Chapter 8. Fragment
A/N: So someone commented last chapter asking if this was turning into a Loki x Natasha fic and... I don't know hahaha. Honestly, while I do stan BlackFrost, I was trying to make this more of a gen/team fic, however these two damn character just have minds of their own and way too much chemistry *sigh*. I'll try to leave it ambiguous, so you guys can either read through the lines or not, unless a lot of people are feeling some Loki/Widow romance? *waggles eyebrows*
Let me know what you guys think!
"Okay so, just... just run me through this one more time?"
"Which part's tripping you up? That he went from big to little? Or little to big? Have you never watched any sci-fi?"
"It sounds crazy, I know, but these are confusing times."
"Doctor Who, Power Rangers, Star Trek..."
"We think someone might have sent him back on purpose, maybe to change something in the future."
"...Stargate, The Twilight Zone, Supernatural..."
"Tony, will you knock it off?" Steve glared across the room at the engineer, who only waved a dismissive hand in response.
"So, what? He got turned into a baby, got to relive his childhood, then turned out good?" A bewildered Clint turned to ask Bruce, "Is that how this works?" Bruce just shrugged.
"I mean, I don't know about good, exactly." Tony muttered aloud, sticking a screwdriver into the small piece of machinery that he was absently fiddling with.
Natasha scoffed. "Don't tell me you're still salty about the Audi?"
"The seats were leather! Leather! I had to throw the whole car out and buy a new one." Stark raved, scowling at Bruce when he sniggered.
"What?" Bruce threw his arms out to the side. "It was funny!"
"Okay, one. I had to burn those clothes, you understand me? Burn. Them. Pepper wouldn't let me in the house. The stench... ugh!" Tony shuddered dramatically. "And two, that's not what I meant anyway."
"Then what, Stark? Spit it out." Natasha barked, becoming impatient.
Tony didn't answer immediately, continuing to fiddle with the device in his hands. But when the conversation didn't resume, he chucked the thing down with a sigh, and stood to pace instead. "It's just... It's been bugging me, you know? Why he's here. How he got here."
"Is that really our biggest problem right now?" Natasha quirked an eyebrow.
"So a mysterious stranger sent him back to help us, is that such a bad thing?" Clint shrugged, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet up on the table.
"See, that's just it." Tony waggled a finger at the archer. "When he first got here, Bruce and I ran him through a bunch of tests. To see if we could find a trace of the magic used on him."
"But the results were inconclusive." Bruce frowned.
"Exactly." Tony pointed at Bruce. Clint rubbed at his face. He was much too tired and jetlagged to be having this discussion and playing 21 questions with Stark.
"So maybe his motives are for self-preservation; maybe he's evading his own death. If he's helping us, does it matter?" Clint eyed Natasha in his peripherals, slightly surprised at her defensiveness.
"And if he ever decides to get stabby-stabby, I volunteer to shoot him." Clint generously offered, raising his hand like a kid in class.
"Not giving me a lot of confidence over there Legolas, seeing as you disappeared for five years and all."
"Stark." Natasha said sharply, her tone a warning.
"It's fine, Nat." Clint shrugged, "Your life might've changed for the better, Tony, but not everyone else's did." Tony at least had the decency to avoid meeting Clint's eye. "Fact is, the only reason I'm here is cause Nat said there's a chance. And if Loki is helping that chance, then I honestly don't care about the how or the why, as long as he gets it done."
The silence that followed was heavy, as the weight of what they were attempting bore down on them like a malevolent presence. Steve broke it with his usual resolute bravado. "Look, we all want the same thing here. We all need this to work. And we're gonna have to work together to do it. Whatever it takes, right?"
"Yep, good pep talk, Grandpa." Tony quipped, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and patting Steve on the shoulder as he passed by. "Dismissed? Cause I promised Pep I'd be home for dinner this time. See you Scoobys tomorrow." He waved over his shoulder as he left, and with nothing else to add, their little impromptu meeting drifted apart.
Clint followed Natasha upstairs, and she pointed him in the direction of one of the spare bedrooms. "You sure you're good, Clint?" She asked quietly, sharp eyes scrutinising his face. He shrugged, not wanting to rattle off a lie that neither one of them would believe. "No. Not yet."
She nodded, accepting the only answer he could give. He glanced down the hall, to the closed door opposite Natasha's, and shook his head. "Honestly, who left Thor in charge of new recruits?" It was a poor excuse for a joke, but Natasha's lip quirked slightly upwards, so he considered it a win. Natasha followed his line of sight up the hall, her gaze lingering on the door. "You of all people should know, people aren't always what they seem."
Clint almost smiled. "So, you're the optimist now, and I'm the pessimist? Is that what happened?"
She drew her attention back to him and shrugged. "Maybe a few things changed while you were gone. I won't tell you it's a sure thing, though."
"I know," he nodded, "but it's enough." The ghost of a smile crossed her face, and Clint prayed that it would be true. He bid her goodnight, then kicked his door open, dumping his bag on the floor and flopping down on the bed. He thought about getting up and showering off the airplane grime, but now that he'd laid down, he found all the aches from his last fight with Akihiko had re-presented themselves, and he couldn't bring himself to move. Clint closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that the man who had once worn his brain like a puppet was probably asleep just a few rooms over.
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Natasha woke early the next morning, as she usually did, but when she headed downstairs to the kitchen, she was surprised to find she wasn't the first one awake. "Hi. You look better."
"I heal quickly." Loki said casually, as if it wasn't all that impressive to have healed from flayed skin, 197 broken bones, and a gaping chest wound in a matter of days. He touched his index finger to his tongue and turned the page of the book in his hands, then glanced up at her. "Thank you, for this." He said, somewhat uncertainly, as he held up the book cover for her to see. It was the one she had left on his bedside table the day she had left for Japan. Edward St Aubyn's Some Hope trilogy. "I have nearly finished. I shall return it to you promptly."
