Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Chapter 36: Once More Into The Fray
A/N: I quit my job Saturday. I just got tired of being verbally abused, and having people going out of their way to get me fired. Oh, and I am not returning my uniform to the store until I get my final check. A bit of insurance, if you will. At first, I was a little upset about the fact that I need to find work again, but I haven't felt this free in about eight months, so I don't regret my decision one bit. They called me in and lied again, saying that they needed me to work, but I knew what they were doing. So I walked into the office, told the manager to cut the crap and save his damn lecture, quit on the spot, and walked outside and laughed. It felt so damn good.
But today, I got a new one. My interview took all of 10 minutes before he told me the position was mine, and that I can start next week. I'm gonna burst into song about how "It's the best day ever!" now.
The recommended tune for this chapter is "Wake Up, Open The Door, And Escape To The Sea" by Blaqk Audio.
Suicide. That's what this was, and he didn't like it one bit. It was worse, by far, than being subject to the torment of Odin's punishments, than being forced to live out the remainder of his days on Midgard. Straight back into the dark again was the plan, back to staring at leering eyes and ugly faces. And if this all went straight to hell, it would be Thor's fault, and the thunder god would know it.
"I don't like it," he said, and as they began arguing again, refused to utter another word on the matter.
He had already gone against Thanos twice: Having failed to collect the Tesseract at the conclusion of the first invasion, and again with his ill-conceived method of insurance. Now, and this was dead certain, the Titan wouldn't have any qualms as to annihilating him were he to screw up again. Which meant that, whatever this new plan turned out to be, it had to be nothing less than perfect.
"Fruit basket," Tony piped up, that stupid smirk on his face. By Odin's throne, Loki was going to slap him if the wisecracks didn't stop. "We can send the guy a fruit basket. What do you think he likes? Pineapple?"
Thor had already reacted, his hand on Loki's shoulder, forcing him to remain seated. It didn't matter. He still had throwing knives and a silver tongue.
"Perhaps I should shove it down your throat?"
Tony's face went paper white, his eyes moving slowly across the expanse of the room as if to gauge the reactions of the others. When they, too, stood stone still and stared, the man swallowed, lifting both hands to the visible expanse of his throat. He must have realized how uncomfortable, and possible, it would be to actually have something, let alone anything the size of a pineapple, shoved down his esophagus.
He mimed zipping his lips then, and sat down on a bar stool, slouching and attempting to draw his head down through the neck of his shirt.
Loki smirked.
"Then what, dare I ask, is your brilliant idea?"
Natasha was scowling at him something fierce, almost gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she waited impatiently for him to respond. But, rather than acknowledging her with any sign of interest or wasting his breath, Loki yawned and rested his arms on his knees, eyes shut as he leaned forward in his seat.
Thor, like a doting mother, took to patting him gently on the head.
There came the sharp sound of her heels against the floor, moving closer and then further away as she paced back and forth. In his mind's eye, he could see her, perhaps engulfed in flame the same shade as her fiery hair, that fair face of hers twisted into an otherworldly grimace as she sought after a way to get his goat, force him to acknowledge the fact that she was furious with him.
He didn't want to say anything, particularly not here, about how she shouldn't be angry, how she was only wasting her time, her breath, by cursing at him. It would look and sound more than just strange coming from him; make it appear as though he had found the heart to give a damn about...
No. There was no room for anything so foolish as that. He couldn't be stupid like Thor.
Flinching, Loki ushered that thought away, the only sound in his ears that of the tinkling of glass as it began to rain down upon him, the empty bottle having been smashed against the wall. He lurched forward, out of Thor's grasp, and tumbled right over the polished tabletop, landing flat on his back and out of breath. Clearly, that had been the woman's aim, as another bottle, this time full, came flying across the room, breaking only inches from his face.
"He's a monster! You can't expect that we'll just trust him again, Thor!" she shouted, and Loki felt the impact of a third object, a wine glass, against the side of his head as he sat up.
How accurate.
With all the yelling, Thor promptly lunged off the couch and began issuing threats as Jane attempted to talk him down. They were all attempting to shout over one another now, and he watched in stunned silence as Pepper, now bouncing the baby in her arms, shook her head and hurried off towards the nursery so as to calm him down.
That, Loki thought, wouldn't be such a terrible idea. To separate himself from the rest of this insane herd before he had chance to bite the spider back. And with a vengeance. He moved along the outside of the room as best he could, careful to avoid the eyes of anyone who might have looked back to watch as he slipped down the hall with a scowl.
