags as he ducked down.
Ten.
I'd have to kill him if I was going to get out. He'd still fight, no matter how injured. I'd made my decision before my heart could protest. Coulson had saved me, all those years ago. Vouched for me when Barton brought me in, watched after me. But he'd betrayed me, ordered me killed. He didn't care anymore: his asset had burned out.
I stepped around the beanbag and glared down at Coulson. He held his gun limply, gasping in pain and trying to stop the bleeding from both wounds. He looked up desperately, mouth open to plead. But I didn't have time to listen.
That last gunshot sounded louder than the rest. As his body collapsed, I sprinted toward the registers, drawn by Brita's little blonde head. The cashier had grabbed her and was running for the door. I gave chase, simultaneously mapping the other agent's locations. Maybe ten coming up behind, but nobody had shot yet, so they were still too far away. Seven, eight were pouring through the main automatic doors, where the cashier was carrying Brita. I fired two quick shots at the agents in front of me, making them dive for cover. The cashier ducked and kept running straight outside.
I shot out the light above the agents, raining sparks down on their heads. Still sprinting, I shot out the window, making the cashier swerve to the right. I lept through the broken window, scraping my arm on the broken glass. I gritted my teeth and kept running. I had to get Brita and get back to Loki.
"That's my child! Give her back! They're attacking me! Please!"
That made him stop. I could see his disbelieving face as I closed in. He turned to run again, but his pause was enough. I snatched Brita back and ran for SHIELD's van idling nearby.
I tossed Brita in the passenger seat and ran around to the other side. The keys were still in the ignition. I nearly laughed, it was so perfect. Tires spun as I slammed my foot down. Brita was strangely quiet, curled up in the seat with eyes on me. Did this child trust me so much that she'd suffer all this in silence? I didn't time to dwell on it, as muffled shouts and gunshots chased us out of the parking lot. A tire exploded, and the van swerved sharply. I swore, correcting course, fighting the steering wheel. The van pulled heavily to the right, dragging the wheel and no doubt leaving a trail of sparks. I'd almost made it to the road when Brita's window shattered.
Her scream hurt my ears and heart. She crawled into my lap, and I felt warm smears of blood.
"Na," she whimpered.
"Shh," I soothed her, still trying to stay on the road. I glanced down and saw shards of glass clinging to her sweater, and a small chunk sticking out of the back of her shoulder, but no bullet wounds.
"Hold on, mon ahren," I whispered. "We're almost there."
We flew off the curb and into the main road. Brita cried out and clung tighter to me. One arm wrapped around her, I wrestled the van under control and sped out of town, back to Loki.
A couple black vans squealed out of the Walmart parking lot, shots peppering the air. I grimly pushed Brita lower. A shot shattered my right mirror just as I swerved onto a narrower side street. It didn't fool the vans, of course, but it gave me a little more distance.
"Hush, Brita," I tried vainly to sooth the girl. Shots clanked into the back of the van and shattered the concrete around us, and Brita cried all the louder. Gritting my teeth and hoping for some sort of Loki intervention, I skidded around another corner and sped down the country road that led back to the lake.
Police sirens began to wail as I surged out of town. The vans had fallen back a little and stopped shooting, but they kept up. My mind spun. Did I try to lose them? Or just lead them back to the house? Brita needed the glass out of her shoulder, and without knowing the back roads around here, it was more likely that I'd end up in a dead end than ditching the SHIELD remnants. So I raced for the lakeside mansion, hoping the Loki had recovered enough in the last hour to help me kill however many people were in the vans.
The five minutes it took to reach the house were agonizing. They couldn't have run out of bullets yet, not with those submachine guns, which clearly meant they were waiting for the best opportunity to shoot out my tires with plenty of bullets left to shoot me in the face. I swerved erratically, but the vans continued straight. Brita's jacket was slowly staining red. The pavement gave way to gravel suddenly, and I was forced to let go of her to keep the van on the road. Gravel flung up, banging against the van like more gunshots.
I barely regained control in time to make it around the corner. Before me, standing beside the road with the mansion behind him, was Loki. Even from the road, I could see his eyes glowing. Relief filled me as jerked off the road and skidded to a stop beside him. Loki was going to help. I grabbed Brita and staggered out of the van.
Loki didn't say anything as I set Brita down next to him, preparing myself to fight. The vans began to slow. Loki's long jacket whipped in both the morning wind and in the magical power building around him.
Suddenly, both vans just… vanished. I blinked, looking at the spot where they'd been a moment before. Two piles of green-tinged metal shavings and dust sat in the gravel.
"Oh." I watched Loki take in a deep breath and smile. "That was effective."
"Very. There were over a dozen men in there, and I captured their innate magical power for my own. I am as strong as ever."
That explained the cat-like satisfaction on his face as he knelt down and pressed his hand into Brita's back. The glass shard eased out on it's own and the blood vanished and he worked a healing spell.
