"C'mon, doll, I know your boyfriend is gone, but you can't mope around all day."
The glare Taylor shot her friend could quite possibly evaporate the polar icecaps and by all rights, Bucky should have been barely more than a pile of ash. Loki had left in the morning with Thor, to speak to the ruler of Helheim, and all the Avengers had risen to see their comrade off. In the process, Taylor had realized the Loki didn't exactly have anyone to see him off or worry for him—except, of course, her. While no one (except Bucky and perhaps Natasha) had been looking, she'd taken his hand, a form of contact that had apparently become acceptable, and met his intense emerald eyes.
"Good luck," she'd offered, and then earnestly added, "and be safe."
Then she'd dropped his hand and cleared her throat, looking away with exaggerated casualness. Tony had appeared just after that and slung an arm around her shoulders, cutting off any response Loki could have given. The two Asgardians had departed directly after that, and the uneasy feeling in Taylor's gut had only increased while the Avengers had spent the last several hours goofing around and keeping themselves busy.
At that moment, Taylor and Bucky were sitting in the stadium-style seating over the training arena while Clint tried to teach Steve and Tony how to shoot a bow and arrow with some accuracy. Natasha was learning how to sword fight with Sif, the sharp sounds of clashing metal an amusing companion to Tony and Steve's light-hearted bickering. Bruce was sitting just a seat below them, citing that physical activity beyond yoga and jogging was an unnecessary risk. Taylor was too tired and sore to even think of exercise, and Bucky had simply opted out because "he could".
"I'm not moping," Taylor grumbled, feeling a light flush bloom across her cheeks, "and he's not my boyfriend."
"Funny how you chose to deny one before the other," the super soldier pointed out slyly, nudging her in the ribs.
He couldn't let it go, could he? Of course not—not that it really bothered her as much as she was pretending it did. Taylor knew he didn't really mean anything by it. He was just teasing her, like always, so she didn't take it personally.
"Shut up," she snorted, shoving him lightly.
Bruce, unable to keep from hearing the conversation, glanced back at her.
"You two do seem rather close," he pointed out.
"Saying we're 'close' is kind of a stretch," she mused, "we just sort of…hang out and bicker and occasionally get along."
Bruce smiled and patted her knee in a gesture that made her feel as though he was condescendingly saying "sure, sure, sweetie" which made her squint slightly. Only he could make himself seem like a smug seventy-year-old grandmother without uttering a word. It was like he'd caught her with some secret high school crush or something. Jeez…
"I thought you were against me being around him," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I'm concerned, but I'm not 'against it'," he admitted, "Tony wanted 'backup' yesterday and I wasn't about to argue with him. You know how he is when he gets into panic mode like that."
She nodded sagely, turning her jewel blue gaze to the arena where the billionaire was doing a rather comical, but still somewhat accurate impression of his sharpshooter instructor, posing with his bow and arrow in hand. Tony was the one that had taught her how to get through her panic attacks and found her a way to work through her nightmares.
After the attack on New York, his PTSD had plagued him. He had a tendency to fly into "panic mode" and it was sometimes better to go along with him rather than try to talk him down. She supposed that her fraternizing with Loki would make him uneasy, considering the god was the cause of the alien invasion in the first place. Taylor resolved to talk to the genius about it later, to set his nerves at ease and reassure him. It was the least she could, after all.
"Taylor," Bruce began again, interrupting her thoughts, "you know—"
He was cutting off by a sudden, ear-splitting screeching noise. All three rose as some sort of winged creature came streaking towards them, a trail of acrid black smoke trailing it. The creature was aimed right for Taylor, who automatically braced for impact, knowing she didn't have enough time to make a run for it. Bucky, quicker than a lightning strike, snatched the gun perpetually holstered at his side, and fired several times into the creatures head and wings.
