GASPING FOR AIR
By spockslovechild
…...
Chapter Four – BRUISED
Natasha stood silent outside the Recovery Room with arms folded carelessly over her chest. If not for her nightmarish vision, she wouldn't even be here. But she needed to know. Was it something caused by her subconscious or did Loki play one of his illusion tricks again?
She watched with mild curiosity the exchange between the brothers, though she couldn't hear their conversation and only subtly read their lips as they moved with each formed syllable. They had been like this for a good hour or so by her recollection while everyone else either wondered why the Trickster was still here or, if he intended to stay longer than his recovery allowed. It still amazed Natasha he hadn't yet healed properly from all of his inflicted wounds. Shouldn't he have by now? He was a demi-god, after all. Shouldn't he have some kind of ability to heal himself? Or, maybe that was taken away from him when his scepter was. Lord knows Natasha didn't give a shit either way. But the thought still consumed her mind.
And she wondered when he would be leaving. Was the King of Asgard deciding Loki's fate? Would Thor be returning to their home within the day? How long, exactly, would coming up with an appropriate punishment for the demi-god take anyway? Left up to her own devices, Natasha would have killed him. But Thor wouldn't allow that. Clint and the others would be all for it. And she would be the first in line.
He was awake. She could go in there. But the last time she was alone in a room with him didn't play out in her favor. She may have gotten the information she needed by playing Loki at his own game but his words still haunted her. Every second of every day. Natasha was apprehensive about putting herself in that kind of position again. She'd be vulnerable, in every sense of the word.
She stared through the glass with eyes no longer fixed on the Asgardian brothers but on another spot on the opposite wall. It distracted her so much that the silence which over took her and her surroundings didn't prepare her for the slam of a fist against the interior of the glass.
Natasha jumped back with a startled gasp, dropping her arms from her chest. She blinked. She had to be seeing things again, like in the shower. Was she? When her eyes fluttered open, he stood there pressed against the glass, his brows knitted together. A tight scowl on his lips. His eyes were murderous.
"I won't kill him," he stated, his voice booming and threatening, "not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately; in every way he knows you fear!"
Gasping, she turned away from the window.
"He'll wake long enough to see his good work and when he screams, I'll split his skull!"
Natasha closed her eyes tightly and put her back to the window, as she put her back to the glass enclosed prison meant for something a lot stronger than the raven-haired demi-god.
"This is my bargain you mewling quim!"
"Friend Romanoff…?"
Wiping at the tears collected in her eyes, Natasha turned at the sound of the voice she knew didn't belong to the Trickster but his older brother, Thor.
Seeing her eyes, he looked sympathic. "What brings tears to your eyes?"
"Nothing," she lied. "I'm fine." Natasha glanced past the Thunder God's shoulders to the man strapped to a hospital bed on the other side of the glass. "How is he?"
"He is awake, but he complains of pain." He followed her line of sight to where she looked. He, too, studied the demi-god on the bed, positioned upwards. "I do not understand. He should have healed by now."
"Why hasn't he?" She asked as if she cared. At least her tone of voice portrayed that. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't care if Loki was in pain or not.
Thor looked back to her, shaking his head. "I am unsure. If not completely, than at least partially. But the wound on his forehead still bleeds."
"I'll take a look."
He smiled. "You are very kind to my brother, Friend Romanoff. I do not expect you to show him kindness after what he has befallen your earth." Thor put a hand to her shoulder.
"Natasha," she said. "My name is Natasha. It's okay to call me by my name you know."
"Natasha."
She watched Thor leave her standing there and walk the opposite direction down the hallway. Turning away once he was out of sight, Natasha focused her gaze back on the demi-god through the window. He didn't appear to be struggling from his restraints. Though her eyes could be betraying her, like they have done twice now. This could just be another one of Loki's illusions to fool her.
Swallowing a tiny lump in her throat, Natasha took a step towards the door and unlatched it.
…...
Loki twisted his dark green eyes away from the ceiling when he heard the door opening. Thinking it might be his brother returning to him for more so-called "conversation", he was prepared to get angry. He could snap at Thor for even bothering to presume her could come back.
But when he looked to the opened door, and the person walking into the room, his previous assumption faded; replaced by what could only be described as shock.
"Agent Romanoff," he started, his voice already in a fixed tone. "To what to I owe this displeasure?" He asked her, not quite sure if he really wanted her to leave or not. He felt like fighting against his restraints but doing so when Thor was in the room had taught him it was futile.
"Thor told me you weren't healing," she answered, as matter-of-fact and as bluntly as possible. A quick once-over of the area above Loki's brow line confirmed Thor's comment. Natasha bee lined to a gun-metal grey tray where she grabbed a first-aid with the necessary equipment – suture needles, thread, antiseptic, surgical gloves, medical tape, and scissors.
Loki tried sitting up more. "This really isn't necessary…"
"You're right. It's not… " Natasha pushed over a chair to the right side of the bed. "…but I told your brother I would take a look. He seemed concerned and I owe it to him. So shut up and be grateful I'm doing this."
She left the first aid kit there on the chair – knowing Loki wouldn't be able to reach for the sharp scissors or the needles because he was restrained to the bed – and crossed over to the sink in the bathroom. She ran the hot water for a few moments, soaping up her hands and scrubbing them clean. She grabbed a paper towel and rubbed her hands dry then tossed out the soiled towel as she left the bathroom.
The demi-god watched her with mild interest. She crossed back to the chair and grabbed the first aid kit. Natasha immediately donned a pair of blue surgical gloves from inside the kit, and wriggled her fingers slightly to make sure each glove was seated firmly and comfortably. She reached out to the gun-metal grey tray and pulled it closer.
Leaning close to her patient, she carefully and cautiously inspected the wound. "It looks like some pieces of glass are still in there…" Her fingers prodded the edges of skin, pushing them apart just slightly to get a better look at what she had to work with, and took a slight twisted pleasure in watching Loki's expression twist.
Keeping the edges of the wound spread with her fingers, Natasha reached into the kit for a small alcohol pad and ripped into it with her teeth, then rubbed it on both sides of the scissors' teeth. She started removing each tiny shard of glass and discarding the bloody pieces on the grey tray. As the last piece of glass was removed, she put the bloodied scissors on the tray then grabbed for the antiseptic.
"You act like you've done this before… for someone else… "
Natasha kept silent, but her expression told Loki everything. More than a few times before she had seen Clint in the same bed Loki was in now, with her sitting in a small chair beside him, cleaning and stitching whatever wounds that needed the care.
She was quick to thread the curved suture needle sterilized with a second alcohol pad. Next came the pain and she didn't care enough to numb the area beforehand. Taking some sadistic pride in it. Natasha pushed the tip of the needle through the flesh and started threading it through the other side. The demi-god cringed. He recognized the pain, and accepted it.
Loki moved his eyes, without tilting his head or arching his brows. "You're enjoying this," he stated, catching the change in her expression. "I know you are."
"Just stop talking and hold still."
The Trickster relented, and relinquished himself to silence. It's not like he could go anywhere.
A/N: WOW! Over 50 alerts! That's fucking AMAZING. And the reviews I'm getting are unbelievable. Thank you so much everyone. Oh, and please go to my profile page for a poll. I'll try to make the next chapter longer.