Down in the deepest bowels of the Earth, in a place without light or fresh air or sound other than screams and the unending buzz of machines, Loki was jostled back to reality by an electric shock, informing him that they were not yet done with him for the day. Or night. He couldn't say, for he had no way of telling one from another.

He didn't bother trying to count either, even he could find the mental capacity to focus on anything else than drawing one labored breath after another. Time was a concept that applied to the living. To people with things to do and places to be. He had no use for it in the Void and he had no use for it now.

They came and went. Sometimes asking questions they did not give him a chance to answer first, other times just getting straight to work. A string of indifferent voices and hands Loki could not muster an effort to remember.

At first, he thought that, perhaps, they'd grow bored with him, eventually. Or make a mistake, pushing just one step too far, allowing him to topple over and to the other side, into the welcoming embrace of nothingness. But they never did. They kept on bringing forth new forms of torment to try and always knew when to stop to keep him at the edge.

Wishing to die yet unable to.

That was already a too-familiar feeling.

It took Natasha more than a week and two more trips to DC to wrap things up with SHIELD, at least temporarily.

She went through multiple interrogations, first with agent Tucker, who turned out to be a transfer from Baltimore and a permanent acquisition for her department, then with two other agents from Internal Affairs. She begrudgingly stuck to the advice Fury gave her, censoring any parts that might put her allegiance into question, but still refused to put anything incriminating about Loki in her testimony. No, he did not kidnap her, they were attacked, and he acted in self-defense. Yes, he collaborated and did not try to hurt her at any point in time and her injuries were acquired elsewhere, but their communication was hindered by his inability to speak. No, he really could not access his powers. Yes, they found an extraterrestrial creature to help them go back to Earth. No, she didn't know what it was or why it helped because she couldn't understand it. Loki didn't know either, for all she knew. No, she didn't know where they were. No, they didn't make any other contacts. Yes, that's all she remembers.

She filled out a hastily thrown together questionnaire about the planet they visited. Some of the queries made her sure the guys from the Scientific Research were in past their head in the subject. Seriously, how was she supposed to judge the acidity of the soil? She allowed them to run scans and blood tests and hook her into a battery of sensors. She was certain that at least that part of the questioning was far from over, but the excuse that she is still recovering worked, for now.

The wide-eyed enthusiasm the scientists regarded her with after the smallest bit of info she dropped only made her keenly aware of how much more they could learn from Loki and his extensive experience, especially compared to the incompetent fumbling she could offer as answers to their questions, if only SHIELD allowed him to talk, instead of locking him up in a cell. He was touchy when it came to personal subjects, but with this kind of general topics he would thrive. She could imagine his eyes brightening up at the very opportunity to flaunt his vast knowledge in front of those ignorant mortals.

She passed the preliminary psych evaluation in flying colors. She purposefully failed the endurance tests, earning herself a month-long sick leave. She would have to go through all this once again after that period was over, but it wouldn't take nearly as long anyway, and she couldn't give a shit about SHIELD after that.

Then she packed a bag, gave Stark's flamboyant car a last longing look as she jumped into her very unassuming rental Prius. Then she drove to Norwalk.

She stopped at a small, single-story motel on the outskirts of the town, in a low-density tertiary district. It was smacked right between a Dollar General and a petrol station and advertised itself with "truck parking" and "clean rooms" on the sign. While the former was self-evident, the latter soon proved quite a stretch. It would still do. She wasn't going to stay here long anyway.

It was still before midday when she arrived, so she used the time to complete the disguise she planned to use. She bought some clothes and cheap-looking jewelry in a second-hand shop by the main street, then picked a variety of make-up in the drugstore, going for gaudy, bold colors. The choice of hair dye wasn't too ample, so, after short deliberation, she settled for black. Blond was usually the go-to one for her and it went well with her complexion, but darker color would work better with the image she wanted to create. And, well, she did fancy black hair these days.

She dyed her hair in the motel bathroom and changed her clothes.

Then it was reconnaissance time.

