This Would Be the End
Chapter 6
"So, what brought you in today?" Tony was deadpanning, brown eyes imploring the stranger over the purple rims of his sunglasses.
The man before him sputtered nervously, gesturing to his pale blue dress shirt meekly as he said, "Uh, you called me here?"
Tony raised a brow then conceded with, "All right." He flicked his tongue to his lips for a moment. "Attitude; check," he scribbled something down onto his pad of paper.
"Tony," Bruce warned evenly, eyeing the inventor with his brown eyes.
He turned to the man in front of them and leaned his elbows onto his knees.
"What's your name?"
The man swallowed quickly, replying, "Doctor Mateo Menken."
"And your qualifications?" Tony was asking next, not missing a beat.
The man nodded in understanding before saying, "Yes, I'm a psychologist. I earned my doctorate back last fall." He licked his lips and crossed then uncrossed his legs.
"You always this nervous?" Tony was asking and Bruce barked back a scoff, looking at Tony with a hefty glower.
Mateo smiled thinly, but it appeared to be forced. "I'm not often in the presence of true heroes."
"Suck up," Tony grumbled under his breath and Bruce immediately supplied a short kick to Tony's chair leg.
"And you are trained in group therapy?" Bruce asked instead, sending Dr. Menken a polite smile.
The psychologist nodded eagerly.
"Yes, I apologize I couldn't make it to the phone right away when you all called but I'm excellently trained and qualified for this position." He spoke quickly, almost as though rushing would be better for him. Maybe the quicker he was over with this job interview the better, Tony mused to himself sourly.
"And you know this is a delicate case? One in which confidentiality must be strictly enforced?" Bruce asked, tilting his head as he scratched something down onto the paper, etching the pen into the white pages lightly.
"Absolutely," Mateo responded then rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. "I like a challenge." He commented as an afterthought.
"And you think you're ready for this type of challenge?" Tony asked, and Bruce eyed him suspiciously.
The scientist was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"You don't have problems with highly immoral and ethical transparencies? Do you believe that everyone should be treated equally?" Tony bit the end of his pen and stared deeply into Mateo.
Mateo gulped slightly and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck-and he hoped it was only there and not at the front where they could see. Was the room as stuffy now as when he had entered? Oof, maybe this had been a bad idea.
He swallowed a laugh and said, nervously, "Well, we're not protecting Hitler, are we?"
Tony gazed over to Bruce and Bruce sighed, clapping shut his padfolio and rising from his chair.
"That will be all for now, Doctor Menken," he said generously, reaching out to shake the psychologist's hand, whom was shaky and with a confused expression on his face.
"Better luck next time," Tony was remarking over Bruce's shoulder with a glib smile. Bruce led the man to the door and instructed him on how to exit the building.
When he returned to the room, he found Tony already pouring himself another glass of scotch.
"That's the second one in two hours," Tony observed softly, eyes downcast to his glass.
"If you'd have actually met with Howard Stellard, it would have been three," Bruce commented lightly, grabbing a glass and holding it out to Tony. Tony smirked and poured him a drink next.
"Yeah, but that's because he's got my Dad's name. You can't be treated psychologically by your Dad," he made a face, "that's just weird, ew."
"You know, some people would take that as incentive to work on themselves and actually get past their projections," Bruce offered fairly and Tony shook his head regardless.
"Not for me, but, hell, it's been a long time since I was in therapy." He blinked rapidly as the intensity of the drink made its way down his throat.
"Who was the other one?" Tony asked absentmindedly. "The one you and Steve interviewed without me?"
"Bessie Cinch," Bruce informed, taking a swig. "She's a licensed mental health counselor." He smiled happily and took a seat again. "She's got some pretty excellent qualifications." He was continuing but Tony was muttering to himself.
"What?" Bruce asked, looking up and seeing a frown of dismay on the inventor's lips.
"Bessie? What is she, my next bestie? Ugh, no way."
"Tony, we can't keep ruling people out purely based on their names alone." Bruce sighed and his shoulders sagged. "We have to consider who they are as people and whether they're a good fit for every member of our—somewhat dysfunctional—team." Bruce rolled his eyes. "Let's just focus on the next group of them, okay?" He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Just be positive."
"I'm positive Bessie would have sucked." Tony remarked and Bruce became exasperated.
"You didn't even meet her!"
"Didn't have to with a name like that." Tony commented, more bitter, Bruce realized, than usual. The scientist eyed him with trepidation but just as he was about to ask for Tony to clarify what exactly was going on, their next interviewee was clicking their way through the room.
~#*#~
Even with it being noon on a Tuesday, the thunder god felt as though he'd been up all night and his exterior matched that with the way his long hair was crumpled over his features and straggly despite the five showers he had had in the last couple of days. Regardless of his hygiene efforts, it still looked as though he hadn't cleaned himself in over three weeks. His blue eyes lagged with heavy lids as he was fighting to stay awake by his younger brother's bedside.
"Wake up, Loki," he murmured quietly but his heart wasn't in the sentiment.