Natasha turned away from searching the cupboards for a frypan to quirk an eyebrow at him. "You don't have to return it. It's yours. Actually, there's two more books after those ones." She said, pulling out slices of bread from the plastic bag. "I'll try to find them next time I'm at the bookstore."
Loki stared down at the book cover with a frown, seeming to be thinking something over, then turned his stern gaze on her. "What is it that you want?"
"What?" Natasha scrunched her nose, confused.
Loki stared at her like she was slow. "What is it that you want in return?"
Natasha's frown deepened, and she set the pan down on the stove with a heavy hand, the metal clanging loudly as she turned to study Loki's expression. He looked resigned but cautious; but more than that, he looked at her with something like trepidation. "Loki, I don't want anything from you. It's not a bribe. It's a gift. It's just... something I thought you might like." Loki looked back down at the book with a perplexed expression, running his finger curiously over the cover. Natasha turned to rummage in the fridge for ingredients, hiding her face behind the fridge door so he wouldn't see her grinning at his adorably confused look.
She found the eggs and set about making herself some breakfast, risking a glance over at Loki from the corner of her eye. He had been thin and malnourished when she left, but it seemed he had recovered from that too; solid muscle filling out his simple tunic and vest, and his skin smooth and unblemished. She thought he even seemed a little older, a little more like the Loki she had faced in New York – though less crazy. He had the strong jaw and fine features of a stern man; his eyes hooded, sharp and intelligent.
Natasha quickly turned back to her eggs so that he wouldn't catch her staring. "You had breakfast?" She asked casually, glancing over when he didn't answer to see him shake his head. "Well I hope you're not waiting on the kitchen maid." She teased, smirking. "I'm making French Toast. I can show you how, if you like?"
He hesitated a moment, looking unsure, then set down his book and drifted over to stand awkwardly at her side. He watched over her shoulder as she showed him how to dip the bread into the egg mixture. She'd almost forgotten how tall he was, towering over her, until she had to crane her neck back just to look up at him. She let him take over while she manned the frypan, and if he happened to flinch when she accidentally banged a plate against the pan, she pretended not to notice.
Natasha flipped the slices onto two plates and drizzled them with syrup, handing one to Loki as she took the other and sat at the table. Loki joined her quietly, taking the seat opposite. She watched him as he took the first bite, trying not to grin when his eyes widened at the sweet and fluffy taste. Natasha chewed thoughtfully, silent for a long time, before she spoke. "I got it now, you know."
Confused, he looked up from his breakfast, his tongue running over his bottom lip to lick the syrup there. "Get what?"
Enjoying his bewilderment, she took her time cutting off another bite with her fork, chewing, and swallowing, before she answered. "The missing puzzle piece." She met his gaze, seeing the recognition flash in his sea-green eyes. He returned to calmly eating his toast. "Does it make the picture on the puzzle any different?" He asked without looking up.
Natasha chewed over the question, considering her answers. "Yeah," she said eventually. "I think it does." He didn't react to her reply, but they ate in companionable silence, and Natasha found herself feeling more at ease than she had in a long time.
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"Hold it steady, Bruce... Almost got it... There!" Tony scooted out from under the machine on his wheeled creeper and exchanged his ratchet for a spanner. "Okay, I think we're almost ready to hook up the interface." He sat up and quickly glanced around. "Where the hell is Loki anyway? Thought he was meant to be helping here."
"Dunno, I haven't even run into him yet." Clint said from his position on his back on a nearby bench. He picked out an M&M from the bag on his stomach, tossed it in the air, and caught it in his mouth. "I think he's avoiding me." The archer turned his head to the side to look at Tony and grinned.
"Well, that's fantastic." Tony rolled his eyes. "Super helpful." Clint looked like he was about to say something offensive, but cut himself off when he heard two distinctive voices echoing down the hall.
"You always do this–"
"I do not!"
"Just like the Oilliphéist on Vanaheim."
"It was on the feast table, how was I supposed to know it wasn't edible?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it was three foot long and covered in teeth?"
The bickering brothers entered the massive hangar where Tony and Bruce were working. Loki was halfway through an eyeroll when he spotted Clint across the room and suddenly fell silent.
"Good morning friends!" Thor bellowed, forgetting all about his argument 2 seconds ago. Seriously, the guy had the attention span of a gnat.
"Hey Lebowski. Lokster." Tony grinned when Loki scrunched up his nose at the nickname. The younger prince certainly looked better than he had just a few days ago, but Tony, of all people, knew too well how to recognise the signs - the slight shake of white knuckles, the spike of adrenaline at loud noises or sudden movements, the glassy, vacant look to one's eyes when caught in a particularly horrific flashback. Loki held it together better than most – far better than Tony ever had – and if Tony hadn't known exactly what to look for, he probably would have missed it himself.
"Where were you five minutes ago?" Tony said casually, careful about the tone and volume of his voice. "We could have used your levitating skills putting this huge thing into place." Tony jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the heavy, metal base plate that stood in the centre of the hangar. "Bruce almost put his back out."
Bruce laughed awkwardly. "Joking! He's joking. I'm fine!"
"Apologies." Loki said, not looking very apologetic at all. "I was dealing with an imbecile." He side-eyed his brother, who crossed his massive arms over his massive chest, affronted. Barton sat upright then, and the movement caught Thor's eye. "Ah, Barton. Good to have you with us again." He greeted, but there was a nervous tint to his voice as he glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye.
"Likewise, big guy." Clint responded, nodding in Thor's direction as he stood, but his gaze remained fixed on Loki.
"Oh boy." Tony muttered under his breath as Clint stalked across the hangar, squaring up to the god despite the fact that he barely reached the guy's chin. Loki didn't balk, merely met Clint's menacing glare with a mix of wariness and amusement. "You remember me?" Clint asked, a steel edge to his voice. There was a pause before Loki nodded, his expression giving nothing away. The tension was so palpable that Tony began running through a list of appropriately inappropriate quips in his head, ready to jump in if things were about to turn ugly.
