Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man 2, Thor, or the Avengers, along with the characters, the quotes, and everything else associated with Marvel.
A/N: I guess no one really listened and stopped reading after the rewritten chapters, haha. Well, guess I'll just work faster to revise more.
I've made the decision to eventually go back and chop out any of Clint's/Coulson's/etc POVs. The ratio between their POVs and Natasha's is just too drastic and makes everything like messy and tacked-on (which, I admit, I do resolve to sometimes). This means that there's a 90% of the Thor chapters going in the trash. Bye bye, a month's worth of chapters.
Oh, and this is probably your third time seeing "chapter 27". Deletions shortened things up :)
Apologizing for any spelling/grammar mistakes beforehand.
Chapter 27
The Bridge had quieted. The head counseling table empty save one seat, on which Rogers sat back in, staring at the table top. Two seats from him, Banner, standing behind a chair and resting his elbows on its back, was doing the same. Thor paced in front of them, making the occasional stops.
Natasha took a seat on the other end of the table from the men already gathered. Banner came to her with a Bluetooth and returned to staring into the table. Natasha put the earpiece on and turned on a switch on the underside of the table. A translucent video player glowed on its surface; in it was Loki, strolling around in a round contraption.
"Thirty thousand feet, straight down in a steel trap. You get how that works?" Came Fury's voice from her earpiece. "Ant. Boot."
Loki laughed. "It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me."
"Built for something a lot stronger than you."
"Oh, I've heard." Loki looked into the camera, making eye contact with the video's viewers.
Banner folded his arms over his chest.
"The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?"
"How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war; you steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill cause it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did."
"Ooh." Loki leaned forward to where Fury stood. "It burns you to come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is."
A pause. "Well let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something."
The screen blinked black.
Natasha let out the breath she had held.
"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner's smile was faint.
"Loki's gonna drag this out," Rogers said. "So, Thor. What's his play?"
"He has an army called the Chitauri," Thor said. Even his voice sounded like thunder. "They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."
"An army. From outer space." Rogers looked skeptical.
Banner spoke up. "So he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."
"Selvig?" Thor's face lifted.
"He's an astrophysicist."
"He's a friend," Thor corrected. He looked around, waiting for an explanation for why Selvig was now in question.
Natasha answered. "Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of ours."
"I wanna know why Loki let us take him," Rogers said. "He's not leading an army from here."
"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you can smell crazy on him," said Banner.
"Have care how you speak," Thor defended. "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother."
"He killed eighty people in two days," Natasha reminded.
"He's adopted."
"I think it's about the mechanics," Banner said. "Iridium. What did they need the Iridium for-"
"It's a stabilizing agent." Stark walked in, out of his Iron Man suit. He said something to Coulson beside him and resumed: "Means the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D." Again he sidetracked, swinging over to Thor to tap him on his biceps. "No hard feelings, Point Break, you've got a mean swing." Then cycling a return to the Iridium: "Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants."
Hill, stationed to the side, rolled her eyes up as Stark took over Fury's command podiums.
"Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the top sails." Stark ordered the crew below.
Dozens of faces stared back at him, but no one made a move.
"That man is playing Galaga." He pointed to the right. "Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did—how does Fury even see these?" He gestured to the screens set up to the either side of him.
"He turned," Hill said.
"Sounds exhausting." He began fiddling and changing the settings on a screen. "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high-energy density, something to kick-start the cube."
"When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?" Hill asked.
"Last night. The packet; Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers?" He looked around, spreading his arms. "Am I the only who did the read-"
"Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" Rogers asked.
"He'd have to heat the cube to a hundred-and-twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier," Banner said.
Stark nodded and approached him. "Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunnelling effect."
"Well, if he could do that, he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet."
"Finally. Someone who speaks English."
"Is that what just happened?" Rogers said to the air.
Natasha rubbed her eyes and sighed. Before Stark arrived they had a vague plan for action. Now that he came prancing in for a vocabulary duet with Banner that left even Hill in a daze, they had backtracked to no plan at all. While Stark shook hands with and fawned over Banner, everyone else glanced at one another. Without Fury here to solidify ideas and thoughts any plans they had simply floated and wandered like lint.
Speaking of Fury, he came in just then, frowning, standing behind Natasha. "Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him," he said to Stark.
"Let's start with that stick of his," Rogers suggested. "It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a H.Y.D.R.A weapon."
"I don't know about that, but it is powered by the cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."
"Monkeys?" Thor asked. "I do not underst-"
"I do!" Rogers lit up, obviously pleased at a 100% understanding of what's going on.
The room was silent for a moment.
"I understood that reference," he added, flicking his eyes over the stoic faces around him.
