Speechless
Natasha walked the length of the familiar, dim corridor, her head held high and an impassive expression occupying her soft, delicate features. Only two days had passed since she and Loki's shouting match. As she sat on the roof of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters that night, her booted feet dangling over the edge, she'd told herself that she wouldn't go back, at least not for a while. That argument had been too intense. Each of them had let just a little too much of themselves show through the cracks in the glass barrier. It had been unprofessional of her to let him get to her that way. In appropriate. Dangerous. Compromising.
And yet here she was, walking headfirst into exactly the same situation, drawn by some inexplicable, unstoppable force to the one person who made her feel as though she were made of glass.
She entered the ring of soft, white light emitted by the bright, ever burning fluorescent ceiling lamps of Loki's cell, but she didn't stop walking. Her pace was neither hurried nor uneven as she crossed through the shadow he cast in the hall, standing as he was near the center of the glass barrier; evidently he'd been waiting for her. Her gaze remained straight ahead, however, paying him no mind as she approached the door to the cell. She stood in front of it and pressed her hand to the identification scanner set into the wall beside it, waiting until it turned green and gave a faint beep.
Natasha hesitated for a brief moment as her fingertips grazed the handle of the door, and then she pushed it inward and stepped inside.
The door swung shut of its own accord behind her, a slight hiss echoing through the small room as she was sealed in. Loki, who had turned his head to watch her in unveiled astonishment, turned his body to face her as well. Slowly, that familiar chaotic smile stretched over his mouth. "Good evening, Agent Romanoff," he all but whispered into the distance between them.
Natasha's expression remained impassive although she could hear her heart thundering in her chest; briefly she wondered if maybe he could hear it, too. Her eyes remained glued to his as she began to carefully step further into the cell, and it was only when she drew level alongside Loki that she looked away. She turned her back on him and moved over to the single metal chair in the room, grasped it by the top of its back and then set it down with a ringing clatter across from his cot. Wordlessly, she seated herself.
A couple of moments passed in silence. Loki's careful footsteps clicked across the floor as he moved over to her. He lowered himself onto the cot across from her, his expression just as unchanged as hers. Their eyes locked, and before she could push the disturbing thought away, Natasha almost imagined that he was seeing through her again.
"I see they replaced the glass," she observed nonchalantly.
"Oh, yes," Loki agreed. "They also confiscated your book."
"Your book," Natasha corrected quickly. "I can bring you another one, if you want."
Something in Loki's eyes flashed and they narrowed for just a fraction of a second. "Can you?" he asked delicately. "Could it be that you are finally warming up to me, Agent?"
"Could be," Natasha shrugged.
Loki's smile widened just a little as he regarded her, his gaze searching for something. Whatever he was looking for, she would be sure he didn't find it; her nerves felt like live wires, but her exterior was cool, collected.
At length his eyes narrowed just slightly and he leaned forward, his forearms resting across his thighs. "Why have you come here?" he asked, his voice yet again little more than a whisper.
"I need you to answer a few questions," she replied calmly.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because I'll answer yours."
Loki's eyebrows lofted at her reply, genuine surprise coloring his angular features. Natasha knew that she had thrown him a curve ball. This was a bad idea, a terrible, awful, stupid, reckless idea, but she knew that the only way to get Loki to cooperate would be to give him something he wanted in return. That was how he'd gotten himself into this mess, after all. Bargains.
A long second passed wherein he seemed to study her, to decide if the risks outweighed the rewards. At length, his smile returned and he nodded, "I like this game."
"Good." Natasha allowed a small smile to cross her own lips as she asked, "If we give you to Thanos, what will he do to you?"
Loki's expression darkened immediately. For a moment Natasha wondered if he was going to reach out and hit her, but he settled on a cold, contemptuous glare. "He will spend an eternity inflicting upon me tortures so cruel that none on this earth, even you, could possibly imagine them," he said quietly.
Natasha nodded but said nothing, so he asked, "I suppose it is my turn to ask you a question?"
"Is that your question?" she returned dispassionately.
Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously, and not a moment more passed before he said softly, "Tell me about last night's dream."