Instead, Clint raised his hand, holding out his bag of M&Ms.
Loki frowned down at the bag, then back up at Clint, looking at the archer like he had grown three heads. When Loki didn't make any further moves, Clint rattled the bag impatiently, and Loki hesitantly reached inside to pluck out one of the smooth chocolates. He held it curiously, rolling it between his fingers as he scrutinised the tiny, blue ball.
"It's not poison, you know." Clint said, giving him a weird look as he grabbed a handful from the bag and shoved them in his mouth to demonstrate. "If I was gonna kill ya, it'd be a much more hands-on experience."
Thor shot a sharp look at the archer, taking a step towards his brother, but Loki popped the morsel in his mouth before Thor could stop him, his brows raising at the sweet taste and crunchy texture. Clint just grinned.
"Great!" Tony clapped his hands together. "Disaster averted. Can we get to work now?" Apparently, fate was not on Tony's side today, as the rumble of a jet engine impeded his work yet again. The sound grew deafening; dust and leaves blew into the open hangar, forcing Tony to raise his arm up to shield his eyes. He caught a flash of movement in the corner of his vision, and turned his head to see Romanov and Rogers appearing from the side entrance; eyes narrowed against the gale as they joined the group.
The wind died down as the sound of the engine slowed to a low whir, then stopped completely, and a moment later, Tony heard the pitter-patter of small, quick feet before a little, brown furball wandered in through the open face of the hangar.
"Hey Big Green, who's the guy out front with the tacos?" Rocket strolled into the room, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"Oh, that's Scott Lang," Bruce answered, setting down the glass tablet he had hooked into the interface, "he's a-"
"Loki?!" Came an astonished cry, and Nebula froze in the hangar opening, her black eyes wide.
Loki looked up from the walking, talking furball at the sound of his name, the curious furrow in his brow instantly disappearing as his lips parted slightly in shock. "Nebula?" Loki breathed, incredulous. He turned, very slowly, in her direction, looking as if he could hardly believe his eyes.
Nebula crossed the floor in quick strides, stopping before the still shell-shocked Loki. She reached out with a metallic arm, gripping his shoulder as if to confirm he was solid and not an illusion. Tony didn't miss the way Loki stiffened slightly at the contact. "I thought..." Nebula gaped, "I thought you were dead! Thor told me He killed you."
Loki seemed to finally unfreeze, his hands coming up to rest gingerly on Nebula's shoulders as his head bowed. "He did... I was." He mumbled.
"Wait, wait, wait." Tony interjected, shaking his head as if that could clear the strangeness. "Blue Meanie knows Reindeer Games? Reindeer Games knows Blue Meanie? They like each other?"
Nebula finally pulled away and glared up at Loki, obviously expecting a better explanation than that. Loki only smiled. "I never thought I'd see you again, sister."
"Sister?!" Multiple voices, including Tony's, exclaimed. Tony turned his head to stare at the eldest prince incredulously. "There's more of you?"
Thor shook his head, looking as dumbstruck as Tony felt. "No! Well, at least, not anymore..." Thor grimaced, and Tony decided he wasn't gonna touch that one with a ten-foot pole. Asgardian family drama could give the Kardashians a run for their money.
Loki ignored the outcry, his expression edging towards sorrow as he studied the cyborg. "I tried to come back for you. For both of you." He glanced over her head then, scanning the open hangar as if expecting someone else to be there. "Where's Gamora?"
Nebula lowered her head, shaking it. "Thanos." She whispered by way of explanation, and Loki immediately understood.
"Loki," Thor interjected, somewhat uncertainly, "what are you talking about?" His gaze flickered anxiously between his brother and Scary Spice. "Nebula?"
Loki only pressed his lips tightly together, avoiding his brother's gaze, and Nebula hesitantly answered for him. "It was part of the game He played. Something He desperately wanted us to believe. That He was our Father, and we were his Children."
"Brainwashing." Natasha piped up quietly, a steely look to her eyes. Nebula met the assassin's gaze evenly. "It was how we survived."
"Well. This is cheery." Clint crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.
"Seconded. Hey Ratchet, I could use your tiny hands over here."
"It's Rocket." The racoon grumbled, but he moved around to study the tiny gap in the piping that Tony was looking at.
"Sure thing, Alvin." Tony said cheerily, handing him a screwdriver.
Clint snorted. "That's a chipmunk."
Tony shot him a glare. "Whatever. It's not like racoons are a particular staple of children's cartoons."
"Hey!" Rocket growled at him, offended, but then he paused. "...what's a cartoon?"
"What about the little dude, from Pocohontas. What's his name?" Clint clicked his fingers, straining his memory. "And he steals all the dog biscuits?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "That's it. Movie night. We're doing a movie night. Barton never evolved past PG-13 apparently."
Natasha shook her head at their ridiculous conversation, an almost-smile twitching at her lips. She nodded to Nebula. "C'mon, there's a room upstairs for you. Rhodey's already here. Arrived a few days ago." Nebula glanced over at Loki again, as if to check he was still there, then followed Romanov and Rogers out the side entrance that connected to the main building.
Thor hovered uncertainly, clearly wanting to say something to his brother but biting his tongue. Loki deliberately ignored him, crossing to the other side of the base plate to read over a tablet full of graphs and numbers. Tony almost rolled his eyes. Whoever it was that taught these two boys about communication needed to be shot.
Tony sidled up next to Loki under the pretence of choosing a new tool. "Gets easier, you know." He said under his breath, so that none but Loki could hear. "Doesn't go away, but gets easier." Loki seemed to not be listening, but Tony could tell by the way he stilled, fingerpads white against the glass tablet, that he heard him. "Of course, helps if you have an outlet. Someone to talk to, even." He continued, his tone casual as he sorted through the tools. "Keep it all in and it'll poison you. Trust me on that one." Finding the right sized drillbit he was looking for, Tony returned to his work, leaving Loki to contemplate.
