Chapter SIX

A Little INKLING

"I hope you're comfortable there on the floor because our first stop is three hours away," Natasha says, and Loki says, "Yes, I am fine down here."

Loki wants to trust Agent Romanoff.

When he sat in the glass cage of his back in Stark Tower, he thought about his life, the string of events that would happen if he did not act out of jealousy. He imagined all of the things that he could've done that didn't involve the breaking of the Bifrost, destruction, pain, betrayal and chaos. He thought about the people who used to love him unconditionally, the people who smiled at him and was kind to him. He thought about Thor. What kind of brothers would they be now if Loki hadn't done everything to get him exiled, to hurt his friends and to destroy the realm he promised he would protect?

Loki wanted to trust Agent Romanoff. Her confession made him want to trust her because damn it he just wants to feel secure again.

The first time he met the agent, something sparked interest inside of him. The woman was impressive as a master assassin and as a SHIELD agent. She was good at severing strings that connected to her, and she was good at eliminating the enemy. The agent was a murderess: quick, lethal and dangerous. Loki felt proud when he managed to strike fear and hollow pain inside of the famous Black Widow. He felt proud that such a strong and sturdy woman could be broken down and stripped to her very core with just the play of the right words at the right time. Reciting all of her missions and her failures, the fact that her ledger was gushing red was enough to make her freeze.

Now, he saw Agent Romanoff in a different light. Now that they were both escaping, he no longer saw Natasha as an enemy to eliminate or a burden to take care of. He saw her as someone who could be his friend.

The ex-god felt pathetic. He felt pathetic for wanting comfort and happiness from a mere mortal, but the mortal understands. They were the same, somehow, two different evils. The mortal has killed and spilled blood like anybody else in her team, and Loki's weapons weren't exactly pure and untouched. The agent has betrayed and left people's hearts cut open and bleeding –both metaphorically and physically—and Loki has betrayed everyone who ever loved him. The agent had done so many wrong things and she tried, oh she tried, to save others and save herself. She tries to be the hero.

That's where the similarities stop. Loki has no intention to become the hero, even if it means he would be in Midgard for all of his immortality. He has no desire to save or to protect, but he wants to have this want. He wants to be the hero, but the ex-god doesn't know how to do this. Everybody knows him as the man who tried to become Midgard's king and failed, but not without damaging his would-be subjects.

But Loki will try. Maybe if he trusted Natasha, then he would know how to be the hero.

Natasha likes the silence.

It's most definitely not comfortable, but the silence helps her think. The mission was going smoothly, their next stop is only two hours away and Stark or the rest of the team haven't seemed to notice the loops. Maybe the CGI Database was activated. Either way, the SHIELD Agents and the team haven't noticed that something's wrong.

Unless they visit the cell itself.

Natasha swallows, her chest tightening at the thought. Fury hadn't thought about that situation, wherein the ex-god is being delivered food three times a day. This minor detail could jeopardize the whole operation. The agent can't decide if accepting this mission was a good choice or a bad one. Her feelings were all muddled and conflicted and her basic concept of right and wrong –which was severely screwed up as it is—got even more confusing. It's as if she couldn't tell the difference between black and white, and this was frustrating her.

The master assassin was trained for many things. She knew almost every martial art, could wield almost any weapon, knew codes and certain passwords for many things and devices and knew how to hack into files and databases. But she was never trained to control her emotions,she learned that on her own. They were taught how to mask them, but she had full control over them. She can choose which ones to show, and sometimes, she could even get rid of her feelings for a certain situation.

But right now, it's as if she was a high school girl again, in the middle of puberty and her emotions an emotional rollercoaster. She rolls her eyes at the cliché-ness of the entire idea, and dismisses it from her mind.

Natasha couldn't understand why she felt this way. She had to pull herself together and focus on getting Loki where he's supposed to be, not dwelling on why she felt like ditching the whole operation and taking Loki somewhere safe instead.

These demons continued to battle within her. As she drove down a highway, she suddenly thought of the team.

They've learned to grow closer even if they were far away. A common enemy brought them together, and their friendship was strong yet unexplainable. A pang of hurt ran through her chest as she thought of Clint. Clint was sent on a mission to kill her, instead, he looked down onto his feet, his bow and arrow still aimed at Natasha's chest, and nodded curtly to the side. Natasha's mouth hung open, eyes wide and disbelieving, but Clint already started walking away. He stopped abruptly and barked, "Come on." After that day, Natasha always felt like she owed him for saving her life, but she never knew how to repay the kindness he showed him on that day. Until now.

