In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated
Chapter 5: The Return
I slept again, this time waking up in a sweat. My mouth was unbearably dry, as were my eyes. I was hungry. I couldn't remember the last time I ate. I didn't know how long it had been since the first time I woke up in this room. Hours? Days? I searched the room. There were no windows in here, just four metallic walls, a cabinet, chair, monitor, bed, IV stand, and a sink.
I heaved myself out of bed, wobbling on my good foot. They must have given me more painkillers because it felt tolerable to stand. I limped to the sink, turned the knob, and stuck my face in the spray. I hobbled back over to the bed, wondering if anyone was coming for me. I had to pee but there was no sign of a toilet.
I looked at the dome of the security camera that hung from above the doorway.
"Hello?" I waved, simultaneously hoping that someone was watching, and hoping that no one was watching, because that'd be creepy. "Hello? Anybody there?"
I waited a few minutes. It felt like an eternity. I really couldn't ignore my bladder anymore. I stood up again grunting with effort. I tried the door and to my surprise, it was unlocked. So I wasn't their prisoner anymore. I felt some relief at that. I poked my head out and found that the corridor was empty.
Only a few yards to the left of my door was another door marked as the bathroom. It was a single toilet in a small room, with a tiny stand-up shower and a sink. No mirror. With some athleticism and luck, I emptied my bladder without falling off the toilets or peeing on myself. I drank once more from the sink, praying that it was potable water.
I wanted answers. I was going straight to Director Fury. I didn't care about his busy schedule. He owed me an explanation. Back in the corridor, I made my slow painful way to the elevator.
I was only halfway to the end of the hall and breathing hard. I didn't know how I was going to make it the rest of the way. I wiped at my face. And here I thought I was in good shape.
Another few minutes and I began to feel irritated. Why would they leave me to fend for myself? My irritation skyrocketed when the elevator wouldn't open for me. Apparently, you had to have clearance. I searched down the wall to see if there was some kind of map. Nothing.
My leg was really beginning to hurt again. I was tired, but I pushed myself. Ballet hurt a lot of the time, and I loved ballet. This wasn't any worse than losing toenails during Nutcracker season. I gritted my teeth and hopped down the next section of the wall. And the next. Until I found a stairwell. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants and turned the handle. It was unlocked and better yet, inside was a screen with an interactive map.
It had a search function, and I typed in the place I expected the director of an aircraft to be: the bridge.
It responded: Authorization code?
I slammed my hand against the screen. It gave a tiny blip, then returned to the search function. I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. It seemed that I was stuck on this level until someone with a badge could give me clearance. I could either make my way back to my bed and wait, or
I typed in cafeteria
Mess Hall?
Yes
Print receipt?
Yes
I took the printed directions with excitement. I tried the door to the stairwell and the doorknob turned freely. I peeked inside and listened for steps. Nothing.
I climbed two flights of stairs on my butt and hobbled down another hall until I smelled garlic and onion cooking. I practically drooled. I made it to a large room with tables, mostly vacant, and a wall of windows presenting what looked like a sunrise. Morning then.
I got a few strange looks as I limped my way inside, but no one offered to help or appeared to find my presence all that interesting. I probably looked pretty rough in oversized sweats and a metallic full-leg cast. I hadn't seen my face in a long time. And I had been crying a lot lately. That never helped the complexion. I picked a lone person to talk to and took a deep breath.
The world shook violently.
Chairs and dishes crashed and slid, scraping across the floor. I scrambled madly for a hold as the ground dipped sideways. My organs lifted slightly as we dropped and I clung to a table as gravity pulled.
"All men to their stations. Code 843." A woman's voice announced in a sharp, but not panicked tone. "This is Agent Hill. Code 843. All men to their stations. Hostiles on board."
The ground shook again and I lost my grip. My leg jarred as it hit the ground, the metal clunking loudly. I gasped and clutched at it, forgetting everything for a split second. The floor tilted further and I slid. More chairs clattered to the floor, but the tables stood fast. I grabbed one of the legs of a table. A chair knocked into me. My metal leg dragged heavily and slipped when I tried to use it despite the pain.
The floor leveled out but my insides told me we were still dropping. The ship groaned in protest. I shook with adrenaline.
"Help!" I called out. "Somebody! I need help!"
Not one person had bothered to even look at me as they ran out. Frustration boiled inside me as I lay on the floor of the cafeteria, feeling the vibrations of the aircraft falter and restart. I flinched as distant but loud popping sounds rang out. Gunfire. Hostiles. Bad guys. I wanted to hide. I wanted someone to save me, to take me far from this nightmare.
Romanoff's words came to me.
