Hello there! I'm so sorry about the crazy long delay! Summer starting...life...there are a variety of excuses I could make that are all perfectly legitimate, but all that matters is that the new section is here now, and, just to make up it up to you guys, I'm posting the next section immediately after posting this one! That's right-both the section from two weeks ago and from last week, going up tonight! If all goes according to plan, you should have a new section tomorrow (or the very soon, just in case things don't go according to plan) too. Anyway, enjoy this and the following section as my apology for the wait! :-)
Bruce had gotten so distracted in the library that, when Elizabeth had taken her leave to go shower and get dressed, he had stayed, flipping through papers and scanning the titles gathering dust on the shelves. A large volume on mythology had caught his eye, his hand hovering over its thick spine before pulling it down, a puff of dust following in its wake.
Naturally, he had instantly gravitated to the chapter devoted to Norse gods, goddesses, and tales associated with both types of deities.
His knowledge of Thor had made the stories some fun reading, finding himself chuckling a bit too often at lore that had been so revered by the ancients. It felt mildly blasphemous, like snickering at something in the Bible. Still, the thought of Thor in a wedding gown had made him snort with laughter; imagining the brawny man in a white dress that strained at the seams as his meaty hands gripped a bouquet too tightly and a veil barely covered his goatee—quite an image to have plastered on the inside of Bruce's mind.
The only thing telling him that the story might not be as false as he wanted to believe was the fact that Loki had posed as a woman right alongside Thor, portraying his bridesmaid who did all the talking on Thor's behalf. Bruce wasn't sure why, but he didn't find this image to be as far-fetched as the one he had conjured of Thor dressed as a bride.
But Loki himself had some outlandish tales to his name as well; things about an eight-legged horse, a wolf, and a snake. Things about being bound by entrails to a rock while a viper dripped venom onto his head. Things about a woman named Sigyn. Things about a woman named Sif. Things about lips sewn closed with magical thread.
As he read about the Norse beliefs regarding Loki, he found himself to be strangely accepting of these stories. Granted, the bards had undoubtedly taken poetic liberties, but the nature of them all seemed well within Loki's capabilities.
Except for the ones about his animal-children. Those were outlandish, and Bruce knew it.
He was just getting involved in a story in which Loki cut the hair of the Lady Sif out of jealousy when he heard footsteps in the hallway. When he turned to look, Tony was passing the open door to the library, head sunk on his chest, hair standing up in ways which Bruce was certain Tony had not intended, face lined with the age-old signs of worry.
Bruce rushed out of the room and grabbed Tony by the arm before he had paced too far. At the sudden contact, Tony's attention shot up to Bruce as if he had punched him instead. In his eyes was a burden so heavy that, try as he might, Tony could not conceal it under the wraps of indifference.
Bruce narrowed his eyes, assessing the state of his friend. "Tony, what's up?" he asked, knowing better than to ask if anything was wrong in the first place.
"Nothing, man," Tony protested with a false grin crossing his face in an attempt to convince Bruce that he was being honest. All Bruce had to do was arch an eyebrow, and Tony further evaded his question by motioning to the book in his hand. "What's that?"
Bruce glanced down at the heavy volume, his index finger still stuck between the pages at his stopping point. "Mythology," he explained, showing Tony the title. "There's a chapter on Norse legend." He hoped that his voice might come across as off-hand, but he knew that his interest probably had snuck into his tone. He never had been as good at hiding enthusiasm as some of the others.
He hadn't, however, expected Tony's face to blanch at the mention of the topic. Tony, though, didn't even seem to be aware of this, instead just saying, "Cool. Anything interesting?"
"Oh yeah," Bruce replied distractedly, wondering why Tony would get leery of Norse mythology. He decided to test a couple names to see if his friend had any reaction, so he said casually, "Lots of stuff. About Thor." Nothing substantial from Tony. "And Loki."
At the mention of the god of mischief, Tony betrayed himself with an instant of wide, fearful eyes accompanied by a tight mouth; a muscle twitched sporadically in his jaw.
