Finkle
So I got to meet Cynara's significant other under less than ideal circumstances. I'd heard about Loki, and seen the damage he'd wrought through Manhattan; I mean who hadn't? There had been a few shots of him on television too, mostly news cam shots from Stuttgart, so I knew what he looked like.
Or thought I did, anyway.
We got a distress call about halfway through the trip to Outpost Nord and our pilot put us into some mach gear that had me clinging to the transport seat in mild terror. Phil looked alert, but he kept giving me reassuring glances, and Thor paced around, not even fazed by our speed.
"Think it's a trap?" Phil asked him, and I looked at Thor while he considered the question.
"No," Thor announced. "Mad as my brother is, he would never put his Sigyn nor child in harm's way."
"He's put you in harm's way," I muttered, feeling shitty for pointing it out.
Thor gave a wry grin. "That is . . . expected. Loki loathes me, yet it is not in him to bring my death. I have learned that this is the way of many brothers."
I glanced at Phil, who held up his hands in placating fashion. "Strictly sisters. Worst they ever did to me was put polish on my toenails."
I laughed, and it helped. "Yeah?"
"I was five at the time," Phil pointed out drily as Thor laughed in his big Santa 'ho-ho' way.
Before I could ask anything more, Phil's headset crackled and he tapped it to listen to whatever feed was going into his earpiece. Thor came by and rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I do not know why families are more complicated than nations, but they are," he sighed.
"Tell me about it," I muttered, and then had to add, "That just means I agree with you," because Thor looked as if he was ready to launch into a saga.
We got to Outpost Nord, and pacing out front was a tall guy in green leather armor, his body language definitely dangerous. It was easy to see that he was ready to take a swing at anyone getting close, and yet Thor leaped out of the transport before we landed, striding over like it was perfectly safe.
"Loki!" he bellowed and they went at it for a few punches but by the time the transport landed it was over. Phil and I hustled to them, and I was surprised to see him with his weapon out.
"He killed me once; I'm a little overly cautious," Phil told me quietly.
Then Thor got an armlock around Loki, calming him down a bit. "Tell us what has happened, brother!"
"My bride has been abducted," Loki shot out, and he looked like even saying it tasted bad. "Taken from under me!"
"Taken?" this was from Phil and Thor, so I just let everyone yell a bit while I watched and listened. From what I could figure out, Cynara and her hubby had gone to dinner and come home. Some point after they'd gone to sleep she'd been abducted, and now Loki was ready to fly off the handle.
"Should I be getting a needle full of Librium ready?" I murmured to Phil, who shook his head.
"Probably wouldn't work on him, and he's here voluntarily from what I can see. Let's move this inside and see what we can get straight."
Somewhere along the way Thor introduced me and I got one hell of an unnerving stare as Loki nodded. I could see why Nick had warned me; the guy resonated to a strange vibe. Phil did the questioning, Thor did the restraining, and Loki kept repeating what he'd already said.
He was distressed, yeah, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for him, especially when more and more agents kept coming into the room. Maybe I wasn't an authority on Asgardians but I could see the stress building up so I tugged on Phil's sleeve and told him, "Loki is either going to blow up or run if this keeps going. How about we take things down a notch and let me check him over?"
One of the things I love about Phil is that for all his rank and experience, he really does listen to suggestions. He quietly told everyone to step out, and while that was going on I brought Loki a glass of water and sat down next to him on the sofa. He stared at the water and I motioned for him to drink it. "You're stressed; water will help."
Then he stared at me while Phil and Thor were having some sort of a pow wow on the other side of the living room.
I stared back; having dealt with Nick Fury, I wasn't as easily intimidated as I used to be.
Loki drank the water and I felt a sense of relief that lasted all the way until he dropped the glass and gave a tiny smirk. "You reek of him, you know. I can smell his breath on your skin," he whispered.
For a moment I froze, and then something—maybe my mother's chutzpah—kicked in and I leaned in to whisper back. "But honey, he's hung like a rhino and even lets me wear the coat and the eyepatch sometimes."
Loki blinked.
While that mental image froze him on the spot, I gave him my laziest smile, reaching for his wrist. "All right, now let me take your pulse and tell me how Cynara looked last night, because when we left her she was doing pretty good."
"She . . . was well. We had eaten, and taken our pleasure of each other," Loki began slowly while I found his pulse point on his cold arm.
Fury
One of the embroideries my mother had hanging on her kitchen wall was done up in a ring of fancy stitched flowers, and I'll never forget it because I stared at it every damned morning over breakfast. It said in cross-stitch letters: Lord give me patience and I want it right NOW, damn it!
