Disclaimer: not mine
It had been decided, regardless of Fury's orders, that the Avengers (Tony, Bruce, Thor, Steve, and Natasha) would be going down to the base. The Doctor had said quietly but firmly that he would be joining them, and this was quickly accepted as he knew more about what was going on than anyone else. Sherlock had straightened his coat and made to follow the group, and been told in no uncertain terms that he was not going with them.
"Mr Holmes, you're a civilian." Fury had said wearily, as if talking to a child, "You are in no way equipped to face whatever may be down there."
Sherlock puffed out his chest and stood as tall as he could, bearing down upon the director with cold eyes.
"I refuse to whittle away my time aboard this craft when I could be better served searching for John." The detective hissed, ignoring the way that the others were watching him, and the encouraging nod that the Doctor had aimed in his direction (as if he were a puppy being praised for rolling over properly), "I am going to John, whether you allow me to accompany these people, or I take my own jet when you're not looking."
Fury looked ready to respond, rolling his one good eye, but Tony stepped forward, holding a titanium gloved hand between them.
"Let him come with us." He implored, earning a withering stare from Fury, "While Steve, Thor, Banner, and I go with the Doctor and Harkness to find whoever's running this show; Sherlock can go with Romanoff to find the prisoners."
"Natasha might need help if there are any injured." Steve added, and Sherlock fought off the chill the leeched down his spine at the very idea. He would accompany Natasha without argument; the first person he wanted to see was John, and the last thing he ever wanted to confront was Moriarty.
Fury finally acquiesced after another minute wasted, and the group began to file past him into the corridor, when they were stopped again.
"What about us?" Rose Tyler demanded, gesturing between Loki (who had been watching the proceedings with barely restrained bemusement) and herself, "You can't expect me to sit here and wait for you to come back."
It was Natasha that answered, directing a poisonous glare at Loki, but attempting to smile reassuringly at Rose. The result was a strange and not so comforting expression.
"Stark and Rogers have small cameras in the front of their suits, as will your Doctor once he stands still. You watch what happens from here, and act accordingly if things go wrong." She explained, and then gestured towards Loki's slumped figure, "It'll give the two of you time to catch up."
Rose huffed, but allowed them to leave.
Outside on the landing strip, Sherlock took a moment to wish that he was wearing something a bit warmer than his usual Belstaff coat. The sky was pitch black save for the lights that undulated in the sky, glittering off the snow covered landscape below. He had been informed that the Helicarrier was cloaked, but he didn't believe it. The Arctic wind whipped against the aircraft that were strapped to the floor, whistling through the joints. It was the perfect match was the trepidation that Sherlock felt. Beneath them, partially hidden in the ice, was a labyrinth like concrete complex; inside that...John.
Sherlock didn't even want to think about what they might have done to him, he didn't want to face Moriarty again, and he didn't want to know what he was planning; but his mind, as always raced ahead and selected the choicest images to present to his eyes.
A hand curled around his shoulder, and Sherlock's head jerked around to meet Thor's gaze. He didn't say anything (Small mercies), but tilted his head in the direction of the jet, where the others were already gathered. The two of them strode in silence to the jet, where Sherlock wedged himself beside Tony, who shot him a wan smile.
Nobody spoke as the jet took off; even the Doctor was staring darkly into the middle distance.
*********8
The temperature was at least twenty degrees lower on the ground. Two entrances had been identified on the schematics that had been retrieved from the SHIELD databases, and once the team had arrived on the ground they had been met by a blue lips Jack Harkness.
As Steve recounted the plan for his team (it was simple, and this was pointless), Sherlock watched the Doctor approach Jack. The ridiculously dressed man had looked at the hand and flirtatious hand offered him and laughed, and after a moment's confusion, Jack's face had lit up and a grin stretched his frozen lips.
"How are you making your faces get younger?" Jack demanded, pulling the Doctor into what promised to be a rib-crushing hug. The Doctor pushed away and returned a cheeky wink.
