A/N: Apologies for the delay between chapters! We really do love y'all and wanted to get this up sooner, but also wanted these next few chapters to be perfect for you guys. We hope you enjoy and please leave us a review to let us know how we're doing! (This is a bit of a filler chapter, but you should recognize some characters, and Loki will reappear in the coming chapters)
Nancy let out a sigh, her focus entirely on the ceiling above her. She hated being here. Hated being studied, especially by her peers. What did Andrew really think about her, underneath his cool, logical, doctor demeanor? Who was he to judge her? Simply because he was a psychologist? She had her masters in psychology, too. She'd chosen to get her Doctorate in Linguistics instead of psychology. Because she loved words. She adored words. So who was he to judge her?
"Nancy, did you hear me?"
"Hm?" her attention snapped back to the dark man in front of her, "I'm sorry, I didn't."
"I asked what you were thinking. You've been staring at the same spot for..." Dr. Garner checked his watch, "Three minutes and... twenty-eight seconds."
Nancy shrugged and sat up.
"I'm just waiting for time to pass. You know I hate being here. There's nothing wrong with me."
"So you keep insisting." He shifted in his chair to get a better look at her. "How are the nightmares?"
"I wouldn't call them nightmares. Not all of them. Some of them are dreams."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Nancy growled and crossed her arms.
"They're doing fine. I'm fine! You're all being absolutely ridiculous!"
"Because we care about you? Because we want you to be at your best for work?"
Nancy rolled her eyes. She was so ready to be out of there.
"Have you made the chart like I suggested?" Andrew continued, "I'd like to see it."
"I haven't made it." Her tone was flat. Aggravated. Monotone. She wanted him to know how much she loathed these sessions.
Dr. Garner shook his head, grabbed a clean notebook off a nearby table, and handed it to her. "Then make it."
Nancy sighed again and looked down at the clean page. She knew the writing exercise. A visual representation of a mutually acknowledged fact. Well, a fact everyone else mutually acknowledged and were insistent in convincing her of. Hesitantly, she picked up the pen next to her and began to write:
Loki: "Doer of Good and Doer of Evil"
Good: Didn't kill me, healed me
Bad: Killed hundreds of people, brought down the Chitauri, brainwashed good agents, caused those same agents to be killed, destroyed Stark Tower, ripped out a guy's eye, tried to enslave the human race
"And?"
Nancy tossed the notepad onto the table between them, causing it to nearly slide to the floor.
"And the bad outweighs the good. I get it, okay?"
"But do you?"
"Yes!" Nancy placed her head in her hands. She hated talking about this with others. They didn't understand. They'd never understand.
"I think that's enough for today." Dr. Garner stood and led her to the door. "I'll get back to the director with my recommendation."
"There's nothing to recommend. I'm fine!"
"So you keep saying."
With a huff, Nancy stalked out of the room and down the hall. He'd never understand. The things she felt. The things she wanted, desired. All Andrew wanted was to analyze her. To study her like she was some kind of rat. To give his opinion on her state of mental health. She was fine. She had to be fine. Her whole career depended on it.
She walked down the bright corridors alone. Bright, white light glared down at her. White, pristine, official light. All she would ever be was a tech. She knew they'd never send her out into the field again. She'd never have another chance to prove herself, to prove her worth. The hallways grew darker. The halls, smaller. This was where they put all the washed out agents. Those corrupted by the stresses of the field. Those whose minds were as warped and twisted as the people they fought. Those who'd been to battle and watched good men die. Those who "couldn't handle" the stresses of the field. Those who were agents only in name.
She passed by one, an Asian agent. She was rustling through papers with the calm precision acquired by those who worked in this dungeon. Her eyes scanned the papers before her. She was a machine. A machine like all the rest. Nancy pitied her for a moment and moved on, wondering if the poor woman would ever find her way into the field again.
And then, here it was. Her cubicle. Her dusty old monitor sat in the corner, post-it notes scattered along the faux walls. Here was her own personal corner of S.H.I.E.L.D. A cog in the great machine of the agency. Except, in real machines, cogs stop the process when they malfunction. If she wavered, she'd be replaced.
With another sigh, Nancy slumped down into her chair. They didn't need her. She knew that without a doubt. Seven years ago, she sat here, trying to work her way up through the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D. Level 2 and 3 agents were given desk jobs. Sorting through emails and communications, looking for patterns and potential threats. They told her it was only temporary. Until she got her mind all straightened out. But she knew the truth. She'd never find the field again.
Reluctantly, she woke her monitor. She wanted to go home. She should take a trip up to see her mother, she thought, or maybe her sister. Her sister just had a baby. Maybe she needed help. Maybe she'd make a better aunt than an ag–
Hello, what was this?
Nancy leaned closer to her screen. It was an email from Tony Stark to the Director. These emails were supposed to be encrypted. Only the Director had access. How had it managed to slip into her program? One of the agents higher up must have made a mistake. Must have filtered it through the wrong server. Oh, but she couldn't resist. The encryption was already gone. The Director had already read and deleted it... or so he thought. It wouldn't hurt to take a peak, right?
Nicky –
I used to like you, did you know that? Yeah. I really did. But this is the stupidest idea you've ever had. And I do mean ever. In the history of the universe. You're insane, plain and simple. As if the Nuke didn't prove that.
Do you think just because you have a cool eyepatch and a rockin' trenchcoat that you can command me? I think not, Nicky! What is this craziness you're subjecting me to? I can hardly sleep at night, especially knowing he's down there in his cell just waiting to break out and kill us at the dead of night. Why couldn't SHIELD just hold onto him? Huh? Huh? Why me?
Do you know what Reindeer Games (oh, sorry, Loki to you) did to me the other day? He got out! I had to tie the man down, Director. Can you imagine what would have happened if he got to one of the repulsors? I would be disintegrated, that's what!
Don't you roll your eyes at me, old man! I want a full assessment on why he's at my place and not yours. And I want it ASAP.
Affectionately Yours – Tony Stark
What?! He was still on earth? In Stark Tower no less! That was so close! Only a few states away. A weekend trip. She could go on a weekend trip. Yes, it'd be perfect. But, how to get in the door? She could say she wanted to thank Stark for saving her... but that would only give her a few moments. And he'd get suspicious. How to convince him to let her see Loki? Well, if she went as an agent, he'd have to let her in. Yes, that was was on a mission from the Council themselves. A linguist to study the mind of a criminal. She'd note his movements, his gestures, his slightest twitch. She'd get in his head and play a while. All in the name of science. She'd do an ethnograph. That's all. Just an ethnograph. To determine if he was still a threat. At least, that's what she'd tell them.
With one stroke of a key, the email was gone. She'd made sure of that. Erased from every system in S.H.I.E.L.D., as it was supposed to have been in the first place. They'd never know. And they'd never see her coming.