Suicide. This whole damn thing was suicide.
# - # - # - #
"Stop! Just–!"
Groaning, she threw her hands up, moving into the kitchen with the idea of finding a bucket and soaking the lot of them with water. Like dogs. Stupid dogs that couldn't help but to fight over the last bit of meat on a dry, old bone. It infuriated her to no end, and watching even Darcy engage herself in the affairs of the Avengers, particularly like this, didn't do anything to alleviate Jane's ever rising temper.
The woman shook her head, suddenly curious as to whether or not a headache was beginning to form within. Quickly, she reached into the cabinet, seizing a glass and bringing it down upon the counter top far harder than she needed to, chipping the bottom as it hit hard against the edge. The faucet burst to life as she held the glass beneath it, a heavy frown on her face as she stared at the monochromatic tile of the back splash, failing to take a drink until the glass had easily overflowed into the sink. Pulling it away, Jane quickly downed the contents, placing it back onto the counter with a strange sort of tenderness before venturing off down the hallway to see just where Pepper had gone.
Maybe she needed help with the baby, who must have been petrified by all the shouting. Poor thing.
One after another the doors were opened, each room looking more-or-less the same: Wide windows, a beautiful view, and open floor spaces with clean lines and colors that screamed "modern." The plush mattresses had blue-grey bedspreads thrown over crisp sheets, and each pillow looked as though it must have come straight from the heavens. It was after the fifth door that Jane finally gave up on looking through each of the guest rooms, opting instead to head right around the nearest corner for a try. It must have been Tony and Pepper's room, she thought as she peered inside, noting the photos of the couple and many of Bradley in various outfits. She took a step back, afraid to intrude any further when the sound of a running faucet came from the cracked bathroom door.
It didn't seem like intruding, Jane thought, were Pepper in the room as well. She crossed the carpet quickly, pushing the door open with a moment's hesitation before stepping inside. From the dim light of the window she could see him, staring blankly into the mirror and messing erratically with his hair every few seconds. It was going to start coming out if he didn't stop yanking like that.
"Oh, God," Jane breathed, raised a hand to touch the cut on his forehead, and Loki jumped. Hadn't he seen her reflection behind him? "Did she hit you?"
She turned, not waiting for a response before searching the nearby linen closet for a washcloth. Whirling back around, Jane tossed it into the sink and turned on the faucet. She pushed him then until he sat on the edge of the wide tub, demanding with naught but a finger that he keep his butt glued to that spot and not move.
"What are you doing?"
"What your brother should be," she replied bitterly, and set to wringing out the hot cloth. "But instead, he's out there arguing with the rest of them, trying to prove Natasha wrong."
Loki winced as she set one hand behind his head to steady him and took to wiping the blood away.
"Once more into the fray," he chuckled. "That idiot."
Jane frowned and stomped her foot. "That idiot has done nothing but save your dumb ass since the moment you got here!" She jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "So don't you dare talk about him like he's nothing!"
Loki grimaced and tugged at his hair again.
After several minutes of grumbling to himself, he finally piped up.
"I was going to kill you."
Jane nodded, picturing the cold, frosted temple of Jotunheim. Just a dream, now. "I know."
"No. Before," he said, sounding out of breath. "Before I was any of this. Anything more to you than just a story. I was going to kill you, because I knew it would break him..."
It was all she could think about, all she had been able to think about, but it was just so sad. Brothers, if in name only, wasting away the years, their precious time, over an empty feud, a throne. How long, Jane wondered, had they been fighting? How long had it been since they'd been happy together? What could have impressed upon the one the need to destroy the other; to take down entire worlds for the sake of his own selfish ambitions?
Without faces, the whole thing was empty and meant nothing to her. But when she threw the two of them into it, saw the God of Lies on one side of the picture, and Thor and their friends on the other, Jane wanted to sit down and just cry.
It was horrible to know the people involved in such a tragedy.
"What do you think?"
Jane's eyes went wide. "About... what?"
"Am I... Is she right?"
"We all are," she said after some thought, and swallowed, "in some respect. The world is full of people who do monstrous things. But... that doesn't mean anything. Everyone has a chance at–"
"Redemption," he finished, and leaned his head against her shoulder. "Rubbish. There's no such thing. We are... what we are. That's all..."