There's No You - Frank Sinatra
"Christiane," she whispered out, holding her hand out to her sister, a reflection in the darkness.
Anya tried to grasp to her sister, "Christiane take my hand!", she shouted as her sister looked past her, silent.
"It's me! It's me, Anya! Take my hand please!" she shouted, a roar of wind filling her ears as she felt herself being pulled away from her sister.
She opened her eyes again, surrounded by the golden hall of the Asgardian palace.
"Heimdall, what's going on?" she whispered, trying to understand what was happening as she waited for a response. Silence filled her ears, she bowed her head down, almost defeated, taking to the stairs, guards oblivious to her as she ran past them.
"Loki?" Anya walked up the stairs, standing by Loki's bedroom door. Furniture strewn everywhere, his fists tightly knotted as she saw his back rising and falling with each breath of anger.
"Loki, I'm here, look at me," she whispered, walking up behind him as she tried to face him, seeing his eyes pained, in tears and indignation.
She reached out to him, her own hand falling through as if she was made out of nothing. She looked to herself in shock and awe, eyes moving back to Loki as she stood in front of him.
"Why can't you see me?", she whispered. "Why now?"
Her hand went to his cheek, a flash of images of him locked in a cell with the same emotions, back against the wall looking into the abyss of emptiness. Another image flashed, seeing him stand at the feet of a Titan, his eyes like a wild animal, an icy blue, a scepter in his hand.
She felt tears in her eyes, trying to grasp him, "No! Loki, no! Please! Don't do it! I'm here! Look at me!"
Anya felt herself being pulled into a wind behind her, arms extending as she tried to hold onto Loki.
"You're alright!" Val shook Anya as she scrambled in the duvet screaming, tears soaking the pillow. "Anya! Wake up!"
Anya's eyes flew open as she immediately gripped out to the empty pillow beside her, gasping for air.
"Anya, look at me." Val grabbed her as she hugged her tightly. Anya's eyes frantically looked around, trying to regain her breathing. "You're safe, you're okay. Breathe, just breathe."
"I saw him, I saw him again," Anya whispered, a shaking hand smoothing out her hair.
"Loki?"
"Loki and Christiane, both two different dreams," she let out a breath, sitting herself upright against the bed's wall.
"What happened?" Val sat beside her.
"Loki, he's," she hesitated, furrowing her eyebrows, "I saw him alone in his room, full of rage and anger. I," she closed her eyes, trying to recall what she saw, "I called out to him, trying to get him to look to me but it's like he can't see or hear me anymore."
She opened her eyes, sighing into her hands, "I don't understand. I know my sister has the gift now, but after what happened with the Tesseract," her hands twirled as sparks of blue came from her fingers, "These new forces, not aging and yet I can't contact my sister or Loki."
"Like you're teleporting between realms and you can see him but he can't see you?"
"Something like that but I can't control when it happens," she mumbled, looking down to her open palms.
"Did Heimdall ever mention about an ancestor having teleportation?" Val looked to her curious, trying to put the facts together.
"Loki mentioned my grandfather could teleport," she sighed again, eyes still focused on her palms.
"What about your sister? Tell me what happened," Val scooted closer to Anya, her eyes watching the morning light rise over Saakaar's horizon.
"She's still alive somehow. All these years and yet she's still alive." Anya half-chuckled, hope in her eyes dampened with a tinge of sorrow. "I saw her," turning to look to Val, "I see it in her, the rage and confusion."
She let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she tried to find her sister again, "I just want to be with her again."
Her eyes opened, the morning light casting her eyes a fierce blue, "And we can't even leave this place."
"You know the Grandmaster could hunt us down," Val raised her eyebrows.
"You and me stuck here like prisoners," Anya replied, her eyes still focused on the rising light.
"I need a drink," Val chuckled lightly, "I ran away from my past in Asgard, you were sent here for a second chance from Valhalla. Besides," she got up, walking over to the door as she looked over her shoulder, "Vili gave you a second chance."