"Well…I can't have you outdoing me can I?" he remarked, rubbing his hands together and attempting to blow some heat onto them as he did so. Jack smirked and shook his head, before his expression dropped and became more solemn.
"What happened this time?" he inquired. The Doctor glanced towards the group, and Sherlock made no effort to hide the fact that he was watching. To his annoyance, the Doctor shifted closer to Jack so that he could mutter in his ear. Useless.
Steve had finished his pep-talk just as Sherlock turned to face him.
"Has everybody got that?" Steve asked, his eyes hovering on Sherlock and the Doctor, who he must have known hadn't been listening.
"Got it down to a tee." The Doctor answered cheerfully, his tone making Sherlock want to punch him; there weren't many people that made him want to resort to physical violence, (Anderson being one- and the Doctor was obviously no idiot), but there was something about the Doctor that rubbed the detective up the wrong way.
"I had it after the first time you explained it." Sherlock replied caustically.
"It's nice to know we're all on the same page then, isn't it." Tony added unhelpfully; contrary to his otherwise independent personality, Sherlock had noticed that Tony, more than any of the other Americans, seemed especially eager to have everyone get along. If it weren't for the biting wind blasting his face, he might even have attempted a fake smile of reassurance, just as a sign that he was grateful if nothing else.
Bruce, who had gone along with the group in subdued silence, nodding at the correct moments, gestured for Jack to move further into the huddle.
"You're sure that we'll get in okay?" Bruce asked tensely, "Because I don't want to risk the Other Guy walking around on his own for too long."
Jack nodded assuredly, and fixed a confident grin before visibly deciding that it wasn't worth it, and frowning.
"From what I've seen, there aren't that many people here, but those that are, are very well trained and loyal." He reported, his eyes flickering towards the base that was partially hidden by snow only twenty feet away, "There'll be guys at the hub of operation with whoever's in charge, and maybe stationed outside the storeroom where the prisoners most likely are, but the halls should be clear."
Sherlock could already see about thirty holes in the plan; this didn't quite make sense, and he couldn't help the feeling that something was going to go wrong. He was saved having to word these fears as Thor (Who was shockingly still only wearing his thin metal armour, practically impervious to the cold as he was) shook his head agitatedly.
"This feels like a trap." Thor said lowly, looking to his allies for confirmation that he should continue; they didn't look surprised, but Steve nodded for him to go on, "We know that these people mean to lure us in, and small as their forced may be, we cannot ignore that we are performing precisely how they planned."
"Are you having second thoughts?" the Doctor inquired dryly; Sherlock wanted to strangle him. He was eyeing up each of them, and this whole time he had been behaving as if the entire mission was just a game. Sherlock had to admit though, he now understood, just fractionally, why some people became angry with him.
"Not for a second." The detective replied sharply; if he hadn't already been gritting his teeth against the cold, his face would have been contorted in displeasure. A titanium clad hand clapped him on the back, and Sherlock was to his regret the first one to look away as Steve began speaking again. Squabbling could wait so long as John was in danger.
"Natasha, Sherlock, you two enter through the eastern door; that's as close to the storerooms as you can get. SHIELD used to keep weapons there, so it's on the bottom floor." Steve reiterated, and Sherlock nodded along with Natasha, eager to get a move on, "You radio us when you find anything. The rest of us will enter through the northern door and try to reach the old meeting room; Bruce," the soldier nodded to Bruce who gave a wan smile, "said that the pictures he got from the Helicarrier showed the most activity there, so I'm hoping we can corner the boss."
"Or shoot 'em if they're not up for talking." Tony's voice had taken on a steely determination, and Thor met this with a grin,
"If you can fire your energy weapons before I can release Mjolnir." He challenged.
Jack chimed in with a 'whoa big guy', but the Doctor cut everyone off with a stern, dark face and a clearing of the throat.
"There won't be any unnecessary death on my watch." He said, and for once none of the Avengers had a reply; even Sherlock found that there was something in the Timelord's expression that shouldn't be crossed. Not at that moment anyway. Another gust of wind and Sherlock ducked his head down, catching sight of his watch.
