Mercenarychick wrote a poem based off of this story! Please take a look through the link on my profile! FFnet for some reason absolutely forbids link posting...
Remember the times when the Avengers still hated Loki? Good times...(this story's length is becoming ridiculous)
I want to reiterate my utmost thanks for your patience and dedication to reading this story. I recognize that it is by no means a short one and sometimes the plot might feel like it is dragging, but I assure you that the action and end will come in its due time. Thank you for always reading.
"But you said there's something I have to say
And I can't because I'm just so afraid
So I held you as you started to shake that night…"
-Tenth Avenue North, 'Oh My Dear'
The rain wouldn't stop pouring, as if it was trying to wash away an unspeakable sin. Its chill permeated even Stark Tower's sturdy walls, pressing its fingerprints against the walls and streaking the glass. As Loki watched the rain gloss over the window, making the smooth surface ripple against the dusk, he made a mental note to make sure Thor wasn't emotionally compromised. Not all storms came from Thor, but it wouldn't hurt to make certain.
The city dragged itself to bed at this hour, driven back earlier by the rain. The cars would ski across the puddles on the road, sending miniature waves against the curb. Pedestrians' numbers grew thin on the sidewalk. Loki wondered if a flood could rage at a time like this, and if it did, if it would reach the tens of floors of Stark Tower that the rest of them presided on. If the whole world would flood and all the living creatures would be washed away, would then the world be cleansed?
He stepped away from the window. The tower was too quiet to linger. Rain brought the drowsiness in all of them, even Tony and his stubborn nocturnal habits. Loki hardly slept; after a century and more of never given a moment of rest, he had lost the ability—or perhaps, the solace—of sleep, and it was now nothing more than a distant and dusty habit of old, like crawling into the other side of Thor's bed when he was frightened when they were unthinkably young. Something gone, something lost by no fault of anything or anyone except life.
Still, there was little else he could do with everyone else slinking away into their private corners, and Tony had locked Loki out of his workshops after he saw the mess Loki left in it. He could not shed the restlessness that pervaded his senses—how Thanos' planned to attack in roughly two months and Loki wasn't even certain if he was able to leave Midgard with the Mind Gem stuck in his chest. If they dallied too long—if they did not come to action sooner—
"Loki?"
Loki stopped in his steps, shaken out of his own thoughts. Natasha was at the door to her room, her hair disheveled from sleep. Loki bowed his head in acknowledgement, offering her a quizzical smile.
"I can't sleep," said Natasha, stepping out and closing the door behind her. "What about you? You never sleep."
Loki frowned at her. The shadows under her eyes were nothing hidden, and there was a weariness in her soul. He touched the side of her head gently.
"My mind's too rowdy to let me sleep," said Natasha. "It's like this a lot. I either stay up all night, thinking, or I have nightmares."
Loki nodded. He gestured to the kitchen down the hall, where he was sure Tony kept at least a carton of milk and honey somewhere. Frigga had always given him hot milk and honey when he couldn't sleep in his youth, and surely such a charm wasn't limited to only children.
"No thanks," said Natasha. "I kind of…don't want to sleep. Do you mind if I stay around with you? Just for a little while."
Loki shook his head, his heart warming promptly. She smiled—it was a genuine one—and he pointed outside where the showers pitter-pattered against the window.
"You want to take a walk?" said Natasha. "Sure, that'd be great, actually. Let me get my shoes and an umbrella."
She retreated to her bedroom to pull on a pair of thick rain boots and a strange Midgardian contraption that cupped over their heads like a squat tent. They rode the elevator down to the ground floor and slipped past security into the chilly rain. Natasha opened the umbrella over their heads and pressed close to Loki so that the both of them would be covered. She was so short, and he so tall, that his head constantly scraped the top of the umbrella. She laughed and he took the umbrella from her, holding it for the both of them.
"You're not cold, are you?" said Natasha, nodding to Loki's jacket.
Loki shook his head and raised his eyebrows at her.