Thor was already heading back to the compound, shoulders slumped, when Loki called out to him. "Thor... Perhaps this would be a good time to hone your swordcraft. You could use the practice, after all." He sniffed, avoiding looking at the way Thor's entire face lit up. Brothers.
"Are you sure you are feeling up to it?" Thor asked as Loki caught up to him, concern momentarily tempering enthusiasm. Loki just rolled his eyes as he breezed past, and Thor hurried to fall into step beside him, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, this oughta be good." Clint grunted, following the Asgardians with a smirk.
"Hey! I thought you were helping!" Tony yelled at Clint's back.
"Pfft! I wasn't even helping before!"
Tony flicked a hand at the archer, grumbling to himself. "Typical."
"Don't worry, you still got me." Bruce grinned up at him as he bent to screw two enormous power leads together.
"Thanks, Brucey-Bruce." He pet the giant fondly on the shoulder. "Can always count on you." Tony fit the drillbit into the drill, giving the trigger a few test squeezes. "Well, except for that time you disappeared for two years, I suppose."
Bruce pointed a big, green finger at him. "See, this is why you don't have any friends."
"Oh, that's the only reason?" Rocket piped up from under the machinery.
Tony just grinned.
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Despite it being a fairly warm spring day, Natasha still found herself making tea. It was more out of habit than desire, she supposed. A luxury she hadn't always been able to afford, in the past, but now that she had the time, she found she took more pleasure in the little things. Putting down roots, Steve had said. The thought had grated her, at first, like too much sugar between her teeth. But like every other situation life had thrown at her, Natasha had adjusted.
Mug in hand, Natasha moved through the upper floor to the open balcony, pausing when she spotted a familiar strawberry-blonde head sitting next to Nebula. "Didn't know you were here, Pepper."
"Hm?" The CEO turned her head at the sound of her name, looking distracted. "Oh, yeah. Tony asked me to drop off some new battery thing he was working on." She fiddled delicately with the cuff of her blouse as Natasha made her way over to the two women, and Natasha raised a brow at the guilty tell. "What? Am I interrupting?"
"No, no," Pepper answered, too quickly, "we're just, ah…"
"She was salaciously observing the princes spar." Nebula outed her without hesitation. Pepper shot her a glare, and the android looked genuinely confused when she noticed. "What? You were."
Pepper huffed, a scowl crossing her pretty features. "I'm married, I'm not dead." She grumbled.
Natasha stepped forward to peer over the railing. Below in the yard, Loki and Thor were sparring with bamboo Bo staffs; the sounds of the wood cracking against each other echoing across the grass. Thor had shed his shirt under the warm sun; the effects of having his brother back clearly evident in the reduction of his waistline, and even Loki had stripped down to a loose, sleeveless vest. It was as much bare skin she had ever seen him show since Christmas Day when he had bust out of his pyjamas, and the sweat glistening on his skin only made the wiry muscles of his arms and shoulders even more pronounced.
Natasha leaned against the railing, sipping at her tea. "Can't say I blame you." She said, throwing a teasing smile over her shoulder when the older woman blushed.
"I have to say, he looks well considering Tony said he was in pretty gruesome shape last week." Pepper said once she had recovered her composure, grimacing at whatever horrifying picture Stark had painted.
"They heal pretty quickly." Natasha said absently, watching as Loki disarmed his brother with a clever twist of his hands, sending Thor's staff flying. He retreated to allow Thor to retrieve his weapon, a genuine smile on his face, and Thor's thunderous laughter floated up to her on the breeze.
"Physically, anyway." Pepper said, stabbing at the ice cubes in her drink with her straw and making them clink against the glass. "Tony barely slept for months after Afghanistan. And then New York..." She gave a one-armed shrug. "Well, you saw what he was like after that."
Natasha hummed in agreement, chewing at the inside of her lip. "It definitely explains a few things. The way New York went down... It never really made sense to me."
"It does now?" Pepper asked, her brows raised in genuine curiosity. Natasha studied the sincerity in her features, then turned her gaze on Nebula. The cyborg's black eyes were much harder to read, but her body language made her an open book. The woman shifted uncomfortably, and eventually turned her head, breaking eye contact. "It does now." Natasha said evenly, turning her attention back to the field below – then frowned at what she saw.
Thor struck forth with a series of blows that Loki should have easily been able to parry but... didn't. He stumbled back, dropping his staff as he clutched at his head. Thor lowered his weapon, clearly concerned as he took a few steps towards Loki, but the youngest prince waved him off, straightening again. She saw Steve's blonde head hurrying over, and the three men exchanged words that Natasha couldn't hear. Eventually, Steve tapped in, picking up Loki's discarded staff as Loki headed back the way Steve had come. His solemn figure disappeared beneath the balcony under Natasha's feet, but his posture had been too rigid and too perfect for Natasha not to think he was still in some distress.
"Be right back." She muttered distractedly, missing the smug look on Pepper's face as she discarded her half-drunk tea. She skipped down the stairs, padding quickly down the hall to the front entrance. She saw Clint, Rhodey and Scott sitting on one of the benches to the left, eating lunch as they watched the two blondes spar. Loki sat on the furthest bench to the right, away from the others, his spine ramrod straight and his hands clenched into fists on his knees. Slowly, she made her way over to him, making sure he could see her approaching.
"Loki?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, frowning at the tension thrumming through his body. She could feel Clint's eyes on her, burrowing into the back of her head, but she didn't have the time to coddle him. He hadn't been here; he hadn't seen what she had.
Loki was shaking beneath her hand, eyes screwed tightly shut and his fingers digging into his knees. "Loki, whatever it is, it's just a memory, it's not-"
He exploded out of her hand, staunching across the field, and Natasha realised too late that he wasn't shaking out of fear, but anger. She scurried to catch up; the ball of hot dread that pooled in her gut serving as a warning.
