Disclaimer: Save my OC, I own jack shit. Also, despite what occurs below, I do not encourage underage drinking. I don't discourage it, but I don't encourage it either; just...have fun, live your life, don't be a dick. I'll stop now so you can read.

Chapter Nine

This battle couldn't have taken place on a worse day. Scratch that, I suppose snow or hail or rain would be worse than blistering heat, but still. The last place I want to be on a day like this is the very top of Stark Tower. And I mean the very top. Not where Selvig and his machine are, but the spot above the door that leads up here.

I'm starting to regret taking Loki's helmet as a souvenir when I picked up the sceptre. At this altitude, the sun was quickly heating up the gold metal helmet as well as the sceptre, which is starting to slip out of my hand.

Suddenly, a figure falls, quite gracefully if I might add, from the sky, skidding across the roof.

And Natasha Romanoff has come to save the day.

"Doctor," she says, cautiously, as she approaches Selvig's fallen form. A piece of shrapnel had hit him a little while ago, which I'm sure should've shaken off Loki's mind control.

"Loki's sceptre, the energy...the Tesseract can't fight. You can't protect against yourself," he mumbles.

"It's not your fault. You didn't know what you were doing," Natasha says.

Selvig looks at Agent Romanoff, "Well, actually I think I did. I built in a safety to cut the power source…"

Natasha almost immediately knows what he means by that. How, I don't understand, but hey, she's the Black Widow. She's the best at what she does, "Loki's sceptre."

Selvig nods, "It might be able to close the portal. But, there was a girl…she made off with it not too long ago…"

"Ta-da!" I say with a very out of place smile, considering the situation. Natasha spins around and I toss her the sceptre, which she catches with ease. She gives me a questioning look, which I respond to with, "Now do you trust me?"

oOoOoOo

Yeah…they still don't trust me.

After the battle ended, they barred up the penthouse and locked me in before they left for lunch.

Oh, and apparently, in this high-tech skyscraper, they can't provide another separate space for Loki to be kept for the next twenty-four hours or so, and thus, I am stuck with this freaking delusional demigod with psychotic tendencies until they return for my debriefing. A should-be mythological being who, not twenty-four hours ago, did I berate for being a separate species? Oh my god, that just hit me. I mean, I am many things, but one thing I pride myself on not being is a racist.

Once the Avengers left, I lay claim the side of the penthouse with a bar, banishing Loki to the alcohol-less half. I even scratched a line into the floor with a piece of rubble. What? Tony's going to be renovating the place anyway, he won't mind a little extra damage.

After digging through the bar, I find a half-empty bottle of merlot. Hmph. I really wish Agent Hill hadn't confiscated that joint. Oh well, I can settle for alcohol.

Carefully, I bring the bottle as well as a half-full bottle of scotch and a glass over to the center of the lounge. I sit cross-legged on the floor and begin to pour a glass of scotch, very aware that Loki is watching my every move. I slide the glass over the line and glance up to see Loki shooting me a very confused look.

"You did say you wanted a drink," I explain, uncorking the bottle of wine and taking a swig. Let's hope the Avengers don't bust me for this. Imagine that; I finally prove myself innocent (at least, I'm hoping to) and they bust me for underage drinking…Maybe this is a bad idea.

Oh, to hell with it, I'm in a lot of pain, and the past three days took a lot out of me. This is what people do right? When things get really bad, raid the liquor cabinet?

Loki hesitantly approaches the crooked line I carved and picks up the glass.

"That's my helmet you're wearing," he says.

I raise an eyebrow, though he probably can't see due to the fact that his head is a bigger than mine. Hell, I can just barely see him under this thing. "It's mine now."

He takes a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste.

"I'm guessing Asgard either has ways of getting rid of that shitty alcohol taste, or their stuff is a lot stronger than ours," I say. Uncomfortable with the awkward silence that follows, I decide to continue, "Hey, uh, I'm sorry about the whole 'Frost Giant' thing. Just want you to know, I don't think of the words 'freak' and 'Frost Giant' as synonymous, or 'Frost Giant' and whatever big word you used in place of freak last night."

He perches himself on the back of the couch. Aw man. I should've picked the couch side instead of the alcohol side. Couches aren't illegal and beat alcohol by a long shot.

Anyways, Loki doesn't respond. Not that I expected him to. In all honesty, I felt worse about the fact that I said something racist, rather than the fact that I hurt his feelings.

"I should've thought about it before I spoke," I continue. "I guess I didn't realize how bad it was, considering up until you tried to kill me I didn't think Frost Giants or demigods existed. At least I'll never make that mistake again, right? You know, now that I know? I mean, I've been called shit before too, like 'half-breed', 'mutt', even 'mulatto', that sort of thing. Then again, I was more self-aware growing up, in a sense…"

…I think I just added more 'awkward' to the awkward silence.

And yet, I can't shut up. "So, what do you think your sentence is going to be? Odin's a tyrannical asshole, but he's your father, so—"

"He's not my father," Loki suddenly hisses, nearly causing the wine bottle to slip from my hands.