I think you were scared. I think you waiting for someone to come and save you. You didn't fight back because you have nothing to fight for. You have never had to fight for anything in your life, and when presented with the opportunity to take charge, you didn't even recognize it.
I closed my eyes. There had to be more to me than that. There was more to me than a scared little girl.
"Do something," I growled at myself. I pulled hard on the table leg I was clinging to and I dragged myself to a sitting position. Wrapping my fingers around the edge of the table I hauled my body up high enough to get my good leg folded underneath. From there I pressed on the top of the table and used my quad to stand. I caught my balance and looked around.
The mess hall was completely empty. More gunfire. Closer this time. My heart was hammering, but I was determined. I needed Loki's staff. I had to find the lab, and hope it was still being kept in there. I wouldn't be helpless then. I could defend myself.
I leaned heavily on tabletops and hobbled towards the hallway. I cried out when I had to let go of the tables, in the gaps. Pain stabbed me down to my toes. I had to concentrate very hard on each step as to not slip on the metal of the boot. I switched off hopping on my good leg and limping along the wall of the corridor. No one passed me, but the gunfire got louder the further I went. I thought about turning back.
I was thrown to the ground without warning. Debris peppered me. An earth-shaking thunderous roar vibrated my chest. I coughed the dust out of my lungs and craned my neck up to see a giant green man-monster. It wasn't the fact that he had just torn through the wall, not the fact that he was big enough to twice fill the space of the hallway, not the fact that he was green. It was his face contorted into the most rage-filled expression I had ever witnessed. He was going to rip me apart.
I screamed.
The monster paused at my blast of sound and looked at me curiously for a second. He roared, clenching his huge jade-colored fists in front of him, his mouth open wide enough to clamp around my head. My heart stopped beating.
A man sprang from the hole the monster had created. This guy was big but was still dwarfed by the size of the green monster. He had long blonde hair to his shoulders. With a grunt, he swung a metal hammer and completely knocked the green man through the next wall. I ducked under my arm, protecting my face from the new peppering of debris.
"Are you injured!" The blonde man bellowed at me. I looked up and coughed at him, shaking my head. He drew back as if I spit at him, his eyes wide in shock.
"Gersemi?" His hammer dropped to his side and he took a step forward.
A colossal green fist punched through the second hole and the man was thrown back into the first hole. I scrambled backward as the monster launched himself after the man. The hammer shot through the hole, following the fight, on its own.
Unable to process what had just happened, I painstakingly picked myself up again. My right hand bleeding and left a trail of red as I maneuvered back into my one-legged squat. My thigh shook with the effort. I took a couple of deep breaths and pushed through my fear. I had to get the staff. But which way? And what if the fighting was in the lab?
The aircraft dipped again and I landed hard. I dragged myself into a sitting position, my head aching now. I had only made it a few yards from the cafeteria. I could hear yelling and more gunfire from further down the hallway. In one hole in the wall, I heard the roar of the green monster. The other hole was a dark hole.
I had no idea where the lab was. I was crazy to even try. I leaned against the wall. I came all this way from my room for nothing. And I was much closer to dying here than in the mess hall. And I was still helpless. And we were still crashing.
"Gersemi?"
I looked up to see yet another stranger, this one dressed in black tactical gear. In one hand he held a bow, and in the other, he held Loki's staff out, as if offering it to me. His face was cold, his eyes icy blue.
"I have her on level three," he said. Then, "Come with me."
He had the eyes Finn had after Loki had touched him with the staff. And he was calling me by the name Loki called me. But he was offering the staff to me. It had to be a trap. I sat my ground.
"Come with me." He repeated. His tone didn't change, as if he was neither annoyed nor glad to have found me. He seemed to be debating. He only had two hands. One had his weapon, the other withheld mine. He couldn't drag me anywhere unless he put down one.
He tossed the staff to the side, out of my reach. It clattered noisily and he notched an arrow faster than I could see, aiming right into my face.
"I can't! My leg!"
His eyes flickered to the metal stump of a leg that jutted out in front of me, but the arrow didn't waiver.
A flash of movement caught my eye. Romanoff held my gaze as she slid through the dark hole in the wall, sneaking up right behind the hostile. He registered my distraction and spun, letting the arrow loose at her. She ducked and the arrow shot through the hole. She knocked the bow out of his hands and they fought, shoving each other into walls, kicking, dropping out of the way of a hit, spinning, blocking. She gradually pushed him down the hall until they were out of sight.
I realized Romanoff just gave me a chance to escape. I used my good leg and my hands to crab-walk around the wreckage, keeping my eyes on the staff, promising myself relief as soon as I could hold it.
