Chapter 27: Mad Things
ASGARD
Lady Sif slipped out of the crowd of nobles, feeling her mind buzzing and her stomach clenching. That had not been the King she'd sworn to serve. That solemn, obedient blond knight whom she'd watched kneel before Odin and his monstrous new ally, professing his unyielding loyalty to Odin's wise rule was not her Fandral. In all the centuries that Sif had known him, Fandral had never been solemn. There was always a roguish glint in his eye, and a playful tilt to the ever present smile lingering on his lips. That inimitable enthusiasm had always seemed a constant in her world, but now it was gone. Sif felt sick. There was something rotten at the heart of Asgard, a poison that had everything to do with that sly little leech at Odin's side. She suspected that it also had much to do with Loki's secret plan. She ducked into the little known passage behind one of Frigga's favorite tapestries in the corridor leading to the gardens, and followed it into Loki's chambers. They were locked from all known points of entry, but sharing a childhood with the introverted young Prince had allowed her unique access.
"Lady Sif, you look drawn. How was court?" their mysterious young charge asked, foregoing a more acceptable greeting. The medallion hanging from his simple leather necklace reminded Sif of her last meeting with Fandral in the dungeons. The same runes had marked his wrist.
"Mr. Wolf you look bare, does the task of dressing yourself tax your mind?" Sif countered shrugging off the dark cloak she'd been using to hide her identity.
"Natasha doesn't mind nudity. You should be glad that I am wearing the leggings for your benefit," the youth responded. "You haven't answered my question."
"Things have taken a dark turn. Sir Fandral just gave a grand speech, professing his love to our new leadership. He did not seem himself," Sif recalled. "I know not what magic that creature Mara has inflicted upon him, but his mind is not his own."
"You could be next," Agent Romanoff observed.
"I cannot allow you to be drawn into this. I brought you here to ensure your safety, and to find allies in the defense of Midgard. I will not endanger you by association." Sif paced over to the wall-length window and frowned out at the spectacular view of the mountains.
"You've found her one new friend in me. I assure you that is not nothing."
Sif gave the peculiar juvenile Aesir a flat look. "When I first found you, you were running barefoot through the gardens draped in broken chains. I still have your shackles here to remind me of my folly." She held up one of the broken shackles lying on Loki's desk to illustrate her point. "Now that I think of it, what were you two doing on the floor when I entered?"
"Natasha was teaching me about cellular phones and their proper use," Mr. Wolf answered innocently, although it was clear that he was leaving something out.
"He wants to return with me to Earth. I think that you should let him," Natasha stated, moving to sit on the end of Loki's bed. After a beat she moved the strangely ragged looking throw pillow onto the chair opposite her with a pointed look at the man in question.
"We still do not know if we can trust him."
"Lady Sif, Loki gave you that message for a reason. I think I'm supposed to take him back with me," the Black Widow reasoned.
"You are," idly confirmed, crossing the room to perch on the window ledge.
"You trust the Trickster's judgment that much?" Sif tested the Agent, disregarding the cocky youth's remark, although she was keeping a close eye to make sure he wouldn't slip. The boy's familiar coloring and attitude were bringing back old instincts, dormant since Loki's youth.
"My planet is in the middle of a world war, and now it's about to be invaded. Loki may be our only chance," Natasha said darkly. Sif drew her attention away from the juvenile Aesir's precarious perch to meet the redhead's piercing stare.
"We should leave tonight." Mr. Wolf hopped down to face them sensing the agreement between the two women. "Can you get us to the northeast tower without detection by the night's guard?"
"You plan to pass through Jötunheim?" Sif verified, prompting his eyebrows to arch in surprise. "There was an incident. Loki dove for the falls, I followed. I was not aware there were any others who knew the rifts between realms as he does."
"There are not. I know only the handful that Mother taught to me," Mr. Wolf admitted. "I have a contact on Jötunheim. He will get us safely through to M- Earth. Hmm. Still feels strange to call it that. How am I doing with my speech?" The last bit was directed at the Black Widow.
"You're learning quickly. You might want to try using contractions a little more, but you're sounding a lot less Shakespearean already."