"Thank you!" Brita cried, falling into his arms, still sniffling.
Loki held her gently, looking up at me expectantly.
"Coulson was there, with SHIELD. Bruce must have tipped them off. They attacked, I killed Coulson but was forced to flee," I explained in as few words as possible.
Loki nodded slowly. "They must have known I was here as well, but they did not attack. They were after you."
I shrugged. "I am a Case Red. A loose, dangerous end."
"But I am more dangerous," he smiled. "Maybe they hoped to weaken me by killing you." Loki pulled Brita to his chest as he stood up. "But it matters not." He began walking back to the mansion. "I think the time has come to end our fight with the Avengers. If that was all SHIELD could throw at us, then they are clearly weaker than I hoped."
"And by end our fight you mean…?"
"Kill Tony Stark and Captain America. With them out of the way, America's hope will be lost and the rest of the world will bend easily for me."
He wasn't wrong, but the thought of killing Steve… The last time we'd met he'd begged me to change my ways. But I was in deep now. I'd been going along with Loki for too long to not agree with him. And with them dead, Loki's rule could truly begin. Under his rule, his love, I would have security. I would have a home, a family. I stopped walking and stared at Loki with Brita cradled to his chest.
He turned back, green eyes determined but waiting. One hand stroked Brita's blonde hair. They were my family. And soon we wouldn't be running any more.
"Natasha?"
"Sorry." I shook myself out of my revelation and smiled at him. "I'm ready. What's the plan?"
He smiled back. "I would very much like to collect whatever technology and weaponry plans Tony Stark has in his possession. His work is years ahead of the rest of the world, and holding control over it would give us more security in our position." Loki pulled a chip out of his pocket and held it out. "I trust you can figure out how to obtain those files?"
"Easily enough."
"Good. And since no plan survives contact with the enemy, my plan is simply to appear and kill them both before they can summon up more help. Once the Avengers have fallen, there will be no one to stop us. Then there is simply the matter of Brita."
"We're not taking her into battle," I said firmly.
"Of course not! We will find another babysitter." I opened the mansion door for him. A fire burned in the fireplace, warming the room. Loki murmured something and set a suddenly-sleeping Brita down on one of the plush couches, pulling a fur blanket over her tiny form.
"The last one…"
"I have someone else in mind," he assured me. "Someone who is caring, and easily convinced to work for us."
In one of those cold flashes that signified Loki's teleportation spell, a vaguely familiar man appeared in a high-backed chair to my right.
He held a forkful of pancakes up to his open mouth, frozen in fear.
"Hello Mr. Hogun," Loki said smoothly. "So sorry to pull you away from your breakfast, but we had need of your services."
I suddenly recognized his face: Tony's bodyguard. Happy stared at us both, face going bright red. He stammered and dropped his fork.
"Natasha and I will be otherwise occupied today, but I feel you might enjoy spending Christmas with this child?"
Happy's face suddenly went slack. "I- Yes, sir." He sat completely still, watching Brita with a completely blank expression.
"Did you have to bespell him? Surely there was someone else?" I sighed.
"It will irk Tony," Loki said smugly.
"Yeah," I admitted, watching him. "He is good with kids… His sister and niece came to visit him one day. Well, now what?"
"I see no reason to delay. We go to New York." Loki picked up his staff off the coffee table. I was about to ask for a weapon when he produced a belt with two pistols and significant amount of ammo on it. I nodded in thanks and strapped it on.
His clothes shimmered and faded into gold-leafed armor. The iconic horns of his helmet appeared while his staff hummed with power. Loki looked fierce and powerful, as lithe as a jungle cat and just as dangerous. He held his hand out to me with a kind smile.
There was a glimmer in his eyes that I had never seen before.
"Are you ready, my queen?"
I took it. "Let's take over the world."
The yank of his spell made me close my eyes, and when I opened them, I was alone in the middle of Times Square. Well, not truly alone, but the famous landmark was as empty as I'd ever seen it. Only a bare few groups of people and cars passed by. The heavy overcast sky made the flashing neon signs and giant Christmas tree seem dull. I quickly oriented myself to head for Stark Tower.
A distant explosion heralded the start of Loki's battle, and I looked up just in time to see two human-sized figures go flying overhead, twisting around each other and surrounded in light and smoke.
One of the signs flashed the time.
7:13, Christmas Day. The clock would stop there for billions—for us, it had only just begun. The countdown was over, and the world was finally ending.
I started to jog down the road, ignoring the startled cries of people around me. Cars stopped to look up at the spectacle, but I kept running. The next time I looked up, a column of thick black smoke was rising above the skyscrapers. The peaceful morning stirred to life as panic grew. I ran down the blocks listening to screams build, sirens cry, and fires catch. People poured into the streets now, staring past me with gaping mouths. A loud crack, louder than any noise before, made me pause. The gathering crowds at once turned in panic and began to flee. I turned back and saw why.