"I'm not either," said Natasha. "I've been through much colder weather. This is almost nothing."
The pavement slapped against their watery footsteps as they wandered through the city. The bright lights of the city illuminated the rain until they looked as if they fell as lightly as snowflakes, falling from so high that Loki could look up and up as much as he could and see nothing but the endless black night.
"Wait, wait, wait," said Natasha. She went to a lamppost on the side of the pavement. Loki tried to dog her footsteps to keep her head covered with the umbrella.
"Don't judge me, okay?" said Natasha. She climbed upon it, clinging to it with one outstretched hand. "How did it go? Oh—'I'm singin' in the rain! Just singin' in the rain! What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again!'"
Loki grinned and held the umbrella aloft to shield her from the rain. She lifted a hand towards the rain, catching the droplets in her palm. The lights were golden, kissing her hair.
Without warning, a speeding taxi shuttled past them, skidding across a puddle of water and sending a wave at their ankles. Loki jumped as his knees were soaked and as Natasha cursed when her pants were splattered with rainwater.
"Well, that ruined the musical moment," Natasha said, squinting at the back of the retreating car. "Oh, what's the use!" She took the umbrella from Loki's hand and closed it, letting the rain fall in all its glory onto their heads. "We might as well go all out."
Loki smirked before stomping in the puddle of water, splashing her even more. She yelped before retaliating, dragging her foot swiftly across the surface of the puddle until water swarmed at his ankles, seeping into his shoes. He danced out of the way, nearly crashing into cross pedestrians.
"Oi, watch it!" said a gruff voice in the crowd.
Loki regained his step, edging tentatively to the end of the sidewalk, away from everyone's path. A bus rushed past him, drenching him with another wave of water that almost soaked him to the bone. Natasha grabbed his elbow and dragged him away from the street.
"This place is crowded, let's go to the park," said Natasha.
Loki nodded and followed her down the line of streetlights. She talked about whimsical things, like how Steve received letters upon letters from a secret admirer in his P.O. box only to find out today that they were all from Clint as a result of sheer boredom, or how the kitten he had a brief fondness for months ago was now on sale and if only Bruce and Pepper weren't so allergic to cats!
He listened and listened, and found himself still hungry to hear her voice. It was strange, for before he would grow lonely and bitter in his silence as he let others talk to him to death about their thoughts, their commands and opinions and he had no word to fit in, but here and now he wanted to fill himself to the brim with her words and voice, because she wanted to talk to him and only him.
The park was bare, the rain chasing the birds and their feeders far away, with only the white lampposts to light their way. They walked slowly through the path, listening to the way the rain rapped against the leaves of the trees like piano fingers. It was only the two of them, and neither of them felt alone.
"This place is usually crazy crowded," said Natasha. "You couldn't even get around on the path very easily, and it's supposed to be a park. Are there parks in Asgard? You know, places to appreciate nature."
Loki nodded.
"Nature's a crazy thing," said Natasha. "Have you ever heard of the sea sparkle? Or—what was it?—Noctiluca scintillans."
Loki frowned and shook his head. Natasha's face brightened.
"They're a natural phenomenon," she said. "Like a quiet miracle. Something in oceans—near Australia or the Caribbean or somewhere—makes the water so that in the nighttime, it glows blue. And when you throw something into the water, the ripples shine electric blue. I've always wanted to dive into an ocean of sea sparkles and watch the water glow around me." She craned her neck to the sky. "I bet that if it rained, it would look like lights were dancing."
Loki cupped his hands, letting the water collect between the cracks of his palms. The droplets clung to his fingers, and he let them collect until the water sloshed in his hands, until it overflowed. Teasingly, he flung the water on Natasha, who jumped back in attempts to avoid it.
"Oi, watch it, Bambi," said Natasha.
Loki smirked. Natasha poked him hard on the side.
"You know, the last time you were here, it was after the battle with the Chitauri and everything," said Natasha. "You know…when Thor was taking you back with the Tesseract."