It went down with a horrible squawk, darting overhead to crash into the training field while they ducked to avoid razor-like obsidian talons. None of them were prepared for the second one that snatched Taylor up, claws digging into her already injured shoulder painfully. She cried out in both pain and surprise as the creature shot up, learning from its comrade's mistake and out of range of both arrows and bullets.
"Let me go," she grunted uselessly, struggling in its grasp.
It was like some gruesome mix between a raptor and a snake, similar to a dragon in that its skin was leathery and dark, though it was dotted with patches of black glass, like armor. The smoke was a complete mystery to her, emitting from a jagged obsidian ridge along its spine. More alarming, it had two tails, each ending in a plume of the volcanic shards. The perfect predator, she thought, as she noticed the Asgardian Sea rushing towards them. She could see the rainbow bridge, and the Bifrost coming closer as well.
She remembered there was a portal somewhere farther out to sea, along the impressive cliff face in the distance. If it was taking her there—which she had a feeling it was—she was screwed. There was no way she'd be able to find her way back without someone there to guide her. Taylor had to get free, and unfortunately, an unplanned water adventure would have to be the way to go.
Taylor's skin lit to fire, turning first red and then fading into bluish-violet, darkening until it was nearly black, and the creature shrieked at her, apparently realizing what she was trying to do. How hot she could go, she wasn't sure, but in the back of her mind, she hoped her fireproof undergarments held out if she actually managed to burn this creature. The grip on her shoulder loosened slightly and she brought her other arm up, her fist glowing black fire and energy as she slammed it into the creature's leg. Almost there, but it was tenacious, and her gap was closing, despite the blur of movement from the corner of her eye.
With adrenaline telling her body to go now, now, now she shot a blast of pure energy straight into the creature's belly and with a horrific, deafening squall, the sharp talons released her shoulder, and Taylor was plummeting to the waves below. Now she saw that it was Thor that she'd noticed in her peripheral, but he had slammed into the creature and he'd be too slow to catch her at her velocity. Hell, at the height she fell from, it would be like hitting concrete if she didn't do something fast. She wrapped herself in a cocoon of black fire and brought her uninjured arm over her head, but still, she passed out when she hit the water.
Loki and Thor had just returned from Helheim. The king had been outraged at the mere suggestion that he'd lend any of his people to any of Keziah's disciples—least of all, the magician's former apprentice—but he'd agreed to have it looked into on his own terms. If they were using his realm as a base of operations, his loyal guard would uncover it and they would deal with the matter. The Asgardians were explicitly unwelcome to interfere in the matter. It was for Helheim to address and Helheim alone, so Thor and Loki had returned with almost as little information to Keziah's apprentice's whereabouts as when they'd left.
They'd just been leaving the Bifrost, a crowded and yet peaceable silence between them when they'd seen it. At first it had been nothing more than a black dot in the sky, an equally black streak trailing after it. Then it had gotten closer at an alarming speed, and they'd made out a giant, hellish creature. Worse, they'd been able to discern the shape wriggling in its grasp—Taylor, and she was on fire. That wouldn't have been so strange except the fire was black which only Thor knew meant she was desperate.
"Taylor!" he cried, flying into the air to aid her, making a beeline for the creature with his hammer at the ready.
Loki could only stand back and watch. He saw the mighty oaf was just a fraction of a second too slow, and while the god of thunder plowed straight into the beast, Taylor had already freed herself and was careening downwards. He knew right away that when she impacted, she'd be in trouble, shield of fire or no. The impact of the fall would disorient her (and that was at the very least), her shoulder was injured and bleeding, and that wasn't taking into account her other wounds.
Without a second thought, Loki dove into the water after her, thanking whatever gods would listen that she'd landed near the bridge. It occurred to him that perhaps that had been her plan all along, that someone, Heimdall even, would help her if she needed it. He cut through the water at record speed, using his magic to remove the heaviest of his clothing when they became heavy.