The base was located just outside of town, a mile of a gravel road connecting it to the main route out of town. At first glance it was nothing impressive, just a couple of single-story buildings, some outbuildings and a small airfield with a single hangar, surrounded with a rectangle of a mesh fence with a tumble of barbed wire on top. Two gates led in and out, each with its own security booth, with a single guard stationed inside.

It wasn't anything that would catch uninformed onlooker's attention. That was the whole point, the real deal was located underground anyway.

There were just two rows of barracks and no welfare facilities, no mess hall to speak of or even a cantina that she could see. Those were most often located above the ground, and the lack of them likely meant the staff used the establishments in town in their time off work. Some non-military personnel probably lived there, too, judging by the collection of civilian vehicles parked in front of the main building.

She stayed in her vanguard point, two hundred yards away from the eastern gate, where a patch of trees on a small hill provided all the cover she needed. Then she watched.

There weren't any extraordinary security measures deployed, the point of the base was obviously to keep it as low profile as possible. There were two pairs of guards patrolling the perimeter in fifteen minutes intervals, wearing standard US infantry uniforms. The soldiers kept relaxed stances and talked between themselves often, which meant their role was more perfunctory than born out of an actual anticipation of an attack. There was also a couple areas where they would stop for a smoke or to pull phones out of their pockets, which indicated the CCTV cameras didn't cover those in full.

She pulled on her magic and directed her attention to the base but couldn't make out any details. She was too far away and there was too many people and too much equipment, all vibrating with energy, so she quickly dropped her scrutiny, feeling a creeping headache sprouting in her temples from the buzz it generated. She spent most of her evenings practicing and could see the results already, but it was still too much, too early. For now, she would have to depend on the old-fashioned methods of gathering intelligence.

There was a shift change for the non-military personnel at eighteen hundred, preceded by an influx of cars coming down to the gates – the night shift arriving at their posts. Most bore local license plates, but their variety did not point to any specific area, which meant the workforce could provide their own living arrangements and did not change very often.

Each car was stopped at the gate, but the check-up was a routine one, taking less than half a minute. The screening apparently wasn't too thorough, then again, it was possible the guards just knew the employees' faces and didn't need to check their passes. No one was searching the trunks of the cars, but even the thirty second stop was enough for a cursory scan, if the guard posts were equipped with such scanning devices. She couldn't tell just from the distance and there was no overview of the security systems for the facility in the SHIELD's database. That was something she needed to find out, along with at least a barebone layout of the buildings, before she tried infiltration, if it ever came to that.

The night shift consisted of twenty-two people, men and women, dressed in civilian clothes. Most headed straight for the main entrance of the biggest building. That's where the entry point of the underground part of the base was situated then.

Another couple of minutes has passed and the day shift workers started pouring out from the same doorway. There was at least three times as many people compared to the new arrivals and there were still some unclaimed cars left on the parking lot. The facilities operated on a skeletal crew during the night then, meant to sustain operations, while the main work was carried out during the day. It might also mean the shifts timings were asymmetrical, longer for the night and shorter during the day, but that was left to be verified. Still, early morning hours – before the facility started crowding up and the staff in place was less alert after a long night of work – would be the best time to try to get inside.

The sun has set, and the windows started lighting up, then the exterior lighting came on too. There were floodlights installed on high posts all thorough the base but those were left off, meant for emergencies only.

At eight there was a guard shift change, both for the perimeter security and inside the building. She counted around thirty men, some wearing military uniforms, some clad in black combat clothes without any visible denotations, often used by strike teams of various agencies. Those could be the SHIELD men, or even the Council's forces, but they still headed for the same sleeping quarters as their army combatants, which meant there wasn't much difference in function or standing between the two. Perhaps the men were even used interchangeably. Such a joint venture was not a common occurrence, even in facilities that were under use of multiple agencies the division of roles was always clearly defined, each institution manning their slip of the field.

It wasn't an impressive force either, at least compared to the numbers of other staff. And even with that, it was obvious it was not an extensive compound, most likely just an auxiliary research unit, like hundreds of other establishments of this kind in every corner of the States. Why the hell would they take Loki straight here, instead of the Long Island headquarters, which was not only a lot more secure and explicitly equipped to handle detainees of his caliber, but also much closer? Even if Pierce wanted this to be handled on neutral grounds and not in a SHIELD-controlled facility, there were at least three similar bases within an hour of driving off New York, and Pierce could request the use of any of them for his purposes. Then there was the Triskelion with SHIELD HQ only taking a part of it, the rest staying under the scrupulous control of the Council, or the CIA base in upstate New York.