A little sacrilegious, but my mother believed that given everything going on in life, making a few demands now and then was her due. Patience was not one of her virtues, and it certainly wasn't one of mine, particularly at the moment. From what Phil was telling me, this kidnapping was exactly the sort of thing I'd been predicting was going to happen, and now that it had here I was doing damned escort duty for a load of concrete.
I had every resource on high alert, and every branch of the military on standby as well so on a pragmatic level every base was as covered as I could make it, but what I needed was information and while Phil is good, I would rather be there myself. Fortunately I was able to get Hill and her subordinates to finish the deliveries and took a jet up to Outpost Nord, trying not to think about Finkle and Loki.
Particularly not about what mind games he'd try on her.
His type always does that sort of shit, and while Coulson and I have had some experience with sociopaths, I didn't think Finkle encountered too many of them in her line of work. Turns out I didn't have to worry; when I got there everyone was gathered in the conference room down in the bunker, with Loki sitting right between Phil and Thor.
I kept my eye on Phil; he's the best, but being so close to someone who'd done their damnedest to kill him couldn't be good for the man's psyche. He gave me a nod and I briefly glanced at Finkle, who tried to look professional.
"From the top," I told them, and sat down. Didn't take long. Apparently Loki'd stopped by Earth to show his babymama a night out on the town and they'd been ambushed when they'd slept. The only clues were some strange residue along one doorway and what looked like down from one of the comforters. Neither of those added up to much, and I had my doubts about the whole set-up.
Loki agreed to being put in protective custody, which would have made the hair on the back of my neck stand up if I had any. Somewhere in all this was a catch, and the damned problem was figuring out if Loki was part of it or not.
The next three days were hell. Apparently Loki couldn't sleep, and because of that he kept saying he couldn't make some sort of mental contact with Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson on some astral-ass plane somewhere. He got irritable, I got irritable and none of that helped anyone a damned bit.
I couldn't keep the military on high alert, and I only dropped S.H.I.E.L.D.'s status by one notch during that time. Coulson had leads on where most of the Avengers where but we weren't going to call them up unless absolutely necessary, and determining just when that would be was keeping me up at night.
And then there was the matter of not being able to get my hands on Finkle.
When we'd become an item I'd been under the mistaken assumption that we'd have moments, weekends of privacy to get things on. I'd forgotten how a good crisis can throw every damned plan to hell, and it wasn't being helped by the fact that she was constantly within arm's reach. Over the years I've gotten good at staying focused, but Finkle was a definite distraction.
But she was also becoming our resident expert on alien biology which meant that against my better judgment I needed to keep her on hand without a chance to get hands on. And that did not help my mood one damned bit.
The first day I showed up Loki stared at me and slowly shook his head. I suspected something was up but didn't push it until I had a chance to talk to Finkle in her medical office later. When she told me what had been said I came as close as I ever have to losing my temper with her.
"You don't confirm or deny with a hostile! Basic interrogation strategy, woman!"
"I wasn't interrogating him; I was giving him basic medical care, Colonel. And on top of that, he was doing it to get a rise out of me, so I thought I'd turn the tables on him. I'm taking care of his wife and kid; Loki's not going to harm me."
"And what makes you think he's not gonna harm the rest of us? Use any and all information he gets to coerce and extort his way around the planet?"
Finkle gave me that stricken, lip-biting 'shit I didn't think of that' look and I sighed.
"The only leverage we have with Loki is his wife and child; don't think he wouldn't play the same card with any of us here, and I do not want to see you turned into a pawn on his side of the board, Josie."
Yeah I was pissed. And under it? Something a lot more complicated.
She stood there pale and silent and I couldn't take it anymore. Stepped over and wrapped my arms around her just because it was the right damned thing to do for both of us. We stayed that way for a while, and I waited until I felt her start to relax a bit.
"Is . . . is it going to be okay?" I heard her mumble somewhere against my shoulder, wet sort of splutters against me and it hit me suddenly that she'd been crying.
Oh no. I don't do the crying woman thing. No.
"Doc-tor Finkle tell me you are not crying."
She sniffled. "I am not crying you momzer, I just . . . got something in my eye. It happens."
I pulled back and looked at her; woman glared at me in the best display of chutzpah I'd seen in ages.
"Yeah," I told her gruffly. "Of course you know what this means, right?"
"Wh-what?"
"Now I really AM gonna have to let you wear the coat and eye-patch."