She looked at Anya, walking to the window, "You're no mortal anymore, Anya. The Valkyrie lore never lies - Once blessed to the gates of Valhalla as a warrior, Vili's child will live a full life in Ásgarðr (Asgard)"
Anya turned to Val, mischief in her eyes, "That makes no sense at all, Val."
Val shrugged, an amused smile on her lips, "Whatever the hell it means, maybe one day you'll find a way out of here back to Asgard. For now, time to be a Scrapper before Topaz melts us."
Rudi and Christiane stood over the table, plastics, empty passports and photographs splayed over the tablecloth amongst bread and jam. The mid-morning light casting a dark loom against the Berlin rooftops. A silhouette of an airplane rose from the skyline from the nearby Tempelhof Airport.
Rudi's hands remained still, carefully placing a film of plastic over Christiane's photograph on a fake West-German passport and Austrian passport, various fake stamps in it already.
"It should be straight-forward, hand it over to them at the border. If they ask any questions, just say you were here in the morning visiting a relative on Dresdenstraße.", Rudi handed her the West-German passport, a photograph of her in a brown-haired wig.
"Once you get to West-Berlin, go to the bookshop on Pflugstraße and tell the shop-owner you want to sell a copy of Le Petit Prince. You give him the package and then I'll come meet you at the Café Centrale on Jägerstraße ," his hands lifting a leather backpack from the chair, opening the bag and lifting its flooring to reveal the book hidden.
"Okay, and?" Christiane looked up to him, waiting.
"Do not open the book. There's some codes in there they want to pass on to the Americans. Remember to change your clothes and hair when you leave the bookshop. When you come back, we'll use the Austrian ones together and we'll tell them we are getting the night train back to Wien" he shrugged, closing the compartment, stuffing the bag with Christiane's personal belongings.
She turned to around as she pulled on her coat, a black beanie on her head, ready to brace the cold.
"Good luck, māsa (sister), see you in a few hours" Rudi chuckled, closing the door as he saw her walk down the stairs.
Christiane pushed open the large wooden apartment doors onto the street, trying to shake the feeling of deja vu. Each muscle, each fiber of herself wanted to hide away from whatever anxiousness that creeped into her, yet there was a thrill in doing it all over again - the running, the spying and treading on thin ice.
She had nothing left to lose.
Christiane took back her papers, walking head down through the border as she crossed into West Berlin, eyes scanning across the checkpoint as her boots thudded lightly against the pavement.
She followed the street names Rudi told her, taking stairs down to the U-Bahn as she got on, standing amongst the morning crowd to Pflugstraße. She stood tall amongst everyone else in the wagon, eyes wandering to the faces looking down into newspapers, books and some staring aimlessly into the darkness of the tunnel.
"Nächste Haltestelle ist Pflugstraße (The next station is Pflugstraße)"
The doors opened as she walked out, keeping her head down as she leapt up the stairs, taking two steps at a time before sunlight shone down on her face - a pulse of warmth against the bitter bite of winter. She kept walking, steadying her breathing to each step she took. Once in a while whenever she crossed the street, she looked behind to make sure she wasn't being pursued.
She pushed open the book shop's door, a small bell ringing.
"Morgen, wie kann ich dir helfen? (Morning, how can I help you?)" an old man's voice came from the counter.
"Morgen möchte ich ein Buch verkaufen (Morning, I want to sell a book)", she approached the counter.
"Was ist der Name? (What is the name?)" he asked, taking off his spectacles as he tucked it into the front pocket of his suit jacket.
"Le Petit Prince," Christiane replied in her French accent.
"Venez derrière, change vos cheveux (Come behind, change your hair)." The man replied with a smile as he went into the room behind, Christiane following behind as she took out the book, handing it to him.
Her hands brushed out the wig from her head, shaking the blond strands in her semi-grungy look.
"Vous allez aider beaucoup de gens avec ça (You're going to help a lot of people with this)" The old man took out a film plastered inside a page of the book, taking it up to the light before he looked back to her, "Danke."