"Shall we play, Doctor?" Stark asked Banner.
"Let's play some."
The two left, Stark's mumbling curses trailing their exit. The remainders locked once again into silence; an expectant silence, quiet eyes and lifted chins directing to Fury.
"We've done all we can for the circumstances on hand," he said. "The trackers for Barton and the others are a bit rocky. Naturally that includes the Tesseract, too, and we've got those two working on that." Fury wagged a thumb to where Stark and Banner had left. "We got our main course locked up, but he's got nothing other than flowery speeches to try and unnerve me."
"Loki does not answer questions," Thor said. "He takes your questions and uses them against you."
"As do every other hostage with a decent brain. And Loki's had, what, hundreds, thousands of years to buff up his brain? Right now all we can do is keep our defenses up, devote more time to finding the Tesseract and study that gold party stick of his."
"Anything I can contribute, sir?" Rogers asked.
"Yeah. Be on the ship."
The finality in his voice dispersed everyone. Thor parted to talk with Coulson. Rogers sat a while longer, thinking, but eventually he got up and took one of the exits.
"Romanoff, you got any suggestions?" Fury's voice came from behind Natasha.
"I do, yes. And I think you know what it is." She stood up to face him. "But I have a request, too."
Fury waited.
"I... For the recent Moscow mission, sir, or at least what started as the Moscow mission." She took a steadying breath. "I've made a discovery that's inconvenient, to say the least."
"What, you've a terminal disease? Hereditary conditions? Or are you talking about that woman you ran around with?"
"There's a microchip implanted here." She touched her neck, and her pulse quivered against her fingertips. "I don't want to go into the details about how I acquired it, but it's long passed its removal date, and there's a tracker in there..." She dropped her hand to her side.
"You want someone in S.H.I.E.L.D to take it out?" Fury frowned.
"I know it's an absurd thing to ask while the agency is in these times, but it's not just a tracker. The microchip records and relays every bit of information it can get out of me. Heart rate, BMI, blood sugar levels, the slightest physical and psychological deviations." She paused to catch her breath. "There's a drug in there that when released can trigger autoimmune functions strong enough to kill. I'm not asking for immediate surgery, Director, but I'd appreciate an approval from you for when everything's back to normal."
Her hands, limp by her side, grew cold despite the comfortable indoor temperature. Fury's frown hadn't eased nor deepened. Then he said it:
"No."
Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted the slightest and she drew in a slow sip of air.
The hope in her eyes must have clung on, because Fury repeated himself. "No."
Natasha hindered her gaze down and nodded.
"I don't want to hear anymore of it," Fury said, deadpan.
Why? Fury was coarse in conduct, but he wasn't unreasonable. His answer bounced off the walls in her mind, echoing and repeating, taunting her. No. No no no. No no no no no no no.
"If you were thinking about using your skills as a leverage against me, forget it," Fury said. "I want you to get Loki talking within twenty-four hours. This is a command, Natasha Romanoff, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."
The faintest "Yes sir" trickled out, and she skittered away.
Down the rows of working agents she went, took a right, turned out of sight into the gallery rimming the side of the Helicarrier, where glass panels swarmed with the outside view filled the left side of the wall. Fury's denial taunted her like a hovering fly.
That night on the ship she tossed and turned in a cramped cot, blinking and wide awake. All the sleeping quarters on board had been stuffed with some amount of equipment moved out from the secure storages to accommodate the sudden spike of Phase Two shipments. Blocky, silver safes towered in stacks by her feet and side, and if she stretched an arm out her fingertips would skim their chilly surface.
Natasha pushed herself up from the cot and sat in the dark for a while. The place was soundless. There was a bad ache in her neck, in her head. It couldn't be the headaches that came with Sheerin's Booster, those had long since worn off. This kind lurked and scouted by the edge of her senses, slinking closer, feeding on her body's intent to seek out all the negatives that surrounded her.
She reached for a bottle of pills on a makeshift table of safes and dry-swallowed one. Sheerin had given it to her earlier that day to make up for the previous bottle that she had lost. Maybe this wasn't the side-effects headache, but what had she to lose? The bitter taste it left in her throat alone snared a sharper bout of pain to her temples. Definitely not normal.
Natasha scooted back so that the back of her calves bumped against the startling cold of the cot's steel frame. Now that she had quiet time by herself, she didn't want it anymore. What use did she have for it? In the weapon-filled, tense womb of this closet space, of this ship, reflections and musings scarce bred. It was for the best. Fury didn't invite everyone aloft to contemplate. They came prepared for reflex; instinctual response to the worse case scenario.
Then what should she do with the ache straining to penetrate the brave face she put on?