"We're wasting time, we need to go now." He insisted; none of these people took his word as law the way that people back home tended to do on instinct. It was maddening. Steve however hummed in agreement.
"Sherlock's right, we need to go. Are you ready?" He looked to each of his team, and then the Doctor, all of who nodded quickly, "Then split up, let's move."
************************************88
Loki watched detachedly as the images on the screens before him changed from the icy, barren landscape and the chests of the 'Avengers', to a scenic view of a concrete building which grew as the wearers drew nearer to it.
Once 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' and their newly acquired company had vacated the room, there had only been moments of uncomfortable silence with Rose before two SHEILD agents had grabbed him under the arms and dragged him bodily to a separate room, in which Rose also joined him, and where they could both observe the mission from afar.
It seemed a strange punishment, even when looked at against the punishments that Odin would bestow upon his children when they were young and far less cautious about getting caught, but apparently Fury had 'grown sick of Loki's god-awful face' and if he didn't go somewhere else he'd 'have to find himself a new set of ribs once I'm through with his'.
Loki had merely smiled graciously as he passed Fury; as if his mortal form could so much as dent me, defeated and tired I may be, but I am still a god. He wasn't sure what the humans were going to do with him; to be fair, they didn't seem to know either. Rose had been assumed his caretaker, but should she see something on the screens that gave her cause to join the fray, Loki was unsure of what part anyone expected him to play.
"Are we not talking then?" Rose's voice was cold and sharp, but Loki could tell from the way it wavered that it was upset, not anger that made it so. He had been fighting the temptation to look at her, but had been failing terribly, small sideways glances providing the same half blurred images that made up all that he could truly remember of her from 'before'.
Before the Chituari, before the Other; they had shown him so many horrors, the worst truths of the heart of the universe, and then pushed him along as a half-formed puppet, playing on his already seeded envies and pains to achieve their own ends. His mind had been so twisted, so clouded, so torn and remade that although he remembered the events, the emotions, the frantic-peace juxtaposition that life with Rose had been, his memories had barely retained her image; it was like the pages of a book that he had once read, but now the paper was drowned and the words run in inky streams into one another. He knew it had happened, he knew he had felt that, but all that was left were faded residues of her face and rough outlines of memories. He couldn't even remember why he had stolen the canon and flung himself into that fateful pit; he just remembered the dejection, the fury, and the piercing pain and irrationality, probably enhanced tenfold, as he stormed from her life. He had expected never to see her again, as he would never see Thor again, but here she was.
Loki raised his head and took in the face of his beautiful, radiant friend; she wasn't traditionally lovely, not by Asgard's standards, but there had been something about her speech, her manner, her warm heart, that had made her so very beautiful. The painful longing returned as her warm brown eyes met his; he had a feeling that that feeling must have contributed to his leaving.
"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" he drawled pleasantly; his eye caught on the screen to his right, which was now showing a grey stone corridor, empty save for the shadows of the Avengers. Rose appeared not to have seen, her expression shifting to indignation.
"Don't give me that crap," she replied her eyes burning as she stared him down; he would not look away, he was not a weakling, despite his many, many, failures, "You know exactly what I want. Why would you leave me like that? I mean, I know we had a fight, but what you did was downright dangerous- I know it was, I talked to your brother!"
Loki tried his hardest not to bristle at the mention of his brother; so Thor had been telling tales, that was just wonderful. He hooked his still shackled hands together over his knees.
"If you have spoken to Thor then you know of the horrors that I endured." Loki remarked bitterly, and he saw the way that Rose flinched at the mention of horrors, feeling a mixture of pity and victory, "I would be willing to tell you my reasoning…if my mind had not been toyed with as it was."
Rose seemed unsure, and she was definitely thinking something over; she had always been easy to read, but the content of her musings had been more elusive.