The Empire State Building was not only on fire, but it was leaning. It groaned heavily, windows shattering and metal bending. A flash of Tony's suit circled the building, then darted away, carrying something. The building screeched. The smoke billowed out thicker as something new caught fire within. Then the whole majestic building just crumbled. Concrete poured like a river, cascading down to the streets below, leaving only spikes of steel above the skyline.
In that moment, I realized just how much power Loki had held back before. Given time, he could probably level all of New York. Only Tony and Steve stood between that end now. I shook my head and continued my run. Loki wouldn't destroy all of New York: he wasn't that stupid. But if his fight dragged on, there was no telling how much destruction the two men would cause.
When I reached Stark Tower, two security guards tried to stop me on my way through the doors, but I quickly neutralized them and found the nearest elevator. An alarm was blaring throughout the building, and I wondered how many people had already left the building. All? Most? The doomsday scenario currently taking place outside might make my job incredibly easy: I knew exactly where Tony's office was. I pressed the button to the left of the door, and settled back to wait. Both elevators appeared to be busy. It was several seconds before the doors in front of me dinged and slid open.
I stared, taken aback.
There before me, her clipboard clutched to her chest and her eyes wide, stood Pepper Potts.
"Natalia!" she exclaimed breathlessly, using the cover name SHIELD had given me when I had first been assigned to baby-sit Tony Stark.
"I thought everybody here had been evacuated," I challenged, keeping my voice cool and my manner aloof. Without another word, I stepped onto the elevator. Pepper tried to sidle past, but I grabbed her wrists—jostling the clipboard out of her grasp—and quickly pinned her to the wall, kicking the button that would take me to the top floor.
"Let go!" Pepper shouted, stomping on my sneaker with the heel of her designer shoe. I barely managed to keep from wincing, but held her in place as the elevator began its ascent.
"Listen to me," I hissed. "Do you want Stark to die?"
Pepper stopped struggling and took a deep breath, her large eyes locked on mine. Her face paled.
"Then I suggest you accompany me to his office."
I loosened my grasp as the elevator slowed, but kept one hand on her shoulder. When the doors opened, we stepped into Tony's elaborate office space. I glanced at the computer screens on the desk. "Do you know how to access Jarvis?"
"I don't think—"
"Well, you'd better find out how, and fast," I growled. "Unless you'd like to burn before the rest of Manhattan…"
Empty threats.
Loathe as I was to admit it, my words meant nothing. I needed her to access the files Loki wanted, and killing her would make my life a lot harder. But for both our sakes, I hoped she wouldn't call my bluff. I needed her to believe in earnest that both her life and Tony's were in jeopardy if she refused to cooperate.
Pepper swallowed once, and then placed her hand over her heart. I wondered if she were thinking of Tony, and a brief flash of pity and anguish disturbed my focus. "Ja…Jarvis?"
We both breathed a sigh of relief as the voice of Tony's personalized AI system entered the room. "At your service, Miss Potts."
Pepper exhaled slowly, gripping the back of Tony's swivel chair until her knuckles turned white. "Where's Tony?"
"Fifth Avenue."
"Is he all right?"
"His targeting systems have malfunctioned, but he is not injured at the present time."
I stepped toward Pepper and reached for the pistol hanging from my hip. 'Database,' I mouthed, enunciating the syllables to make the word clear. With my other hand, I uncapped the huge chip Loki had given me and prepared to insert it in the nearest available port.
Pepper nodded, her face regaining some of its color, and said, "I need to access Tony's…" She turned to me, her lips parted, and then slowly repeated the words I mouthed to her: "…personal computer… password protected files… and the… technical readouts of all… weapons, personal and prototype… that Stark Industries… used to manufacture."
Jarvis began to protest. "I am not authorized—"
Casting a warning glance at Pepper, I grabbed the hilt of the pistol.
"Never mind!" Pepper exclaimed. "Tell Tony that… that it's an emergency." There was now a calmer, more authoritative tone in her voice that somehow managed to impress me.
After a moment, Jarvis spoke up again. "My database is now at your disposal."
I jammed the memory drive into the computer, and then waited. A red light flashed at the end of the USB drive, and I knew it was downloading everything that Tony Stark had ever put into Jarvis's flawless memory bank.
When I looked up, Pepper was only a few paces away. Her countenance was less panic-stricken, but she could not hide the frightened glint in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she whispered. Horror tainted her effeminate voice.
I said nothing in return, but stalked across the room to stand beside the windows. Brilliant orange flames engulfed the horizon. Manhattan was burning. It was only a matter of time before the flames reached Stark Tower, and the explosives I had rigged would ensure its complete destruction.
A faint reprimand came from behind me: "Killing innocent people…"
I tensed and aimed my pistol at her.
Pepper looked down, folding her hands in front of her fashionable, business-like attire, and said nothing. Why was she still here when I arrived? Likely she had been trying to help Tony somehow. Her loyalty was unmatched, even though the recipient was the most narcissistic billionaire in the cosmos.