He wanted Loki to take his time in healing. Because he could wait, Thor, that is. Thor could wait. He could wait until Loki was ready to return to this side of living. Thor knew he might be waiting a very long time for that to happen for his dear sibling but he knew he'd wait for all of eternity if it meant that Loki would find his way back to him, his family and his potential for the future.
Loki had so much potential. It made Thor's nose sniffle with emotion and his eyes to water once again to their own accord. The whites of his blue eyes were red and dry and he hated it as he swiped and rubbed a calloused hand over them again because of how itchy they were but he couldn't seem to stop crying. He didn't think he'd ever stop, sometimes, when the tears would roll down his cheeks and he found himself gasping for air, unable to take in a full breath because his nose was so clogged with snot and the worry and the anxiety sticking to him like maple syrup that Loki might not wake up, Loki might not return to them, Loki might not be in all his full capacities when he awakens again and maybe that first chance they had with him, when he panicked at the other Avengers, maybe that was just a sneak peek into his soul, to remind Thor that Loki was there but maybe he would be gone once again when he woke this time. Because this time he was in a coma, a chemically induced coma, and Thor wasn't sure how comas worked but he hated it, just as much as he hated his emotions for getting the better of him, but this was Loki he was talking and thinking and couldn't stop comparing and dreaming about.
This was his brother.
This was his world.
He had to come back to Thor, right? He had to? Wasn't that just the rules of the universe, carved into stone? Or was Loki destined to always try and defy his older sibling? To be his opposition; to be his enemy? Were these the codes of their relationship-wrought on far before they were ever truly conceived into this world? Were these mannerisms, these behaviors, so ingrained that they could not be overwritten? Were the rules of their relationship scarred into their flesh that no matter how much Thor would find in his chest again more love for Loki—more trust, more faith, more hope—it would never be enough?
Thor squeezed Loki's hand in an effort to reassure himself.
He was still here.
Loki was alive.
He'd wake up from the coma, Thor thought to himself. He'd wake up.
Because Thor willed it so, he would awaken.
The alternative wasn't…could never be an outcome.
Thor rested his head against the cool bedspread of Loki's infirmary bed.
Another nap couldn't hurt, right? Maybe this time he'd find the answers he so desperately sought.
~#*#~
Bright blue heels were clacking against the floorboards as a woman with bleach blonde hair and thick red lips pulled up into Avengers Tower.
She smiled as she briskly passed the two superheroes and held out her hand to each of them, shaking them firmly and with a grip that could break glass.
"Lyncoln Cole, psychologist." Her white teeth could have lit up any dark room and Tony couldn't help but be a tad smitten by her. He widened his eyes to Bruce when she turned to his science bro and made a cross between a flirty and silly expression. Bruce shot him a look to behave and hoped that the message got through to the inventor.
"Pleased to meet you," Bruce was saying and Tony realized he was the only one left still standing so he crumpled into his chair and raised his feet to the table between them.
"What would you like to know about me?" she asked candidly.
"Forward, I like that in a woman," Tony replied casually and Bruce cleared his throat in warning, once again.
"Don't mind him," Bruce apologized frankly. "He's having a day."
"No worries," she responded back. She relaxed into her chair and looked excitedly around the room. "I'm just as excited to be here as anybody else." She smiled warmly.
"Great to hear," Tony mused and Bruce immediately interjected between him, "What modality do you work the most out of?"
"EMDR," she replied right away, explaining, "it stands for eye movement and desensitization and reprocessing therapy. It's a great treatment for those living with post-traumatic stress disorder or, even more generally, those who have undergone trauma of some kind. It can really change the lives of those dealing with the aftermath of trauma for the better." She interlocked her fingers together across her lap.
"And how long have you been doing this therapy?" Bruce asked.
"About five years; I started with clients from veteran hospitals and it really helped to reshape their lives and turn things around for them." She glanced down for a moment then added, "I graduated from Stanford University and went straight into the field as soon as I could. Of course, I did my hours and trainings in the interim. I'm also certified in CPR and I'm working on a third alternative, but relatable, degree."
"Alternative?" Tony asked swiftly and studied her expression haughtily.
"I've always been drawn to engineering but all the mathematics was a little too big brain for me at the time. But I'd love to dabble in the psychology of it by implementing safer precautions and innovating through the processes surrounding the topic." She grinned happily, "To even sub-specialize in something with as much ingenuity as that would be such an incredible honor."
As Tony began to clap back at her level of excitement and interest, Bruce intervened with a diplomatic urgency, hoping to quell the sexual interest taking place in the room, "Could you tell us a little more about yourself?"
"What brought you into exploring this…subject?" Tony asked; eyes intense.
Doctor Cole reacted back with a wry smile.
"I'm a twenty-eight happily married individual who got into psychology after my attempt at studying physics hit a dead end," she smiled, thinking back to her early college days. "I got into the field after I heard about my sister experiencing a trauma and I wanted to learn to help her and others in a similar situation. My sister is my rock and she helped inspire me to volunteer at a shelter for individuals who have gone through domestic violence and to raise my voice for those who couldn't." Her green eyes misted over momentarily before a steely expression settled with a fiery passion in its place. "When my younger brother faced trial for his sexual assault, I saw the pain deep within his eyes. It propelled me further into the field. Of course, I had my own reasons and musings for why I wanted to get into this career path." She let out a slow breath.