What was so special about this one?

Did it have something to do with the Hydra tumor growing inside SHIELD? And if so, what would that party want with Loki? Did they think his world conquering speeches were literal and that he would ally with them? That was possible, but it still didn't explain the location.

It was unassuming, that's for sure, but there had to be more than that. Was it something specific the base housed?

Whatever it was, the SHIELD database was silent about it and a cross-agency search would require her to submit an official inquiry first, setting everyone on her track and it was too early to burn that bridge. Fury most likely knew too, but he would tell her jack shit after how their previous conversation has turned out.

There was a rustle on the courtyard as a group of people exited the sleeping quarters. It was almost completely dark, so she switched the binoculars to the night mode and watched as the men crossed the yard and headed for the jeeps parked at the far end of the parking lot. They wore civilian clothes and chattered between themselves freely and loudly enough for the garbled echoes of their voices to reach her hiding place, but the magnification wasn't good enough for her to read their lips. Some of them carried opened bottles of various alcoholic beverages and the uncertainty in their strides suggested the party has already started and now was being taken elsewhere to continue.

She quickly picked up her equipment, tousled the grass to mask the evidence of her presence, then headed for the car.

She reached the place where the dirt path connected with the asphalt road just in time to see the cars turning left and heading to town. She followed, keeping a safe distance.

They didn't drive too far, they crossed the interstate and entered the town proper, turned right from the main street and pulled over in front of a small bar.

It looked like any other dive bar in a provincial town, white siding peeling off its front façade, a single neon adorning the main entrance. She waited a minute then pulled into the parking lot as well. She left the car at the far end, behind a dumpster and a pick-up truck that most likely belonged to the owner, judging from the way it was parked right next to the back entrance and from the row of empty beer kegs on its bed. It meant it wouldn't be moved until the bar was closed, providing a cover for her obviously foreign car with New York license plates. Her cover story had a suitable explanation for that, but she would rather not use it if she didn't have to.

The interior of the establishment looked exactly what she would expect from the esteem of the outer shell: a cramped, smoky room with poor lighting, sticky floor and eighties rock music blazing from the speakers. There was a long bar along one of the walls, a line of booths along the other, then a pool table and a dart machine in the corner, with floating tables taking the rest of the space.

The place was rather crowded, which was to be expected on a Friday night. She headed straight for the bar and ordered a margarita. She paid with cash, then sat at the counter and discreetly regarded her surroundings, sipping her drink. It had way too much sugar in it for her taste.

The men grabbed some beers and headed for the corner with the pool table, exchanging a few quick sentences with the band of teens that occupied it for now who soon collected their stuff and left, leaving the area for the soldiers with something that seemed like widely accepted understanding. She watched the group through half-closed eyelids with mild interest on her face. One of the guys noticed her already and pointed her out to his colleague in what he obviously thought was a discreet whisper. It would be, if Natasha couldn't see his lips moving. She smiled at the guy, even if the compliment was crude at best.

She could hit them up right away, but she was in for the long game and there was no point in earning unneeded attention. Even in her current disguise of a provincial girl on her night out – skimpy shorts, a close-fitting blouse that showed too much of her cleavage, garish make-up, and a lot of cheap jewelry – she looked out of place sitting alone at the bar. All the other women sat either in groups or with their partners.

A group of five girls occupying a booth close to the pool table looked promising. There was no male accompanying them and they kept on shooting meaningful glances at the soldiers then laugh between themselves obnoxiously loud. Each had a drink or a bottle in front of themselves and the way they moved betrayed they were at least tipsy.

She approached the group and stopped two steps away from the table, tousling her hair nervously. "Hi," she said.

One of the girls turned to her. Her pudgy face was covered with heavy make-up that made guessing her age hard, it could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty. Her hair was strawberry blonde with dark brown roots showing. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I think. I just moved to town and I don't know anyone here," Natasha said, raising her voice to get it heard over the music. She was using the New York accent.