"Thanks," Mr. Wolf said, smiling with pride at his accomplishment in the immediate, and successful use of her advice. His expression fell a moment later, though, and he turned to growl at the balcony where a dark silhouette was just vaulting over the edge. Sif drew her sword and hurried after the spy, but the cloaked figure was already climbing nimbly down the vines. He looked up at her with familiar, unnatural blue eyes, and winked. Sif stared grimly back at him before hurling her sword down so that the spinning blade slashed his side. She caught the weapon upon it's return while the spy's body hit the ground with a nasty thud. It wouldn't buy them much time, Mara's proxy's were disturbingly efficient.
"Grab what you can carry," Sif called to the others. They were out of time.
GRAND CENTRAL TERMINAL
Loki turned and descended the steps in the eerily quiet Grand Cenral Terminal ahead of his two Midgardian companions. He was too curious to explore the underground community to notice the way that clint paused and stared out the window, only continuing forward with a sharp tug on his arm and meaningful look from Wanda. Loki was fascinated by the human races' ingenuity. Even in the wake of multiple air raid bombings, evacuations, and ever-hunting Sentinels, Grand Central was not abandoned, nor was it any less of a marvel. Here an underground community of misfit stragglers were making a new home. They were mutants and humans alike, from infants to the elderly, living in cobbled-together tents and little huts built out of repurposed materials. Some of them watched the newcomers with interest, but most just moved around them, carrying on with their own day to day lives. No one seemed to recognise Earth's would be conquerer. The Trickster begrudgingly admitted that he'd just lost a bet, not that he was suprised; Charles had warned him not to bet against Wanda's accuracy.
Loki stopped at the mouth of the tunnel to avoid a collision with the young boy running across his path. The Trickster briefly wondered about the bandana-blindfold that the boy had just taken off, but figured it wasn't important. The boy wasn't upset; it was doubtlessly part of whatever game the children in the tunnel were playing. Wanda smiled at him as she passed by him into the bustling corridor. They still had a way to go before they reached their destination for the night. No matter how curious Loki might be about this strange little pocket of Midgardian life, they couldn't afford to take the time to explore it properly. Another time perhaps. Loki followed his carefree guide into the crowd, taking notice of another little boy who'd used his glistening, rubbery skin to stick to the far side of a small hut made predominantly out of milk-crates and soda cans.
Do you know what they're doing? Loki inquired internally, looking idly around himself for more signs of the young ones' antics.
Hide-and-go-seek tag, Charles supplied helpfully. It's much like the game that Raven and I used to play when we were children but with more running.
Let us imagine that I do not remember your childhood, Loki responded sarcastically.
The boy with the blindfold is 'it'. He is searching for the other children who are hiding, if he finds them, he then tries to catch them, or 'tag' them and make them 'it'. The children who are hiding are trying to get to base without getting caught, Charles explained.
You played that as a child?
I didn't cheat, Charles responded flatly.
That isn't what I find strange. Who else did you play with?
Oh. We didn't. I told you, it was different when we did it. Charles' thoughts were threatening to take a decidedly more depressing tone. For us it wasn't so much playing as it was practice.
A girl's voice drifted from Charles' memory into Loki's awareness, along with an impression of blue scales. "I'm not a cheater, Charles! Why should I use my talent when you can't use yours!" His sister, Loki assumed, most likely lost the argument against her patronizing sibling.
I can hear your thoughts, Loki, Charles reminded him. I was only doing what was best for her.
I sympathize with the poor girl, Loki responded, stepping over a shaggy, black dog that was taking a nap a little too far from the opening to its master's tent to be polite. He took only two more steps before a tiny green person attached herself to his side. Loki looked down at the boney, little hand clinging to the bottom edge of his sweater.
"May I help you?" he prompted.
Big, scarlet eyes blinked up at him. "Shhh! I'm hiding."
Loki eyed her skeptically. "Hide somewhere else."
"No. Come on! The others took all the good spots and they never share 'cause they think I'm weird! I'm not weird! I don't wanna be It again!" the little girl whispered anxiously. She looked rather pathetically set on this. "Eep! Hide me!" She hissed, spotting the boy heading their way.
Loki paused looking uncharacteristically sympathetic as Clint caught up with them. The Jötun sighed and moved the front of his trenchcoat, letting off an almost imperceptible shimmer of gold, the better to hide the little girl. Clint stopped on his other side, looking intrigued. He could see the girl's silhouette perfectly well, like a statue of blown glass.