"I completed a research study on the aftereffects of trauma and the power of meaning-making in survivor's stories. It was a cross between finding purpose and a state of post-traumatic growth following a life-altering event." She explained, thoughtfully. A shred of dread entered her eyes. "….After my brother passed away, my efforts really increased tenfold. Especially with the knowledge that we're not alone in this universe and after the ramifications of your line of work," she pressed her lips firmly together in a grimace, "no offense, I got a lot more clients worried about the future and trying hard to recover from the past." She mashed together her lips, but no smudges arose from her makeup. "It's been an interesting few years."
A slightly awkward silence landed across the room as everyone thought quietly to themselves.
Tony was rivaling between feeling miffed that this beautiful woman was already taken (so, okay, maybe it had been a few years since his last romantic relationship) and impressed by her honesty and openness to share such commonly considered personal information with them. He wondered how much of it was a ploy to emphasize her humanity or if she was just naturally like this.
Tony sneaked a glance towards Bruce who wore just as a confused and concerned facial expression. His mouth formed a small "O" but before he could administer any further comment, Dr. Cole's cheeks arose a shade of blush.
She chuckled softly and amended, "I'm sorry, that really didn't answer much of your questions, did it?" She let slip a deep breath then tried again, shoulders mildly tense as her black skirt rose slightly. As she pressed the material down to her knees, she continued, "Living in this type of universe is as magical as it is terrifying. There are hundreds more instances of uncertainty of the future and what out there may mean us harm. Civilians are the unfortunate crossfire in the mix, but that shouldn't lessen or invalidate the very same traumas that are occurring for our heroes on the frontlines-the first responders being police officers, paramedics and people like you. It's not easy," Dr. Cole reiterated, "and treatment is hard to come by even in these sets of unique circumstances which shouldn't be the case and unfortunately it still is." Her expression reflected a somber notion.
"If there's one thing I'd want everyone to know is that it's okay to feel hurt. It's okay to be scared and it's more than okay to not know what to do. We are all valid in our experiences and the world, even worlds, can be a cruel place. And at the same time, life isn't only about the suffering: it's about all the beauty, potential, love and warmth, too."
Her gaze had fallen to the side and been brought back up by the end to her interviewers.
Tony let out a long breath and was thankful for his sunglasses because he was pressed to admit that there were tears there from the chosen words she'd used to delicately describe their world as well as better explaining her own.
A remarkable woman, indeed.
"Your husband is very lucky," he murmured out after clearing his throat.
"She is," Dr. Cole corrected slyly.
Tony glanced to Bruce, impressed, as Bruce nodded, saying as he stood, "Thank you, Dr. Cole, for your time."
"It was my pleasure," she replied, giving them each another firm handshake as she click-clacked her way down the hall. Her pink blouse reflected the light as she faded out of view.
"That was impressive," Tony remarked quietly and Bruce nodded his agreement.
"Very," he glanced at the clock. "We've got an hour lunch break before the next professional comes by." He glanced at Tony, again wanting to ask him what was wrong before finding himself saying instead, "Do you want to check on Clint while I visit the demigods?"
Tony mulled it over for a second or two until he agreed.
"Sounds like a plan."
He strode off without a further comment and Bruce tried to breathe past the worries residing in his chest.
~#*#~
The billionaire was balancing a plate of leftover pizza in one hand and a small assortment of fruity drinks-cocktails, really-in the other. Granted, Dum-E was holding the majority of the alcoholic beverages but the principles still stood.
Tony tried to convince his AI, let alone his fellow teammates that everything was okay, everything was going to be okay, but his mask and assurances had run empty and he really didn't know how much of the bitterness was impacting his dissolving mood.
He was trying to keep the faith but it'd been a long three days and between the stress of waiting for a demigod to escape from a coma, trying to cope with the other demigod slowly losing his mind, the sense of urgency Banner had in wanting to find a qualified, effective and presumably competent therapist to provide individual and group therapy to the team and Tony's own sleepless nights and feeling burnt out over everything that had happened-and had yet to happen-he was exhausted and his normal ways to cope made him want to scream, yell, and throw things. The need to destroy and put back together was definitely there but he was struggling with combining his energy and motivation together to make use of it.
For whatever reason, he'd been unable to and so he hadn't slept, he'd barely ate and worry was keeping him away from the demigods.
So having the excuse to check on Clint over the gods was a welcomed distraction because Bruce seemed moderately level-headed and exceedingly optimistic-at least in comparison to Tony's current mental status.
He wondered as he crossed floors of the Tower how much of that was real and how much was a masquerade to other feelings.
Maybe Bruce just did a better job of muting his emotions. Tony sighed; it's probably how he maintained such a chill, mildly anxious point of presence. Inside maybe he was as messed up as the rest of them.
