Natasha spent two days at close surveillance, just to find out that the movements she was able to observe from the outside were just retrograde motions, meant to throw the potential onlookers off the scent. Once she got inside it became painfully clear that the base was deserted.
Quite recently though, so it looked like what they'd done got some sort of an effect. She couldn't tell how much actual good it did, and she was even more doubtful after finding the empty cells, cleaned out archive and the server room that was smashed to pieces by what looked like an anti-personnel mine going off inside.
One of the guards wandered off too far from the group and she took him off with a tranquilizer dart, dragged him into the brush and picked his brain. The man was just a low-level drone and saw very little of what happened in the facility. He didn't even know who he really worked for, for all he was told was that an American enterprise hired guards and paid good money. She left him in the greenery, unconscious but alive. She took the gun, though.
Before she left, she set fire to the generators' room at the back and watched from a distance as it spread through the facility. The blast that took out the servers also took care of the fire alarm system, so it was already too late by the time the soldiers outside got a grip of what was happening.
She sat in her hiding spot for an hour.
The hope that it would make her feel at least a bit better faded the higher the flames roared. Even the very act of destruction wasn't satisfying anymore. She just wanted this to be done and over with it. She wanted to go home.
She wrapped her jacket closer around herself, pulled up her hood and started on the long hike back to where she left the jet, the first snowflakes of the season falling around her. The Swiss Alps were beautiful at this time of the year, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun.
It was still not completely dark when she reached the plane, and she had some minutes to burn. It might be a good opportunity for meditation – she had neglected the habit lately, with so many other things going on at once – but she felt drained, both physically and mentally and just sat back in the pilot's chair, waiting for the interior to warm up. She turned her phone back on and went through a couple of texts from Stark, informing her about the progress, then the New York plan, then the fact they had arrived safely and were going to stay in the tower for a while and that the field looked clear so far.
Then there was another message, from an unlisted contact. She clicked on it idly, suspecting it being from Bruce, because who else could have this number…
It was from Loki, and it was just three words:
Barton is here.
She cursed, changed the flight destination to New York and fired up the engines.
"You ready?" Tony asked. Over the course of the last couple of hours, he had set up the machine, checked and rechecked the parameters and had had Jarvis run another simulation, just in case. There was nothing more to do but to go forth with the procedure. There were no more tests he could attempt before the big event. He had no samples of the alloy that were not currently attached to a living being.
He himself was as ready as he could be. The science was strong. He just wished he didn't have to do something that had – to his best knowledge – never been attempted in the history of engineering, with a subject who was there because they had no other choice.
[Yes. You can start.] Loki said.
"Do we need to go through the hoops of me forcing a promise out of you again, or can we skip that part, and you'll just warn me if something's wrong?"
[Your scrambler works, Stark.] Loki said and ran his hand under his hair, where the gizmo sat.
"I'm almost too afraid to ask how you found that out."
Loki undid the top buttons of his shirt and showed Stark the torn patch of skin around the catheter in his vein. [I pulled the tube out in my sleep by mistake. There was enough blood to trigger the spell twice over, yet it didn't even wake me up.]
"That's great. Also, sucks." Tony bit the inside of his cheek. "Does the port still work?"
[I don't know,] Loki said and there was doubt in his glare.
Bruce said the central line was already barely functional, because of how poorly it was maintained and how thoughtlessly it was used.
[If it doesn't work, Banner can redo it, now.]
That was also a good point. The only reason Bruce still made do with the existing line was that installing a new one elsewhere in Loki's body was an invasive procedure that would, more likely than not, trigger the goddamned mystical bullshit. If Tony's device truly managed to shield him from its effects, the risk was much lower.
Tony was really getting fed up with magic quickly.
Still… "You're left with the physical effects though."
[It's nothing compared to…] Loki paused, sighed and folded his hands back in his lap.
Tony took in a deep breath. There was no point in pretending this could go down painlessly, both in the metaphorical and in the literal sense. It should be Loki's call and Tony could only ensure the god was making an informed decision.
"There's a chance the wave emitter will trigger it too."
[I know. I don't care. If you can get those off me, it will be a great favor, no matter what it costs.]