Loki nodded slowly. He figured as much; the park looked unrecognizable in the dark and rain, and it wasn't as if he had seen it in his most recent memory, but he had a long one nonetheless. He still remembered the shame and bitterness that had weighed him down with each step when he came here the first time, and he wanted to shake his head in disbelief, that the second time he walked through this park was side-by-side with a companion he had undoubtedly tried to kill when they first met.
"Crazy how so much has changed in between," said Natasha. She looked up at him. "Crazy how much you've changed. But maybe this is the real you all along, but you were hiding that...pretending it didn't exist because of everything that happened beforehand."
Loki took the umbrella back from Natasha and opened it, raising it over their heads again as the rain began to grow heavier. Natasha wrung the water from her hair before shaking her head vigorously. Loki saw how she was shivering from the cold and he stopped her, frowning.
"I don't want to go back yet," said Natasha. "I'm fine. I told you, I'm used to the cold. I'm Russian, or at least I was."
He cocked his head questioningly. Russian, as far as he understood, was more or less the same as comparing Vanaheim to Asgard—a different people, a different nation, but at least in Russia's case the same race as everyone else. How did she so easily claim to shed such an identity when Loki could not even ignore his Frost Giant aspects if he tried?
"I've given that up," said Natasha. "I left that place some time ago and I'm not going back if I can help it. It brings back too much…I mean, I just don't want to live there again."
She looked away. Loki bent over slightly to try to catch her face. Trouble flitted across her face, the way she pressed her lips together and the way her eyes flickered with uneasiness.
What is it?
"It's nothing," said Natasha. "Russia's done and gone, and I'm here now. That's all that matters."
He put a hand on her shoulder and she nearly jerked back, perplexed. When she looked up at him, he knew immediately the truth within her lies. The heaviness of the words she tried to dress in noncommittal indifference. And how heavy they were, that they hooked to the end of her heart and dragged it down until it sank!
"There's nothing to talk about," she said.
The strange thing about people was that when they thought of the god of lies, they would never expect him to be so fluent in truth; lies and truth could not exist with each other, after all.
He wouldn't break their gaze, his hand still lightly on her arm. She looked as if she wanted to tear away, to walk faster until she could distance herself from the truth she so adeptly hid, but her defiance faltered with Loki before her, as if the truth fought and wrestled to come out of her but her mind begged otherwise.
Please tell me.
I want to know.
I care to know.
And he knew that she wanted to tell him—he could feel it. She had wanted to be with him as her mind raged in the night, after all.
But she turned away and walked on, leaving Loki behind. Loki hesitated before following her, two steps behind her as she kept her head low and her feet taking one step after the other. Loki felt the chill of the rain creep across his skin and into his blood, gathering at his fingertips and against his lips.
Will you not trust me?
Natasha's shoulders were hunched, as if she wanted to hide within herself. He reached a hand out toward her, but her steps quickened and he was nearly left in the wake of her trailing dust. As if she was trying to run away from nightmares at her heels, but they were in the shadows of her mind.
For you, I'll find those monsters and slay them all.
She slowed, and swayed from the path, sinking onto a park bench. Loki took a seat next to her, keeping the umbrella aloft. She bent low, clutching her arms and keeping her eyes on the toes of her boots. Loki waited patiently, unsure whether he was supposed to put his arm around her (was she cold?) or sit there unresponsively.
"I—" started Natasha, but her voice caught in her throat and she closed her mouth. She took a deep breath and tried again. "There's something I want to tell you."
Loki bowed his head slightly, leaning forward to listen.
"I don't know how to say it, though," said Natasha. She bit her lip, rubbing her arms vigorously. "I just think…I want you to know. I mean, I don't want you to know, except you deserve the truth. But at the same time—" She sighed and let her head hang low. "What was I thinking? Damn, what was I thinking?"