Natasha's chin elevated a fraction of an inch and her brows furrowed only slightly. She didn't know how Loki was able to tell that she'd had any dreams the night before let alone another of her nightmares, but then again, she supposed it didn't matter. Her face lowered once more and her expression relaxed again as the surprise passed and she resigned herself to her answer. Carefully, she told him, "I dreamed that I was performing Swan Lake at the Bolshoi Theater. The rest of the dancers were corpses, and the audience members were burning alive in their seats."
Loki offered her a cruel smirk. "How poetic."
"How do we stop Thanos?" Natasha asked, a determined edge to her expression although her face continued to remain largely blank.
"I have no idea. To my knowledge, he has no weaknesses," Loki shrugged simply. Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, and he went on, "How fares the Hawk?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly, although this response seemed only please Loki all the more. Nevertheless, she asked, "How long until they find you?"
"That depends on when they decide to investigate Midgard, does it not? I have no way of knowing." Loki smiled, and then softly inquired, "Did you ever love him, Agent Romanoff?"
Natasha's eyes narrowed. "No," she answered just as softly. "Did you ever love Odin?"
The grin dropped away from Loki's face, and again he looked as though he were ready to reach across the gap between them and strangle her. "Before I knew better," he nearly snarled. "How many names have you written in your ledger?"
"I lost count," Natasha replied, her voice cold. "How many nights have you gone without sleep?"
She didn't know when the two of them had become so close. They were both leaning forward, their knees nearly touching. When Loki spoke, his cool breath brushed Natasha's cheeks.
"Three. How many of those names belonged to children?"
"Seventeen. Why don't you tell me about your dreams, Loki?"
"Because they are not yours. What makes you believe you stand any chance of defeating Thanos?"
"Nothing, but I'm sure as hell not running away. What makes you believe you deserve my protection?"
Loki opened his mouth to answer, but the words seemed to die in his throat. His brows furrowed, in surprise and confusion rather than anger, and he stared at Natasha as though she had slapped him. Just as her own expression began to reflect some of the curiosity she was feeling, he launched himself to his feet and stalked over to the side of the room. His back was to her, and his reflection was distorted by the dull metal wall.
Natasha didn't know whether she should speak, so she held her tongue.
After several long moments, Loki breathed, "Get out."
It never occurred to her to disobey. Natasha rose to her feet and crossed to the door. Her fingers entered the eight-digit exit code into the keypad beside the portal and it opened with another slight hiss. She slipped out, let it close behind her, and then walked swiftly back to the elevator.
Only when that set of doors closed behind her did she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Natasha took the elevator up to the top floor of the building, and from there she took the stairs out onto the roof. Without stopping she half-ran to the edge, finally standing still just inside the low wall that surrounded the place. Her lungs filled with the warm, July night air and her eyes slipped closed, blocking out the world for just a few moments. When she opened them again, she was surrounded by the familiar panoramic view of Manhattan as well as what few stars shone strongly enough to blink in the light-polluted haze hanging over her head.
With a sigh, she climbed onto the two foot high wall and sat down, her legs dangling in the empty air. Her hands gripped the stone ledge and her head hung , her chin nearly resting on her chest as she stared down at the distant streets.
That was a mistake, she thought to herself, but she didn't really believe it.
In the end, Loki hadn't given her much information, or any information at all, that she could work with. That should have been the end of her concern. She'd gone down there to make a trade, to pull useful information about Thanos and what they could expect from him. That had been the goal, the objective. Any personal information she gave away was considered collateral damage. Any personal information she received was considered strategic insight into how they would continue to deal with Loki.
And yet the shocked, almost pained expression on his face continued to linger before her eyes like an impression of bright lights, all the clearer when she tried to shut it out.
Natasha spent the next two hours sitting up on the rooftop, gazing out at the skyline and at the streets far below her. It would be fitting to say that she used the time for introspection, to figure out a few of the more pressing problems in her life like how to discover a way to combat the imminent danger approaching the Earth or how to deal with her disintegrating personal life, but that would be a vast overstatement. Mostly she simply watched the city and attempted to ignore the thoughts pressing down on her brain, the most prominent of which being why exactly Loki looked so aghast at her final question.
The worst part was that in some sad way she already knew.