Tony nodded. "Okay, hop on then," he said and patted his hand on the central workbench. Loki climbed onto it and placed his feet between the claws.
"I need to…"
[Do it. It's fine.]
"You want a pillow to sit on?"
[No.]
"Something else?"
Loki shook his head.
"It's going to take a while," Tony warned. "We need to go slowly to make sure the waves have the right frequency and are focused in the exact point we want them to. It might take a few hours. You're sure you don't want something to distract yourself with? I'll have to leave the room to lessen the risk of interference, so…"
Loki hesitated. [Can I get something to read then?]
"Sure, there are some books in the office, maybe you can pick something of interest from there. And if not, there's a more extensive library on Pepper's level, two floors up."
The god nodded and scrambled off the table, the chain clinking, and Tony imagined him trudging his way back and forth across the acres of floor space that divided them from the office one floor below, or almost twice as far to the library upstairs. "Or, alternatively, you can use this," he said, and grabbed a laptop from one of the desks by the wall. "You can get virtually any piece of literature ever written by a human as an e-book."
[Ebook?] Loki's hands spelled, unsure.
"A digitized version that can be displayed on a screen."
Loki's face turned thoughtful for a moment. [That's an interesting idea,] he judged and took the laptop from Tony's hands, then carefully placed it on the workbench.
"I can show you how it works," Tony offered.
[I saw you, Banner and Natasha use these before. I'll puzzle it out.]
Tony smiled. "I'm sure you will. Jay? I'm hereby granting Loki Amazon privileges."
"Very well, sir," Jarvis said.
One look at Loki's confused face was enough to make Tony chortle. "It's like a marketplace, but virtual. They have books, but all sorts of physical items too, electronics, clothes, home appliances, toys… Pretty much anything that can be delivered in a package, they'll sell. If you're unsure about anything, just ask Jarvis, he will help you find whatever you need. Well, within reason."
[Thank you.]
"And hey, I've used the computer a couple of times, so no peeking into the browser history, okay?" Tony said with a grin. Loki's stare was completely blank. "That you will definitely figure out, sooner or later."
Loki crooked his head and narrowed his eyes but didn't comment.
"Shall we?"
[Yes.]
Tony clamped the vises shut, swallowed the stupid joke that threatened to spill from his lips, and left the room.
They had barely started by the time Jarvis tuned in with a warning.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but there's an unknown aircraft requesting docking privileges on the rooftop."
"Unknown how?"
"The broadcast ID is most likely duped and there's no homing signal."
"What's the ID?"
"'Mommy's very angry', sir"
"That's Romanoff! Let her in," he said with a chuckle, then enabled the intercom. "Hey, heard that? Cavalry is here."
Loki looked up from the screen, crooked his head and raised an eyebrow. Either he could see through the reflective layers on the glass – designed to shield equipment in the control room from low-level radiation in the main area – or he just guessed correctly where Tony was.
"Romanoff! Any idea why she's here? We were supposed to meet up back at the house."
Loki shook his head fervently but the look on his face couldn't be classified as other than "guilty". Tony smirked. As far as he knew, it was the first time since they had broken him out that Loki was trying to bullshit any of them. It was a feeble attempt, but it was an attempt nonetheless and it might mean he was coming back together, despite all odds. Baby steps, Bruce had said.
We're making nothing but leaps, in both directions, Tony thought, but got no chance to bring it to conclusion.
"Stark!" Romanoff's voice roared from the speakers. "Where's Loki?!"
"I'm sorry, sir, Miss Romanoff forced me to transmit it to you, using your own override code," Jarvis said immediately after her words sounded, and Tony only briefly wondered how exactly that could happen. He must've let it slip somewhere around her.
"Tell her we are in the workshop. Unharmed. I would love it to stay that way, so show her in, before she's threatening to rip your hard drive out of your server room."
"That wasn't the exact wording Miss Romanoff used, but the meaning was not far-off. And sir, Loki is asking what is happening."
Indeed, on the other side of the glass Loki's hands were up in the air, his eyebrows raised questioningly. Tony sighed, turned off the machine and went into the main room.