Tony mulled over how emotionally expressive or impassive his other teammates were, comparing it to his own experiences, as he walked into the welcome nook of the archer's bedroom, brows furrowed and lips set in a small pout.
"Someone's been busy," Clint weakly replied, gaze casting over Tony and Dum-E's precarious items.
"Don't tell me you've started without us," Natasha replied with a smirk and a raised brow.
"The party's just getting started," Tony commented, grinning abashedly.
"He's-?" Clint began but stopped at Tony's quick inhale that sounded like a popped tire letting loose air.
"Not that kind of party," he reiterated instead.
A whoosh expelled from Clint's lungs.
"How many days has it been now?" he asked carefully, fearing this line of questioning was on icy water.
Tony waved a hand into the air.
"Let's not think about that right now," he saddled himself into a chair in the area by Clint's bedside. "How are you doing, Legolas?"
Clint glanced at Tasha, who gave him an encouraging look, before turning back to the inventor.
"As good as I can be given the circumstances."
"Scale of one to ten? One being Loki and ten being Th-? No, that doesn't make sense. How about ten being the sun? It's a nice day out."
"It's raining."
"But," Tony pointed out, it becoming clearer and clearer he was already tipsy, "the sun's still there. It's just hidden." He burped and thought. "Actually, I suppose the comparison still stands. Thor is the sun, isn't he?"
He didn't wait for the other two to make any remarks as he continued, not seeing them share a look, "Thor is the sun. He's overly happy, positive. He likes gold and red. The sun is on the same color spectrum as gold which…is really yellow." Tony's mouth opened in surprise as a realization dawned on him. "He's like the demigod equivalent of a golden retriever!" Tony looked up at them, one finger out as he thought.
"How much have you had to drink, exactly?" Clint was asking as Natasha's green eyes squinted at the inventor, brows coming together in what could only ever be concern.
"That, Clint, is not necessary information you need to know," he said, tossing back another drink.
"That's enough for now," Natasha said carefully, taking a few of the glasses away from the philanthropist's vicinity.
"Hey!" Tony spat but he couldn't help and notice a part of himself was glad. "Those are mine." He hiccupped.
"And now they're ours," Natasha flashed the briefest of smirks at the inventor.
He sighed, stretching tired arms over his head.
He glanced at his watch and noticed he had only ten minutes left. Even as a feral part of him wanted to still ask the archer twenty questions he may not even be able to answer-why, for one, how, too, and what the hell was he thinking at all-but it wasn't the time.
Still: it wasn't the time.
"I gotta get back," he said off-handedly as he neared the doorway.
"What are you boys getting yourselves into?" Natasha asked, a sparkle in her eye with waves of curiosity coursing through her.
"It's confidential," Tony said, adding shortly thereafter, "sort of. If your memory isn't as bad as mine, you'll figure it out."
He glanced at Clint then slapped the edge of the door as he hurried out.
If he was lucky he'd only be a few minutes late to the next interview.
He hoped he'd make it and get away with being incapacitated.
But then again he was pretty sure he'd be shit outta luck for the latter.
~#*#~
Tony had managed to stumble into two tables, one chair and the last wall but he was sitting in the back of the room now, fighting sleep as Bruce and Steve sat up front with their next candidate before them.
A man, with greying black hair, sat lounging carefully in the chair, one brown pant leg over the other and sharp, blue eyes locked behind a thick pair of glasses. He wore a dark blue tie and appeared comfortable in the given setting which Tony felt gave him an air of suspicion. But maybe it was between the way the room spun that made him see double that warped his mind.
Steve, as it were, had tense shoulders and exuded the presence of uncertainty.
Tony, too, found that odd.
What exactly had he missed?
"How long have you been in work with them?" Steve said in a measured tone. He was trying to be calm and diplomatic as Bruce's eyes were sharp, identifying any other peculiarities in the situation.
Tony felt a pounding headache come on as the man before them chastised, "A little over a year."
His voice was lower than the inventor had anticipated but he managed not to miss the ferocity in the stranger's narrowed eyes.
"And you don't think there's a conflict of interest?" Steve replied measurably.
Anxiety peaked in the billionaire.
Who were they dealing with again?
As if answering his innermost thoughts the man said, "Only if you have something to hide," he pulled out a thin cigarette from his pocket, turning it into his mouth and holding it between slightly yellowed teeth.
"Do you mind?" he asked, already reaching for his lighter as Tony replied scathingly from the back.
"Very," he clapped his hands together, the world still wobbling. "Well, it's been great, I think we've heard everything we need." Tony gestured to the door. "Jarvis, will you lead him out?"
"Very well, sir," his AI replied, lighting up the path for the man to take.
The man shot Stark a dirty look as he picked up his black leather briefcase and began his trek. He paused in the doorway when Bruce's words met his ears, "Don't wander off."
The man turned to perk a brow and huffed and Tony immediately supplied, once he was out of earshot, "Jarvis, double security measures."
"Of course, sir."
Tony shot a frenzied, nauseated stare at his teammates.
"What the hell was that about?" his tone was clipped and low, practically demanding an explanation.
