Sleep like the dead
"How did I do?" Asta asked, but the one-eyed man didn't respond. He stared down at his hands. In each, he held an apple—one golden, one red. "Did I pass?" He'd barely ever said a word to her, but she supposed unless she passed he saw her as beneath him. His fingers clenched around the apples, and this time he did look up, and she almost buckled under the sorrow in his eyes.
He held out the red apple, moving the hand with the golden one behind his back. "I'm sorry, my child."
She swallowed down a gasp, bit back her tears. "I won't die, though. You promised I wouldn't die."
"You won't die, I swear it." He was so old, hair and beard pure white, and all those years bore down on him, exhaustion radiating from the lines on his face.
She took the apple. "Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I love him, and I'm sorry I failed." She bit down.
If she could hear, she wasn't dead.
If she could feel the pounding in her skull, she really wasn't dead. That was a good thing. Theoretically.
Despite stumbling back into consciousness, even lifting her eyelids was beyond her capability. She was 99% sure she was no longer on the roof, unless gravel normally felt this soft, and the cacophony of the battle had been replaced with the soft hum of air conditioning. In all likelihood, she was in a bed, but how she'd got here and how long she'd been in it was beyond her. She was too exhausted to care.
She wasn't alone, given the murmurs across the room. She recognised one voice—Romanoff—but not the other, a man. If Romanoff was here that meant Asta was in SHIELD's custody rather than Loki's. Small mercies.
"Do you think we can expect Coulson to swing by?" asked the man.
"He did seem concerned with her status, but given all that's going on with the Security Council, he may not get chance. Maybe when she wakes up."
"If she wakes up."
"Thanks for the optimism, Barton." So he was the infamous Barton, the one who'd been under Loki's control until Loki stole Asta off the helicarrier. He and Romanoff sounded relaxed with each other.
"How'd she end up on the roof in the first place?"
"I found her on the stairwell. She'd been very resourceful to escape wherever she'd been stashed. I think she was trying to run away."
"From Loki?"
"From Loki, from us, from all of this."
"Smart girl."
"What good it did her. You should've seen her on that roof, Clint, when she held the Tesseract. She had those eyes, like Selvig and…you. She was staring at the sky and she was struggling with something. I knew if she didn't let go it'd kill her."
"So you did what you had to. Cognitive recalibration."
"Yeah, but she let go of the cube a second before."
"You can't blame yourself for this. This is probably some damage the cube did to her, rather than you cracking her over the head."
"Thanks." The word was loaded with sarcasm.
"I'm serious. They did all those scans and didn't find any bruising or swelling. She just needs to rest and heal."
"I hope so. I'm just worried that her amnesia means she'd already had one serious brain injury, and I made it worse."
"I don't think the amnesia had a medical cause. If the Prince of Darkness had anything to do with it, it's probably one of his experiments gone wrong."
"Oh, he definitely had something to do with it, but I don't think he ever experimented on her. You should've seen him when we brought her down. He could barely crawl out of the crater the Hulk left him in, but we carried her past drenched in blood, and he was on his feet, trying to heal her. I think he did himself more damage than he helped, but we couldn't tear him away."
Footsteps approached and another person joined the conversation. "Do you remember his words?" Selvig asked. "'If you try to keep me from her, this battle will seem like a childhood frolic.'"
"I believed him," said Romanoff.
"You think he's soft on her?" Barton asked. "Creepy."
"I don't get it. I just don't get it," said Selvig. "And Thor can't explain—he says he's never met her, never even heard of her. He has no idea how she could be connected to Loki."
"I tried to get some intel outta Coulson," said Barton, "but he's being tight as a nun's cooch about the whole thing. Keeps saying it's classified. Stark's too busy to hack into SHIELD's files."
"That isn't something we should be encouraging. Look where it led the last time."
"But we saved the world and everyone lived happily ever after."
"Apart from the people who died," Romanoff pointed out. "And the destruction done to Manhattan. And the psychological damage to the civilians caught in the battle, and the soldiers forced to act against their will—"
"I know, Tash. I know. I know better than almost anyone on that score, okay? I'm just saying, it could've gone a lot worse. Loki's in custody, the Chitauri are dead or on the other side of the universe, and Manhattan isn't a nuclear wasteground. Plus, I've finally stopped tasting shawarma every time I belch."
"Nice. Well, I have somewhere to be," said Romanoff. "Is anyone going to be on watch?"
"I'll do it," said Selvig. "It's no problem, I've got something to read. She looks peaceful, and a lot healthier, which is better than remembering what she looked like yesterday. Besides, I don't think anyone will get past him anyway, chained up or not."
"Okay, Stark and Rogers are around somewhere so yell if you need anything." More footsteps, this time fading, and Asta's world narrowed to the soft scratching of turning pages.
She was woken the next time by more voices—loud, angry voices.
"I will not stay out here any longer!" She flinched at Loki's demanding tone.
"I'm afraid you don't get a say in this," came Coulson's quieter, reasoned response.
"Oh, I very much do. You may think me bested but it's only my cooperation that allows such an assumption. I'm here of my own free will and if you don't grant me this—"
"Loki, be reasonable!" Asta didn't recognise the other voice—deep, male, the same accent as Loki.
"I am being reasonable," Loki spat. "I will acquiesce to remaining chained thus, but only in her presence. Otherwise I'll be taking my leave, and you'll all regret—"
"Will he harm her?" Coulson cut in.
"I don't believe so," Romanoff said.
"I'm right here!"
"Yes, we're aware of that Mr Odinson," Coulson replied calmly. "In light of your petition, I'm willing to allow a change in location, if your brother agrees to stay."
"I do." The new man had to be Thor.
"Agent Romanoff, can you oversee the move?"
Everything quietened, apart from the clink of metal further away, but she welcomed the peace and fell back to sleep.
She slipped in and out of wakefulness often, slipping out of dreams before they delved too deep. Sometimes she heard the rattle of metal or the shift of cloth nearby and was sure someone was in the room with her, but it was easier to continue ignoring the world if she kept her eyes shut.
She'd been awake some time, aware of breathing off to her side, knowing she wasn't alone, but no one spoke. She was curled on her side, facing away from the presence of her visitor. The heavy thud of boots reverberated, coming closer, and she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled across the floor.
"Has she woken at all?" It was the man's voice from before—Thor. His voice suited how Asta pictured him in her head, carrying through the space even when low in volume. Appropriate for a god of thunder. Silence greeted his question, and he spoke again after an uncomfortable pause. "You can't ignore me forever."
"Now there's a statement I'd like to test," Loki replied, and though his voice hummed with menace, there was a definite scrape to the words. He sounded exhausted. Asta wondered how long he'd been there. Since the shouting match earlier, probably, although how long ago that had been was another mystery.
"Is this how you intend to spend your days now? Brooding and sulking by this girl's bedside?"
"It's as good a past-time as any."
"And when they come to drag you away to face punishment? What then?"
Loki snarled. "That won't be happening. She was taken from me once, and I will not permit it to occur again. Chain me up, torture me, do whatever you see fit, but I won't be kept from her."
"Who is she, Loki?" Thor's voice slipped into frustration.
"Have SHIELD not briefed you yet? Her name is Alexandra."
"Who is she?" The frustration twisted into anger. "They all believe she's known as Asta. That's not a Midgardian name, but she's clearly not of Asgard. What is she to you?"
A sharp, humourless laugh burst from Loki. "Oh, brother. If only you knew." Chains rattled behind her, and then she felt a hand in her hair, teasing the tangles out. "She was going to be my wife."