"Hi!" The boy who was currently 'it' greeted, smiling confidently up at them. "Have you seen a frog-lookin' girl?"
"Certainly not," Loki replied with a flicker of a smile to match the boy's while the girl hid her face against his coat, pouting at the insulting comparison.
"Oh..." the boy looked at Clint who just shrugged. "Blonde kid?" the boy tried again.
"Back that way," Loki lied just to be a troll.
"Thanks!" the boy called, darting away.
Clint shot Loki a reproachful look. "You are such a dick."
Loki chuckled and uncovered the now beaming young mutant. "Run along now."
She flung her arms around his waist in a clumsy hug before running off to find a better hiding spot.
Loki watched her disappear into the crowd before responding lightly, "The girl was clearly outcast. Is it not a good deed to lift her spirits?"
Clint eyed him speculatively for a beat. "You just had to mess with someone, didn't you?" he determined. "Even if it's a kid. You couldn't care less about some kid's crappy day. You just toy with people. It's pathological."
"Yes, thank you for that grand and unrequested appraisal of my psychology, Agent Barton. I find the best diagnoses are often the most broad." Loki's point would've had more punch to it if he hadn't just stolen a ration cube off of a distracted bystander's plate and popped it into his mouth as they passed.
"Pathological," Clint reiterated.
"Are you aware that my random, young victim has stuffed chewing gum in your trouser pocket?" Loki stated as if it were an afterthought.
Clint verified this disgusting truth for himself, watching the sticky, pink mass stretch, with a grimace. "Aw! Fuck that kid!"
"Why don't you trust the Augur's judgment of me and allow us to continue alone while you carry out your own work?" Loki continued, keeping his amusement contained. "We both know that there is a difference between occasional, perhaps even 'pathological' acts mischief and a threat to the security of your world."
"Agh... Okay. I trust Wanda, but she isn't stable. You both need a monitor who can step in and stop you," Clint reminded his prisoner, trying not to think about the sticky mess. "Besides, I'm intrigued."
Loki considered the assassin expectantly.
"I mean, you with a friend. I've gotta meet this guy," Clint prodded, prompting an eye roll from the Trickster. "He has got to be dangerous."
Loki smiled thinly. "That is entirely a matter of perspective."
"If you say so..." Clint dismissed as they followed Wanda into a dark, and all-but-abandoned boarding area. There was a scratched, graffiti-marked train car poking into view out of the darkness. Wanda waited for Loki to sidle up close enough for her to grab his sleeve, then knocked on the doors. Clint rested a hand on his gun, eyeing Wanda skeptically upon seeing her step back and hold an arm out to bar the Trickster's progress, or possibly to shield him from-
"Drop your weapon and explain your presence," a gruff, unfortunately-familiar, male voice demanded as soon as the doors opened. Clint had his gun trained for the killshot in record time. The son of a bitch was shrouded in a hood and a face mask, but that didn't matter. Clint knew Juggernaught as instinctively as one would expect, considering that the mutant merc had nearly killed him on three separate occasions. The sawed-off shotgun in his muscular grip was pointed just as steadily at Hawkeye.
"Yes, Wanda, explain right the fuck now: why did you bring us here?" Clint requested tightly.
"Drop it, Hawkeye! You know the first shot won't kill me," Juggernaught threatened. "Then again, I am in the mood to smash something. Bring it."
Wanda cleared her throat. "Not killing is always good. Let's try to be friends now, maybe?"
Both men scoffed at the absurd idea.
"I've been wanting to pay you back for that bus ride," Juggernaught reflected.
"You left a wonderful dent in that double decker. I should send you a copy of the photo," Clint responded. "It was like a cartoon."
"How are your ribs by the way? I was sure that your lungs would never be the same again," the mutant answered. "Damn socialist Brits and their universal healthcare..."
"Guys," Wanda tried again. "We can help each other. Just for a while. It will boost the chances of all our survival by 63%."
Please don't let them kill each other, Charles requested within Loki's happily buzzing mind.
Yet another family member?
Not as such... We grew up together.
"Tough decision," Juggernaught remarked of Wanda's entreaty. "I think we can handle one less."
"Which eye do I drill one into... You might have a thick skull, Juggernaught, but I can get around that." Clint smiled darkly.
