Ego Operor Quis Volo
Warnings: none.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Q Branch was heaving with activity as Loki stepped from the lift, his words echoing through the bustle to the man in a faded ACDC t-shirt underneath his white lab coat. In the background, under the hubbub of explosions and voices, he could distantly hear the first verse of 'Highway to Hell'.
A science and technology prodigy from early childhood, Tony Stark had got into trouble during his twenties for hacking into government secure networks for fun. So rather than locking him up for a very long time in a federal prison, Fury had recruited him to his cause, and now he worked on a consultancy basis for both American and British intelligence agencies, his security upgrades and technological innovations keeping them one step ahead of their opponents, while juggling a full-time job as co-CEO of Stark Industries with his long-term partner Pepper. No one knew about Stark's connection to the security community and the community ensured it stayed that way, so any work he did was always strictly off the books and he wasn't formally 'employed' by anyone.
Loki had known him since his first assignment for MI6, and he was a valued, if antagonistic, friend who always kept him on his toes. Not that he ever let Tony know that. He'd never hear the end of it.
"So how'd the belt work out for you?" Stark asked, as Loki made his way across the laboratory to him, dodging several haphazardly placed experiments. "I mean other than for tying Natasha to the bed with?"
"Down Stark," Loki replied with a lazy grin. "It worked like a dream, as you very well know."
"Damn," Stark glared at him mock-angrily. "I made a bet with the guys it'd snap under your weight."
"Are you implying I'm fat?" Loki retorted, chuckling. "Well, sorry to inconvenience you but no it did not snap under my weight. Or Natasha's so you'd better hope she doesn't hear you calling her fat."
"Technically I didn't," he replied, already leading Loki over to a loaded worktable. "I….-"
"You implied it by dint of omission. That's enough for Romanoff. You've better run, Stark," Loki smirked, and Stark chuckled.
"You just wait until Hawkeye catches up to you, one day. You keep poaching his girl, you're gonna get a bullet in the eye."
"I do not poach anything," Loki remarked disdainfully. "And that's another point against you, Stark. First you accuse Romanoff of being too fat for your wonderful gadgets….I mean wondrous technological innovations to hold, then imply she's easy and something to 'poach'. Hasn't Pepper whipped that kind of thinking out of you yet?"
"Hilarious, Odinson. Seriously, keep it up and you'll make a fortune on the comedy circuit when H finally has enough of your smartassery," Stark replied, completely deadpan as Loki rolled his eyes. "And I'm not whipped."
"Of course not, Tony. Now what have you got for me?" Loki folded his arms as he leant against one of the few clear tables in the room, as Stark held up a small black case, oblong and open to reveal grey foam to cushion the sleek, gleaming weapon inside. Nestled beside it was a small radio to transmit location in an emergency. "That's it?"
"God, you're such a kid at heart, aren't you Odinson?" Tony rolled his eyes, laughing and looking wounded at the same time. "The Walther has a dermal sensor in the grip, so only you can fire it. Wouldn't want you getting shot with your own gun. The case has a special coating on it to fool the X-ray scanners at the airport. It'll just look like empty space so pack it between something. And no, that's not it."
Tony led him over to a computer, lifting the lid to reveal a schematic of a motorbike, similar to Loki's own, and he grinned. "Thanks, Tony," he chuckled, all but rubbing his hands together.
"No problem, buddy. Now it's got the usual specs, but with a few little…enhancements of my own. Retractable traction spikes in the rear and front wheels," Tony pointed them out on the screen, before gesturing to the back, just behind the seat. "A small tank of tear gas. Press a button on the handlebars and anyone chasing you gonna get a face full. It'll be ready and fully charged for you at the airport. Just report to the hire desk and give the name 'West'."
Loki nodded, then stopped, frowning. "Fully charged?"
"It's got a hybrid engine, get over it," Tony muttered, already moving away and missing Loki's sarcastic eye roll. He picked up a shapeless hunk of black material and threw it to Loki. He saw it was a heavy duty coat, but heavier than the usual brands he used, and he could feel something cold and hard hidden in the lining. "Kevlar lined winter coat. Could come in handy, just don't throw yourself in front of a machine gun," he explained, "It's also got a hidden pocket in the back for a machete."
"Thanks, Tony," Loki nodded, as Stark turned to face him, with a cautious look on his face. "What is it?"
"I heard about Laufey, and….I heard you're going to see her. Jane," he replied quietly, barely audible above the buzz of music and lab technicians. Loki sighed, looking away evasively. Tony had been one of the few to know anything about Loki's family and their dramas, and Loki had let slip one or two things while heavily drunk in Stark's presence that he'd quickly learned never to do again. A warm hand on his shoulder from the older, shorter man had him looking up and there was no calculation in Stark's usually sarcastic eyes. "Don't let it get too personal, alright? I'll see you for a few beers when you get back."
"Thanks, Tony. I'll see you later," Loki nodded, drawing himself up quickly and walking away before his all-too perceptive friend could see too much, as he often did.
He didn't quite manage to escape without a parting quip, however. "That's not to say you can't give her a good snog when you see her! Just a suggestion."
Loki could only laugh and shake his head as he walked away without looking back.
23rd July, 2012
Tromsø Airport, Tromsø Municipality, Norway
1600 hrs
Loki strode out of the airport doors, with a slight smile as familiar voices called out to him.
"You're late, West!"
"What, Security did strip-search you?"