Before I could get more than a few feet another hostile ran up and skidded to a stop. He looked around as if expecting to see someone else with me. He caught sight of the staff and bent, picking it up. In two strides, and without a word, he closed the distance between us, holstered his gun, and offered his free hand to help me up.
I blinked. That was unexpected. I took the hand, eyeing the staff. He pulled me to my feet. I weighed my chances of pulling the staff out of his hands.
"I, uh, thanks," I said.
He didn't reply. Instead, he looked at me with his icy blue eyes for a moment and then bent at the waist, wrapped his arm around me and slung me over his shoulder.
"Hey!" I pushed against his back, now upside down in my view, to tip myself upright, but one of his arms held me firmly against his shoulder.
"Hey!" I yelled again as he turned to start a brisk pace down the hall. I kicked my good leg wildly. The end of the hallway was smoking and there was no one in sight. I bounced against his back as he picked up the pace.
"Stop!" I screeched. "Put! Me! Down!" I pounded his back as hard as I could with each word, my voice jolting with every step he took. His shoulder was digging into my stomach very uncomfortably and blood was rushing to my face.
He ignored me, turning a corner, and kicking open a door with a thud. In a moment of genius, I grabbed one side of a metal door frame and held on for my life. He jerked to a stop, grunting in surprise. He took a step back and I lost my grip with the unexpected slack. The door slammed behind us and echoed weirdly.
"Where are you taking me!" I screamed at him, pushing against his back again, lifting myself up to a sort of plank position, balanced on his shoulder. He silently began to climb stairs.
I tried punching his sides where I thought he would be vulnerable. He tensed but kept going. I wrapped my arms around his head and hauled myself up enough to get it around his neck. I squeezed.
That stopped him. He turned his back against a wall and rammed me into it.
My head cracked and I went slack. I had to concentrate on my breathing, closing my eyes against the sharp throbbing. His heavy footsteps echoed in the narrow shaft, along with my erratic breathing. Fat, hot tears rolled up my forehead. All I could concentrate on was my pounding head. It was like someone was nailing wood to it.
He slowed at the top of the stairwell. When he opened the door a huge gust of wind drove us back. He pushed forward into the wind. I arched my back up and twisted around to look. We were outside, under a blue sky. It was freezing despite the shining sun, and the air was thin. Too thin. The wind roared around us, tossing us around on top of the massive aircraft. It whipped my hair around my face, obscuring my view and stinging my cheeks.
I screamed when he stumbled and almost dropped me on my head. The sound was ripped out of my mouth and carried away. He recovered, tossing me back into place over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, bending into the wind. I grabbed at my tangled blonde hair, trying to subdue it enough to see around me.
We tipped backward as the ground inclined and suddenly the howling stopped, my hair settled, and the light faded into a red glow. My kidnapper dumped me unceremoniously and my metal leg clanged loudly on a metal floor. I cried out at the resounding pain.
"This how you treat a goddess?" A slick, dark voice froze my heart.
The man stared at Loki back with those weird blue eyes. He held out the staff, uncertain. Loki slowly wrapped his fingers around it. He caressed it with his gaze.
An engine of a small aircraft started up. The plane lifted and the boarding ramp began to retract. Loki's eyes darted back to the man, who stood stiffly.
"One drop of her blood is worth all of yours, mongrel."
The man didn't fight back as Loki shoved him out the closing hatch. The man screamed as he was sucked out by the wind, and then he was gone. The hatch shut with a loud hiss and then the only sound was the engine.
Loki stood over me as I sat on a metal grate that was digging harsh lines into the backs of my leg and my butt. His clothes and hair were disheveled. The look on his face made me feel like a worm.
I backed away until I felt knobby metal against my back. I glanced around, looking for something, anything to help me. We were alone except for a pilot. There were no windows in this part of the craft. It was a cargo hold, all industry, and no comfort. A red light flashed periodically, lighting Loki's face in an eerie glow, then fading away, leaving us in a dusky glow.
He stepped closer. I searched his eyes for what to expect, but couldn't read his smooth face. I held my breath as he crouched in front of me, a foot away.
"What have they done to you?" he murmured, not unkindly. I was confused by the question. "What made you so weak?"
In a burst of passion that was more defiance than bravery, I struck out at his face. He caught my wrist without blinking, holding it in cold, iron, pinching fingers.
"Don't do that," he told me softly. "You will hurt yourself." He tightened his grip. I yanked at my arm unsuccessfully. He was going to break it. He turned my hand over to look at the cut on the heel of my hand. It was shallow but still oozing a bit. I struggled harder to pull my hand away, but he was much stronger than he looked, like a statue, unyielding. Finally, he let go and I slapped my own chest.