"I believe that I can taste the testosterone in the air," Loki sneered. "Listen, Boys, perhaps we might save this contest for another day? I assure you that you are both equally unimpressive."
Wanda swatted the side of his head. The mercenary ran his gaze over the Scarlet Witch's unintroduced guest.
"Who's this asshole?"
"Loki's just grumpy. He came from the stars, and isn't really a 'he.' I'm helping him save the world," Wanda told him matter-of-factly.
"Jesus Christ..." Clint huffed, clearly wishing for sanity to return sometime soon.
"Loki's a 'she,' too,sometimes, but not really that, either. I'm sneaking him back home with me," Wanda finished, as if more pointless information would somehow help, unaffected by her fellow Avenger's dismay. Loki flashed the masked mutant a forced smile.
Juggernaught paused for a moment to consider the strange explanation, and Loki. "Okay." He shrugged and stepped aside to let them through, still keeping his shotgun pointed at the ex-assassin.
"Seriously?" Clint asked, actually lowering his weapon a bit while he stared incredulously at his enemy.
"Believe me, that is not even close to the weirdest thing that she has failed to explain to me," Juggernaught returned.
"We need him." Wanda slumped down into one of the seats behind him while Loki lingered in the opening beside Juggernaught.
"Intact?" the mercenary verified.
"Hmmm," the Trickster hummed in enjoyment, looking as if he might start purring at any second. The minor chaos was enough to make him feel giddy, or as Charles observed rather loudly in his mind, You're intoxicated!
"Loki?" Clint hazarded. His eyes flickered from his partner/captive to his enemy, while Charles murmured, Fascinating.
"You look to me for aid, Agent Barton?"
"He will shoot my arm off," Clint bit out. "What happened to owing me a debt?"
"Alas, it appears that I have been overcome by my penchant for mischief," Loki teased with a smartass smirk. "I have been told it is a 'pathological' affliction."
Clint grumbled, "Just my luck." He battled with himself for a few more seconds, then flicked on the safety on his gun and spread his arms in surrender. Juggernaught came forward and confiscated the weapon. He then reached behind the silently-fuming archer and took his collapsible crossbow as well.
"Okay," the mutant accepted with taunting jubilance. "You may enter."
"Yeah, whatever," Clint muttered. He felt that the flourish was unnecessary.
Loki stood up straight from his lounging position just as the massive merc passed, brushing against him. "Oh, pardon me," he said with a grin, placing a hand on the bulky male's shoulder. "And thank you for your hospitality."
Juggernaught gave him an odd, vaguely homophobic look before continuing past to face Wanda. "Come on, Witcheepoo." He patted one of her folded knees and headed towards the back. "We gotta have a private chat."
"Be nice," Wanda suggested, walking past Loki and Clint to follow the other mutant into the next car. It was unclear which one of them she was addressing.
"You know I'm going to kill you for this," Clint broke the awkward silence.
Loki strolled over to a table set up mid-car and began to peruse the patterns and notes spread over its pile of maps. "Then I suppose that I should not give this back to you," he drawled distractedly, pulling Clint's crossbow out of his sleeve and setting it aside.
"How did-? You-" Clint broke off before his sentence formed, snatching his favored weapon up off the table. He had decided not to question how the hell the weapon had possibly- or impossibly as the case may be- fit into Loki's sleeve in the first place.
"I am the living embodiment of chaos and mischief, yet you are surprised that I picked a man's pocket," Loki chided, apparently missing the greater conundrum due to its familiarity. "It is as though you do not know me."
"No. It's not-" Clint paused to make a hasty perusal of his equipment and confirm that it wasn't sabotaged... or crushed at all. "You aren't, typically, the helpful type."
Loki glanced scathingly up at him.
"Prove me wrong," Clint replied, claiming the seat across from him. "What are you doing now, anyway?"
"Plotting a psychopathic scheme for world conquest," Loki deadpanned.
"Very funny. What are you doing?"
"You think me incapable of telling the truth, or do you assume that your pathetic, little gadget is enough to stave off my madness?"
"Neither. I just don't think you need a pile of ratty, old, coffee-stained maps to kick off your invasion plans." Clint picked up the glass mug by his arm to stress his point. "How long do you think it takes for a cappuccino to turn into epoxy?"
