No preamble this time; just straight into the story! Enjoy!
"Hey, Fury," Tony said briskly into the phone.
"Are you alright?" came Fury's response.
Tony rolled his eyes. "You could at least say 'hello,' you know." Typical Fury. No time to waste on pleasantries; just business. Although, Tony had been a touch rougher than usual upon greeting him – a result of his little disagreement with Elizabeth in the library.
Fury was silent for a moment, before very sarcastically saying, "Hello, Stark."
"Thank you," Tony replied. "Now I believe you wanted a plan of action for rebuilding the city, am I right?"
"I did."
The way Fury said those two little words made Tony pause in the middle of unfolding the yellow sheet of paper that contained Elizabeth's plan. "Alright, Fury," he said, straightening a bit, though still not rattled enough to completely forgo leaning on the bar, "what's up?"
After a short wait, Fury said, "Thor took Loki back to Asgard, didn't he?"
"Yeah," Tony replied with growing unease, feeling a rhetorical question coming on.
"Then why was Loki seen on 42nd street earlier today?"
At this, Tony raised an eyebrow. "There are people who look like him out there, Fury, but I can promise you –"
"There are photographs, Stark."
Fury's even-toned voice rang in his ears as if the man had shouted at him. He crossed the room, looking out the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing his hand against a pane that had become rather special to him; Loki had pushed him through that square of glass during their last encounter. "You're sure it wasn't just some guy dressed up? Some sicko trying to get his kicks?" Tony dared to hope, but, when Fury stayed quiet on his end of the line, he pressed, "I mean, the whole world kind of went crazy after what happened. People got paranoid. You're sure it wasn't any of that?"
A long pause – a dangerous lag in conversation that allowed Tony to think. Finally, Fury said, "Stark."
That was it. Just his name. Not even a supplication, like, Would I lie about this?
Grasping at straws, Tony asked, "So you don't want to know about the rebuild plans?"
"Forget the plans. We've got a much bigger problem on our hands." Fury's voice was steel incarnate – unyielding and cold. "I'm sending the photographs back with Clint. Take one look and tell me it's not him."
And with that, there was a click and a dull hum from the line. Fury had hung up.
Tony dropped his phone onto the sofa, wanting the device out of his hand and as far away from him as possible, as if it alone contained this less-than-exciting news. He swore and ran a hand over his face, messing up his carefully tousled hair.
Loki.
His hand still rested against the windowpane, his index finger tapping out a clipped rhythm on the glass as he stared down on the streets of New York City—the same streets that still reeled from Loki's last attack.
He drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the innocent descend upon his shoulders again; he had hoped to be rid of that tiresome burden, or at the very least, share it with the other Avengers. But he told himself right then that he would not speak a word to any of them – not until the photographs had been run through JARVIS' facial recognition software just to be sure that nobody's eyes were playing tricks.
Even if the face did match up with Loki's, that meant very little, right? He wracked his brain, remembering something about how Loki could create forged imitations of himself at will, using them like holograms to distract his enemies (and sometimes, his friends). What if this was just one of those? But, even if it was, it couldn't survive very long without its creator nearby, keeping up the illusion.
His mind was running away with him. He forced himself to think clearly, as feeding the perceptions more and more would only result in fear and blind obsession. His mind was his greatest asset, but it would be of no use to anybody if it spun delusions instead of facts.
Tony wondered vaguely what Loki was actually doing in the pictures.
Almost instantly, his quick mind began to string together bits and pieces of a whole slew of images, like pixels forming things on a computer screen. Loki threatening the people. Loki commanding that they bow. Loki holding his staff to some poor man's chest. Loki gouging out someone's eye. Loki breaking someone's neck.
He finally caught up with his roaring consciousness, struggling to contain the thoughts once more. Again, Tony swore under his breath. Why hadn't Fury told him more? Described them, or something? Better question: Why wasn't Fury sending the photographs to him right then?
The answer came to him as soon as the question did.
Fury didn't want to cause a fuss. Just in case it was nothing – though he insisted it wasn't – Fury had taken his time so as to keep SHIELD and the general public calm. They would get nothing done if there was suddenly a mass uprising in addition to a potential Loki sighting.
He made a fist and pounded the window – the glass now doubly reinforced – realizing that, though he hated everything about this situation, Fury had a fair point.