Taylor hadn't resurfaced, and he realized then that she'd been knocked out. Loki dropped beneath the waves with a deep breath, ignoring the sting of the water in his eyes, and located her form sinking just a few feet below him. He kicked down towards her, catching her around the middle and fought his way back to the surface. It was a relief that either the water or her unconscious state had extinguished the flames engulfing her body when she'd fallen. The water are her was unnaturally warm and her skin was more feverish to the touch than usual, but not unbearable.
"Loki!" Thor called from above him, hovering just over their heads.
He readjusted his grip on the unconscious female, making sure that she was secure before he held a hand out. The golden-haired prince hauled them both out of the water and back onto the rainbow bridge, where the rest of Loki's clothes had reappeared. When the trickster god set her down on the hard, translucent surface, he immediately recognized that she wasn't breathing. Ignoring that most of her clothing had burned off in her struggle, he began compressing her chest, trying to force the water from her lungs.
"Get help!" he snapped at Thor and the man jolted to do as the other had ordered.
As Thor flew away, Loki leaned down, pinched Taylor's nose and pressed his lips to hers, forcing air into her lungs before pressing on her sternum again. His heart was beating a mile a minute in his ears. In his mind, his only thoughts were to get her to breathe again. She couldn't just…die. Not like this. She deserved a more heroic death, a suitable one.
Beneath his frantic hands, she was limp, lifeless. Her lips had turned pale, almost blue, and her eyes, her compelling blue eyes, were firmly shut. What really scared him—actually scared him—was that her usually burning skin, so warm and lively to the touch, was cool. It made his breath catch in his throat with panic
Selfishly, he thought that he wanted her around longer. He wanted to solve her mystery; he wanted her smiles and her forgiveness. Despite their bickering, Taylor treated him as an equal, nothing more and nothing less. Strange as it was, Loki wanted her to survive.
A moment later the gods seemed to hear his plea and her torso twisted beneath him while she sputtered up the Asgardian Sea. Her body shuddered beneath him as she coughed and swallowed gulps of air, eyes squeezed shut against the convulsions until she'd finally emptied her lungs. With a final deep breath, Taylor collapsed on her back beneath him, blinking for a moment before she focused on his relieved expression.
"Loki?" she rasped.
"Honestly, you really should take better care of yourself," he informed her, shoulders slumping.
Even in her current state, she managed to give him a semi-sarcastic look before turning serious again.
"That thing…" she began, attempting to sit up.
She bit off a yelp of pain with a hiss, hand going to her bleeding shoulder as he gently guided her back to her previous position.
"It's gone," he assured her.
She laid back in the chilly puddle of seawater collecting around them, realizing that everything hurt and everything was cold. That salt water stung her open wounds, and if she wasn't mistaken, she'd ripped the stitches in her side as well. One day. She just wanted one day without injury. How was she supposed to help save the world from a hospital bed if she didn't heal up soon?
"You know, I didn't have to nearly drown for us to end up in this position," she joked, gesturing between them.
He glanced down at their bodies, and realized that in his haste to save her, he'd positioned his knee between her thighs and was still effectively bracing himself above her. With a weary chuckle and a sigh, he rolled to the side, settling on his back beside her. His own adrenaline high was wearing off, leaving fatigue in its wake. Swimming out there fully clothed, the exertion of keeping both their bodies afloat, and then trying to get Taylor to breathe again on top of interdimensional travel left him exhausted.
"Thank you," she murmured, and he felt her hand, still uncharacteristically cool but beginning to warm again, touch the top of his, "you saved my life."
"I'm sure Thor could have—" he began, but she cut him off.
"But Thor didn't. You did, so thank you."
She was shivering now, and could feel the tremor along his arm. In response to her gratitude, since he suddenly found he couldn't speak, Loki laced their fingers together and squeezed her palm lightly. For a brief moment, she'd scared him, and the thought that she might actually have died was plaguing his mind like wildfire.
"Hey," she said, catching his attention, "I'm glad you came back safe."