Loki watched with thinly-veiled disgust while the map crinkled upwards, stuck to the bottom of the half-empty vessel. He moved his hands away, folding them neatly in his lap.
Clint smirked. "Grossed you out, huh? Does it remind you of home?" He jiggled the mug a bit, confirming the thickness of it's contents. "You know, because Thor-"
"I was finding my destination," Loki clarified, bypassing the unsettling subject. "I wish to prepare for my reuinion as much as possible."
"Don't trust him?"
"It is not my friend whom I distrust."
"I'm not going to shoot you in the back," Clint dismissed, making the reassurance sound a little begrudging. "And not your mysterious pal either, unless provoked."
"As reassuring as that is, I would still rather plot a few contingencies before we arrive." Loki bent over the map, signalling the end of the conversation.
"Fine. What's the plan?" Clint inquired, planting his elbows on the edge of the table. He yanked them back in the next second. "Augh, fuck! Just when I thought I couldn't hate the guy more."
Loki gave him a look.
"It's sticky," Clint clarified.
"I am quite adept at creating efficient strategies without your aid, Agent Barton," Loki huffed.
"Dude. Knock off the prickly bitch routine! I don't trust you," Clint reproached, leaning back in his seat.
"Lest you shock me again?" Loki challenged. "I should never have given you and your little team my aid. Doubtless, this supposed truce will only bring me more of your endless torments."
"Hey! Considering everything, I've been downright charitable to you," Clint argued, placing his crossbow between them, and rising from his seat to crouch over the table. His steely-blue eyes pierced into Loki's green. "I could just have left you in that alley having your monster baby, or killed you for sneaking around behind my back, or triggered the button any one of the multiple other times that you slipped the net on us to play vigilante! Now get off that rag and fucking cooperate!"
Loki, who had almost imperceptibly begun to sink back into his seat over the course of the ex assassin's rant, stopped and blinked up at him for an uncomfortably-long moment. Charles' mental cringe in response to the last remark had broken the spell. Loki didn't look so much anxious or insulted as he looked... too still.
Clint was caught between wanting to laugh at the absurd parallel and wanting to hide before the storm hit-which unbenknownst to him, the consciousness had just done without ceremony. Clint had seen that expression before. It was the face Natasha had worn after they caught one of the rookies hacking into her sealed personnel file. Agent Brett no longer had kneecaps, nor any non-Agency resources to speak of.
"I know what that idiom means," Loki responded oh-so-calmly.
Clint grimaced. "Uhh..."
"Doubtless, you will regret it when my cycle does return," the Trickster remarked still in that eerily serene tone, sliding the crossbow off to one side of the map. Clint squinted at him. It took him a moment to recover from the fear that he might get zapped, or frozen alive in retribution. Then he realized Loki's meaning.
"Wait. You?" Clint flopped back in his seat, puzzling over the possibility of an actually PMSing Loki with growing dread.
"I am not male," Loki reminded him, perusing the map. "My body is still readjusting to your lunar cycle. Thor will confirm that I cannot be held responsible for the resultant symptoms."
Clint continued to stare at him- Um, huh. Maybe not 'him'. What the hell do we call him anyway? Clint thought to himself. I don't need this.
"My sex troubles you far too much."
"Don't call it sex," Clint interjected.
"How pedestrian. Another of Thor's friends who would prefer that I behaved as they would see me," Loki drawled out, unimpressed, keeping his attention focused on the map.
Clint opened his mouth to argue, then the epiphany struck him. "Holy shit! Really?"
"I think it best if Wanda and I head in first," Loki speculated, ignoring the Avenger's discerning grin. "You can ensure our safety from afar."
"This whole time..!" Clint chuckled and took a step back as if basking in the comedy of the moment.
Loki clenched his jaw, failing to ignore his mounting irritation. He snapped, "Enough gawking, Agent. I expected a man of your caliber to be more than a childish brute!"
"Oh, calm down, Dude. I couldn't give less of a crap about your gender." Clint looked torn between being annoyed by the accusation and incredulous about whatever breakthrough it had allowed him. "You're a magic wielding psycho, that's all I need to know."
Loki frowned up at him; a smile began to threaten the corner of his mouth despite the insult. Oddly, the Trickster's own jailor was genuinely exepting hir in a way that most on hir homeworld had never even considered.