She nodded, walking out of the bookshop as she kept walking, reciting the way through her mind to the rendezvous point with Rudi.
Around her, a Christmas market was setting up to one side in a park, children playing in the playground on the other side. Rudi was right, the West was different from the East as Christiane noticed each detail from the way the people dressed, the architecture and feel to the city.
She kept walking across the park, finding Jägerstraße as she sat inside the Café Centrale, a seat beside the vitrine windows at a wooden table. It reminded her of a French bistro in the Jardins de Luxembourg, the whole feel and atmosphere that made her wish for her hometown, whatever it was now.
"Was kann ich dir bringen? (What can I get you?)" The waiter came, a smile on his face.
"Ein Pfefferminztee bitte (A peppermint tea please)" she replied, a curt smile as she turned back to the vitrine, the tea arriving swiftly. She watched two women, almost identical sitting outside laughing and smiling together. There was no doubt they were sisters, seeing each other in what seemed like a long time. For a moment, Christiane smiled to herself before her heart pained itself, her thoughts moving to Anya. She closed her eyes, trying to remember Anya's face, a memory. She hadn't realized she had tensed herself up, knuckles showing white as she gripped onto the tea cup.
"If you grip that tea cup any tighter, it'll break," an American accent spoke, breaking Christiane's focus as her eyes flew open wide, seeing a man come to sit opposite her.
"Bitte? (Please/Excuse me?)" she replied, trying to remain polite with the man.
The same waiter came by, smiling again, "Was kann ich dir bringen? (What can I get you?)"
"Ein Espresso bitte (An espresso please)," the American replied, a simple nod to the waiter before he disappeared.
He reached out his hand to Christiane, slipping off the sunglasses from his face, "Phil, Phil Coulson,"
Christiane simply smiled, giving a curt nod as she chose not to reply, fearing it was a trap of some sorts as she took another sip, her eyes looking back outside.
The man leaned across the table, eyes still focused onto Christiane, his voice a whisper between the two of them, "Falco, isn't it? Rudi's twin sister?"
Her eyes flew to his, widening as she set the cup down, hands gripping the handle of the backpack under the table ready to flee.
"Hey, hey," he held his hands up, placing them on the table top, "I'm not going to hurt you, just wanted to talk. Rudi never mentioned he had a twin sister."
She looked to him defensively, still refusing to say a word, jaw tight.
The man took his espresso, sipping it as he looked to Christiane, as if observing her every move, "Don't worry, I'm not part of the goons, I'm one of the good guys."
Her chuckle broke her silence, rolling her eyes, "That's usually what they all say and then they take everything you ever loved away."
Coulson sat back in his chair, an amused smile on his face, "You speak English?"
Christiane leaned forwards, whispering between the two of them, "How do you know me?"
He shrugged, "Like I said, word got round the intelligence community the newest East German courier was Rudi's twin." He took another sip before continuing, "He's a good courier, a little reckless at times. Has a habit to deal with goods rather than information."
She scoffed, slumping back into her chair, "Quite the community you Americans have."
He smiled, trying to hold back a chuckle as he nodded, "Yours also, no support whatsoever when one of you gets caught."
Christiane smiled back in response, taking another sip of her tea as she glanced back outside.
"So what's your name? Do I have to keep calling you Falco?" Coulson smiled to her.
She felt that she could trust him, something in the way he held himself, the way he looked to her. He was young, around her age and yet she felt she could trust her life in his.
She took a breath, "Lelia", her hand extending out, "Lelia Falco."
"You're new to this, aren't you?" he smiled, amusement in his eyes.
"To what?"
"Intelligence work, being a courier."
Christiane shrugged, taking another sip of her tea, eyes back to the outside.
"You don't talk much?"
Her eyes flickered to look at him, honest and stern, "I just don't trust you yet."
Phil simply smiled back to her, "We'll get there eventually."
She nodded, hiding a faint smile behind the cup, "I know."
"You delivered the book?"
She nodded, pouring more tea from the teapot.