The rest of the girls – who pretended to ignore her until now – turned to her. The tall, dark-skinned girl wearing a golden dress with shiny sequins sewn along the collar that looked very much out of place in this kind of locale – their leader, judging from the way the other girls in the group acted around her – spoke up. "So?"

"I was wondering if I could join you?" Natasha said, fumbling with the edge of her shirt then raised her hand to wave at them. She judged that would be the proper amount of confidence to fit right in: enough to come over and strike a conversation with a group of strangers, but not cocky enough to treat it like it's not stressful. "Name's Leeann, by the way."

The leaded regarded her for a moment. "Yeah, why not," she said, and the pudgy face scuttled over to make room for Natasha.

The leader was called Tisha, and the pudgy-face introduced herself as Lotte, short for Charlotte. There was also Chloe, a quiet, short blonde, then Taylor and Kate, two sisters who immediately wanted Natasha to guess which one was the older one. She went with Taylor and missed, apparently.

The initial reservation melted away quickly with a round of drinks on her and her story about a girl from New York moving back to where her parents were from to find herself. She was a curiosity – an outsider – and just the fact she picked them stroke their egos in all the right ways. Before they knew, they spoke freely, like Natasha was one of their own.

"So, what do you do for living?" Lotte asked and fished a slice of lemon from the bottom of her empty glass with her long, fake nails, then stuck it in her mouth.

Natasha expected such questions. It was a small community, and a new arrival would always draw eyes. There was no malicious intent behind the questioning, just curiosity, and it gave Natasha a chance to test the integrity and impact of her backstory before the main event.

She shrugged. "Not much, for now. I just arrived. I'm starting job hunting tomorrow but for today I just wanted to get out and chill a bit. Get to know some people. Have fun, you know."

Chloe nodded, understanding. Taylor was more persistent. "Hell, why would you leave New York and come here? People usually go the other way around."

"The rent in New York can sink you if you don't have anyone to split the bill with and being a waitress doesn't earn you that much hard cash."

"Still, you could go anywhere, why choose Norwalk?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know to be honest. I cashed in my deposit and jumped into a car. I don't think I ever knew where I was going until I was halfway here."

"You know anyone here?"

Natasha shook her head and took a sip of her beer. "Nah. I was only here twice as a kid, when my grandparents were still alive."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"I stay at a motel for now. I'll start looking for a more permanent place once I get a job. I still have some money left."

"My aunt has a place to let," offered Chloe, her cheeks turning red when Natasha turned her attention to her. "I mean, it's not much, just a basement adapted to a flat, but it's clean and cheap. Four hundred a month, I think. I can set you up if you want."

"Yeah, sure," Natasha said and pulled out her phone to note down the number.

"Ooh, fancy!" exclaimed Tisha, looking at her device. "Haven't seen one of those in person yet. They go for like grand a pop, right?"

Natasha shrugged, cursing herself for not swapping the phone for something less outlandish. "George… uhm, my fiancé ordered it for my birthday. He must've saved for months to get it. It came in the mail after…" She paused and hung her head.

"You broke up?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. He… died. In the attack."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry," Lotte said finally and squeezed her arm. "I lost my brother last spring. I know it's hard, but it gets better."

Natasha nodded in acknowledgement. "What happened?"

Lotte's lips were pulled into a thin line as she gathered the resolve to talk. Taylor was quicker. "A driver rear-ended him on a bridge, and he crashed through the barrier into the river. The police found the truck abandoned just outside the town but never caught the guy. There were empty bottles in the car, so he was probably drunk."

"That's horrible. I'm sorry for your loss."

Lotte rolled her shoulders and smiled. "It happens. Life goes on."

"Yeah. Life goes on," Natasha repeated, numbly.

"At least you know who did it, right?" Taylor pointed out. "They caught the guy, didn't they? The alien dude, what was his name..."

Kate nudged her in the ribs, and her sister fell silent. Natasha didn't have to work hard to call a look of dismay to her face. "I guess. I don't like to think about it. It's not like it changes anything. George is still dead."