"Look, Tony," Bruce said, forgetting the book and reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "what's got you all shaken up?"
"Nothing," Tony said again, more force in his voice this time around.
When Tony tried to pull away, Bruce stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the hall. "That's a lie, and we both know it," he told him, crossing his arms like a bouncer and making a face to match.
For a long moment, Tony seemed to struggle with something, as if a debate was raging within his head, and he was unsure which side would win.
"Tony," Bruce said, tone taking on more comfort and less confrontation, "you can tell me. Maybe I can help."
Tony's throat undulated as he swallowed laboriously, wetting his lips like a nervous dog. Finally, he took half a step closer to Bruce and lowered his voice to little more than a whisper, saying, "Remember how I was going to call Fury?"
"Yeah," Bruce replied, waiting on edge, as whatever Tony meant to say was important.
"Well," Tony took a glance around them, ensuring that they were alone. "Well, he had some news for me."
"What kind of news?"
"The worst kind."
Bruce didn't speak, instead only watching Tony run a hand over his face and into his hair, explaining wordlessly the origin of his messy style. He moved with the hopelessness of a man who had just been informed that he had cancer – rare and terminal, with only a few months to live. At the sight, Bruce's own insides started working their way into a knot; if something had Tony this shaken up, it would absolutely slaughter his thin thread of calm.
"He thinks –" Tony paused, the words not coming easily to his tongue. "He thinks Loki might be back."
There was something in the way that he had said the name – spat it out like a swig of poison – that stopped Bruce from asking if he was messing around. The seriousness in Tony's face had laid dormant since their last encounter with the fallen Asgardian prince, but now it was back with a vengeance, darkening his entire countenance and coloring purple rings under his eyes from stress that had been inflicted by a simple idea.
Bruce himself wasn't ready to believe what Tony had said. "Could he have been mistaken?" he asked, hoping weakly that Tony hadn't already considered and rejected this.
His friend shrugged, but there was none of his usual careless sarcasm in the gesture. It seemed devoid of conviction, like it was a last-ditch attempt at salvation that he was too afraid to take, for fear it would dissipate like fog on a summer morning. "Maybe," Tony said hollowly. "Clint's bringing the pictures by when he comes home tonight. I'm going to run them through JARVIS and see how real they are. See how wrong Fury is."
That last comment elicited a wan but vaguely smug smile from Tony, and Bruce nodded. "Yeah. For once in my life, I'm banking on Fury being so far off that it's funny."
"Me too, man." Tony clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Me too."
"So would everyone else, I'm pretty sure. Except the Other Guy. I think he kinda liked Loki."
Tony gave a breathy laugh that almost sounded choked before turning to Bruce, his face settling back into its grim lines. "Do me a favor," he requested, a slight note of urgency in his tone, "and don't tell anyone else about this. I didn't even want to tell you."
"Tony, they need to know –"
"And they will. If JARVIS gives a positive ID." Tony gave that joyless smile again – the one that didn't reach high enough to touch his eyes in any way. "We'll need them all to be on their guard if what Fury thinks is true."
"You know I've always got your back," Bruce said, meant to relieve but also entirely serious.
Tony smiled. This time it was genuine. "Yeah, I know," he muttered as he worked his way around Bruce to continue down the hallway. "I just hope everyone else is in the same boat."
Bruce scoffed. "I'm pretty sure that, if you gave them a chance to go up against Loki again, they'd all come running, weapons blazing, no matter who called them in the first place."
"Yeah," Tony replied. "I know I'd love another chance to kill that son-of-a-"
"Wouldn't we all," Bruce interrupted, turning back toward the library as Tony walked away, seeming much better off after having shared his burden with someone.
Bruce was just about to sequester himself back in the library when he thought he saw movement a few yards away, on the other side of the hallway's ninety-degree corner. The person obviously realized that he had seen, for they swore softly from behind the wall.
Slowly, as if this was a humiliating and public surrender, Elizabeth rounded the corner, and it became Bruce's turn to curse. "How much of that did you hear?"
Her face was unreadable when she answered, "More than enough, I assure you."