Loki stormed towards the two men trading blows, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of rage, and his cheeks faintly shining in the sunlight. Thor and Steve halted their sparring, looking startled at the approaching ball of rage. "Brother, what-"
But Thor didn't have time to finish the question as Loki reared one leg back and planted his bare foot square in the middle of Thor's chest. The force of the kick sent Thor flying back a few feet, landing roughly on his ass with a look of utter surprise on his face. Loki advanced on him, his fists clenched at his sides. "You told me she died in Ragnarok!" He shouted, his voice shuddering with the force of his rage.
"What? Who are you-" With a growl of frustration, Loki leapt into the air, his lithe body twisting in a graceful arc to execute a perfect spinning axe kick, his heel cracking Thor across the jaw with a force that would have broken any normal man's neck. "You LIED TO ME!" He roared, his eyes shining like cut jade and the veins in his temple throbbing. His foot flew through the air again, but Thor finally shook off his stunned stupor and rolled out of the way. He leapt to his feet quickly before Loki could attack again. "Loki! Stop this!" Thor held his hands out, as if that would temper Loki's anger. But Loki was having none of it.
"You left me locked up! You were too cowardly to even come down to tell me yourself!" He jabbed an accusatory finger at his brother. He stalked towards the elder Asgardian, and Natasha braced herself for a full-on brawl, but then he stopped, his eyes flashing dangerously. "YOU DIDN'T. EVEN LET ME OUT. TO GO TO HER FUNERAL!" He thundered, his chest heaving and his arms trembling with the effort of controlling his wrath.
Thor's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Natasha exchanged a baffled look with Steve; they both remained frozen in place, neither daring to get in between a punch-up between two gods – not when one of them was this angry. She glanced back toward the compound to see Clint and Rhodey had paused halfway across the field, hesitant on intervening. Even Bruce and Tony had poked their heads out of the hangar, having heard the commotion. But neither brother paid heed to anyone but each other.
"Loki, I'm sorry, I-"
"You're sorry?" Loki spat venomously, his face twisted into a snarl, and for a moment he looked like the old Loki; the one who had stood an inch from her face and threatened her in the worst possible way. Natasha felt her breath catch in her throat. She took a step forward, wanting to do something before things got worse, but Steve grabbed her elbow, shaking his head at her.
"It was Father's orders, Loki. I could do nothing about it."
"Oh, I'm sure you tried though, didn't you Thor? Did you plead on my behalf?" Loki began to circle his brother, slithering around him like a serpent as his anger poisoned him.
Thor's gaze dropped to the ground, ashamed. "No." He whispered.
"No." Loki repeated, halting his pacing in front of his brother. His lips pulled up in the caricature of a smile. "No, of course not. And why would you? I am not, after all, even her son." His voice grew quieter, softer, his ire seemingly leeching away, but Natasha knew better.
"I was... I was very angry at you, brother, at the time. I should have told you, I know, but I knew the memory would be a painful one, and I-" Loki's cold laughter stopped him in his tracks, the sound of it setting Natasha's teeth on edge. "Painful? Oh yes, and it's all coming back to me now, brother." Loki spat, a chilling grin settling across his face. He was regressing; turning back into that broken man with the frozen heart that lashed out at everyone and everything, poisoned by his own mind, and Natasha knew she had to intervene somehow before he dug himself a hole he could never climb out of.
She shrugged out of Steve's grasp and took a few cautious steps towards the brothers. "Loki?" She called gently, one hand outstretched before her like she was approaching a rabid dog. He rounded on her at the sound of his name, his expression one of rage, hate, fury, and pain. She stood her ground, holding his heated gaze until his face smoothed over, anger trickling away until there was only pain left, and his viridian green eyes seemed to sparkle with it. Her outstretched hand brushed against the hem of his sleeve, and he broke her gaze, turning his face from her to glare at the grass instead.
"I'm remembering now." He said quietly, though his voice still shook with the effort it was taking to control his ire. "The one and only time you ever came to see me down there was because you wanted something from me." Loki didn't look up from the grass, but Thor turned away anyway, his mouth set in a thin line. "I'm... I'm sure I must be a disappointing brother, Loki." Thor started slowly, his words lacking his usual conviction. "I failed our people. I failed our parents. I failed to stop Thanos. But my worst failure by far, was failing you." Thor took a step towards the trickster, his mismatched eyes shining with guilt and anguish. Loki twitched in his direction, but didn't otherwise move. "I was a fool, Loki. I didn't understand. I didn't understand you." Thor inched closer, slowly raising a hand, palm up, toward the youngest prince. "I should have been there for you, Loki. It was my job to protect you, and I didn't." Thor was almost close enough to grab him now, and he reached for his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Loki, I'm so-" But before Thor could lay a hand on him, Loki disappeared in a flash of green smoke.
Thor's fist closed around air, and he lowered it slowly to his side, shoulders slumped. Clint and Rhodey made their way over now that the threat had gone. Steve whirled around, doing a full 360 as if worried Loki would pop up behind him. "Where'd he go?"
Thor only shook his head, the rueful smile on his face looking out of place on the usually good-natured prince. "Don't worry, I know my brother. He will have gone to the remotest place in your realm."
"Oh great. So, should somebody warn Antarctica?" Rhodey quipped, crossing his arms over his chest.
Natasha shot him a scathing look, and the Colonel instantly looked regretful much to Clint's delight. Natasha turned back to the one remaining Asgardian, who was staring up at the sky as if expecting Loki to come flying in at any minute. "Just give him some time, Thor." She said, aiming for reassuring but apparently failing.
"For once," Thor sighed, his words stolen by the breeze, "it is time I fear we do not have."
.
·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·
.
It had been hours, and no one had seen hide nor hair of Loki. FRIDAY had reported no trace of him on the premises, but neither were there sudden news reports of things being blown up or crazy illusions blocking traffic. Had SHIELD still been fully operational, his MIA status would have provoked a DELTA level response, and Black Ops teams would be currently scouring the Earth for him. As it was, they had to assume Thor knew his brother best.