Taylor brought her hands down to the table. "You girl look like you need another drink," she said and got up. "Another beer or something fancier this time?"

"Beer's fine, thanks," said Natasha and smiled. "So, what do girls of Norwalk do for fun?"

"This," Tisha said, drawing a wide circle with her arms "is pretty much it. It must seem dull compared to New York."

"The town has its perks," Lotte added with a smirk and gave the group by the pool table a meaningful glare. "There's a military base just out of town and the supply is always fresh, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"So, which one is it?"

Natasha crooked her head. "The tan guy in the corner, I suppose." Natasha singled the guy out almost immediately for how little he interacted with the rest of the men and didn't take part in their bitching about unfair shifts timing and shit food rations. It might mean he was just less socially inclined. Or that his responsibilities at the base were different than those of his colleagues and there wasn't much common subjects he could discuss with them.

Then there was something else. Something she couldn't quite name. Something off about him.

"That's Marcus. I wouldn't bother with him if I were you. Tisha worked him up for weeks and didn't get as much as a drink."

"Yeah," Tisha said, keeping her voice down. "That dude is a robot, I tell you. He comes over with this group from time to time and sits in the corner all by himself, ogling the girls, but you can't get him to say more than two sentences in a row. And even if you do get him to talk, it's only some cryptic bullshit about his work. Seriously, he acts like he runs the entire place. Boo-hoo, bitch, like I care about your shitty job."

The rest of the girls laughed.

"And the buffy blonde? The one with the cue?"

"He is new, it's the first time…" started Tisha,

Kate interrupted her. "No, he was here on Tuesday. But yeah, he is new. So, what, you wanna go over and say hi?"

"I don't know," Natasha flustered, "I don't think I can…"

"Come on, girl, you can't sit on your ass and mourn for the rest of your life! You gotta have fun sometimes!"

The girls grabbed their drinks and Natasha allowed them to drag her over to the pool table and introduce her to the soldiers. It was perfect, for it was obvious the initiative was not on her side. She batted her eyelashes and smiled and shook every hand they extended to her meekly and before long they were talking and laughing and flirting. The sisters took the new guy – Stephen, which made Natasha snigger because he did look a bit like a Captain America knock-off too – for a spin, Tisha was quickly in the middle of a groping session with the burly bear of a man called Burgundy, while Natasha played darts with Benjamin, who apparently went with "Tick" among his mates, for the way his eyebrow twitched when he was nervous. It did that each time he noticed Natasha looking at him.

The midnight has come and passed, and the bar slowly emptied. Tisha disappeared somewhere along with Burgundy, so did the sisters, leaving Stephen with Lotte. The music was changed to some more recent pop hits, a couple of tables got pushed aside to create a dance floor, but it was mostly empty now.

Marcus stayed in his seat and would only leave it to grab another beer at the bar. He grunted a greeting when Natasha made her rounds introducing herself but didn't say anything else. Natasha made a point of not paying him any attention, but still hovered close while she was smiling and flirting with Tick.

"It's been a while since I had my ass whooped by a girl so thoroughly," said Tick and blushed immediately. "At darts," he added, and she graced him with a coy chuckle.

"I worked at a bar for years, so I picked a thing or two from the regulars," she said. "It's not the only thing I can do."

The blush reached his ears and he turned to his bottle for salvation, draining half of it in one swig. "I'm going outside for a smoke," he said. "Want to… join me?"

"Sure," she said and brushed her fingers on his forearm. He retreated and skulked towards the door to save the rest of his face from burning to a crisp. Natasha rolled her eyes and followed.

"You know this stuff can kill you, right?" she said as she took a drag from a cigarette Tick lit up for her. Who said the chivalry was gone?

Tick laughed nervously. "So can a lot of other things."

"True that."

They smoked in silence for a while. Tick's eyebrow twitched as he gathered his courage to speak.

She was quicker. "So, what's your buddy deal?"

"My buddy? Which one?"

"Uhm, Marcus? I think that's his name. He's been eyeing me like I killed his pet chinchilla in a freak accident the whole evening."

Tick shrugged. "I don't know. He is not really our friend. He asked if he could come with us a few months ago and he tags along sometimes since then, not sure why."