"So you don't remember what we fought about?" she asked curiously; as Loki shook his head she slipped from the chair that she had taken on the opposite side of the room and walked slowly, carefully towards him, coming to a stop beside the nearest desk, just a foot away from him.
"It might help refresh my memory if you would tell me the subject matter of our quarrel." Loki suggested, and smirked as Rose flicked her foot in his direction, only narrowly missing his shin in the way that he thought she had in the past. After a moment's thought she answered,
"No…it wasn't important."
Loki's forehead pinched and he tilted his head to look at her more directly.
"Surely it must have-"
"Can you still remember us?" Rose suddenly asked, her eyes boring desperately into his. Loki remembered that she had told him stories about searching all across the universe to find a man that she had loved, only to end up with merely a friend. This all seemed far to similar, and though the specifics escaped him, he wasn't proud of himself for making that emotion present itself in her features.
"I cannot remember many details…although there are a few events that linger; I think that I can imagine a grand white room with fluttering dresses and a scowling father or two…" he spoke slowly, rolling the words over his tongue, watching for confirmation that what he was saying was true.
Rose's lips twitched and again her foot came out, accompanied by a hand that swept over his shoulder, berating him.
"That was my dad and my mum!" she exclaimed, biting back a laugh. Loki grinned, and then his expression turned more serious.
"I can remember the feelings, however mottled and worn they may be." He said quietly, turning his eyes away from the woman before him. He heard her sigh lightly, a confused sound, not an angry exhale.
Loki became aware that Rose had moved, the rustle of her cheap jacket against her shirt, and the shadow that fell across his legs giving her away. Before he was truly aware, she had ducked down and placed a light kiss on his lips. She pulled away quickly, gently, but Loki watched her retreat without reacting, watching her warily, curiously.
"You remember that?" Rose asked quietly, her eyes now tracing the floor.
"As do you it seems." He replied, just as lowly. Rose's expression brightened, and her smile grew almost imperceptibly. She wanted more but Loki was not as quick to return to 'normal', whatever that was anymore. Instead he gestured to the screens that still showed plain white corridors, although Captain America could be seen in this shot.
"I think you should refocus your attention upon your new…'friends'."
******8
Sherlock was too fraught with contained tension to be bored by the whitewashed concrete corridors, or the silence with which Natasha led him through them. The only thought thrumming through his mind was John; he was coming for him…somewhere in here.
The others had yet to find anything; they would have radioed if they had. The thing that set Sherlock's teeth on edge the most was the fact that he hadn't seen a single guard, or armed lackey at all. Jack had been right when he'd said they would find their way around easily, but this was just…wrong.
It was obviously a trap; but they would be expecting them to hunt down the ringleaders and demand their loved ones back (the others would do that so as to throw off any suspicion- it would fail but it was worth a try). It should have been harder to reach the prisoners, and Sherlock hated every second that he didn't hear a distant gunshot. Too easy, far too easy.
Natasha came to a stop outside a matt grey door, the third one along this corridor. They had already gone down two sets of stairs, and this was the last floor. Natasha took a moment to point her gun down each end of the corridor before turning back.
"This one should be the store room; the room's lowered once you get in there." She whispered, although there was really no need, "Can you get it open without any noise."
Sherlock barely glanced at the lock; it was insultingly simple.
"Of course I can." I retorted, and knelt down beside the door, pulling out his lock-picking kit. There next three minutes were tenser than the journey down there; on his feet he was a challenge, kneeling on the ground, a veritable target.
Sherlock let out a sigh of relief as the tell-tale click alerted him to the newly open status of the door. He rose, but paused just as his hand tightened around the handle. What if he didn't like the state that John was in? What if John wasn't there at all?
Natasha shot him a puzzling look and gestured for him to hurry up. With a sharp intake of breath, Sherlock pushed the door open.
Wow, it's been over a week since my last update, and for that you all have my sincerest apologies. (School has decided that I can cope with three essays a week, plus random assignments that take eight hours to do.)
On the upside, I have a cliffhanger, and some idea of where this is going! Hooray!