"I've gotta ask: you and your brother are both over a thousand years old, right?" Clint gestured to the Trickster's answering nod. "Why do you care? I mean that's plenty of time for someone to give up on a pointless argument."
Loki sighed wearily. "I did."
Clint nodded, as if he'd expected that answer. "That's why you're 'not his brother'," he confirmed his hypothesis aloud.
Loki held his gaze for another moment with a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes tempering his otherwise grim face. It made some of the remaining tension ebb from Clint's shoulders, and he maybe didn't feel quite as conflicted anymore about ignoring his sighting of the Bifrost beam touching down earlier. He could've given Loki up to the Allfather if he'd wanted to, but something had stopped him. Then he could have led him towards whoever had just arrived through the Bifrost rather than help him meet this friend of his, but the Scarlet Witch had stopped him. Or maybe now Clint just wasn't feeling conflicted about it for the same reasons. He realized that there was a big part of him that didn't want to trust, or understand Loki. Good thing Wanda seemed to know them both better than they themselves did.
ASTRAL PLANE
Erik shut the door behind himself and locked it. He wouldn't be leaving the sanctuary that way again anytime soon, not after seeing the memories that lay beyond. If he and Odin ever met, somebody was going to die. The magnekinetic now understood with uncomfortable familiarity, exactly why the Trickster hirself did not want to remember the truth. Erik did not like sympathizing with Loki. He'd rather think that the devious alien was just another prick. "I need to stop thinking about this," he decided. "Loki is Charles' problem. Not mine."
The lamp looked up at him from its lounge on the floor and hissed.
"No." Erik made to move past the little creature and pour himself a drink, but the fearsome feline darted over and buried it's needle-like teeth deep in his ankle. "Ah! Gott in himmel!" Erik tried to kick the beast off of himself, but it seemed to have an unnaturally strong hold. The ex-nazi-hunter had to resort to tentatively pulling and prizing the furball's stubborn limbs away from his leg, occasionally stopping to hiss and whisper another curse when the Lamp lashed out at him. "What is the matter with you! Get off me! You-" Erik looked up, trying to locate the source of the unexpected laughter. "What now?" He grumbled, holding the Lamp away by his scruff.
"You take no ressssponsibility?" the disembodied voice challenged.
"I have done nothing to hurt Loki," Erik agreed. The kitten hanging from his grip gave him an unimpressed look and started to lick its paw. "I wasn't even alive when most of it took place. I am only here for Charles." Erik realized that the kitten was, in fact, cleaning his blood off of itself, and tossed it onto the couch in retribution. "Furry bastard!"
"I'm not, actually," the voice replied with a smile in his tone. "Even if it was only a political marriage..."
"You are not the Lamp," Erik stated flatly.
"But wouldn't it be amusing if I wasss?"
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"You have involved yoursself, Mortal. You ressside within the Trickster's mind, yet you pay hir little respect," the voice scolded. "I am the World Serpent, Jörmungand, and you will heed my guidance."
Erik paused to absorb this, then stated simply. "I am not calling you that."
"Calling me which?"
Erik arched his brows, looking in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from.
"Ffffine." 'Jörmungand the World Serpent' actually sounded a bit petulant now. "You may call me Dragon."
"I will call you pretentious if you keep this up," Erik responded, unimpressed.
"Yesss. I'm pretentious, Magnus Maximoff," the serpent snarked back.
"You wanted to lead me somewhere?" Erik prompted, sounding tetchy. He actually believed the World Serpent claim now, seeing that 'Jörmungand' had inherited Loki's sass.
"Through the window, Oh Humble Squire."
Erik clenched his jaw and stepped through the glass barrier. Instead of finding himself in one of the Trickster's memories, he found himself in Hank's lab back home. Raven, was marching purposefully back and forth, giving orders to the uniformed Agents around the edges of the room while Hank busied himself with the equipment set up between Erik and Charles' beds. Something big was going down, that much was obvious. Erik heard sounds of battle trickle in as Alex hurried into the room wearing an updated-and thankfully, less colorful- version of the old X-Men uniform, unknowingly walking right through Erik's astral presence.
"How? I'm really here. How have you managed this?" Erik demanded.