Natasha dragged herself tiredly up the stairs, the muscles in her legs protesting. She had just finished working out with Clint, and his time as a vigilante street fighter had made him a lot tougher to beat than he used to be. Natasha headed towards her bedroom, ready for a nice, hot bath, when she noticed something out of place. Loki's bedroom door was not completely closed. It wasn't ajar – something she would have noticed immediately – but the door wasn't flush with the frame, and the handle was slightly downturned, meaning it wasn't locked.
Natasha hesitated in the hallway. Before she knew what she was doing, she slithered over to the door and toed it open, grateful that the hinges were apparently well maintained. The ache in her muscles was quickly forgotten as familiar instincts took over. It felt a little wrong to be snooping, but Natasha forcefully reminded herself that if Loki were to go rogue, she would need all the info on him she could get.
Loki had clearly used his magic to upgrade a few things, since his room was far more well-appointed than her own sparse abode. A king-sized canopy bed centred the room; deep, forest green drapes wrapped around the mahogany posts. A tall dresser made of equally dark wood stood to her left, an ornate standing mirror next to it; the frame gilded in gold. Natasha started there, silently sliding the dresser drawers open one at a time and picking carefully through the contents. It was mostly human-style clothing, not the Asgardian attire he usually wore, and she wondered where and how he had gotten these garments. Purchased? Stolen? Or simply magicked into existence? Absently, she fingered the labels. Armani. Valentino. Prada. Of course. Natasha couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. What was that saying about the devil?
The top of the dresser was littered with glass bottles and vials containing liquids of varying colours and consistencies. Natasha plucked out a vial with an aqua-coloured liquid, popped the top off, gave it an experimental whiff, and almost retched. Okay, so not perfume then. Poison? Natasha re-capped the vial and slipped it into her pocket, intending to have Bruce analyse it later.
She silently made her way over to the bookshelves that lined the opposite wall, fingering the strange, runic writing that was etched into the spines of the leather-bound tomes. She recalled Thor saying all the Asgardian books had been lost, and she wondered if Loki had truly started restocking the Golden Realm's library from memory, or if he'd had these texts squirreled away elsewhere. She pulled out one at random and flicked it open. It did sort of look like Loki's handwriting – small, neat, and slightly cursive – though it was difficult to tell when she couldn't recognise anything that resembled letters. She slid the book back in the slot where she found it, then smiled when she spotted a familiar cover at the very end of the shelf. It was the copy of Some Hope she had given him; he had devoured the thick novel in a matter of days. Natasha tried to tug it from its spot, but it was wedged in there tightly. She felt something else shift as she pulled, and frowned. She slipped her hand through the gap between the row of books and the shelf above, and her fingers grazed cool leather. Carefully, she pulled the small book from its hiding spot, turning it over in her hands.
The dull, brown, leather cover bore no markings, and was clearly not a published text. Natasha's heart rate pricked up, and she controlled the familiar thrum of adrenaline that rushed through her veins as she flicked open the worn leather. A loose page fell out from behind the cover, and Natasha bent to pick it up and unfold it. A familiar drawing greeted her; three different coloured blobs with stick arms and stick legs, that Natasha recognised as Morgan's Christmas present. Natasha smiled at the thought that he'd kept it, and carefully tucked it back into the book.
But as she fingered through the rest of the pages, her smile morphed into a frown. At least half the book was filled with drawings, but none of them seemed complete. The sketches were rough and hurried; like he'd been trying to capture an image before it disappeared, and some drawings had even been crossed out or scribbled over. There was one of a giant snake; its two-foot-long fangs exposed and glistening. Another of a dark, cramped cell where two women knelt with a bowl and a rag; and Natasha recognised one of them to be Nebula. Others of a shadowy figure, a hood pulled over their head to shade their face. Or three bodiless faces, carved into a wood panel. But most concerning was page after page covered in the same three letters, repeating over and over: TVA.
"What..." Natasha nearly dropped the book in surprise, "are you doing?" She fought the instinct to whirl around in defence mode, turning to face him slowly instead, her chin held high. His face was a mask of rage; mouth pressed into a thin, white line, his gaze icy, and Natasha felt a jolt of adrenaline spike down her spine. "You tell me." She said, a hint of a dare in her voice as she held the book up for him to see. Confidence. Maybe overconfidence.
Loki crossed the room in three quick strides until he was standing before her, his wrath rolling off him in waves. Natasha licked her lips, knowing she was verging into dangerous territory. "Why haven't you told us what you remember?" She asked, her voice, at least, still strong and sure. His eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't answer; instead holding his hand out for the book. Natasha tucked it behind her back, out of his reach. Mistake.
Loki bared his teeth and growled – the sound sub-human, animalistic, and terrifying. He advanced on her, forcing Natasha to backpedal with every step he took, until the back of her knees hit the edge of his bed and she sat down hard upon it, her heart hammering in her throat. He raised his hands, and Natasha tensed, but instead he brought them up to grip the wooden crossbeam of the four-poster bed; his knuckles turning bleach-white. Still in his sleeveless tunic, she could see the muscles in his arms cording as the wood creaked ominously under the strain. He closed his eyes, his teeth still bared, and his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily. Natasha swallowed thickly, trying to bring some moisture back to her mouth before she spoke. "You're... trying not to hurt me, aren't you?"
His eyes stayed screwed shut, but his snarl lessened. "You're not...making it...easy." He ground out through clenched teeth, his voice barely more than a growl. The crossbeam in his grip began to crack, splintering down the middle, and Loki abruptly let go before he could do any more damage. His eyes flashed opened; dark as obsidian, and hard and cold as cut gems. Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, Natasha held the leather-bound journal out towards him. Loki snatched it from her hands, regarding it as if it had personally offended him, and made it disappear in a flash of green smoke.