"We are putting things on a pause, because – from what I can tell – all hell's gonna break loose in… Where's she, Jay?"
"Sixty-fifth floor, sir."
"About thirty seconds."
He was almost done releasing the clamps when the door flew open and Romanoff rushed in. Her eyes glided back and forth between Loki and Tony a couple of times, making sure they were indeed okay, before she decided Tony was to blame, because of course she did.
"Why the fuck aren't you answering my calls?"
"I left the phone upstairs. There's no signal here anyway because the room is shielded."
"For the whole day?!"
"Can you at least tell me what exactly I am being yelled at for, first?"
"Loki sent me a message that, to quote, Barton is here and then none of you dunderheads is answering my goddamned messages. For hours!"
"And it's my fault? Besides, it's fine. We had a friendly talk, Barton is chill with Loki now, all is hunky-dory."
That seemed to knock her out of her rage. "Uhm, what?"
"In short? I forgot to rearm the door after I deactivated the lockdown procedure, Barton came down to check what's happening, found Loki in the living room, Loki gave him an abridged version of the events, Clint listened, we're all cuddly and friendly again."
She blinked and her eyes fell on Loki.
[There's some nuance there, but it is, in essence, what happened,] the god said with what could pass as an adequate poker face.
"I can't believe you two," she snarled, but most of the tension was gone now. "Is Clint here, now?" she asked, after a moment of consideration.
"Jay?"
"No, sir. Mr. Barton left at two-thirty pm, leaving no indication when he'll arrive back."
"Can you tell him to come up when he's back?" she asked.
"Will do, Miss Romanoff."
"Thanks," she said, turned back to Tony and pointed an accusatory finger at the shackles. "Why the hell are those still on? You told me you know how to break the lock."
"We would've been done hours ago if people weren't interrupting us all the time," he said with a sneer. "Can we proceed now or is there anything else you want to scream at my face?"
"I don't know why you even stopped."
"Because I knew you'd barge in here like you owned the place and I don't need a fleshy antenna fucking up my supersonic waves."
Her eyes dashed to Loki.
"Unlike you, Shawshank Redemption has no choice but to be here and I took all the precautions I could to accommodate that. You – out," he said, and pointed at the door. "Go swim in my pool or something. You seemed to enjoy it last time. Or there's quite a bit of tableware for you to smash if you feel like it again."
"The room at the back is safe?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be there then," she said and circled around the workbench, her fingers brushing Loki's hand as she did.
Tony sighed in resignation. There was no point arguing. He reached to reattach the clamps.
Loki was quicker. [Go,] he said. He was anxious to have it done and it was obvious.
"Sure thing. Sit tight," he said, chuckled at the glare Loki sent his way and went to join Romanoff in the back room.
He made the required small adjustments then turned on the emitter.
"So, how's the mission?" he asked.
"A bust. They were gone when I got here, for a couple of days at least. I found like one hard drive that wasn't smashed to bits. The computer it was in, was in a far corner of the IT office, so it's probably scrap as well. No documents, no powerful artefacts from outer space either."
"Eh, it was worth a try. At least you did something while I've been running in…"
"Hey, what's going on?" she exclaimed and sprung up. On the other side of the glass Loki was no longer lounging peacefully. He sat, hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his palms pushed to his ears. "Turn it off!" she yelled and reached for the emergency switch.
Tony stopped her hand. He enabled the intercom again. "What's happening?"
Loki slowly lowered his hands and opened his eyes. [The noise. But I can take it. Carry on.]
"Noise?" Tony asked, surprised.
[You can't hear it?]
"Loki's hearing range is different from ours," Romanoff said. "He must be hearing your waves."
Ugh, that must suck, big time. "You want me to stop?"
[No.]
"I can get you sound-canceling headphones," Tony offered. "I'm not sure how well they would work, as they are usually not designed for…"
Loki shook his head.
"You sure?"
[Yes.] There was an angry flair to the god's gestures now and Tony decided not to push it any further.
"Let me know if…"
[I will.]
Romanoff's slanted eyes were focused on Loki. "Can you make it go faster?"
"Not by much. If we go too quickly, we might miss the perfect spot and would have to go through the whole process again, but switching it up ten percent should still…"
"Do it."