"World Serpent," Jörmungand reminded him in an 'I won't say you're a dumbass' tone of voice. "Do pay attention."
"Havok," Agent Parker acknowledged from his place at Raven's side. "What've you got for us?"
Raven turned to face the lightly-steaming blond.
"We're about to lose containment! Rogue, Darwin, and Maxwell are doing what they can, but he's adapting too fast!" Alex took a steadying breath and looked to Mystique for guidance. "We need too seal off the basement level. I don't know how else we're going to hold him."
"What happened to Wolverine?" Parker wondered aloud, looking back and forth between the two mutants.
"He's dead again, Sir." Alex paused to picture the latest, at least peripherally-humorous demise in his mind's eye before adding, "He might take a while to get back up again."
Raven rolled her eyes. "Typical. How long can you hold it if we send in reinforcements?"
"I wouldn't suggest that, Ma'am," Parker advised in an undertone. "We're already undermanned at the gate."
"If we lose the basement level we lose the generator," Mystique snapped, her voice splitting into a chorus due to her spiking stress level.
"I can't promise you much," Alex admitted. "Maybe an hour. Maybe. If we do everything right."
Raven paused to look back at Erik's and Charles' bodies, lying asleep and vulnerable on life-support. Erik's unseen ghost frowned in sympathy. He knew the impossible decision that she was being forced to make, and couldn't help feeling guilty about his part in it. "Do it. Take our internal detail with you."
"Ms. Xavier-" Agent Parker exclaimed. Alex just acknowledged the order with a nod and complied, gesturing for the security detail to follow him out.
"I know, Drake. I'm out of options." Raven ran a hand through her bright orange hair. "We just have to try to beat the clock. Listen, I know that this isn't what you signed up for. You can join Moira and Wanda in Hank's vault. Hell, it looks like they might end up needing you." Erik paced around them, waiting for the response. He had never seen Raven looking this defeated before.
"Ah, come on. Who's helping who again? One of us seems to be confused," Agent Parker replied, coaxing a smile out of the shapeshifter with the reminder of his first visit.
"I guess we're in this together now," she accepted with a tired, half-smile.
"Damn straight. Now let's see if we can't buy a little more time," Agent Parker declared, checking the clip in his gun. Raven nodded and mirrored the motion.
"Hank, seal the door behind us. Do not open it until you get a valid code phrase," She ordered. Her scales were flickering and darkening as they stepped out into the blacked out corridor, to better camoflage her. Her bright orange hair darkened to a dark reddish brown until only her bright yellow eyes shown in the darkness.
"Uh, okay," Hank acknowledged following after them and sealing the reenforced door as requested. "We are so going to die," he muttered to himself. "He turned back to face Erik and Charles' bodies lying unconscious on the hospital beds. "Well, maybe not. I'm still not convinced that he'd risk you." The furry blue mutant crossed back over and resumed tending to his half-absent patients.
"Why are you showing me this?" Erik questioned his invisible, alien guide.
"Alignment is coming sssoon. You must be prepared," the now absurdly familiar voice of the serpent replied.
"Why are you using the Agent's voice?"
"Wouldn't it be amusing-"
"Forget that I asked," Erik interjected, walking over to stand at the foot of Charles' bed. And I thought Loki was irritating! Everything seemed to be a joke to the World Serpent.
NORTHBOUND, RESTRICTED TRANSIT ZONE (Unregistered travelers will be terminated upon detection)
"Hey." Clint reached across the isle between their bunks to hit Loki in the face with his pillow. "You awake?" he inquired, needlessly, keeping his voice down for Wanda's sake.
Loki opened his eyes to shoot the insomniac Avenger a narrow look out of the corner of his eye. He had been having a rather pleasant dream involving Tony Stark and a willfully malfunctioning iced-cream machine. Now it was lost.
"So. How long ago did you visit Earth, anyway?" Clint prompted, undaunted by his unwilling conversational partner's obvious lack of motivation.
"You require such knowledge this instant?" Loki challenged in an annoyed whisper.
"No. I'm just bored, and I hate you," Clint responded flippantly. "It also bothers me that I should've heard something about it. You know, you being an alien and all."
In the early nineteen sixties, Agent Barton would've been an infant at most, Charles supplied Loki with an out.