He stood up grunting quietly with the effort. He leaned heavily on the staff. He was hurt, I marveled. I ran my eyes over him, searching for a wound. No blood. But still, if he was hurt, maybe, just maybe I had a chance. He caught me looking at it and smirked. He turned and took a seat across from me on a built-in bench. He laid the weapon across his legs.
"You have tasted power." He said at last. "It leaves one hungry, does it not? Unlimited supremacy is delicious."
I shifted uncomfortably.
"Can you even fathom what it is?"
"A staff," I blurted out.
"No," he scoffed. "No. A scepter. A shepherd carries a staff, a king a scepter. Do I seem a lowly sheep-herder, to you? A scepter, Gersemi."
Not this again. "Siri," I said under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Siri," I said louder, surprised at my own boldness. "My name is Siri."
His mouth stretched in a tight smile. "You really have no idea, do you? You have no memory?"
He was a lunatic. A dangerous lunatic. "What do you want with me?"
"Wrong question." His smile widened until I could see almost all his teeth.
He wanted me alive and unharmed. He was playing games with me. Fine. I'd play along.
"Where are you taking me?"
He tilted his head. "Nope. Not that one yet. Try again."
"Who do you think I am?"
"Closer, but not quite."
Anxiety stirred in my gut. I was suddenly afraid to play. He knew. He knew the secrets S.H.I.E.L.D. had been keeping from me. If I wasn't human, if my DNA said I was something else, what was I? Did I really want to know? Was ignorance bliss? I braced for impact.
"What do you think am I?"
"Very good," he said. "You, Gersemi, are a god."
"You're insane."
"You are Asgardian. And what's more, you are royalty."
I almost laughed. I couldn't help it. It was just too funny.
He shrugged. "Tell me you never felt out of place in this meager life. Tell me you never wondered why you never fell ill or stayed injured for long. Tell me why those idiots stumbled upon your little secret. It's in your blood."
That shut me up.
"Purpose," he continued. "is what you lack. You will not find that here, not until I scrub the Earth of the scum that live like parasites. For you, there is nothing here but a gilded life of meaningless sorrow. You were meant for a better life. Gersemi, you are a god, living the meager life of a human."
"That's...impossible," I said lamely.
"What is?"
"You want me to believe I'm..." I couldn't even finish.
Loki cocked his head as if in consideration. Then he held the scepter up and the blue glow inside the curved tip began to spread out like a web, growing brighter. The dark aircraft walls disappeared and suddenly I was standing in a large room.
It was a cozy room, with soft carpet and a rocking chair in one corner. A small four-poster bed that looked like it was made of pure gold was piled with plush toys and dolls of all shapes and sizes. There was a wide window looking out on a blue sky and vast sea, and an impressive view of the Bifrost. A soft morning breeze drifted in, ruffling silky white curtains.
Only the best for Odin's youngest daughter, I thought.
I heard the adjoining door open and turned to see the child still dressed in a nightgown, a small girl with golden hair, tangled around a sweet face, from a night's sleep. Gersemi.
"Loki!" she said when she saw me and ran to clutch at my legs. A woman stepped out from the bathroom, washcloth in her hands. When she saw me, she quickly averted her eyes and retreated behind the door.
"Do you know what day it is?" I picked 'Semi up, noting the freshly washed face.
"It's my bird-day!"
"That's right. And what happens on your birthday?"
"Candles!"
"Yes, you little pyromaniac," I laughed. "But what else? Do you receive gifts? Hmm? Does your brother spoil you?"
"I want cake."
"Soon," I promised. "But first, I have something for you."
I relished the look of wonder on her face as I held out an empty hand. She peered down at it until I closed my fingers. When I opened them again a golden hair comb embedded with tiny shining jewels in a pattern of flowers was waiting for her. She gasped, her eyes wide. I smiled. She was always my best audience. Before her dimpled hands could grab it, I shut my fingers again.
"Where'd it go?" I teased.
"You have it!"
"What do you say?" I gave her the look.
She smiled cheekily and wrinkled her nose. "You're my best brodder."
"And you love me more than Thor."
"And I love you more than Dor."
"Good girl." I handed her the comb, just as the big oaf himself lumbered in.
"I heard that," he said in mock seriousness.
There was a jolt and the sound of the engines whirred down and faded to a stop. It took me a long moment before I realized I was back in my body, before I realized that I had just been inside Loki's head. Inside his memory. He thought that little girl was me. He thought I was his baby sister.
He was such a different person in that vision. Caring. Sweet. He was nothing like the villain I saw sitting before me. The villain who'd handed me his weapon and gave me an ultimatum, forcing me to try and kill an innocent person.
"What happened to you," I whispered in shock.
His expression hardened and he stood up, leaning heavily on the scepter.
"Wrong again, Semi. Next question."