Hearing quiet footsteps behind him, Tony straightened up, backing away from the window as though not a thing had happened. He turned around, fully anticipating the visitor who stood in the hall, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe lazily.
"Well?" she asked. "Did he like my plans?"
Tony clenched his teeth at the question, remembering his promise to himself that he would withhold the information about Loki from the others – Elizabeth included. So, he put on his best and most well-worn mask of nonchalance, analyzing her face for a long moment. "One of the first things you asked me was if I had heard anything about Thor or Loki," he stated, evading her question entirely. "Why?"
She seemed infuriatingly nonplussed, as though she had been anticipating this since the start and was only surprised that he hadn't brought it up until now. "Merely curious," she replied with a shrug.
"You know I don't buy that for a second."
For an instant, her languid face tensed in such a way that Tony could see the expression of words pressing against her lips, longing to fly from her tongue. This was the second time such a look had crossed her face that morning, and Tony was beginning to recognize it more easily. She bit back the unspoken words, replacing them with a small sneer – one that didn't become her as much as her smirk. "I was simply making conversation about current events." When he just looked askance at her, she added, "Is that not what you do when you meet somebody new?"
"Sure," Tony said, shifting further away from the glass, "but not about that."
"I fail to see how this instance is different."
Tony sputtered briefly, wondering to himself if he had actually heard her right. "Did you see it at all?" he demanded. Her entire persona remained so indolent that he felt something start to sear deep within his chest; he knew perfectly well that it wasn't his arc reactor. "Alien attacks led by Norse gods aren't exactly normal." He emphasized the statement with a gesture toward the window, indicating the city beyond.
At his veritable outburst, Elizabeth's brow creased. "Are you alright?" she asked, tone less mocking than it could have been, but not really genuinely concerned either.
He huffed out a breath, turning his back to her so that he could pace the length of the room. "Why is everyone asking me that today?" he muttered in annoyance that verged on anger. She opened her mouth to reply, but he snapped, "Yes, I'm fine," before she got a chance to articulate her thoughts.
She was quiet for a long moment – so much so that he didn't notice her enter the room and approach him. "Stark, you hardly sound 'fine,'" she said, real uneasiness dancing in the shadows of her voice.
When he looked at her, the sincerity in her face caught him off guard. "It's nothing," he told her. "Just – something's come up with Fury."
"Is it my plans? I can rewrite them –"
He held up a hand to stop her, closing his eyes as the heat in his chest began to dwindle once more. "It's not your plans," he said, a small slice of defeat coming through in his tone as he felt his resolve to stay silent begin to crumble.
"What is it, then?" she asked, taking a step closer to him. "I want to help. I came here to help."
At this, Tony looked up at her, challenging. "Where did you even come from, anyway? We didn't ask for you to come here. Who sent you?"
The concern on her face disappeared as rapidly as it had come, her appearance becoming hard and cold. "I already told you," she said. "I was sent by people above Fury."
"And he recognizes their authority?"
She hesitated – a frosty, chilly thing – before saying, "Whether he does or does not is inconsequential. We preside in matters such as this."
Tony threw up his hands. "Great. Thank you for clearing things up," he told her, frustration and sarcasm dripping in his voice.
"I would tell you if I could," she said cooly. "But, I can't. I have been sworn to confidentiality. I can assure you, however, that, where matters of Thor and Loki are concerned, we are to have control."
"Why?" he snapped. "What's so special about you?"
She drilled him with a stare. "I know I ask a lot, but I need for you to trust me." With a curt nod, she turned around, starting out of the room.
As Tony watched her disappear down the hall, he felt that burning swell inside of him once more. So this must be what Bruce feels like right before the Other Guy comes out to play, he thought bitterly, wishing that he had such masterful control over his own rage.
For having only been at the tower for a day, Elizabeth had managed to rub him in about a hundred wrong ways. On one hand, he hated her for it, regretting ever letting her into the tower without more of an explanation; on the other hand, he couldn't help but commend her skills when it came to annoying him. But he had been told that he was relatively gifted in the irking department as well, and, as she turned a corner at the end of the hall, heading toward the room which Stark had given her, he wondered if now wasn't as good a time as any to put those notions to the test. Because he had to know about her.
He would figure her out. Sometime – hopefully, sometime very soon – all his questions would get answered, whether she liked it or not.