Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Agent & Councilman Moreau. Everything else belongs to the copyright holders.
Authors Notes at the end of the chapter.
Warnings for Psychological Abuse, Partial Nudity and Coarse Language.
Moreau woke up early the next morning, as always, long before her bunkmate, having a short, cold shower in their shared ablutions to wake herself up. She quickly got dressed in her blue jumpsuit uniform, and dressed her hair in it's usual tight bun. When her hair was loose, it fell to her waist, wavy and wild. It was easier to keep it long. There was no need to cut it to keep it in a style, and it could easily be bound up out of the way.
She quickly and quietly made her way to the mess. She grabbed a breakfast wrap, packed her lunch and a snack, then made her way to Loki's cell before the first shift's breakfast rush arrived. She was early to her post, so she sneaked in through some air vents so that the airlock door opening wouldn't wake the prisoner. Once inside, she curled up at the bottom of the metal stairs, leaning against the rails. She pulled her bag close to her, taking her breakfast wrap, a book and a compact reading light out of its depths, opening up to her page and engrossing herself in the story as she nibbled.
Loki, however, was not asleep, as Moreau had surmised. He watched her creep in silently from his vantage point on the thinly padded floor, and curl up so small at the bottom of the stairs.
"You're up early, Agent Moreau," he commented mildly, grinning softly to himself when she jumped.
"Shit!" she hissed under her breath as she jumped in shock. "Well, good morning to you, too!" Moreau grumped, pulling the cling film back over her wrap, checking her top for any spilled food as she stood up, one finger still in her book.
"I thought your watch did not begin until five o'clock?"
"If you're not ten minutes early, you're late," Moreau quoted, putting her book back in her bag.
"Then you are most certainly early," Loki replied, sitting up, crossing his feet at the ankles, arms wrapping around his legs, knees in the crooks of his elbows, hands clasped in front of himself. "I would estimate that its only four thirty."
Agent Moreau checked her watch & shrugged, "thereabouts." She grabbed her plastic chair from yesterday, placing it back in the same spot, sitting down with her feet on the seat, legs crossed at the ankles, unwrapping her breakfast once again.
"You seem very enthusiastic for somebody who said that they were ambivalent about their assignment…?"
"Nothing better to do." Moreau was suddenly very interested in the hash brown inside her breakfast wrap. "No point dilly-dallying when there's a sentence to be served."
Loki nodded once, slowly.
"You have an admirable work ethic, Agent Moreau. It is a consequence of your lack of friends, or is it the source?" Loki tried needling her for a response.
"Both," Moreau replied softly, picking at a piece of bacon. "And neither."
Loki huffed a breath out of his nose. "They call me the Trickster, and Master of Lies, but you, a simple human, cannot even give me a straight answer to a simple question."
Moreau just shrugged and continued to pick at her food aimlessly. "I could give you a straight answer, but I doubt it would be in the direction you want."
"Then will you answer my question?"
"I did."
"Properly!"
"I did."
"You know that is not what I mean!"
"I know."
"By the All-Father!" Loki swore, throwing his hands up in the air and pacing around his cell. "I swear, you have been sent here solely to torment me!"
"Your own medicine is the most bitter pill to swallow," Moreau replied, a small smirk hidden as she took a bite of her meal. She had to admit, it was fun to make him frustrated.
"You are a most vexing woman, Agent Moreau," Loki huffed.
"Thank you," Moreau replied with a ghost of a smile.
"That was not intended as a compliment."
"I know."
"Yet you took it as such anyway?" Loki grinned maliciously before continuing. "How lonesome is your life that you would take an insult from a criminal as a compliment?"
Moreau looked Loki in the eyes, her slate-blue ones cold and dead as they met his cruel, pale green.
"How empty and hollow is your life, that you seek to torment somebody who has nothing?"
Loki was taken aback by her empty, lifeless, grey eyes, and her softly spoken, yet cutting words, but he did not let it show. He sneered at her, looking her up and down like something he would scrape off his shoe.
"Pathetic," he scoffed. "This is why you humans should be ruled. You are weak!"
"And you're a spoiled bully," Moreau responded softly. "You were raised a prince, in wealth and luxury, but even knowing that you are the younger son and would not inherit the throne, you demanded it; you demanded more. You lied to your brother, told him that your father was dead and your mother had shunned him, but he still loves you, wants to protect you, and take you home. You double-crossed and killed your birth father to further your own ends, and have the impudence to say that it was all for the father who raised you.
Your family loves you, yet you spurn them, determined to wallow in your own self-pity and anger whilst you destroy everything around you like a child having a tantrum. You are pathetic, Loki of Asgard, and weak, for you cannot bring yourself to return the love and compassion that so many selflessly bestow on you, undeserving as you continually prove yourself."
Loki stood, silent and almost dumbstruck as Moreau gave her piece. She did not raise her voice, but her words rang in his ears in the silence of the room. When she finished, she stood quietly and walked out of the holding bay, throwing the barely-eaten breakfast wrap in the bin on her way out. He shook himself angrily, and stalked around his cell as the door hissed shut behind her.