Tony did.
Then they sat there, watching Loki bodily fight the urge to yank away, with his forehead pressed to his knees and his arms wrapped around his head, until there was a loud pop and the shackle on the god's left ankle shifted under the pressure of the vise. Tony turned off the emitter. Loki straightened and undid the clamp and – just as he did – the manacle fell to the table, now in two pieces.
"Okay, now you only need to go through all that one more time," Tony said gloomily and restarted the machine.
Loki didn't even notice the moment the second shackle gave way, too preoccupied with holding on to his sanity as the high-pitched shriek pierced the thoughts in his brain and turned them inside-out. His aberrant nature found yet another way to torment him, it seems.
Then the noise cut off suddenly, the door flung open and Natasha's arms were around his shoulders and her whispers were like balm on the fresh wound of his mind.
"You did great," she said again as she pulled away and Loki fought the desire to hold on to her, just for a moment longer.
[I didn't do anything.]
She smiled as she undid the clamp and took the manacle off.
He swung his legs over the edge and sat up. Only now that the fetters were gone, he realized how heavy they really were.
Stark entered and grabbed the shackles, now abandoned on the pedestal.
"Are those still cursed?" he asked. His expression was drawn, calculating. His mind was probably already swarming with ideas about what to do with the now harmless clump of rare metal in his hand.
[No,] Loki said. [This is the downside to spells like this one. It can hold on for a long time, even forever if cast with sufficient proficiency, but the strength stems from the link it creates between the item and the wearer. It will crumble and break away the moment the physical contact is interrupted. Or the wearer dies.]
Stark nodded. "You mind if I…"
[No. Go on. I'm sure you'll find a better use for it.]
"I might actually have a thing or two in mind," Stark said with a smirk.
That Loki didn't doubt.
Stark tossed the cuffs back on the table carelessly. "Now, can we go back upstairs? We've been here for hours and I'm…" He gave Loki a sideways glance. "Tired," he finished, thinly.
Loki sighed. Stark must think him truly frail if he's convinced Loki can't take even a mention of food.
Stark and Natasha went for the lift and Loki followed, even though he wouldn't mind taking the stairs. Every step was a thrill now, reminding him of his newfound freedom, and he itched to just run upstairs. Just because he could.
"Jarvis, did anyone else, who can potentially raid my home, call when I was in the workshop?" Stark asked when the doors of the tiny box closed behind them. Loki hated elevators with a passion. Even if they were not going down.
"Let me check the registry, sir," said Jarvis. "There are seventeen unanswered calls, sir, fifteen from Miss Romanoff, one from Miss Potts and one from Director Fury of SHIELD."
Stark and Natasha exchanged concerned glances then both looked at Loki and Loki could almost hear the door – the one that just got opened a sliver wider – shut close with a dull thud.
Stark decided to return the call from the living room, checking the camera angles beforehand and ensuring that Natasha and Loki were not visible in the frame from where they were sitting.
The screen was dark for a while before the signal went through and Fury's face appeared. Loki barely held back a flinch, the sight bringing all sorts of unwanted memories.
"This is not the best time, Stark," Fury said in a clipped tone. He was driving and his eyes were not at the camera. "What do you want?"
"What do I want? You were the one to call me."
Something that sounded suspiciously like a gunshot sounded in the background.
"Is something going on?" Stark asked.
There was a sound of torn metal, the camera shook, and Fury snarled a nasty curse. He yanked the steering wheel sharply, there was a screech of tires and a flash filled the screen for a couple of heartbeats. "Nah, just a couple of punks trying to ram me off the road," Fury said. "I think I…" A bang and some more shaking. "Motherfu…" The video flipped and the screen went dark.
"Mhm," Stark hummed. "This really might not be the best time."
There were some more crashes and bangs, then a rustle and Fury's face reappeared on the screen. His nose was swelling quickly, and it looked like it just got broken. "You still there, Stark?" he asked and wiped the blood pouring into his eye from the cut on his brow ridge.
"Yeah. Are you all right?" Stark asked with a cursory amount of concern in his voice.