My heart constricted.
Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.
Even if all of Manhattan burned to the ground, even if the entire U.S. Army was destroyed, even if Tony died in battle, Pepper Potts would survive this holocaust. I would make sure of that myself.
I turned my gaze briefly to the USB drive and was relieved to see that the blinking light had changed from red to green. I glanced at Pepper, and—before I could stop her—she punched a few numbers into the holographic keypad and withdrew the mass storage unit. Suspicious, I held out a hand, glaring coldly at Pepper. Had she erased its memory, or pulled some similar trick? But she handed the USB drive to me without a word.
I took it without questioning her. What was done was done. We had to get out of Stark Tower before Tony swooped down from the clouds to rescue his damsel in distress.
"Come on!" I demanded, sprinting back toward the elevator. No way were we taking any stairs—there was too little time to spare.
I was almost to the silvery metal doors when the sound of shattering glass made me flinch and whirl around, drawing my twin pistols and sinking into a half-crouch. A bolt of blue energy flashed inches away from my face—so close I felt the heat—and burned the wall behind me.
"Where do you think you're going, lover-girl?"
My stomach lurched at the sound of his voice.
…Loki had lost the fight.
"Tony!" Pepper screamed.
Stars.
Searing pain.
I was thrown backward from an unseen blow and something shattered behind me, making a noise like a gunshot and a million tinkling bells. Both of my weapons flew from my hands.
I felt my body being hurled from the upper story window-wall, and something glanced off my shoulder, tearing the uniform.
My eyes squeezed shut, but last image impressed upon my brain was a blurry Iron Man suit, palms glowing, hovering above the floor, and a blurry Pepper Potts running toward the window hands outstretched as if to catch me, and a thousand shards of glass floating in front of me like glittering snowflakes…
Then the world sped up again and I was caught in a vice, feet kicking, hands scrabbling, staring straight into the glowing visor of a man so powerful not even Nick Fury had been able to pin him down.
I killed Nick Fury.
I can kill you.
But I knew it was a lie—not like this…
Tony held me out over the ledge and I gaped, clawing at my throat, and struggling to breathe. The situation was all too familiar, a flash of déjà vu clouding my judgment. It can't end like this... after everything... I have survived...
"Death is too good for you, Romanoff," he snarled behind the mask, shaking me like a rag doll. "You and your dummy god. I oughtta—"
"Stop this!" Pepper pleaded, edging toward the window with her hands before her face, her hair and nice clothes blowing in the vortex of wind that surrounded Stark Tower. "You're better than this!"
"This is war," Tony growled, tightening his mechanical fist around my neck with a sinister grinding of metal. My eyes burned and my throat went completely numb. My pulse pounded in my ears and I half-believed my head was about to explode. "They won't show us mercy, and they won't get any either."
"Tony, noo-!"
Pepper's voice was sharply cut off by the wind as Iron Man released his grip on my neck and I plummeted head-over-heels toward the ground below.
My neck throbbed and even if I could have drawn a breath, the wind would have stripped it all away.
Steady your flight…
Steady your flight…
Don't panic…
This isn't the end…
If I had the strength of an Asgardian—
I squinted down with watering eyes as the smoldering streets below rushed up to meet me.
No.
Nothing would save me.
Loki would be captured and tortured for information, this ruination would be for nothing, and Brita would be taken away and put in a psychiatric ward.
Something warmed my chest as I fell.
I clamped two hands over my collarbone and squeezed something small and disc-shaped and vibrating with life. The wind streamed past my face, pulling tears from my eyes and making me choke.
But a sudden paralyzing calm made the fast-approaching mess of cars and rubble seem a mere trifle and the tears that whipped across my face an insignificance.
My watering eyes blurred the flashing scenery with the shafts of sunlight streaking through the clouds and I closed my eyes to block out the whitish chaos, letting the warmth of the medallion seep into my veins and rush through my body. It was... glorious, actually.
Rather exhilarating.
Knowing you were about to die... refusing to let it happen... unbroken.
The tears became real.
I will not die.
My grip on the medallion tightened.
Brita—Loki—no!
The calmness overwhelmed my entire being and I felt a sense of enormous power weigh down on my mind… too much to struggle against… Then I realized I didn't want to struggle against it.
I would die a villain to SHIELD, a hero to Brita, and the love of the most powerful and unloveable demigod in the galaxy.
SHIELD, with all their justifications.
SHIELD, with all their crimes and abuses.
SHIELD, who no longer held my leash.
Loki had held my leash for a time, and then removed my collar and offered me a choice.
I chose…
Freedom.
Freeing the world from the power of corrupt governments and establishing-a monarchy?
You are a queen, someone whispered in my ear. Your path has always been revenge, your destiny to rule.
I had forged my own path.
And my path had taken me this far.
All these thoughts and more flashed through my mind in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a heart. There was no time for me to regret what I had done. I would remember the love of Loki, the innocence of Brita, and the forgiveness of Rogers in my final moments.
