Natasha knocked on the door of Loki's cabin, then – when she got no answer – she pushed the door open and went in. She assumed he went back to sleep, but no, he was sitting on the cot with his legs drawn up and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, or perhaps the camera in the corner. SHIELD didn't believe in the concept of privacy of their employees as long as they stayed on the agency's grounds. Or outside, for that matter. Then again, it might not be that far-fetched precaution if one's employees were former criminals more often than not.

"Why didn't you answer when I knocked?"

He shrugged. "This show is getting boring quickly. I'm glad it's coming to an end soon. Is it time?" he asked.

"It's always time for something. You have something specific in mind?" she shot back, sitting down on the lone chair in the cramped room.

"With Selvig, you verified that the method of removing the mind control works. You don't need me to be there when Barton wakes up. So all that's left for you is to bring me to my new prison, wherever it might be."

She sat back and regarded him curiously. Was it only a volley to get a reaction out of her or did he really not grasp Fury's intentions fully? Then again, it wouldn't be out of character for Nick to purposefully keep Loki in the dark for as long as he could.

"Do not worry, I will not fight you," he added. "Director Fury kept his word. I know my end of the bargain."

She smiled at him deviously. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're afraid of facing Barton in his clear mind," she said, changing the subject. Either he would figure it out on his own, or she – or Fury – would tell him, eventually, but for now, the longer he stayed oblivious, the more she could find out about what she was going to be working with in the immediate future.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't see the point," Loki scoffed.

"You don't? How about a chance to explain yourself? That alone should mean a lot."

"I did what I did. It hardly matters why."

"Oh, but it does. It matters a whole lot. There's a major difference between being forced into doing something and doing something out of maliciousness or for personal gain."

"Not in Asgard."

"Yeah, I got the vibes."

His lips drew into a thin line and he pulled his sleeves down over his palms. There was something nervous about the gesture. His previous outfit had covered more of his flesh, to a degree that looked almost obsessive. It was not a cultural thing – Thor had no issues parading around with his arms and throat exposed, while Loki's outfit featured a high collar and long sleeves and multiple layers of leather and fabric. It wasn't also body shyness, at least not only that, Loki hadn't acted overly bashful when he had to take off his clothes in the infirmary. That was a controlled environment though. A place where one was expected to be vulnerable. This was different. In his mind, he was still among the enemies, now without even that small bit of protection that his armor offered before.

"Hey, may I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Aren't failing invasions and answering questions the only things I've been doing here so far?"

"Okay, fair point," she chuckled. "But it's not one of those."

He raised an eyebrow.

"That thing about lips and caves… What was that for?" she asked.

He gritted his teeth and looked away. "How do you think?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

"Is it important in any way?"

"I don't know," she said. "Whatever it was for, seems like a pretty serious deal. I want to know what I can expect of you. You know, in general. The scale of the issue, so to speak."

He turned his eyes away with a sigh.

"Did you try to conquer some other planet?"

He shook his head.

"Murdered someone important?"

He looked at her with disapproval, as if that was some ridiculous notion.

"Well, I did," she said, as a peace offering.

"I know," he said darkly, then noticed her glare and added, "Barton was very informative."

"You asked Clint about me?"

"I asked him about people who might pose the greatest danger to my plan. Your name was the first one he mentioned."

She tilted her head to the side and hummed in approval.

Loki huffed out a laugh and shifted where he sat, settling closer to the wall. "I messed with the Dwarves of Nidavellir," he said.

"What?" she blurted. Despite coming together to form a proper sentence on the surface, the words made very little sense on their own.

"That's what the punishment was for. I was trying to stop them from finishing Thor's hammer."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It was ages ago. As you probably noticed, I didn't succeed. I didn't try to do that again either."

It happened ages ago, yet the memory stayed fresh enough to come up as the first point of reference.

"Is that a common thing in Asgard? To punish people like that?"

He shook his head. "Odin decided his other methods weren't effective and that I needed to be taught a lesson."

"How does that work? Is it some magical procedure?"

He blinked at her. "Why are you asking me this? Are you trying to find how best to contain me?"

"That's not something we do here on Earth, no matter who it is."

"Then why?"

"No reason. I'm just curious."

"That's a weird thing to be curious about."

"Well, you wouldn't be the first person to tell me my interests are, uhm, unordinary."

He took a deep breath and ran his thumb over his lips idly, then quickly pulled his hand down the moment he realized what he was doing. "The thread they used was enchanted and so were the shackles they blocked my magic with so I couldn't heal or break my way out. The rest was just as non-magical as you can imagine."

She could, in fact, imagine that, and that wasn't painting a nice picture in her head. "How long did it last?"

"Just a couple of years," he said dismissively and something twisted in her guts uncomfortably. "The All-Mother managed to sway Odin to cut the sentence short."

"How long was it meant to be?"

"An age."

"An age like a hundred years?" she asked, her voice carefully vacant.

"Is there any other definition?"

She swallowed the bile that rose from her stomach. "Well, a couple," she forced out through her teeth, already regretting ever touching the subject.

His shoulders slumped and he tipped his head back, resting it against the metal wall of the cabin, the cold, overhead light bringing out the paleness of his skin and the little wrinkles around his eyes and in the corners of his mouth. Marks for someone who more often smiled than frowned, despite all odds.

He still looked tired and, just for a moment, she could see his true age in the sharp lines.

"That's interesting," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

"What is?"