He let out a breath, "Good. Washington will be pleased with that."
Christiane nodded again, looking back to the window, watching the glistening of ice on the pavement against the sun's rays.
Her eyes moved back to Phil, a small chuckle from him, "I've got to say, you look like someone I know."
She raised her eyebrows, purely out of curiosity and fear, "Oh really?"
He moved around in his seat, leaning forwards, "One of the Howling Commandoes from way back then. Wait," he held a finger out, moving around as he fished out his wallet.
Christiane sat frozen, her heart dropping into a pit as she tried to remain calm, carefully trying not to move an inch in her face.
"Here," he laid out cards on the table. In front of her was a picture of Steve in his Captain America costume, Dugan with his infamous bowler hat and mustache, Bucky in his Howling Commando uniform and her in a dark blue coat and brown trousers, her uniform with the arm cuffs on her,
He continued, a smile as he placed each one out to her, "They're like lucky charms to me. Collected them since I was a kid back in Wisconsin. The rest are back home in the States but these were my favorites. You know any of em'?"
She shook her head, unable to say a word as she kept still.
"Here, this is Captain Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America. This is Dugan, one hell of a marksman, still helps out at the agency. This is James Buchanan Barnes, also one hell of a marksman. And this is Agent Bougourd, disappeared right into thin air after Rogers and Barnes died, still a mystery," he shrugged. "Seems silly and all, but you kind of look like her. Same face and all. Your family have any roots in France?"
She shook her head again, trying to reply as she tried to compose her voice as stable as possible, "Latvia."
Christiane closed her eyes that evening, the duvet almost enveloping her in a cocoon, hiding against the world.
I felt numb, my ears rung. I felt lifeless, submerged underwater in a dreamlike phase. There's No You.
My heart spun, with the crescendos and decrescendos. Feet picking up, my partner the champagne glass as my satin gown swirled at my feet. I slowly spun, my eyes closed. The satin tangling between my heels, kicking them off so my bare feet could feel the cold marble floor. My eyes sealed tightly, my breath stuck on the breeze of you.
I can almost see you walking through the bistro's door, wrapped up in your Howling Commando uniform. Your dark brown hair messy, tangled and curly like a child's tantrum. Tall and stride, your bright blue eyes shining against the darkness and smoke, past the bar.
You take me by the hand, closely guiding me through this drunken sleepwalking. Dancing, that dance that you owed me, I thought.
My head rested on your shoulder, the feeling of the rough dark blue fabric against my cheek. Your chin nestled on the top of the back of my neck. You smelt of sandalwood and seawater.
I looked up to you, you stare back, as you slowly faded away. There's No You. No hug, no kiss, no dance, no you.
Here I am, stuck in whatever dream-world this was, condemned to a satin dress and a full glass of champagne.
I had to find you. Whatever prosaic parallel-universe this was.
I turned around, finding myself back in the lab Zola had put me in in a tank full of water as I start screaming, eyes closing.
My eyes opened, surrounded in a dark black room looking at the mirror to my sister's reflection.
Anya looked back at me, in armor and hair in a braid.
My voice shouted out to her name as I pounded against the reflection, her eyes looking through me as if I wasn't there at all.
"Anya!"
Rudi's eyes flew open as he heard Christiane screaming in her room. His feet landing on the cold apartment's floor as she ran to her, shaking her.
"Christiane! Wake up!" he shook her as he eyes flew open, gasping for air, his arms pulling her to him tightly. He could hear her sobbing, tears rolling down her cheeks to where his arms held her to him.
"Shh, you're safe," he whispered, a hand brushing her hair then her tears, "You're okay. You're going to be okay."
Author's Note:
Surprise! Trying to imagine Coulson before he joined SHIELD in the 90s. What do you think?
Any thoughts on Anya's new powers; Loki joining the darkness because of losing Anya; Christiane walking on thin ice between her past and present and Rudi being the brotherly figure to her?
Any guesses what Anya's visions were? Bonus points if you can guess the scene correctly from the films!