"SHIELD infiltration." Steve said softly, looking to Bruce.
Bruce sighed, "We probably should have expected this." He wracked a hand down his face, looking both older and more stressed than he had before their lunch break.
Tony felt his throat clench-hoping this didn't mean his colleague, his friend, had uncovered worse news when seeing the demigods.
Tony flexed his fingers, their itch to be useful and occupied overwhelming him temporarily as dots swam in his vision.
"How bad?" he asked so softly he was sure he hadn't said anything at all.
"They're on alert," Steve supplied, eyeing the inventor.
"You don't think-" Tony began but Bruce cut him off.
"We've got to be more careful." Bruce looked to Tony. "Make sure you're a little more thorough in the background checks." It would have been an insult if Bruce didn't seem so concerned. "We'll have to run scans tonight to see if anything suspicious is being documented through their technological database. If even one person says something, hints at something-" Bruce trailed off.
"You've got to be all in on this, Tony," Steve said solemnly.
The inventor swallowed, a steely expression on his face. "I am."
"Then Natasha and I need to pay another visit," Steve began with determination.
"I can make a bug to search through their computer history," Tony divulged helpfully.
Steve looked to Bruce, "That could work."
Bruce nodded slowly. "We've got one last interview. Steve, take Natasha with you as you go, Tony and I will meet you there later." Bruce eyed the inventor. "You need a drink," he stopped, adding, "of water." He motioned to the mini fridge. "There's bottles in there."
"I know, I'm the one who stocked it," Tony teased glibly before fishing around the inside of the cool container. "It'll only take me a few minutes to bug their system," he added towards Steve, even with his back towards the super soldier he could practically see Steve's stiff shoulders lower slightly, somewhat reassured.
"We'll see you there," he said, backing out of the room.
Tony shrugged, throwing a glimpse towards Bruce, "Who's next?"
"Last one for today: Miranda Lore," Bruce said once he could decipher his handwriting.
"One more," Tony exhaled. "Then we're done."
"Let's hope," Bruce warned in a grumble, miffed at what, exactly, was unclear.
Tony agreed regardless, setting a heavy, aching head to his curled knuckles.
Just one more, he thought. Let's make it count.
~#*#~
"Tasha, need you," came the words out of the super soldier's mouth as his head popped into the archer's bedroom before quickly disappearing out of sight again.
Troubled but not showing it, or at least only intrigue to Clint, the red haired assassin got up from her seat, brushed off her pant legs, nodded to her peer with a thin, grimace of a smile and headed out the door after the older gentleman.
"What's up?" she asked quietly, glancing over her shoulder at a privacy she clearly felt was being intruded upon.
"We need to deal with SHIELD." Steve stated evenly, eyes betraying the chaos of his emotions.
"Again?" she questioned, head tilting and shifting her gaze from a smoldering intensity to one of interest and curiosity. "What's gone wrong this time?"
"Infiltration," Steve replied, pausing for a moment. "It's…well," Steve began but his face already broke into a smirk, he knew how smart his teammates were, and he didn't think he'd have to spell it out for them. "You remember when the team spoke with Clint last? How we breeched the discussion of getting help for ourselves—from outside sources?" Steve glanced around the hall. "I can't really explain what we've set in motion right this minute, so you'll just have to trust us."
"I'm not exactly in the trusting profession," Natasha pointed out but her green eyes sparkled with adrenaline. "But I do like a good mystery," she smiled with amusement. "When do we leave?"
"Now," Steve said, already hurrying towards the stairs.
Natasha kept pace with him.
"I do appreciate these adventures of ours," she remarked mildly; and they were soon out the door.
~#*#~
New York City, eight years after the alien invasion with Loki and his army spewing from the light blue sky, really wasn't all that different from the New York City that had existed the years before that fateful event. If anything, the buildings had dared to become even taller and businesses of local shops and big brand name stores still had lines of people flowing down the streets. People would wait hours for the satisfaction of their long-winded coffee orders and would continue to come by again and again the next day despite the crowds. Barbershops held kid painted signs of the Avengers logos, reminding the heroes, when they did venture out into the world, that they were seen, heard, appreciated and loved.
At least, that's what they tried to tell themselves, even when they struggled to tell it to the mirror before them. Let alone to each other.
Steve thought maybe it would give them all a big head-and they didn't need that in competition to the confidence of the billionaire.
Natasha didn't mind it though, she even kind of relished in it. She knew she was more of the unseen remainders of the team with Clint, too, being assassins and all, even if her multitude of false identities had been leaked when they'd managed to take SHIELD out of Hydra control, which wasn't something she thought of too often about anyways.
Things hadn't been exactly the same since then and SHIELD was falling apart from the division and war within itself that she knew it wasn't going to last all that much longer. The not knowing who to trust and always looking over your shoulder hadn't necessarily bothered Natasha and Barton but it was getting to be more tiresome and achy than it had ever been before.
Natasha wished for days where she could take a deep breath and know that it was okay to drop her mask of blankness because she was in the comfort of her own people. And wasn't that some reason why she kept doing what she did? For family? For togetherness?