"He doesn't look like the talkative type."

"Yeah. He just sits there by himself and rarely speaks to anyone. It's not like we have a lot to talk about."

"Uhm, don't you guys work at the same place? That ought to give you some stuff to talk about."

Tick took a drag of his cigarette. "Well, not exactly. We run the perimeter; Marcus works in the basement."

"The basement?"

Tick flustered. "I really shouldn't be talking about it."

"Sure thing."

Bingo.

She dropped the cigarette butt on the ground, squashed it with her heel, wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders. "I'm going inside. It's cold out here."

"Yeah, I'm done too," Tick said with a sigh. "I'm going to need another one of these," he added, showing up the empty bottle in his hand. "Want some?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Once inside, Tick headed for the bar and she plopped down on the empty seat next to Marcus nonchalantly, stretching her legs with a relieved sigh and crossing her arms at her chest. He regarded her with a sideways glare.

"What?"

He shrugged. "You're not from here."

"What gave you that idea? Was it the part where I said I just came to town or did you figure it out on your own?"

He bristled and grunted something unintelligible.

She sat up and propped her elbows on her thighs, then toyed with her bead bracelet, twisting it around her wrist, letting the string bit into her flesh. She didn't miss the way his nostrils flared at the sight. Oh, so that's the kind of stuff you're into. She rubbed her wrists together and batted her eyelashes at him. "You seem to be having a tremendous amount of fun."

"Not your goddamned business."

"You're always so eloquent or you're putting in an effort just for me?"

He regarded her for a moment before he made his move. "I can show you what kind of effort I can put in, if you're brave enough," he said in a dark tone.

"Oh, I'm brave aplenty," she teased and crossed her legs. "But what makes you think you can handle a naughty girl like me?"

He stared at her.

She bit her lip and winked.

His fingers curled into claws at his sides.

Then she got up, without giving him a chance to speak. She grabbed the bottle from Tick's hand and dragged him onto the dancefloor, giving Marcus time to ponder. The cards were on the table and it was his turn now.

The night winded down quickly after that.

Marcus didn't approach her, but the seed has been sowed and she could see in his meaningful stares that it was already sprouting. As much as she would like to get it done and over with, some things couldn't be rushed. She could work other angles first and wait for the right moment with him.

Even without that, she did read some valuable info between the lines of the conversations the men carried amongst themselves. There was no scanning process at the entrance, as it wasn't without a precedence to sneak girls and huge amount of booze into the sleeping quarters. The security on the main part of the facility was a lot tighter though and regular soldiers were allowed only on the two top levels, the rest being covered by the "agency" men, although she did not find out which agency that was. It could be SHIELD, but most likely not exclusively. There was only a handful of names she was able to find in the database that would have at least a temporary designation to the base and there wasn't anything in the last half a year. She couldn't find which science team was part of the experiments Fury talked about either, so that must've been a part of some other project and the transfer files were purged, just like the rest of the recent data on Loki.

Tick orbited her like a satellite the whole time and she allowed him. He might have felt encouraged to take it further, but he was also too awkward to put forth the proposition and she wasn't going to make it easy for him. He wasn't her target anyway and it could only threaten her plan, so they ended it up with an uneasy kiss on the cheek before he was swept by his colleagues into one of the cars. He waved at her from the window and she held the smile up until the car turned the corner.

She returned to the motel, set the alarm clock for four in the morning, dragged a pillow and a duvet cover to the floor and went to sleep.

It was ten past six when she reached her vantage point in the thicket by the base. Judging from the parking lot the night shift was still on.

Other than the soldiers making their tired rounds around the perimeter, their heads low and their weapons aimed solidly at the ground, there was no movement she could see inside the wire. The security guard by the Eastern gate was fast asleep on his post, his hat covering his face as he reclined in his seat.

She mounted a small camera to the tree trunk and left her post. The battery should last for the next day, so should the memory card. The resolution of the feed wasn't nearly enough for close surveillance, but she would still be able to go thought the recording to trace the external traffic.

The town streets weren't crowded, despite the early hour. It was close enough to Cleveland for people to commute daily and it seemed that was the path a lot of residents chose.