Loki put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. He knew as well as anyone else how telling the truth was perhaps the hardest thing anyone could ever do, to bring to light the darkness that ate from the inside out. Natasha shuddered under his touch and her hand itched to place itself on top of his, but she stopped herself.
"I'm a monster, Loki," she said quietly. "I've been pretending this whole time I was good, that I was doing right. That's not true at all. It isn't true."
She took in a shuddering breath. Loki held his breath, on the edge, waiting for her heart.
"I've done awful things," said Natasha. Her voice was thick. "I've done things that are despicable, and you don't know what they are. No one does. I've told no one—I couldn't. I tried hiding it, tried forgetting it, tried pretending they never existed, but they're a part of my past, my life, and they'll never go away."
Of all the things he ever said to her, perhaps that had become his great regret.
"You know I was an assassin," said Natasha. "That I killed people for a living. For a life." She pressed her hand against her lips and breathed in deeply before letting it fall back to her lip. "Clint—he says that I had no choice in it, killing people. That it wasn't my fault and I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But it's not like that at all. I had a choice. I made a choice. And I wanted it. And I was—I was so, so—"
Her voice became so swollen that it lodged in her throat and she could hardly breathe. She swallowed and pressed a hand against her forehead. Loki felt her shake under his hand.
"I didn't just kill people secretly," said Natasha. "I killed people—just because they were important, to someone, for something, anything. I killed them, and I made it a game. I made it a sport. I didn't always just take a gun to their head and pull the trigger. I didn't always trick them into trusting me before betraying them to their deaths. I—"
She choked on a sob before forcing herself to swallow it down with a curse under her breath.
"I made people kill themselves before," she said. "I made them commit suicide. I was never instructed to do this—I did it on my own accord. For my own gain, my own pleasure. I would drive people with happy lives and loved ones to end themselves. I knew how to manipulate people, to pull at their insecurities and their weaknesses and their pain until they were spiraling downward, and they would put the trigger to their own heads or step off the top of a building. And I would watch, and keep score."
Loki felt his own throat swell. Natasha shook uncontrollably now, her face hidden from him. To learn that the woman before him had taken pleasure in driving people to throw away their own lives—he didn't know what to think.
("No, Loki," was what it took before he let his own life fall, and he wondered if it had been that easy for her as well)
"I would feed them lies about their self-worth," said Natasha. She pressed her hands against her eyes. "I would convince them that they were nothing, that they had nothing worth living for. That they were alone. All it took were careful words and twisted truths, and they would—the people, they—"
She tried to choke back a cry, but she couldn't let it hide. Tears mingled with the rain.
"I didn't care. I never did. Not about them, or the loved ones they left behind, nothing. How can anyone say it wasn't my fault, that I was forced to do what I did, when I know that it isn't the truth at all? How can anyone stand to be with me—even look at me? I killed people—I killed them, I—"
She bent low until her head nearly touched her knees, cowering in the shade of her own shame. She let out a raw sob.
"I'm disgusting," she wept. "I'm so disgusting, I—"
Without a moment of hesitation, Loki wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. She gasped at his touch, but he held her close and wouldn't let her go. His heart burst at the sound of her cries, at the pain that marred her mind and soul for so long, that blackened her thoughts and guilt. Her mind must have told her to pull away, that she didn't deserve anything, much less this, but her vulnerability and pain was so much to bear that she turned and embraced him desperately, hungrily, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.
"Why are you doing this?" she sobbed, clutching him so tightly against him that she could have melted into his bones. "You should hate me for this. Why?"
Loki only rocked her gently, pressing closely to her, protecting her from the rain and from her sorrow. What she had done, what she had driven others to, hurt him to hear, but in that moment, when she let her darkest side come forth, he realized that he never loved her more than now despite all the shame she bore. It was her truth, her trust, and her willingness to speak that made her so beautiful and beloved. She overcame her own shame to tell him what she had done, she cried out her sorrow to him because she wanted him to know the truth. And now, he never wanted to leave her.
In the rain, he held her to his heart as her tears washed away her past.