She'd certainly never had this opportunity back in Russia where she was programmed, manipulated and curated towards a cause that never struck fear into her body to begin with. She'd been folded up into layers of aggression, control and making something of herself out of the nothing they had ingrained thickly into her skull.
While SHIELD was crumbling under their feet as they stepped inside the building, hanging on by only a thin strand, they tried to make the most of it. Natasha didn't mind being an unseen force to the public, even if now more than ever she was exposed and raw, and she appreciated the fact that she had managed to somehow find her people and the people she cared about and loved, even.
Sure, Clint had been a bit of a dumbass here and there but weren't all friends at some point? She knew she'd stick by him, there was no other question.
So when SHIELD was threatening to stomp into their family-she had no choice but to protect and care for the things she loved.
She'd made it pretty clear to the two agents turned EMS personnel the first time she'd spoken to them with Steve on Sunday. She almost smirked now at the fear that was in their eyes not because of what she was but who she was. There was some satisfaction to be had yet, she thought.
As their shoes made clipped clapping sounds against the tile, Natasha eyeballed the long, hidden away meeting rooms. Interrogation rooms, more so, Natasha observed and a flash of cold water anxiety swam through her.
If anyone found out that they were housing Loki in their tower, there was no doubt in her mind that he'd be sectioned off and held in a cell to be questioned, poked, prodded and potentially even traumatized in order to extract the answers the agents sought-no matter what circumstances that might ignite or the dangerous wonderings that could evoke. Humans when hurt and angry and afraid, were dangerous. Natasha knew this as much as her next teammate. Bruce, especially.
They wouldn't understand and they would, potentially, either sweep Clint onto a pedestal or reject him for being the one to do everything that they had only ever imagined in their minds.
Neither would be helpful for her or for her close friend and she knew she was only one of the few (besides the team) stepping in between SHIELD and him and she was determined to do everything she could to keep it that way. There was no way she was going to let some buffoon from SHIELD integrate their way towards hurting her friend or daring to hurt even the demigod that had started everything to begin with.
She wasn't angry enough now to call him their prisoner and it didn't even sound right going through her mind either, so she'd been on edge and just…trying to understand what exactly had happened and why and how and where it meant they were all heading now.
The notion that they'd added a new teammate was very new and unexplored… maybe even Natasha wished it would have remained that way, but things were different now and there were new possibilities ahead that she could never have properly prepared for or was ever trained to handle in the years prior.
Alien species, alien armies, demigods living for centuries yet still holding some ounces of humanity, dug deep into her soul no matter how minimal it appeared on her outside. This was never exactly what she was built to do.
But she didn't have a choice but to radically accept what was happening and try to figure out a way, a path, forwards.
She wasn't going to abandon her family now. She wasn't going to leave them in the dust and ride off into the sunset. She was in this, no matter for how long or for how dark the road would take, she was in it and she wanted it, wanted to be, and she was ready to do everything it took to fight for her happiness and the health of her teammates.
That included all of her teammates now. Although she didn't know how, she knew that one day she'd figure out why Clint did what he did, and she'd find some way of unlocking an avenue in her heart to forgive him for his actions. She knew they had to work together, and they had to be there like mountains for one another. Maybe they'd erode a little, maybe part of their rocks would shimmy away and off into the rough of the ocean, but they'd still stand. They'd still remain. They were a team. They had no other option.
That's why when Natasha's green eyes settled upon that familiar redhead and the uncertain spiky blonde, she set her face into a neutral expression with a raise of a well-fashioned brow, her suit almost adding another layer of skin to her body like she'd been made out of plastic, her arms crossing over her waist. While she may have been trying hard to conceal her whirling emotions (and she was inevitably successful of it) she knew these two idiots wouldn't notice as they were already shitting their pants, eyes large and wide.
"Our paths have crossed again," she mused lowly and the whispering the agents were engaged in immediately stopped.
The spiky blonde was the first to roll blue eyes once towards Steve, then Natasha then back to the super soldier.
"We haven't tol-" she began but was cut off with a shrug and crossed armed Steve Rogers.
Steve eyeballed Natasha easily and whispered lowly, "Which one do you think did it?" He smiled thinly as a polite gesture while Natasha's brow raised one bit further.
"Isn't it obvious?" she remarked, pointing towards the redhead who had skittering eyes glancing at the exit doors and wondering if he could make a break for it.
The blonde sputtered and looked towards him and they met gazes for a split second.
"You didn't?" she began and the blush of embarrassment that landed upon the hue of the man's cheeks made her chortle in fear.
"You asshole!" she exclaimed and fiery eyes found the two Avengers.
"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't think-"
"But you did," Steve implored, pointing to the redhead.
"And now it's time you undid it," Natasha mused softly, handing a device over to the agent.
"It can't be undone," he threatened in a grumble but he put in his information into the device and deleted the entry he had made. "I didn't tell your god damn secret." He advised; defiant eyes afire. "I left out who it was." He added as an afterthought.
"The fact that you let it slip it was someone at all interfered with our first arrangement," Natasha described knowingly. "Or have you forgotten the meeting we had with you then?"