Natasha drew her legs up beneath her on the bed; a position that would make her seem smaller and less threatening, but would also allow her to dive across the bed and put some distance between them if she needed to. She doubted she would make it to the bedroom door before he caught her, but the door to the bathroom was directly behind her, and barricading herself in there might just buy her enough time to escape out the window. Hopefully the three-storey drop wouldn't break any bones.
Natasha met his savage gaze resolutely; holding her chin high and swallowing her unease as she waited for him to calm. He distanced himself, turning his back on her while he regained his composure, and she held her breath as the tenseness in his shoulders slowly but surely dissipated.
"So..." She broke the silence when she thought he would no longer murder her where she sat. Probably. "Wanna talk about it?" His shoulders tensed again, hunched like an angry cat, and he ground out a harsh "No." She nodded morosely, despite the fact that he couldn't see her, and silence invaded the space once again.
"Why are you here?" He finally asked, his voice still strained, but at least seemed less furious. She regarded his broad back, considering her answers. "I came looking for you." Was the one she settled on. Wrong answer.
"That's a lie!" He rounded on her, looming like an angry wraith, and Natasha fought against the urge to recoil. She pressed her lips together and tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon." There; it was the truth, and Loki seemed to know it. He stared at her a moment longer, veridian eyes searching for any trace of a crack in her façade; but she would show him none. "Is it really so hard to believe people would be worried about you?" She peered up at him with a frown. He straightened, exhaling through his nose. He didn't answer, but his fiery demeanour seemed to finally cool.
She watched him as he pretended to ignore her; the hard set to his eyes, dark smudges beneath cold emerald; the sharp jawline, tightly-wound; hands folded behind his back in what would appear to be a casual stance, if she didn't catch his fingers twitching every so often. "It's more than the memories, isn't it?" She asked suddenly, her abrupt question catching him off-guard and snapping his attention back to her. He shot her a quizzical look, momentarily forgetting his irritation. "What?"
"The headaches. The sudden mood changes. It's not just because you're getting your memories back, is it? It's something more than that." She leaned forward in interest, crossing her legs lotus-style. The situation seemed to no longer require an immediate escape route – for the moment. "What's going on in that head of yours, Loki?"
Something like shock passed across his face, before he walled it back up, turning away from her to study the bedside table with a frown. For a long moment, Natasha did not think he was going to respond, and she almost missed the quiet whisper when he did.
"A nightmare." His stern expression flickered; just for a second, but enough for Natasha to see those broken and jagged pieces of the little boy she once knew. That boy, who had risked life and limb to save a stray kitten. That boy, who had helped Steve decorate the halls with tinsel, and entertained Morgan with dancing apparitions that played out the stories he weaved. That boy, who had shown clear signs of abuse, but had still tried so hard to please everyone.
She supposed Thor saw it too; it's what kept him coming back, what made him keep trying, when most others would have given up long ago. But love was for children – pure and uncomplicated and unconditional – something Thor had never had to learn, whilst his brother knew all too well. Innocence, once lost, could never be restored, and those most aware of the horrors of the world – those with intimate knowledge of terror and violence and blood – were always the first to lose it, and also the most keenly aware of what they had lost. Age and truth killed the child within – a knife of bitter disappointment to the gut. And Loki was very, very old.
Natasha's thoughts swirled, carrying her far away, and so she was startled when Loki spoke again. "Who did you lose?"
"What?" Her head snapped up, confusion quickly following. He had turned to face her again, all previous traces of indignant fury now gone; his face smoothed back into his usual slick mask, and his iridescent eyes now sparking with curiosity instead of rage. "You are all so desperate to reverse what is and what will be; all to reclaim what already was. I understand Barton lost his family, Stark lost a protégé, the Captain lost his best friend." He swept his gaze over her again, bending slightly at the waist to study her closely. "Who did you lose?"
Natasha chewed on the tip of her tongue, acutely aware that he was scrutinising every twitch, every hesitation. "I mean, I was close to Clint's family too. I knew Bucky and T'Challa. Director Fury was my boss, and he's gone now, so…"
Loki straightened, smugness tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Ah, I see. So it's guilt, then."
Natasha didn't answer, but narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't like where this was going, and she didn't like the knowing smirk that slithered across his face. "I had thought, to push so hard, to cling so blindly to a far-flung hope of reversal that no one else believed in, you must have lost someone unbearable. But it's just the opposite, isn't it? You feel guilty because you didn't lose a loved one."
Natasha leant back on her hands, regarding him silently. He had a triumphant look about him; as if he'd just put another puzzle piece into place. Was that all that made her interesting to him? Was that all that made him interesting to her?
"Maybe I'm just doing it because it's right." She said coolly, tipping one shoulder forward in a lopsided shrug.
Loki scoffed. "It is not within human nature to be purely selfless. Benevolence is a lie in itself." He glided forward, stopping just short of touching the bed, his imposing frame towering over her. "Even you said so yourself - 'Generosity for generosity's sake'." Natasha pressed her lips together, unable to argue against something she knew to be true.
"Fine, so it's guilt." She said, a hard edge to her voice. "That doesn't change anything."
Loki hummed, a hint of a smile pulling at his features. "No, I suppose it doesn't." He seemed to have calmed now; his demeanour in complete opposition to what it was moments ago, and Natasha felt it was enough to risk pushing a little further. "Whatever it takes, right? Because someone has to. And if there's anything I can do that's gonna help our chances – any piece of intel that might prove critical..." It wasn't really a threat – he wouldn't react kindly to that, but by the pointed look he shot her, he clearly knew what she was hinting. He frowned, but there was no anger in it. "I cannot help you, Agent Romanov."
Natasha sighed, resting her elbow on her knee and propping her chin up with her hand. "You have to know something, Loki."
Loki started to shake his head, but then he froze, his eyes seemingly fixed on some point above her head. "Loki?" She tried gently, frowning in confusion. He swayed on the spot, his hand shooting out to grip the bedpost and steady himself. Natasha uncrossed her legs and lifted up onto her knees, placing her hands on his chest when he looked unsteady. She felt wetness beneath her palm and pulled her right hand back, panic setting in her veins like ice when her fingers came away red.