"The All-Speak usually conveys the desired meaning."

"The what?"

"The magic I use to be able to communicate with you now, while each of us speaks our own language."

"So you're not speaking English right now?"

He huffed out a laugh. "No."

She frowned. "But I can see your lips moving. If that's some magic making a translation, shouldn't there be a difference?"

"Minds are feeble things. We often see what we want to see and not what's truly there."

"That's some deep, philosophical shit, right there," she jeered.

He laughed then, an actual, amused laugh.

I could get used to that, she thought.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Did you come here just to interrogate me about my long-gone past?"

"Well, I came to take you out for another meal. Doctor's orders, remember?"

"I don't need to be coddled like a sickly child."

"Oh, is that so? Would you go to the mess hall on your own if I weren't here to drag you out?"

"Fine," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Let us go."

Loki's plate looked a bit more conventional this time, after trying every dish available he already figured what he did and what he didn't like. It turned out he was a fruit and veggies kind of guy and she was torn between thinking it fit him perfectly and not at all.

"Hey, weird question."

"Mmm?" he hummed, his mouth full of the spring roll he just shoved there without bothering to chew it first.

"How do you eat with your lips stitched shut?"

He swallowed, took a sip of his juice and then said, airily, "You don't."

On second thought, she really shouldn't have asked.

"We will be going back to New York once Clint wakes up and the doctors say it should be any minute now."

The carrier had landed back on the surface of the ocean, a while ago. The danger had been averted and they didn't need the maneuverability badly enough for it to be worth burning all the tons of fuel the craft took to stay airborne every hour. The deck was still rather drafty and the wind made her teeth clatter, despite the jacket she wrapped around herself.

Loki didn't seem to mind it at all.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh, what?"

"I thought you were assigned to be my… guard."

"I was."

"So why did that change?"

"It didn't. You're coming with us. The Helicarrier is scheduled for docking and maintenance come tomorrow morning and the staff will be placed on a leave, so you can't stay here, even if you wanted. But I can't imagine why you would."

"I can think of a few reasons," he said quietly, his fingers running along the edge of his access card. It was a symbol of a certain amount of freedom after all and he expected to lose it once the situation has changed.

"Okay, I can't take this anymore. Fury is not going to lock you up. He already negotiated a full pardon on the grounds of your cooperation and the invaluable intel you've provided. For now, it demands a certain level of oversight, as in, you'd have to report to your CO – that's me – bi-weekly and inform SHIELD each time you're leaving the city, but other than that – you'll be free to go. Fury already has the documents drafted and he will call you in to sign them before we leave. So, here, you can stop running in circles now."

He blinked at her, utterly confused and she burst out laughing. "Seriously, the stupefied face does not go well with your complexion."

"Free to go where?"

"Anywhere? That's what being free means, right? Or was there another translation issue?"

He shook his head and brushed his hair away from his face. The shower she suggested – ordered, really – him to take had washed out whatever space hair styling products he'd used to keep it in place. His face was now framed with a mess of dark curls and the wind wasn't doing anything to help to rectify the issue. If anything, along with the wardrobe change, it would make recognizing him for the guy who terrified a crowd in Germany almost impossible.

"A fair warning though. Fury will want to recruit you. An even fairer one – you can say no."

He nodded, absently, still processing her previous words.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked, and immediately realized how ridiculous the question was. He was an alien, a literal one, from somewhere far away in space, as easy as it was to forget that right now.

He shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

"I would stay away from the life of crime if I were you, as I will be, in fact, watching you closely," she supplied lightly and he glowered at her. "You can make Fury assign you a room in the Long Island facility though. Or make him pay for a few weeks of a hotel."

He nodded, unconvinced. His negotiation position was already volatile as it was, without any extra demands on his side, and he seemed to be aware of that.

The door to their left opened and an agent stepped out, pulling his jacket closer around himself against the wind. "Fury is summoning you. Both of you. He is super pissed at you for turning your communicator off."

She plucked it out of her ear a few hours back. Despite being a piece of state-of-the-art spy equipment, the earpiece was uncomfortable to wear for a prolonged period of time. She assumed Fury could always summon her through the PA system. Which he was probably trying to do, but he didn't think she would be foolish enough to wander out to the deck.

She wouldn't do that normally, but Loki looked like he could use some fresh air.

"We're coming," she growled. "Did he say what it was about?"

"Barton has woken up," the agent said and smashed the door behind himself.

It was Loki's turn to groan.

Clint's eyes brightened up the moment she arrived in his room in the infirmary and then immediately turned dark and narrow, as Loki crossed the threshold.

"What is he doing here?"

"He came to say sorry," she chirped with an innocent smile, then turned to Loki, "Didn't you?"

Loki rolled his eyes.

"There's one thing I want from him," Clint snarled and pulled himself up on his elbows, then dragged his legs over the edge of the bed. "And it's to roll over and die. Preferably right here and now."

Loki's face stayed perfectly neutral and he didn't say a word.

"Clint, I know it's hard and I know you're angry, but want you to focus, just for a moment," she said placatingly. "How about we sit and talk and then you can decide who deserves to die and who doesn't?"

Clint pushed himself off the bed, walked a couple of unsteady steps towards Loki, swung his arm and clocked Loki across the cheek. The attack was telegraphed and easy to avoid, yet Loki didn't move, not even an inch, allowing Clint to drive it home.

Clint jiggled his hand. "Now, we can talk."