"The rules were pretty clear," Steve added. "You'd be given ten thousand dollars for your silence and you'd make no documentation about what happened at all." Steve looked to Natasha. "How should we take it from here?"
The agents broke out into a cold sweat and Natasha smirked in anticipation.
"I have a few ideas." She stated calmly.
She knew, just as much as Steve did, that they weren't going to break noses or kneecaps or anything to that degree.
But… these agents didn't know that, thought Natasha with a wry smile.
~#*#~
Miranda Lore was in over her head, she realized, by the time she had stepped outside of her black Sedan and walked her way into a heavily guarded Avengers Tower. The whole prospect of the idea was incomprehensible and gave her a large headache, or maybe that was from the night out she'd had last night with some close friends. Either way, it was throbbing in time with her heartbeat and she wanted nothing more than a bottle of Advil, a nice soap opera and the warmth of her lavender scented blanket as she propelled herself into a corner of her couch and nibbled on some chocolate.
She was three steps ahead of herself, trying to pinch down the last details of the interview she was about to land, even as she got mildly distracted with all the trinkets, awards and bottles of alcohol practically framed in each room through the narrowed hallways.
"Miranda?" someone was asking from the ceiling and she couldn't help but jump-her waist length black hair popping up at the same time she entered the air.
"Oh my god," she muttered, looking around for a camera or a trace of where that voice had come from. "Are you-?" she began but never finished.
"I am Jarvis," the voice said with amusement. At least, Miranda thought she heard amusement. It was all very strange, really.
"I am Mr. Stark's AI," he continued in an elegant voice. "If you would please follow the lights on the flooring I can lead you to the meeting room." Soon after, a set of pale yellow lights blinked on in the edges of the floor panels and guided her way through.
She was feeling a little lost as she'd imagined Dorothy had, but she managed.
She was just telling herself again in her head, repeating the mantra over and over, that she had this when her breath flew out from her from the sight of two well-known superheroes in the flesh and she tripped forwards, landing into a wheelie chair that naturally whooshed out from under her weight.
She clattered to the floor, her small bag skidding across the wood as she lay in a heap of humiliation and despair. She felt like a small child then and pouted swiftly before shaking herself off, sighing and reaching out a hand.
"Miranda Lore," she responded and accepted, with some spinning of the world around her, Tony Stark's hand.
The Avenger helped her back to her feet where she continued to curse her non-slick resistant sneakers and berated herself internally for spending her money on this pair rather than the heels, however misplaced, she could have gone with instead.
If she was going to fall it wouldn't hurt to do it in fashion.
Settling into her seat with slightly shaking hands, Miranda smiled forwards, looking to the two men before her.
"I'm not usually this clumsy," she stuttered slightly and set fidgeting hands into her lap. "I'm a licensed clinical social worker," she added, as though she could read the question upon their faces. "I work primarily with group settings and have been licensed and practicing in a private office for about four years now. I graduated near the top of my class, I was about five away, and I spent some time outside the city and over in the West to gain more experience working with culturally diverse and indigenous populations." She smiled in fondness, a spark returning to her eyes.
"But I'd be curious to learn more in person about what this job entails that you're looking for specifically?" she asked then, a white pair of front teeth pricking at her polished lip. "Unless you're unable or unwilling to let me know that information, which I completely understand and respect." She breathed out slowly; this was going all right, all things considered.
Tony shared a look with Bruce and leaned forwards saying, "Do you have any knowledge about SHIELD?"
Bruce made a sound of surprise or annoyance, the familiarity of it unknown to Miranda who just looked puzzled back at Tony and sputtered, "Should that mean something to me?"
"Nope," Tony replied, leaning back slowly. "The less you know…"
Bruce interrupted, "Do you have any experience working with highly controversial populations?"
Miranda frowned slightly and paused to think.
"Not particularly," she admitted slowly. "But I'm willing to learn."
"You realize you'll be held to a level of privacy and confidentiality than most other positions have likely prepared you for?" Bruce edged forwards reluctantly but knowing it was necessary.
Miranda nodded. "That's okay." She stopped herself and relented, "As long as clients are safe than I don't see a problem with it."
"And if they weren't?" Tony asked with a dark expression looming into his eyes.
She pursed her lips, considering her situation. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then wedged in, "These are no easy circumstances, working with superheroes, so I think I'd have to consider the very real dangers and implications of the entire universe residing upon the shoulders of gifted people such as yourselves very carefully. I'd have to have formed a tight professional relationship between every one of you, so that you can trust in me and that I can trust in you. We'd establish one relationship as being between myself and you and another as yourselves and your teammates. Both relationships would be earned over time and through various team building activities that I would lead. I would gather more information about each of you and whatever we say within sessions would be kept confidential. We'd have to be able to rely on one another for the truth and the very real threats that may exist in our worlds. I'd require your input and guidance wading through these churning waters as I don't have prior experience in these matters," Miranda blushed lightly again. "I think for now an outpatient type of environment is more than okay and I'd be willing to house here," she waved a hand quickly, "only if that level of cooperation and transparency would be helpful for all involved. I'm not sure what this whole SHIELD thing is but maybe being under the radar more would help? And one way of achieving that could be housing me here, that way I'm not running into anyone or anything that may try to sway me otherwise. Or anything that could mean harm for me either." She pursed her lips, blinking her emotions away quickly. "It's just a thought, at least." She smiled minutely then swept a hand through her hair. "Is there anything else you'd like me to cover?"