"Loki!" She called again, more desperately, her eyes searching his face for any trace of recognition. His face continued to grow paler, his eyes glazed and unseeing. He swayed once more, then collapsed to his knees before falling sideways to the floor with a thud. Natasha scrambled off the bed to kneel beside him, pulling at his rapidly darkening shirt. She peeled the soft cotton away from his chest and gasped. His chest was sliced open down the length of his sternum, flashes of white bone and severed muscle barely visible through all the dark blood that spurted out in pulses, splashing her clothes. Natasha quickly shoved her hands at the wound, pressing down on it with one hand while she reached behind her to yank the sheet off the bed with the other. "FRIDAY, alert the boys! Tell Bruce we need a medic in here!" She yelled at the ceiling, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears as her pulse beat too loudly. She bunched up the sheet and pressed it firmly against the wound, wincing when Loki let out a choked groan. "Don't you dare die on me now, Loki. I wasn't finished with you yet." She muttered, the horrible feeling in her gut sinking even lower as the bedsheet became saturated all too quickly.
Loki made a strangled noise, his mouth opening like he was waiting for words to come out. "I..." His voice was raspy and frail, grating like it was torn from his throat, and Natasha leaned in closer to hear. "I didn't... do it... for him."
"Who, Loki? Do what?" Natasha asked firmly, trying to get his eyes to focus on her face, but his emerald gaze was vacant, and his irises slowly rolled back into his head, his skin ashen. "Loki? Loki! Shit." Natasha swore under her breath just as the door banged open.
"Nat? What's the- oh crap." Bruce's eyes widened as he stumbled into what looked like a horror movie scene. Quickly regaining his senses, he rushed over to Loki's side, setting his first aid kit down next to the slowly growing pool of the god's blood.
"What the fuck happened?" Tony sounded from the door, followed by Thor's cry of dismay, but Natasha could only focus on one thing, and so she launched into her assessment before Bruce could even ask. "Chest wound. I think it's a through-and-through. I think... I think it hit an artery." Bruce placed his hands over where Natasha was steadily applying pressure, lifting the drenched bedsheet slightly to assess the damage.
"Nat, are you okay?" Clint ambled closer, concern tinting his brown eyes. "Did he..."
"What?" Natasha frowned, her adrenaline-flooded brain struggling to comprehend. "No! No, it wasn't... We were just talking, and then suddenly he started bleeding. When he collapsed, he said... he said 'I didn't do it for him'. I couldn't get anything else. Thor? Thor, is this another old wound? Do you recognise it?" Natasha turned to glance at the blonde brother, who paled considerably at her words.
"Yes," Thor ground out, almost at a whisper, "yes. He died... He died in my arms. Or at least, I thought he had, at the time."
"So he'll survive this on his own?" Bruce asked, glancing up from where he was trying to plug the bleeding. "Cause I don't know that I can do anything here. His aorta's severed. He's bleeding out. He needs heart surgery and a transfusion, I can't..." Bruce shook his head, and Natasha's heart suddenly jumped into her throat, choking her.
Tony stepped forward, his expression completely serious for once. "Alright, let's get him to the med bay, we can manage the situation from there. Steve, you know where the gurney is?"
"Yep. I'll get it." Steve nodded once, then dashed off, happy to receive orders.
"Bruce, what else do you need? Bruce?" Tony frowned at Bruce when he didn't respond, and the green giant sat back on his haunches. He glanced up at Tony, his gaze flickering briefly over Thor, and his expression almost apologetic. "Tony, I've got no pulse."
.
·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·∫·
.
Pain leaked through his chest. Pain spread cold through his veins and turned his limbs numb. Pain made his ears ring and stole the breath from his lungs. All his life, all he ever was, all he ever felt, all he ever gave, was pain. He was made of it. But it was alright. It was okay now. He had never intended to go back to that prison cell, and now, he would never have to. Never again would he be shackled and locked away, like a beast unfit for innocent eyes. Soon, the pain would be gone. Soon, he would never have to feel pain ever again. And wasn't that as much freedom as he could ever hope for?
There was wetness on his face. Was his brother truly crying over him? Him? How silly. A Prince should not cry over a dying criminal. A Prince should not cry over a slain monster. He wanted to tell him so. He wanted to tell his brother to stop being such a soft-hearted fool, but he no longer had any breath in his lungs to do so.
Coldness seeped into his skin and chilled his bones. The pain slowly faded into numbness and the world began to fade with it. He felt the warmth of his brother's arms leave him – cold and alone once again. But that was alright; Loki no longer even remembered why he had been so full of rage in the first place. It was done, now. He was done. And finally, he could rest. Loki's heart juddered to a stop, finally bringing him peace.
"Sorry, today is not the day." Who was that? Was this Helheim? Niflheim? He seemed to have no senses, yet he somehow understood the words. "Wake up, young one. We've got work to do." Something jolted in the region where his chest would be, and pain tore through him like a lightning bolt. Once. Twice. Once again – and he realised it was his heart.
Loki was suddenly slammed back into his body with all the force of a Hulk smash. His lungs were stuffed full, and his first instinct was to roll to his side and retch, choking out the partly-congealed blood that had blocked his airways. The harsh winds pelted sand at his face, clogging his nose and mouth. He lifted a sluggish hand, trying not to cry out when his chest burned, and wiped away the grit from his eyes. He squinted against the billowing sand, trying to tell up from down, and thought he caught sight of a hooded figure – the flash of an emerald cape as they disappeared into the sandstorm.
Loki wanted to call out to the figure, but he barely had the energy to keep breathing. His chest burned like his heart had been replaced by acid, and when he pressed a palm to it, it came away bloody. His limbs felt too heavy to move, and he couldn't lift his head. Exhausted, Loki shut his eyes against the gritty sand, barely managing to curl up on his side before falling back into unconsciousness.