He turned to find Hawkeye and Natasha sitting in the outside seating area of a small café, both smirking as they regarded him teasingly. Both were dressed for the cooler temperatures, Natasha's eyes shielded by sunglasses holding back her red curls.
"Oh you know how it is," Loki smirked right back, his teeth flashing. "Passport Control just couldn't get enough of a face like mine."
He clapped a hand on Hawkeye's muscular shoulder, before inclining his head to Natasha, who just smiled and winked. "Cal got your baby from the rental for you, Mark. Nice ride."
"I always try to impress," Loki smiled, as Clint eyed him narrowly, and was that a little bit warningly? Hmm, about time too Clint. "Shall we?"
He gestured to the car park across the road, and the two rose, preternaturally graceful and sure in their movements. As they did, Loki was even more gratified to see Clint's hand nudge Natasha's, and her own to cling to his, just for a moment. The older man met his eye and glowered warningly, but Loki just chuckled. "Not a word, Loki," Natasha breathed as she passed him, but his smile simply softened as he met Clint's gaze unblinkingly.
"I'm happy for you both. It's about time," he murmured, as the hardness of Clint's gaze melted and he nodded, just once, before their professional personas were back in play.
As they quickly strode towards their respective vehicles, Loki's specially modified motorbike and Natasha's Mercedes, the smile leached from his lips as he once again contemplated the reason why they were there.
Jane. His last memory of her hadn't been a good one…
The neat, whitewashed door of Jane's London flat had never looked so threatening or unappealing, as Loki stalked towards it, the chrome '56' slightly off-centre. The white envelope in his hand crackled slightly as he walked, and every single step made him want to just turn around and walk away.
He pressed the buzzer on the door lintel, and waited with bated breath for it to open. When it did, he got the shock of his life.
Contrary to his expectations, Jane looked perfect. As beautiful and entrancing as he'd ever seen her before, her hair smoothed into a delicate bun, her slender form clothed in a chequered shirt and jeans, a pencil suspended precariously behind her ear.
The curiosity in her eyes changed almost immediately to a hardened resignation, cold and flinty, like nothing he'd ever seen in her before. Jane was warmth and passion and eagerness; the woman before him was hard and icy, without any emotion in her except for resignation and disdain. But not directed at him.
"Hi, Jane," he murmured. Wordlessly, Jane backed up into her flat, and turned away, silently leading the way to the kitchen. As he followed her inside, he noticed boxes and suitcases dotting the floor in her bedroom and study. He noticed every and all trace of her life with Thor was gone. "Going somewhere?"
"Nothing keeping me here," she snorted. "Coffee? Or are you going to cut and run as quickly as possible too?"
"Jane…" Loki sighed, wanting nothing more than to wipe away the pain lingering behind the iciness, as he set down the envelope containing divorce papers on the side. "You know I'm not happy about all this…"
"Then why are you here? Doing his dirty work?" Jane asked, turning away from the coffeepot to face him accusingly.
"Not willingly, I promise you," he retorted. "And I didn't think you'd want to….see him again. So soon."
"I don't. You're right about that," she nodded, clasping her hands together tightly and looking down at them. "I'm sorry, Loki. You're not to blame for this mess, for any of this. It's my mess, mine and Thor's."
"No, Jane. No, it's not. This is all on Thor, no one else," Loki lunged across the kitchen to take her hands, squeezing them tightly. Heat raced down his spine from the contact, but he ignored it as usual. "Especially not on you. You're not to blame for this, Jane. You're a thousand times better than him."
"You're sweet," she smiled, strained and disbelieving, freezing once more as that cursed heat flared up between them. She moved away at the same time as Loki did, to the other side of the kitchen, as both sucked in a breath.
"Where will you go?" he asked, desperate to distract himself from the tension, remembering the suitcases and boxes in the hall.
"Tromsø. I've been offered a position as a consultant at an observatory on one of the islands. I start next week." she explained, and he forced a smile.
"I wish you all the best then, Jane. I'd better get going, I've got a flight to Tunisia in a few hours," he breathed, and she nodded but her eyes seemed to flash as they met his.
Coward, they said. For running away, just as much as I am.
"Goodbye, Loki," she murmured with a sad, broken smile as he sighed and fled the flat, not taking a breath until he made the lift…
"Hey! Hey, earth to alien, earth to alien! You with us, buddy?" Clint's brusque, concerned voice forced him back to the present, as he started and turned to stare at the two American agents watching him guardedly.
"You ok?" Natasha asked, more gently, a knowing glint in her eye. Loki nodded brusquely, reaching for the helmet on the seat of the bike. Snap out of it, Odinson!
"Nice ride," Clint called from the other side of the car. "Hybrid?"
"You know the mechanic. I swear, he'd marry a hybrid engine if he could," Loki sighed, prompting a chuckle from his two colleagues, before Natasha sobered and fished her handheld SatNav device from her trouser pocket.
"Right, the Observatory's located on the Island of Kvaløya, about 35 miles from the city centre, on the western side of the island. Precise co-ordinates are already in the SatNav. Ready, Mark?" Natasha looked to him before she opened the door of her car and he nodded brusquely. She smiled in what he suspected was supposed to be supportive. "Head in the game, old friend. Head in the game."
"When is it not?" he replied cockily, as she rolled her eyes and slid into the driver's seat, while Loki fastened his helmet and adjusted his seat. It was only once the visor was down, and his face was shielded from the others, that he was able to drop the cocky façade he always wore.
Well for better or worse, here I come, Jane…
To be continued...