"You are so lucky that I didn't drop that," I say. "If you got in between me and this alcohol—I am not going to finish that sentence because it might give the wrong impression."

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" Loki says.

"What's that supposed to mean? Whatever, it's not like I care what you of all people think."

"What happened to apologizing?"

"Oh. Uh, right. Yeah, I'm—I'm sorry."

"That didn't sound very sincere."

"Well, this," I say, pointing to the bruises around my neck, "didn't feel very sincere, but you don't hear me complaining. And I apologized for being a racist fuck, not for bruising your giant ego."

"Excuse me?" says Loki. "You underestimate me. Even without the scepter—"

"Oh, whatever. We both know that your fall did a ton of damage, and without Thanos, I'm not sure you can—"

"What did you say?"

Uh oh. "I said…nothing. You…are hearing things, what did you think I said?"

"Don't play games with me, mortal."

"I'm not playing games! I—"

"Hey! Do you have any idea how much that costs?"

It's Tony who interrupts; the Avengers are back, and thank god, because I managed to piss off Loki again in the short time I've known the guy. Thor is holding a pair of giant handcuffs as well as a muzzle of sorts.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Dr. Banner asks.

"I am!" I reply. "I will be…y'know…someday…but I am old enough to drink, right now…in Switzerland."

Steve is about to take the bottle from me when Tony stops him.

"No no wait; the drunker she is, the more honest she'll be," he says.

"Tony, not everyone is as open to the idea of taking advantage of drunk young women as you are," says Natasha, as Steve confiscates the alcohol.

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender, "If it gets us what we need."

"Yeah, you're sounding increasingly rape-y, Stark, maybe quit while you're ahead?" Clint says.

Natasha smirks, "I'm not sure he ever was ahead."

"Ugh, SHIELD agents are so catty," says Tony.

Thor places the handcuffs and muzzle on Loki and the Avengers start to discuss how they'll divide amongst their two prisoners. The solution? Lock Loki in a janitorial closet while they debrief me.

"All right, Alice," says Steve. "From the beginning."

And out came everything. From the day Steve ran into me, all the way to the moment I slid that drink over to Loki. Every last detail, they heard. What I thought was happening then, what I think is happening now, and everything that took place in and/or had anything to do with their respective films, including The Avengers. I expect the worst when my story ends and I'm met with silence.

Clint asks the first question, "Why are you wearing that helmet?"

"Memories." I reply. "War trophy. I don't know, it looks kind of cool—I don't know, I like it. Is this part of my debriefing?"

"No, it's just weird," Clint replies.

Natasha looks at Steve, "Well, the story explains why she was acting so strange up until she was injured."

Steve nods, and I start to see the suspicion in all their expressions fade slightly and be replaced by possible realization.

"With what we've seen today, I'd say the theory of alternate timelines is almost possible," says Dr. Banner.

"Yeah, this could prove the whole multiverse theory," Tony adds. "Still, the only thing that did make that theory plausible was that each decision we make creates a new timeline, explaining the expansion of the universe. Parallel worlds that are selective in who's fictional and who's not? Not sure I buy it. Not to mention, that's metaphysics, not real science."

"You fell through a wormhole not twenty minutes ago," Natasha points out. That silences Tony, but in a way that is quite alarming. However, the others are too preoccupied with the situation at hand to actually acknowledge it.

"Asgard and Midgard are connected through the branches of Yggdrasil," says Thor. "The world that this young lady speaks of seems to be one that is parallel to this one, not connected."

"But then how did she end up here?" says Natasha. "If she's telling the truth, there has to be some connection."

"Do you have any idea how you got here, Alice?" says Steve.

"What, you guys are really giving me the benefit of the doubt?" I ask.

"We're just trying to make sense of this," Steve answers.

"You and me both," I reply. My voice shakes and my breathing is uneven as I try to continue. Now that the world has calmed down, my anxiety has time to really set in, and at the worst possible time. "Look, I-I have no idea how any of this is remotely possible. This doesn't happen in reality. All I know is that I am sitting in front of a team of superheroes that, two weeks ago, I could only fantasize was real, in a world that I could only experience through a projector in a movie theatre. Hell, I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not dreaming. If I knew what was happening, I'd tell you—I'd be too scared not to. But I don't. Honest."

There's more silence, and then—

"Hold on," says Clint. He looks at Natasha, "This all might have something to do with the 0-8-4 SHIELD detected two weeks ago. The one that mysteriously disappeared. She was on scene and witnesses did report seeing her disappear and reappear multiple times."

"But we never did find out what that 0-8-4 was," Natasha points out.

Clint shrugs, "Maybe she's the 0-8-4."

"What's an 0-8-4?" Tony asks.

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him, "It's a secret. And it's SHIELD's business anyway. They can deal with it if, when, and how they feel is appropriate. Alice?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I think you're free to go."

oOo

AN: One more chapter after this, then it's time to move on to the sequel. Which means more editing for me...*sigh*