How dare she say such things to him? About him?! Stupid, small-minded human! Who was she to judge him, a prince of Asgard? What did she truly know of him besides the fairytales she'd read as a child?
He continued to pace angrily around his cell until she returned. Her face was white as she collected her book and chair, and placed them by the door, as far away from Loki as she could get without abandoning her post. Suddenly Agent Coulson's voice came from the comms device on her wrist.
"Copy, Agent Moreau; stand to attention. Director Fury is inbound with Councilman Moreau to view the prisoner."
"Copy, Agent Coulson. Director and Councilman inbound," Agent Moreau responded formally, before hissing to herself "Fuck! That's all I need!"
She threw her book in her bag and folded away the chair quickly, leaping up the stairs to stand at attention beside Loki's cage, facing the airlock door. A few moments later, Director Fury entered the holding bay with a tall, imposing man in a crisp suit not half a step behind him. Agent Moreau saluted formally.
"Director Fury, sir! Councilman Moreau, sir!"
"At ease, Agent Moreau," Director Fury replied, just as formal. Councilman Moreau did not acknowledge the young agent as he strode up the stairs and passed her to regard the captive. Agent Moreau stayed facing the airlock door.
"So, this is the Asgard?" the Councilman sniffed disdainfully. "Is all this," he gestured at the intricate holding system, "truly necessary? He does not appear to be anything more than a man. I thought this thing was built to contain a monster?"
"I assure you, Councilman Moreau, that this is indeed necessary," Fury replied calmly. "We have yet to get a full detail on Loki's abilities, despite the full co-operation of his brother, Thor. He may not be the monster this cage was built for, but it will hold him, nonetheless."
"Adoptive brother," Loki amended with a tight smile. "And even he does not know the full extent of my abilities. You are wise to treat me with such caution, Director Fury."
"If he is so dangerous, why is she guarding him?" Councilman Moreau did not avert his gaze from Loki. "Surely you have better qualified agents?"
"Agent Moreau is more than capable, Councilman," Fury replied evenly. "She is one of our best and brightest."
"Pah!" Councilman Moreau scoffed loudly, waving a hand dismissively. "I expect those bureaucratic idiots trying to claw their way up the ranks to pander to me like this, but I expected more from you, Director Fury. Exaggerating the whelp's progress in an attempt ingratiate yourself with me is most irritating. I won't have a bar of it."
"Sir, with all due respect," Fury started. "She is one of our best infiltrator agents. She can get into areas-"
"Enough! I'll hear no more about it! My focus here is this Asgard. If I wanted to hear about her progress, I'd talk to her myself," Councilman Moreau snapped. "When was the last time I communicated to you directly, girl?" He didn't even look at Agent Moreau as he spoke to her.
"That was the first time in approximately three years, sir," Agent Moreau responded evenly, still looking straight ahead, no hint of emotion on her face or in her voice, as if she was merely answering a basic debriefing question.
"There, you see?" The Councilman spoke to Fury now. "I have no interest in her. Dismiss her. She can return to her post when we're done. Useless child. If her brother were still alive, I'm sure he wouldn't be such a disgrace."
"Agent Moreau, you are dismissed," Fury gave the order calmly, but inside he was seething.
"Sir!" the agent saluted and left, standing to attention outside the airlock door.
Loki had watched this interaction with an impassive expression. He continued to watch, disinterestedly, the two men as they spent a few more moments conversing about him, and his pen, before turning to leave. He watched carefully as the Director and Councilman walked passed the young agent. She stood to attention, impassive as a statue, as the Councilman strode quickly by, as if she were diseased and he sought to distance himself from her as quickly as possible. At least Fury had the decency to flick his eye towards her as he passed.
She slowly walked back inside, unfolding her chair with slow deliberate movements and sitting down carefully, staring forward with dead, unseeing eyes, her shoulders slumped, her entire posture looking defeated.
Even a with a heart of ice, Loki could feel something for this miserable creature, even if it was only pity.
"Was that your father?" Loki asked after a few moments.
"Yes," was the calm, clear reply.
"You must favour your mother, then?" he pried carefully, hoping to cheer her up.
"I wouldn't know. My mother is dead, and I have never seen her picture," Moreau replied in the same even monotone.
"How did she pass?"
"Birthing my brother and me. We were twins."
"And your brother?"
"Stillborn. Asphyxiated by his own cord."
"Have you no other family?"
"No. Just the Councilman."
For once, Loki did not know what to say. Councilman Moreau compared his living daughter to the ghost of a child who never even took a breath of air, and dismissed her accomplishments as if shooing a fly. Even Loki could see that she was a skilled infiltration agent. If he hadn't have happened to be staring into space in the direction of the air vent she had crept through this morning, he would never have noticed her arrival.
"Your father is entirely unpleasant."
"The Councilman is an important man," Moreau replied robotically.
"You defend a man who dismisses you like an insect?!" Loki asked incredulously.
"He is my father," Moreau 'explained' in her monotone, as if reciting something she learned by rote a long time ago. "He has provided well for me. It would be ungrateful of me to not defend his honour."