She ate breakfast at a small café by the main street. She pulled out her laptop and browsed local classified ads, until she found a ninety-five Ford Escort for sale. It looked miserable on the photos, the passenger side door and the hood cover had a different color, and the trunk hatch was eaten by rust, which meant it was perfect for the purpose she needed it for.

The seller was a fidgety mom-of-three, living in the far corner of a trailer park. The paint was peeling off the wooden panels and the roof needed a renovation, so Natasha didn't negotiate and paid the asking price. She still had a couple of hidden accounts for emergencies and even her official one just had the last four months of overdue salary deposited to it that she was yet to go through the hoops to clear out of it. And – as much as she didn't want to chip into her rainy-day savings, she might need it once she got Loki out – the extra three hundred bucks she paid for the car shouldn't make much of a difference.

She knew they might be forced to leave the country to get SHIELD off their tails and that was a costly endeavor if one wanted to do it without popping on the radar. There wasn't any particular plan on where they could go, too much was uncertain and it was hard to predict any eventuality, but she had her preferences, nonetheless. Scandinavia felt like a good idea. Loki would enjoy the weather and his people were somehow inclined to that part of the globe before. Or UK, where his accent wouldn't stand out, although she suspected he could pick a new one in no time. Or New Zealand. She always wanted to live there. Going back to Russia was not out of question either, as the strained relations between the country and US might work in their favor, but – as much as Loki might like the climate, especially in the more remote parts – there were too many memories she did not want to revisit. Still, it was an option if they had to go by a more official route.

Or perhaps he wouldn't want to stay on Earth at all. With his magic returned he could go anywhere he liked, and he didn't strike her as the kind of person to stay in one place for long, especially now, after his ties to Asgard and his abusive family have been finally severed.

Would he allow her to tag along? Would he even want her company when he had the whole universe to choose from? Or would she become just another insignificant dot on his biography, to be buried under the rabble of time? Was he angry at her for following her half-baked plan and landing him in this mess?

Yeah, he probably was.

She sighed. They would cross that river once they reach it, it didn't change anything about what she had to do.

She dropped the Prius at the rental and hitched her ride back, then dialed Chloe's aunt number.

Calling the room in a basement "a flat" was a misuse of the term. The single window faced a stone retaining wall, and the ceiling was maybe at seven feet, with beams hanging even lower than that. But there was a sofa bed, a table with two chairs and a small kitchenette with a microwave, a two-burner stove, and a fridge. The small, attached bathroom was clean and there was a separate entrance leading to the quarters from the outside.

Chloe's aunt turned out to be a sweet, middle-aged woman with frost in her hair and a wide smile on her face. The name was Edna and it fit perfectly.

"What about the deposit?" Natasha asked. "I'm not exactly swimming in money right now."

"Oh, don't worry about it, dear. You're Chloe's friend, aren't you?"

"Well, we met not that long ago to be honest. I just moved to town."

"Yes, Chloe told me about your fiancé, I'm very sorry to hear that."

Gossip spread like wildfire in small communities like this one.

"Thank you," Natasha said. "I need time to figure things out on my own. I think it would be easier here."

"We have our problems like everybody else. But it's important to keep connection with your roots. You'll like it here."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will," Natasha said and smiled sweetly.

"Are you a church-going person? There's a Baptist's church not that far away from here."

Edna went on to describe the virtues of her congregation while Natasha idly wondered whether Jesus was an alien mage too. That would explain a thing or two.

"Leeann?"

"Oh, yes, sorry, I kind of lost track there. You were saying?"

"Are you decided? I understand if you need time to think about it, but I have another person coming to see the place in a moment and…"

"Yeah, sure, I get it," said Natasha, not calling out the blatant lie. "When can I move in?"

"Tomorrow? I just need to freshen up the place a bit, replace the drapes and the sheets…"

"Make it today and you got yourself a deal, Edna," Natasha said, then shook the woman's hand.

She paid in cash, for the whole month in advance. It was cheaper than a week in the motel, would add validity to her backstory and make her harder to trace and invigilate upon, if someone was looking.

She wasn't going to stay for the entire month, of course.