My hands felt as if they were on fire, but I could not let go of the medallion.
Sigyn…
I reached, but did not touch.
Bared my teeth, but did not make a sound.
Her eyes were closed. The healers had closed them.
Her face was wiped clean of blood. The healers had done that.
Her mouth was closed. But the healers could not force her to smile.
The lines of a dying scream were etched on her face forever, and the creases on her forehead would never fade.
"I am... sorry. My son."
Fingers curled into fists.
Stare.
Stare at the golden curl falling over her eyelashes.
Stare at the purple-ringed-black bruise above her left eyebrow.
But don't believe it.
Don't believe it…
I glared the decorative collar that laced her throat. I knew why they had put that there. Those healers that could not heal my wife.
The skin was abraded.
Behind the collar lay a gash.
A gash so deep and wide that it had taken Sigyn's life.
Don't think.
You will hurt.
My face was wet.
I had been weeping since sundown.
My clothes were soiled with my own tears.
"Sigyn testified on your behalf, but it was not her testimony nor yours that has saved you," grumbled the king of Asgard. "Her own death has cleared your name, and enabled us to catch the otherworlders who murdered the palace guards."
I barely heard.
I did not care.
What did it matter... what did anything matter... my Sigyn was no more.
"We owe much to her sacrifice, and she will be buried with honor. Such a twist of fate has not happened in many a century."
She will be buried with honor?
They... they... THEY will be buried with honor, you fool!
Our secret son.
My soul writhed within me so that I was sure the allfather could hear its desperate keening. They will be buried with honor.
As I leaned over my bride, my wife, my beloved ray of sunshine gone dark, I felt a draft sweep through the hall. It blew through my torn tunic and undershirt—garments soiled by prison dirt and rent to rags by grief—and chilled my backbone.
"No."
My voice echoed in the hall.
Empty.
Alone.
Undone.
"No?" Odin repeated.
"No," I rasped. "There will be no burial. There will be no ceremony. As her soul mate, I wish it."
"You wish this?" Odin's voice had risen in pitch. "What, then, would you have me do?"
"Leave… her… to me." I forced the words from the bottom of my throat. "I will… bury her… myself."
"My son—"
"Leave us!" I roared, clenching my fists around the table and lowering my face until it almost touched her royal garments. Drops of salty water fell over her dead womb. "I wish only to forget!"
"...Very well." The allfather sighed deeply. "It will be as you say."
The sad, frightened creases around her mouth moved me.
I used to kiss them away.
Now I could never kiss those voiceless lips again.
"The queen wishes to speak with you," Odin said gruffly.
I swallowed a lump in my throat and reached for her face.
A footstep behind me, but he did not stop me.
Cold flesh.
Dead flesh.
"I have no queen," I whispered. "My queen is dead."
My eyes flashed open.
The white light blinded me.
Tears streaked my face.
Sunlight…
And a shadow.
I felt his arms surrounding me. Metal-plated, armored arms.
And then a bare fingertip touched the side of my face.
Loki?
When the world stopped spinning, I realized that we were under some sort of an overhang. Dust snowed down all around us, landing on the shoulders of Loki's armor in a fine layer and making me sneeze. I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a scream of pain and realized only then that both hands were clenched over my abdomen. I craned my neck down, eyes watering in pain, and saw that the front of my shirt had been all but burned away. Some fragments were melted into my seared flesh, and a yellowish puss oozed between my fingers.
I had witnessed many grisly wounds, and seen and dealt more pain in the last year than I had in all my years put together, but the sight of the burn across my stomach was still enough to make me sick.
"Natasha…" I listened to him say my name again and again, mumbling it under his breath as he had so many times in the past, as he carried me across the diner. Forks and knives and crushed menus littered all of the tables, but he swept them off with his elbow as he laid me down on the flat surface.
Broken metal clattered on the floor.
"A-aow!" I whined, biting down on my lip.
Blood filmed the inside of my mouth.
He moved quickly and gently, on arm across my chest and one against my knees as he attempted to uncurl me. My body convulsed and my teeth clacked together.
"Stark," he cursed, spitting across the table like a venomous snake.
I took a deep breath as he pressed both hands against my belly, my knees reflexively kicking up again, and stiffened my shoulders.
A cool, fluid-like cessation of pain rippled outward from the point of contact.
Yes…
I slumped against the rubble-strewn table and let my hands drop, sighing deeply several times.
Each time I injured myself I knew the pain would stop eventually-in healing or in death-but I never believed it in the moment, and I was sure I never would.
"Did it work?"
I glanced up at him and tried to rise from the table, but he held me in place just a moment longer.
"You are well again?" he insisted, and only then did I notice that he sounded faintly winded.
"I'm fine," I said, reaching up to touch a large gash on his cheek. It had already scabbed over-magically, I supposed-and my suspicions were confirmed seconds later.