"You are a fool, Agent Moreau!" Loki declared throwing his hands in the air and turning away from her.
"I know…" came the barely audible reply.
"Then why?!" Loki demanded spinning around to look at her again. "If you know you are a fool, why do you not change?"
"I've tried," Moreau replied, holding back an hysterical laugh. "So many times… I can tell you exactly how many times I have stood up to my father."
Moreau stood up and walked up to the viewing wall of the prison. "This is what happens when I disobey my father, or bring him shame."
She turned away from the glass, unzipping her jumpsuit to her hips and pulling her arms out of her sleeves. Loki came closer to the glass and was appalled at what he saw. All across the white flesh of Agent Moreau's back were the faded stripes of whipping scars. Up on her left shoulder blade, there were twelve deeper scars, obviously from something being burned into her skin.
"He gave me this when I was six years old," she said, reaching up over her left shoulder with her right hand to push her bra-strap down her shoulder, and tap on the first, oldest scar. "Little girls are to be clean and neat, seen and not heard."
Loki took in the scars with bile rising in his throat. "You never tried to run away?"
"Scars four, six, seven, and ten," Moreau replied. "Ages eight, thirteen, sixteen and seventeen."
Loki put a hand up on the glass between them, shocked beyond belief that a man could inflict this upon his own daughter, especially from such a young age.
"What was number twelve for?" he asked softly.
"I only scored ninety-nine percent on my entrance exam for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Moreau replied as she pulled her jumpsuit back on. "I hold the record for the highest entrance score, but the Councilman demands perfection."
Loki was sick to his stomach. He was glad his breakfast had not arrived yet, or else he knew it wouldn't have stayed down.
"For all you may judge me for killing people," he swallowed before he continued. "I have never inflicted suffering like this on any creature. The Councilman is a monster. I will gladly dispose of him when I take what is mine and rule this planet."
As Agent Moreau turned around to face her charge, zipping her jumpsuit back up under her chin, she gave a faint smile. "Thank-you. For all I disagree with your words, I appreciate the sentiment behind them."
"I will bring you his head on a pike, Agent Moreau," Loki replied. "Whether you say you want it or not, I will kill him for what he has done to you."
Just as Loki made his grand declaration, the official bearing his breakfast arrived. Agent Moreau returned to her seat by the door and her book as the meal tray was put into an airlock into the cell.
"You should dine with me, Agent Moreau," Loki suggested suddenly as the official left the room. "I know that you did not finish your breakfast earlier, and that was my fault. Now I have a greater understanding of why you spoke the way you did, it would be remiss of me not to make amends. Please, come sit with me."
"I didn't show you my scars to make you be nice to me, Loki," Moreau replied softly. "There is no need for you to change your behaviour on my account."
"There may be no need, but there is the desire to," he admitted. "I would like you to join me. If you wish not to, I understand. Even if you will not eat, would you at least come sit by me? It has been too long since I had amicable company for a meal."
Agent Moreau knew in her mind that Loki was only manipulating her. He didn't really feel any remorse for her plight. She knew that. She only showed him her scars so he would think he had a hook with which to snare her (and, admittedly, in a vain attempt to make him appreciate his own family a bit more). She wanted him to think that she was bending to his will. It was sad and pathetic, but she was enjoying somebody being nice to her for a change. She would play along with his game, just to preserve the last shreds of her sanity. She was manipulating him, just as much as he was manipulating her. She appeared to consider, and have an inward battle with herself for a moment, before relenting.
"Okay, then," she replied, giving a shy smile. She grabbed a some fruit, and cheese and crackers she had prepared as a snack out of her bag and went and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the glass.
Loki brought his meal tray and sat opposite her, legs also crossed, the tray balancing in his lap. The food was surprisingly nice. He had been expecting some half-cooked, mushy, slop the first time he was brought a meal, but, to all appearances, he was being fed the same, good quality food as everybody else aboard this craft. The tall man and the little woman sat and ate in silence for a few moments before a question sprang to the Asgardian's mind.
"What is your name, Agent Moreau?"
"You just answered your own question, " Moreau replied, swallowing a bite of nectarine.
"I meant your first name," Loki clarified, taking a sip of water.
"Moira."
"Moira?" he asked, tasting the name on his tongue.
"Moira," she nodded back, peeling a section of her fruit with her teeth. "Moira Moreau"
"Does it mean anything?"
"Bitterness," came the reply.
"Has your father ever shown you any kindness?" Loki asked angrily, stabbing a piece of sausage harshly.
"He let me have books," she replied. "It's how I learned about you."
"Well, at least that's something!" Loki muttered into his scrambled eggs. "Would you indulge me, Moira, by telling me some of what you learned about me in your Midgardian books?"
"One things the books seem to have gotten right was your vanity…" Moira replied lightly, nibbling on a piece of cheese.
Loki chuckled back. "Would you not wish to learn what somebody had learned of you, if you were the subject of myths and legends?"
"I suppose I would," Moira acquiesced. "What would you like to know?"
Authors Notes: Not much to say for this chapter...
Please Review! :3 ~ Kalliope