"Better than the other guy," Fury snarled and there was a sound of glass breaking and crunching, as Fury heaved himself out from the crashed car. "How 'bout you?"
"Uhm…"
"A very curious report came under my attention today. Something about some very important asset being stolen from one of Pierce's secret playgrounds in Europe. You happen to know anything about that?"
"Nope," Stark said without missing a beat, smiling pleasantly.
"Mmm, I figured you wouldn't." Fury pushed the camera further and squinted, then readjusted the eye patch. In the background, two wrecks smoked in the middle of some backwoods road.
"You need a lift?"
"No. But I'm gonna get some time off," Fury said flippantly. Then his face turned hard. "Listen. If you happen to stumble upon Pierce's missing goods…" He sighed and rubbed his eye again. "Keep him safe. Don't let Pierce or any of his people anywhere nearby."
"I won't," Stark promised.
"Good." Fury looked into the eye of the camera a moment longer with an undecided expression. "See you around, Stark."
The call dropped.
"Okay, can someone explain what just happened?" Stark said with a frown.
"I suppose we just found out that even being Fury doesn't help you when you step on the wrong foot by asking nosy questions," Natasha said. "And that he is not Hydra, after all."
Stark let out an exasperated breath. "I'm going to call Pepper now, if you two don't mind," he sighed and left the room.
Natasha moved from the armchair to sit next to Loki on the couch, her hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
Loki pulled up and crossed his legs, then dragged his fingers over the sensitive flesh of his ankle where the shackle had gnawed away his skin.
[Better.]
She smiled and reached to neaten the top button of his shirt and her hair smelled of smoke and pine forests and frost.
"Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton has returned, and I asked him to come to the penthouse. He is coming up as I speak."
Natasha sprung up from where she was nodding off – curled up at Loki's side – and adjusted her clothes. Loki remained where he sat, unsure what to do with himself. He didn't want to interfere but leaving without a word felt improper.
The lift signaled Barton's arrival with a ding, the doors slid open and he stepped out.
"Tony! I might have gotten another of your cars hauled. Sorry!" he yelled.
"Hi, Clint," said Natasha.
He froze, just for a heartbeat. "Hi," he said and walked towards her. "Long time no see."
"Yep."
"How are you?"
"Living the life, as you can see," she said with a smile.
Clint stopped two steps away. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have listened to you. I shouldn't…"
She threw her arms around him.
Loki looked away, got up and quietly slunk to his room.
The lamps were off, but the city lights from beyond the windows were enough to disperse the dark.
Stark fulfilled his promise and freed Loki from his bonds. There was nothing more left to wait for. This was his happy ending, the only one he would get. He should enjoy it, for as long as he can, because the only thing fate still got in store for him was the Æsir justice. And that only if Asgard remembers about him before Thanos' children come looking again.
Here it is. What's left of your life – at the mercy of mortals, having to depend on Natasha and Stark for everything: protection, food, a place to sleep, even clothes on your back. Look how great your existence has turned out, your highness.
And now Natasha had Clint again and she didn't need…
Loki closed his eyes, embarrassment burning his cheeks.
He was always too greedy. For power, for influence. For respect.
For affection.
Natasha already gave up everything for him. Her old life, her friends, her family. She almost died for him, not once, not twice, but thrice. Each time she lay her life on the scales just as willingly. And now Loki had the audacity to feel envy because she got a sliver of her old life back.
He rubbed his eyes, then dragged his fingers down, until they rested on the metal. The spell burned in his throat in warning, but it was but a shadow, its claws filed down by Stark's device.
He pulled the semi-circle free and turned it in his fingers for a while. He carefully put it away, pried his fingernail under the plates on his jaw and yanked, until familiar pain wiped his mind free of all doubt.
"Hey, are you all right? What happened?"
Loki blinked and pulled himself up. [I fell asleep.]
"On the floor? Okay, I shouldn't really be the one to judge that…" she said, then her eyes landed on the scrambler. "That's the gizmo Stark made for you?"
He nodded.
"Why is it off?"
He wanted so much to just lie to her. To tell her it slipped off and it was an honest mistake. To spare her having to witness his shame, yet again. [I removed it,] he said instead.