"This is a temporary heal, to stabilize you," said Loki, brushing my fingers away. "I will take care of it later."
We stared at each other for a moment.
A distant boom echoed somewhere in the city, accompanied by the screams of frightened civilians. I almost didn't hear it. He was so intensely close to me that even his heartbeat seemed a louder, more important noise…
And in that single moment—a breath in the long scream of war—I realized something.
He hadn't even asked about the weapons tech.
Instead, his eyes were full of me.
I slid off the table, grabbing his shoulder. I didn't need it for support.
I just wanted to touch him.
Wriggling my fingers into the pocket of my jeans, I tucked the USB stick into my palm and held it up in front of his nose. His eyes crossed a little as he tried to focus on it, and before he could I slipped it under the bracer of his right arm and grabbed his chestplate in both hands, yanking him down to my level.
He inhaled faintly, surprised. "I have to finish—"
His mouth was still moving when I pulled him lower, our lips colliding in a beautiful, breathless kiss. His voice faded to silence. I heard nothing, but I could feel everything. I could feel his heartbeat in his throat. I felt him thinking, processing, accepting, and choosing.
Choosing me.
It lasted only five seconds.
I know, because I counted them.
When he pulled away, I knew that our lives were more firmly tied than ever before. Now he belong to me as much as I belonged to him. My demigod.
There was another second of silence, and I noticed that his eyes were faintly glazed. His hands were gripping my arms in an odd, frantic sort of embrace, and when his gaze cleared his next words very nearly stopped my heart.
"I have to get back to Stark Tower. Tony's looking for me."
I inhaled so fast I almost choked on the dust still floating in the diner. "Take me with you. I can help."
"No." His grip on my arms tightened and he leaned down again, so close our noses almost touched. "No… I've healed you on the outside, but there may be more internal damage to contend with at a later time."
There was something in his words that sounded like fear.
I dug my fingers under his chest plate and gave him a gentle shake to hide my trembling hands. It was all over. The world was crumbling.
No turning back.
I couldn't tell him goodbye, and I couldn't argue with his reasoning.
No more you, and no more I, I thought, wanting to say it out loud but leaning into him instead. He smelled like metal, dust, blood, and something else… something sweet… We.
We had chosen our paths, and they had converged.
And now I would follow him to whatever end.
The medallion—my constant companion and all that remained of a love broken centuries ago—warmed the inside of my jacket. I left it hidden.
"I'll be back for you," he said, embracing me one last time.
I pressed my lips against the leather across his chest and closed my eyes.
I didn't want to let go and he must have sensed as much, because I felt him slipping away. The leather against my lips became as soft as a feather, and then disappeared entirely. I barely caught myself on the legs of an overturned stool, falling forward into empty space. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a handgun resting on a chair. It gleamed without so much as a trace of dust, and I knew Loki's fingerprints were on it.
"Thank you," I murmured, standing up and pressing a hand against my abs, flexing them slightly. Scarcely a twinge of discomfort. He hadn't spared more than a drop of his magic for his own lesser cuts and abrasions that might have been healed in an instant… yet he had spared enough energy to heal me entirely.
Someone shouted obscenities outside the diner, and I rushed outside, sidestepping a pile of rubble and snatching the weapon from the table on my way. After I ducked outside—the doors having been completely blown off their hinges—I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
The entire street had been demolished.
What did the rest of the city look like?
"Look at the tower!" some man shrieked.
I didn't have to stop and ask.
Stark Tower.
I started sprinting, glancing up on either side, not looking for anything other than a good vantage point. Half of a building caught my eye, none of it standing except for two crumbling walls that met and rose to a point above the surrounding structures.
Run, jump, grab.
I dangled from the edge for a moment, both arms stretched above my head. The muscles in my stomach burned from the quick movement.
My feet kicked against the wall and I launched myself up, clawing like a cat for handholds and slowly running upward as if I were on a balance beam, one foot in front of the other, shoes slipping several times on the shifting concrete.
I reached the top just in time for the fireworks.
With a metallic screech and the cracking and smashing of breaking beams and braces, the entire colossal building crumbled to the ground. The neon letters that spelled Stark's name scattered in all directions, some breaking apart on the surrounding towers and others tumbling out of view. In another moment, the entire building had disappeared behind the damaged Manhattan skyline, leaving a bilious cloud of ash and debris in its place.
I bit my lip, hard enough to crush the skin. Blood oozed into my mouth. Pepper had been inside that tower. Pepper and Tony. Dust and smoke made my eyes sting, and I was forced to blink and avert my gaze.
He was gone.
That arrogant, selfish, playboy genius had finally come to a bad end, and with him one of the most humble, selfless women I had ever known. The Avengers were slowly being eliminated. One by one, Loki had destroyed them all.
Who was left?