"How well can you work in high stress environments?" Bruce slowly asked, still seeing the darkness in Tony's eyes and wondering to himself what was occurring in his teammate's mind.
Miranda tilted her head then said, "Pretty well. I find making healthy boundaries and having plenty of coping strategies and down time helps relieve any of the burnout and intensity of high stake settings."
Her blue eyes searched Tony's face for a moment, sensing something was off.
When his gaze managed to swivel to hers she asked quietly, "Are you all right?"
His lip upturned slightly at the corner and Bruce studied him as well as the scenario inquisitively.
Tony shook his head, bared a grin and said, "Yep, nothing to worry about here." He shot a look towards Bruce and clapped his hands, wincing a little at the crack they made through the room. "Well, it's been great but we have some hero matters to attend to," he glanced at Miranda, her eyes still searching his face, "Jarvis will help see you out."
He'd already begun to stand when Bruce began thanking her for her time.
"That's all for now," Bruce administered in a minor gruff, an effort of haste and dim contemplation in his gestures.
Once she had left squeaking down the hall, he turned to Tony.
"What do you-?" he began but the inventor was already cutting him off.
"Lab, now." He retorted harshly instead. "Gotta get that bug going," pain made the corners of his eyes crumple and he looked as though he had aged ten years in twenty minutes.
"One thing at a time, Tony," Bruce said knowingly, his expression slipping back into melancholy.
"It's not f—"
"I know." Bruce whispered. "But it has to be enough for now."
"…and when it's not?"
"Then we deal with it as it comes."
"I hate waiting like this, I feel so… so…" Tony shuddered, his shoulders shaking for a moment, all hope having faded from his vision and the weight of a hundred suns on his back.
"Useless," Bruce deadpanned and rested a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I know." He let out a long breath. "I know."
He didn't have anything else to utter, any other platitude or hopeful statement. He just agreed with the inventor and the notion that Bruce didn't have anything uplifting to say, anything worthy of mentioning, it struck more fear into the billionaire's heart, chest and throat than he thought was ever possible.
If this was it, was this the end?
Or was something leering around the corner ahead?
Would they make it there? Or would it all end here?
Tony wasn't sure what he wanted to find out first. But it wasn't this. It just wasn't this.
A/N: Welp, hi there! So, here's some Christmas magic that I managed to get out for you all! I sincerely apologize profusely for the fact that it's been over A YEAR since I updated this fic. Ooof. This chapter took a long time too as I started it back at the end of Sept (I went through a 3 month writer's block within the summer) then somewhat through October and then the anxiety of it all and the guilt of not having written for it (as well as my other stories) took over and the avoidance behaviors kicked in and that's how we wound up here. Gwah!
But I'm here now so that's what counts. I hope you managed to enjoy this chapter as either a long time reader or a new one! There were quite a few scenes to cover in this chapter and the interviews were something different than what I've presented before in this fic so if you have any suggestions or tips or tricks, feel free to leave them in a review! I can probably edit it again in the future to line up better if need be. I may not take all of your suggestions however I'd appreciate any feedback! I just realized in Miranda's part that housing the therapists there might actually be a better idea than risking their safety and SHIELD's infiltration otherwise. Maybe it'd make it less suspicious and all. I'm definitely gonna have that as a discussion in the next part and who knows how long Loki will be in a coma for. Definitely covering that next chapter too. I really just wanted to get this out since it's been forever and it's been lingering at the back of my mind eating away at my soul so there ya go, ahaha. I will be updating D&D within a few days as well.
Thank you so much for reading! I have so much in store for you all out there. If you have any ideas as for what Loki may have been doing for 8 years or why he arrived back on Earth, leave them in a review or PM me. :D Thanks so much for favoriting, stopping by and maybe leaving a review! Here's hoping to a better year next year, can't believe we're almost done with 2020! Thank god though. Ahaha. Any who, thanks so much again. I'm trying to stay true to myself and where I want the fics to go and hoping for the best beyond that even if it effects or limits the broadness of my audience. I want to go with my gut instinct and so far this is it. :]
Stay safe!
Written: 9.22.2020; 9.23; 9.24; 10.6; 12.23, 12.24.2020
Edited: 9.23.2020; 9.25; 10.1; 10.6; 10.30; 11.26; 12.23, 12.24.20
Background music: "I am enough" by Cimorelli; "Bored" by Tessa Violet; "This Time" by Mandy Harvey; "Wolves" by Emma Blackery; "The Wreckage of Our Hearts" by Sleeping Wolf; various other songs and "Hallucinogenics" by Matt Maeson; "Head above water" by Avril Lavigne.