"Why?" There was concern in her voice and it made the guilt burn all that brighter.
He shrugged.
"Loki? Look at me, please," she said, quietly.
He did.
Her fingers stroked the side of his neck and the dried blood there. Her lips pulled into a thin line and her eyes grew shiny. "Loki…"
[Why are you here?]
She blinked a couple of times. "What? Where else should I be?"
[With Barton.]
Her eyes went wide, and she looked at him with incredulity. "You can be such a clueless idiot, sometimes," she said. Her tone was light but there was a sad note to it. "Clint is an old friend and it's been great to catch up with him, but… Him being here doesn't change anything between us."
Loki stared at her.
"I mean it."
He didn't answer. He didn't even know what the answer should be.
Her hand left his shoulder and slowly came to rest on his cheek, dousing the flame burning in his chest and calming the tempest raging in his mind, leaving only the remorse for letting her down. Again.
[I'm sorry,] he said and reached for Stark's scrambler. She held his hair out of the way, and he clipped the device back into place. There was a solemn resolution behind the motion. He would never take it off, ever again.
Natasha helped him up to his feet then sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I can go if you want to rest," she said. "There's like a million rooms in the tower and I'm sure Stark wouldn't care, no matter which one I use. But… I can stay if you want me to. We can watch a movie or something. That would be a first, right?" A thin smile pulled the edges of her lips up.
He looked at her, somehow unable to find the right words. The smile slowly died down and she moved to get up.
[No. Stay,] he said. [Please.]
The smile was back. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?"
[I don't know. I never had to share.]
"I hope it's the right then," she said and started on the way to the bathroom, pulling off her shirt as she went. "Boy, Clint wasn't joking. The bath really has the best view!"
Tony stayed in the living room, sipping his third drink of the night. Or was it the fourth?
He was used to spending his evenings alone. The tower was always deserted at this time of night. Clint might be living just a couple of floors below, but he rarely even acknowledged Tony's presence and wouldn't visit the penthouse unless directly invited. And, even if Pepper was in town, her activity cycle capped at like eleven pm. That was just early afternoon for Tony, with his don't-wake-me-up-before-noon-unless-it's-a-real-crisis attitude. He would just spend hours at tinkering in his workshop or – if he felt extraordinarily lazy, like right now – at sitting with a bottle of scotch and pondering on new ideas or ways to improve existing designs. Or just staring out of the window.
He couldn't tell why the tower felt empty right now. He should be glad he had a moment for himself, with everyone gone to bed. Yet he found himself missing the company. Bruce's unobtrusive presence, Romanoff's brash manner, even Loki's meaningful silences, with moments of brilliance shining through.
"Jay, did Loki use his Amazon privilege?"
"Yes, sir, he did."
"What… No, don't spoil the big reveal, I want to see for myself."
He wasn't worried or anything. Jarvis wouldn't allow Loki to order something truly dangerous and Tony was rather sure Loki wouldn't do it anyway, but he wouldn't put some prank past him either, something to rival Rhodey's six tons of packing peanuts and a bouncy castle back from their MIT days maybe.
So, in short, Tony was just curious.
He shook his head at the memory and grabbed his laptop. He looked at the purchase history and immediately felt a compelling need to put his head through the half-inch thick pane of glass before him. Because on the list, as the only item on it, sat something that none of the three perfectly adjusted adults in the house never even thought Loki might need. A pair of fucking shoes.
"Miss Romanoff, Loki," Jarvis' voice sounded from the ceiling, waking her up. "Mr. Barton is in the living room and requests your presence immediately. He appears agitated."
Loki shifted next to her and she turned just in time to see him open his eyes. They were aquamarine today. She touched the tip of his nose lightly. "You heard? It sounds like something important."
[Do we have to go?]
"We can wait for him to find us and drag us out of the bed, but I can tell you right now it's not going to be pleasant."
Loki huffed out a laugh and climbed out of the bed.
When they got to the living room, Stark was already up and very unhappy with that fact.
"What's up, Clint?" she asked.
It wasn't Clint who answered, it was Stark. He turned the laptop he was staring at, showing them the headline on the screen. "Fury's dead," he said.