Bruce had been effectively neutralized. Clint was long dead. I had taken care of Nick Fury myself. And Thor was lightyears away…
Steve. It was only then that I realized I had not once glimpsed Captain Rogers in all this chaos. Tonight the sun would set on the ruins of Manhattan, revealing the altered silhouettes of the skyscrapers. This was it. The United States of America—the giant of years gone by—the glory of civilization—had fallen. Why hadn't her captain been there to defend her? Had he been killed in the confusion?
A very small, petty, craven part of me was relieved at the thought. It would spare me the pain of ever facing him again. He was the only man I could not look in the eye and deceive. Somehow, he brought out the weakness in me, and twice now I had let him go unharmed. Quiet memories flooded my mind...
"It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon." I smirked, glancing sideways at his tall, broad-shouldered frame. He glanced back, and I found my smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"
"Trading cards!" he exclaimed quietly, and I noted the amused twinkle in his eye.
"They're vintage. He's very proud."
Steve placed a hand on my shoulder. I let it rest there for the moment. It was gentle, warm and caring; not an unpleasant feeling. Very different from Loki's icy, inhuman touch. "What about you?"
I shifted my weight to the other foot and swallowed quietly. "What about me?" I quietly turned his question around.
"How did you get mixed up in all this?"
Sighing uncomfortably, I shrugged off his hand and resumed my march down the hall. "I freed you, didn't I?" I mumbled, suddenly feeling defensive.
"Why do you follow his orders? Get out of here while you still can!"
Suddenly unable to restrain my emotions, I whirled on him, seething with rage. "I am in chains!" I shouted, a red haze creeping over my line of sight and veiling Steve's startled face. "I'm nothing more than an exalted slave! Don't you think I would have run away long ago if I could have? I tried! Rebellion leads to suffering—I have suffered enough! You don't know what he's done…" I trailed off, spewing several obscenities that would have made Tony Stark proud.
Steve listened to me in silence, and said nothing for several minutes. When the haze cleared, his expression was solemn and pensive. Then he said, "Everybody has something they would die for. Even the cruelest man in the worst town of the poorest country in the world." He glanced down for a moment, and then met my eyes again, his next words slow and careful. "But it takes someone with real courage to suffer for what they know is right."
I remained frozen in the middle of the bedroom as Steve broke the latch and began to clamber out the window. Halfway through, Steve paused again.
"If you find anything..."
"Go." I turned my back to him, mind spinning, and shut my eyes. Steve had to leave. It was beyond dangerous for him to stay here. But what about me? What would happen to me when Loki came back and discovered that his prisoner was gone?
I twisted around and opened my mouth to call for Steve just in time to hear him drop to the ground a story below.
Feeling unwanted tears form in the corners of my eyes, I ran to the window and looked down. He was already sprinting through the trees, his shield strapped to his back. Even though I had worked alongside him before, as one of the team, his strength and agility still astonished me.
When he reached the top of the rise, he turned around. By that time he was too far away to see any details of his face, but I knew he was looking at me.
He saluted.
And then he was gone. I stood at the window for a long while, waves of remorse crashing over me.
Steve's kind words and gentle heart had been meant, I was sure, to guide me back to the light. Yet he had cowed my proud, corrupt heart without even trying. I could never kill him. Never in cold blood.
But what if he was alive?
An irrational and wholly irresistible surge of hope leapt in my chest. Without pausing to consider my options, I began to run along the edge of the wall, dropping occasionally to all fours to keep my balance. I knew I should have gone looking for Loki. But my conscience burned too fiercely to ignore. It drove me like a slave-master, sending me deep into the smoldering city of Manhattan, looking for my old friend, my old life. I crawled through tunnels, scaled buildings, and ran along rooftops. There was no trace of the captain anywhere.
Dusk fell. Still I gritted my teeth and pressed on, pausing only to grab a flashlight from a fallen policeman as the light grew faint. The carnage I beheld filled me with loathing. So many dead... I knew Loki had not planned it to end like this, but that did nothing to lessen the familiar pain of the devastation. Most of the soldiers and civilians had been evacuated hours ago, but there was one soldier I knew had to be here, somewhere. He had to be.
The sky had turned dark purple, and the last rays of sunlight were dying when I finally stopped before a dimly-lit street. A few half-demolished shops stood glumly on either side of the narrow, dingy alley. One neon sign still flickered wearily behind a shattered window, and though its meager glow was hardly enough to illuminate the entire street, I did see several still bodies lying amidst the broken glass and rubble. Then a dull gleam caught my eye. I stared into the gloom, hardly daring to hope. My skin crawled with horror, and for a moment I could not summon the will to take a closer look.
Then something inside me cried out in desperation and urgency. I had to know. With a shallow breath, I jerked the flashlight beam over the object, and froze.
A battered, bloodied shield lay against the wall. The silver star still glimmered faintly, as if it were trying bravely to shine out, but could not muster the strength. I stepped quietly through the debris and reached down to let my fingertips brush the scarred surface. He was close; he would never leave his shield behind.