"You were just a babe. I doubt that word of my presence would have reached your Agency, regardless," Loki remarked, reluctantly turning to face him.
"SHIELD was around by then. Maybe not like it is now..." Clint countered. "They would've noticed you. I mean the Bifrost is hard to miss."
"Did I tell you that I used the Bifrost?"
"Huh. Makes sense... I think." Right after Clint spoke, they heard Wanda turning over in the bunk above Loki's.
"Good night, Agent Barton," Loki prompted.
"Just so we're clear, if this mysterious friend of yours turns out to be Magneto I will shoot you both in the knee."
"On the contrary, my dear Hawk. Should you find the opportunity to injure that self-important wretch, I will applaud your handiwork," Loki replied.
You two really need to have good long talk about your feelings, Charles remarked, sounding as though he was caught between being insulted by the affront to his lover and darkly-amused by his two companions' ridiculousness. That, or the two of you could hold your breath and see who passes out first. You both are acting like school children.
You cannot fault me for your poor taste in men, Loki countered. At least I do not choose my allies based merely on attractive- He gasped and grabbed his stinging cheek, causing Clint to give him a funny look. Did you just slap me?! Loki demanded incredulously of his intangible friend. Charles? He felt no response from the consciousness. Charles? Are you still there?
There was a beat of stillness just long enough to make the Trickster begin to worry. Then Charles' presence revealed itself just long enough for him to admit, I shouldn't have done that.
Loki noticed that he did not mention regretting the action.
I need to have a kip, Charles excused himself, retreating from Loki's conscious mind before the Trickster could call him on the lie. He wasn't tired as much as he was tired of Loki.
Clint outwardly shrugged off Loki's strange action and turned onto his side with his back to his ex-nemesis, but he didn't attempt to sleep. He was too busy puzzling over his own ongoing intelligence gathering. Clint had decided to treat this as a high stakes vetting process. Loki was or wasn't trustworthy and stable enough to join their team. By the end of this mission the assassin would carry out his verdict with or without formal confirmation. Hawkeye wasn't a SHIELD Agent any longer; he was an Avenger, and this mission put him in the perfect position to act as covert security for their team. Now if only the Trickster would stop behaving so damn unintelligibly, he might at least be able to feel like he was getting somewhere. It was more than a little aggravating to realize that Stark, of all people, had made more headway with the alien during their time at the Tower than Clint had since Loki had awoken from his coma.
"In the morning I plan to take Wanda to the back of the train. You need not feel alarmed if you wake to find yourself alone," Loki informed his keeper, settling into a more comfortable position to sleep.
"Why?" Clint questioned, managing to sound appropriately-dozy to not arouse suspicion.
"She has not been trained in basic defensive spellcraft. I plan to rectify that oversight."
Clint took a moment to digest the unexpected news. "Got it; I'll stay clear of the last car."
"I will do her no harm..." Loki assured him, curious about Clint's sudden casual attitude regarding his movements.
"Uh huh. Don't sound so nonplussed; We both know that she's not gonna let you run off. You're her teddy bear."
"I don't enjoy that comparison." Loki frowned up at the bunk above him, trying to ignore the warm feeling stirred in his chest by the idea of being wanted.
"Good," Clint murmured, fading towards unconsciousness. "I wouldn' wanna bring you any enjoyment."
Loki smiled faintly at the sleepy-human's jibe. Clint's insults had become an expected facet of this new existence, keeping the Demigod's ego in check. He remembered what Hawkeye had told him earlier. You need someone around who can stop you... The man could be surprisingly insightful when it was least expected. Sif had been that person for him once, back before Loki had become the monster he now knew himself to be... Even after she chose her own ambitions over his friendship. Loki's soft smile grew into a grin. For the first time since his fall, not a part of him missed home. He wasn't even haunted by the thought that he now had no home to return to. He was content simply to be. He was no longer alone and at the present time, that was enough.
A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I know it's been too long since my last update, and I apologize. I was busy with real life bullshit, and for some reason that made it hard to write in any semblence of a linear order. The good news is that means I have chunks of a few future chapters ready to go, so it might help in the long run. Anyway, I hope you liked this little not-bonding interlude for Loki and Clint and oooh the plot is thickening! That's gotta be worth something. Okay, so I will now cease this abysmally long note before I embarass myself furthur. As always, please review!