Just a tentative poke on the subject of Clint and bile rose in her throat. What Stark had told her didn't settle well, either. The mess she had made in Russia didn't become expendable because of this new alien threat. Midst it all she had unconsciously put pressure and hope on what she had asked Fury. It had such potential and high success rates compared to everything else unraveling before her, how could she not? It wasn't wrong to want to lean against a solid wall and take a breath, was it?
No. But this was the wrong time for rest.
Face Loki first. Get Clint back first. Then she could breathe.
Natasha laid down, folded her legs back between the blankets securely, and let her eyes go out of focus. Outside a quiet conversation had bloomed. The blankets brushed against her skin in a light embrace, and she closed her eyes and pretended she was back in New York.
The next morning Fury called for a meeting that nobody came to. Stark and Banner were still in their lab. Thor paced the length of the ship. Rogers was absent, too, the most surprising of them all. When Natasha knocked on the counseling room's door Fury yelled through the wall for her to forget it.
That left one thing on her schedule today.
Loki's cell wasn't far, and she took her time, her strides easy. The several sets of guards along the leading corridor looked at her but didn't say anything.
Natasha stopped in front of the last door. Yesterday she had promised herself to hold off her feelings, today she would break that promise. What other choice had she? A god who could manipulate minds would see past any frauds. If she displayed anything but the genuine he wouldn't take the bait; she had to dangle herself at the end of the hook.
She turned the door handle and slipped in.
A long, bright hallway. Natasha quickened her pace. At the end of it came an abrupt turn, curving into a wide staircase that wound round and round, and at the end of it was a dim chamber. A round, clear compartment centered the room, glowing on its surface with blue. A dark figure paced slowly inside. She stood behind him, in his direct view if he turned.
Turn he did.
Loki smiled. Reptilian. "There's not many people who can sneak up on me."
"But you figured I'd come."
"After." He approached. "After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."
She said the first thing on her mind: "I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton."
"I'd say I have expanded his mind." He looked like he was waiting for a "thank you" from her.
"Once you've won." She walked closer. "Once you're king of the mountain, what happens to his mind?"
"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"
"Love is for children; I owe him a debt."
Loki chuckled. "Tell me." He sat down on the chair in his cell.
Natasha hesitated. But she had risk herself for this, right. She sighed. "Before I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D, I uh..." She sat down, too, on a chair set facing him. "Well, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skill set. I didn't care who I used it for, or on. I got on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar in a bad way."
Loki stared at her with that calculating gaze, absorbing her every word.
"Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call."
"And what will you do if I vow to spare him?"
She smiled. "Not let you out-"
"Ah, no. But I like this." His grin split apart his lips so that his entire set of teeth gleamed at her. "Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?"
"Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that, I'm Russian... or I was."
"And what are you now?"
What was she now? A good person? An American? A loyal agent of S.H.I.E.L.D for life, like Coulson? Or was S.H.I.E.L.D just a vehicle to get her through another day of compensating for her past crimes? Natasha couldn't decide, but she did know one thing.
"It's really not that complicated." She rose. "I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out."
"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?" He had—was that pity she saw?—in his eyes. "Drakov's daughter? São Paulo? The hospital fire?" He listed, each tick off the tally a strike to her guts. "Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping. It's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything?" He stalked towards her, a scowl dismissing his sneer. "This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic.
"You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code; something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you. And they will never. Go. Away."
Her arms shook where she crossed them over her chest.
Loki slammed his fist against the cell's wall. "I won't touch Barton," he growled. "Not until I make him kill you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll spilt his skull. This is my bargain, you mewling quim."
The nausea that had simmered inside her heaved then, and she turned her back on him, swallowed to restrain the urge to throw up. Something hurled and crashed in relentless waves inside her ribcage, struggling to break through. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"You're a monster," she stammered.
A low laugh. "Oh, no," Loki said. "You brought the monster."
Her eyes snapped open. Like a chain around the throat her cognitive state wrenched back her emotions. She turned and faced him.
"So, Banner. That's your play."
Loki frowned. "What?"
Natasha headed for the stairs that she had come. "Loki means to unleash the Hulk," she said into her earpiece to Fury. "Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Send Thor as well."
Her heart pounded. Her lips trembled. Just before she reached the door she looked back at Loki. The puzzlement on his face had broken into shock. Disbelief. Malice. It wasn't good enough of a reaction, not enough to pay for what he had done. If contained by a cage she couldn't wound his body then she'd sever and plunder what she could.
"Thank you," she said, her expression dressed and polished. "For your cooperation."
She didn't wait to see his response, but she could picture it. Freezing gold and jagged, ragged obsidian.
He deserved worse.