Acting on a faint impulse, I grasped the edge of the shield, feeling the cold vibranium sting my skin as if in chastisement for touching such a worthy weapon with my blood-stained hands. Then I straightened, scanning the street with my flashlight beam.
A streak of muddy blue caught my eye, and I backtracked.
There.
The light shone on a man's twisted, muscled form, lying crumpled with his face to a wall. He was partially obscured by a fallen metal beam, but there no mistaking the tousled tow-head. Gasping, I dropped the flashlight and ran toward him, my scuffling footsteps loud and echoing in the deserted street. "Steve!" I choked, kneeling and throwing the shield to one side. I placed my hands on his blood-soaked shoulder and struggled to breath. "Steve, Steve..."
There was no response. His arms were wrapped tightly around something small and delicate. Cursing softly, I tried to roll him over so that I could see his face. His upper body tilted sideways, and the pallid neon glow from the shop sign spilled over his face. His mask was gone. His eyes were closed. His forehead was caked in blood. And in his arms—
I sobbed once, putting my hand to my mouth.
A child.
A tiny little girl, no more than three years old. Her cherub-like face was bruised, and two dirty brunette braids hung over her shoulders. A trail of crimson had dried from the corner of her mouth to the bottom of her chin, and her skin was as pale as a china doll. She was dead.
A gentle groan jerked my attention back to Steve's ashen face. His lashes fluttered, and then slowly lifted, revealing two dull blue eyes. They wandered over the ruined street, and then lingered on my face. "Natash—" he coughed, a horrible, dry, hacking cough, and then wheezed quietly.
"Steve, just relax, you're gonna be okay," I whispered, my voice catching on the last two syllables.
His arms slipped, and the child's corpse slid to the ground beside him. One stiff little arm still rested on Steve's chest, and a braid trailed across his shoulder.
Steve choked, tears streaming down both cheeks. "I-I couldn't—" he groaned brokenly. "—I couldn't save—her—"
My heart squeezed with sympathy, and I forgot our conflict. It didn't matter that we fought on opposite sides. It didn't matter that he was a light to the world and I was the key to its demise. All our differences were swept away when I saw the unspeakable pain welling in his eyes.
"Steve," I breathed, removing the child's cold hand from his ripped and grimy uniform and folding the supersoldier's arms across his heaving chest. He seemed strangely limp in my grasp, and offered no resistance. "You can't save everyone."
"I know," he gasped, straining for air. "I couldn't—save you!"
My stomach lurched, and for a moment I couldn't speak.
"I'm right here, Steve," I whimpered, suddenly feeling very small and helpless. "I'm not going anywhere... We're gonna be fine. I'll get you out of here."
I placed both hands on the metal beam, but Steve drew in a hissing breath and warned, "No good. Broke—broke my back."
The tears finally leaked from my eyes, making hot tracks down my cheeks. I grasped his arm, squeezing it hard to keep my hands from trembling. "But—" I floundered for a solution, some way to deny what was happening. "The serum? Can't you heal? Aren't you constantly regenerating?" I barely managed to speak through waves of fear.
A crooked hint of a smile turned one corner of Steve's bruised mouth upwards. "Natasha..."
And suddenly it was just the two of us, alone in a silent, broken world.
My tears dried and I drew myself up into a kneeling posture. With deft movements, I grabbed Steve's tarnished shield from the rubble where I had dropped it and stiffly took hold of his paralyzed right hand. It seemed a natural thing to do, as if I had done it countless times before. Pressing my lips firmly together and tightening my jaw, I numbly fastened the leather straps around his arm and laid it gently across the other, so that his shield was resting in the center of his chest.
His breath came now in shallow, hitching gasps, and I felt a shudder ripple through his body. "You are—a good—person—Nat," he rasped, blood seeping from his gaping mouth. His breath rattled with the strangle-hold of death. "Don't—waste your life. Please, don't waste it..."
I bent down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Steve," I whispered. I suddenly felt like a mere shadow of my true self. Steve's goodness and humanity left me cold and hollow. "I'm sorry." The words tasted bitter. They meant nothing. A thousand apologies couldn't wipe my slate clean.
I stared, helpless, as the light began to dim in Steve's glistening eyes. He coughed weakly, more blood trickling between his pale lips. "Don't waste it..." he pleaded again, the words gurgling in his throat. It was painfully obvious that he meant to say more, but his face had turned blue, and his lips moved without a sound.
Without a second thought, I reached down and wrapped my arms around Steve's shoulders, shuffling forward on my knees and laying his blonde head gently in my lap. I wiped some of the blood from his mouth and cradled his face in my hands.
I ached to promise him that I wouldn't waste my life. That I would right my wrongs, see justice done, and make him proud of me. That his death hadn't been for nothing. But the words wouldn't come. So I held him close and said nothing, listening to his faint breaths and watching the life slip from his body. Captain Steven Rogers, the first Avenger, passed away in my arms. One warm tear slid down his temple and wet my fingertips.
"Goodbye," I whispered.