The agent shook her head, and focused on the mission. Fury's an idiot if he thinks this whole thing is going to work Natasha thought with a scowl, thinking over the hundred things that could go wrong. The random skater-boy might pass by, seeing the suspicious black mini-van driving to an almost desolate house by the edges of New York. A policeman could ask for inspection or whatever.

Then, if the mission is a success. There are so many consequences they'll have to deal with and as barbaric Asgardians may be, they won't erase all of Loki's existence. These punishments are up to the All-Father to decide, not Fury, who unfortunately against Odin is like an ant against a boot. A nice analogy inspired by Loki's first words to the one-eyed director.

Buildings began to fade from the background, and are instead replaced with houses and a factory here and there. The house is just thirty minutes away. A lump forms in Natasha's throat, and she doesn't know exactly what to feel about the whole situation.

Everything was a mess. Angles and lines weren't as straight as they were supposed to be, and when Natasha looked at the grand scheme of things, the picture was blurry yet clear in some spots. The entire metaphoric and admittedly cliché jigsaw puzzle of just about everything was strewn across the traditional mahogany table, like a child who couldn't solve anything had thrown a tantrum, but left bits of pieces of connected pictures together.

But weren't they all children in this big and scary world? They just discovered that there were higher beings that coexisted with them from the beginning. Who wouldn't feel like children?

The house was five minutes away.

Natasha hardened her expression and told herself that she would be able to do this mission. Whatever comes afterwards, she'll deal with it because she'll find a way. If she can't, there are other strings that she could reattach to herself, and continue on. It will be painful, and they might ignite a war against Asgardians and other freaks of nature, but they will all be able to move on.

Without Loki, too.

But there it is, stronger than her doubt and fear and pain. An inkling of something she couldn't quite place. It started right after Loki told a story of his childhood, right before the sun came up.

"I was with Thor, and the two of us foolishly went into the woods on our own, rebelling against our parents' laws like the good children we are. The air was chilly and the snow fell like dust, and we ventured out, equipped with fur coats and what little magic I, a mere twelve year old, had. Everything was playing out swimmingly until a Bilgesnipe decided to lumber about, and Thor and I froze. Thor, seeing the war in everything surprised me when his face broke out into the brightest grin I've ever seen, and he cautiously approached the large beast with slow and calculated steps, dropping Mjolnir onto the blanket of snow."

Loki paused, taking a breath as if the story was a little heavy to tell. It should be, Natasha figured, because this was his childhood. Better days, happier moments with Thor and his family. This should hurt. "The Bilgesnipe was a kind one. Thor was delighted when the creature bowed and allowed Thor to run his fingers through its fur, and Thor beckoned me to come and pet the wild beast. I was afraid, of course, because we weren't supposed to be there, but I stepped forward anyway, tentatively stroking the fur near its antlers. It...it slowly descended, and went down on its knees, like a subject kneeling before his king. Then, Thor nudged me and said 'I know, brother, that you think you have slim chances to become King of Asgard in the near future, and that you think you are not of worth, but look at this Bilgesnipe. He respects you and kneels before you, so it must mean that you are truly a king. I think so too, look brother, I shall kneel.' Kneel he did. I still remember these words, the giddy grin Thor gave me and the almost respecting air the Bilgesnipe gave me."

"Only then did I ever feel like I was truly loved."

Natasha parked into the driveway of the house, covered by a forest of trees and bushes. When they got out of the mini-van, the greens might hide them. Well, she hopes it is enough to camouflage them. That inkling grew stronger in her heart, and it was very close to warmth and the urge to protect.

She shook her head and took the bag in the passenger's seat beside her, sliding out of the car and slamming the door shut. She opened Loki's door, and very quickly, they went inside the abandoned house through the backdoor.

Natasha will work hard on stamping down those feelings.

Natasha wasn't very good with identifying sentimental emotions. Hatred, passion, anger, annoyance and all the others, she could sense. It all helped her identify who the enemy is. But she was never well-oriented in the art of love, friendship or happiness. No, all the emotions she knew were dark and highly influenced by her own set of talon-wielding demons.

The closest to love she ever felt was Clint saving her from a rather tricky mission in Budapest, and it wasn't very romantic. No, he saved her from a sixty-story fall off a building and slapped her in the face for being so stupid to fall into a trap like that. Then a pat on the back. That's love for her.

So she felt dread fill in her heart when she realized that small feeling that was begging for her attention was her own twisted definition of love.