So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
You can also find this story on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN under the same title and pen name along with a place to post suggestions.
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DAY THREE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0643 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
LOKI
Never has a sentence excited me so much. But I never liked Odin... that sentence is a gift. I know she has no conscious memory of ever encountering Odin, she only knows him by the twisted tales passed down by men, but the chance that her dislike of that mythological figure might be because her subconscious recalls even a piece of his cruelty toward her, I see it as a blessing. If her subconscious remembers that then there has to be more rising from those depths, she just doesn't understand or recognize it.
The woman I want is not gone forever. The woman who makes my control falter. Her hands were soft, warm, and naked on my cheeks and moving away. It was the sound of her tremulous gasp that reminded me why I needed to keep it in the first place.
Her fingertips barely had the chance to abandon their touch when my own pressed into her palm as I caught her hand in mine, and pressed a kiss against the base of her thumb. She bore that touch in silence, but when skin shifted against skin it drew that lovely sound from her even as it shoved traitorous reason back in my mind.
I wanted to keep kissing her, I wanted to kiss more then the soft pad of her palm. If I let myself I could even interpret the flush of her cheeks, her wide eyes, and the shudder in each of her breaths as something far more agreeable and pleasent. I could let my own desires deceive me, and loose all the ground that I've gained.
Letting my eyes open as I draw one last breath, holding the moment before I exhale it into her skin and force my head to turn away before I give into its desire to just run my lips over her skin one more time.
The temptation is so heavy I move her hand farther away, guiding it back to her side in my quest to make my fingers release her's. Its to my pleasant surprise that she is the one who ends up tightening her grip around mine.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0646 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
NORA
He shocked me with that, I'm not going to lie. His hand claimed mine so quickly it almost felt aggressive in its strength, but then everything else was delicate. The press of his gloved fingertips into the heart of my palm and the listless way his thumb slid over my knuckle as it settled into plan. Then there was his lips. I've felt them before but this time was different, this time it was more than a peck, and there was no barrier, it gave me a chance to mark the different texture of our skin, and that was just before he moved them! I felt them slide open just a little, the motion making my nerves sing from that tiny motion, and the slight tugging tension as he tightened them back.
I never really understood the appeal, because I never could do it anyways. But that was just my hand and it made me see why a real kiss might mean so much to people. I know it meant a lot to him, I mean, his eyes when he looked at me, I don't think anyone's ever looked at me like that before.
Its why when his eyes filled with shame and he turned away before pushing my hand away that I squeezed it back to stop him. "Its okay."
This time I'm the one who succeeds in shocking him, a rarity between us. Feeling my fingers tighten his eyes eyes are drawn to them quickly, then drift back to mine slowly as I speak those words, a small pleased smirk tugging at his mouth as he feels me mimic the way he brushes my knuckles.
I can tell by his expression that my delivery in this display of affection is probably rusty, but that's not a surprise. When you can't manage a handshake for most of your life, you definitely don't learn how to do things like this. But he seems to do this a lot, and god knows I've seen it done in movies and on tv, and I must be doing something right, because he smiles and says "Thank you." as he gently rests his other hand over mine, before pulling both away.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0649 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
DUNCAN
Terrance is a good man, that is if you keep being good separate from a being good soldier. This job demands that we do some pretty ugly things, with some pretty ugly people. It makes for limited company, but I trust him to have my back, no matter what crazy I lead us into. I wouldn't have made him my new second if that wasn't true.
Rumlow was a hard one to replace, though I don't miss that street thug personality. Terrance was brought up different, growing up as a military brat, even if his dad turned out to be alcoholic piece of shit, did make him more obedient and a hell of a lot less colorful than Brock.
Its why he doesn't even need me to look at him as I step into the room, he's already locking the door and taking up a defensive position until I finish having this conversation.
His training as a field medic is nice too, he's already got a syringe with something special prepped and waiting on a tray next to Agent Barton's bed.
God, he does look like shit. And that's saying a lot because he actually looks better. He's got a serious case of five o'clock shadow going, and even though it's pretty clear someone cleaned up his face his hands and the rest of him are covered in a layer of dust and sweat, and blood still resides in the corners of his fingernails.
That is I why I don't feel bad about what I'm about to do to him. I don't care if I can still see that creepy light glowing past his eyelids. I met her once, and that woman about is pure as a disney princess, and it was no secret the kind of relationship she had with him. Mind control or not he's got it coming, a lot more then I can give him.
I ignore the syringe for now and the occupant in the other bed next to him. The stool screeches as I drag it across the floor, the wheels sticking from poor maintenance and lack of use. Not surprising since this place hasn't been used for at least a decade before we came in and gave it a purpose again.
"I know you're still in there you son of a bitch." I pause just for a second, looking for any sign of responsiveness, not that I expect it. Terrance takes pride in his work, these two are going be down for the count for a while, which really is exactly what I want.
"That's keeping you alive right now, because I really just want to kill you for what you did to that woman, but for some goddamned reason she 'still' loves you. So if you're in there at all, you better start fighting a hell of a lot harder for her because she is sinking fast, and I plan on getting her out of here."
I stop ignoring the syringe and reach behind me, finding and picking up the capped needle based on feel. It doesn't take me a second to uncap the syringe, taking extra care to avoid nicking myself because I know what's in it.
S.H.I.E.L.D exists to protect people, but sometimes protecting people means hurting others, and we know how to do that as well. Not every torture session needs blood to be spilled or blades. In truth, if you need that you aren't that good at your job. I personally prefer the tidiness of chemical torture, and so does Terrance. He is excellent with ratios and dilutions too. Which is good because platypus venom hurts like hell, and I want it to put Barton back in the driver seat, but not make him useless to me.
The needle meets no resistance as it slips in between the weave of his pants down into the flesh of his thigh, miming the position where his knife sunk into her. "We move in five hours, with or without you. Try not to scream."
Terrance will cover that risk, and dispose of the evidence of my tampering. I trust him to handle that part, because he's proven he deserves it, and because I have five hours until the men my bastard of a father is sure to send give me the distraction I need to make things happen.
THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012
0651 HOURS
SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER
LOCATION UNKNOWN
NORA
After that introduction to the finer points of touch, I was actually very glad for his foresight in the food, because I really needed something else to focus on now that we weren't practically in each others laps. It was also a huge relief that Loki didn't draw attention the fact I was avoiding that detail, even though I know he knew what I was doing.
I don't how I managed that to be honest. I know I've felt myself regaining the control Clint stole from me, but I think I've actually gained more ground in overcoming the phobia then I had even then. The only reason I can think for that, is that Loki is right. I do know him, and I knew him before I knew this fear. The idea that such a period in my life existed sounds wonderful.
"Your smile speaks for you my dear." Those words make my lift my wide eyes to his own which are crinkled with light amusement. "There is clearly a question there."
The surprise drifts back, and just lets the soft smile linger as I nod, because he is right. Even as I took a sip of the milk tea, familiar enough to recognize the leaves were some kind of green tea even if I couldn't narrow it down, I also noticed that the food seemed to fall into a category. Tea, eggs, light pastries, bacon.
"Yes, I was just wondering why it all seems like breakfast food." I expected it to go unanswered, I hadn't asked anyone yet, but no one had volunteered the time to me either, and I know enough about the way these things work to assume no one would, but Loki simply took a sip of his own tea and shrugged.
"Well the sun is rising here I believe. Would you prefer something else?" The blinking silence went on a blink too long apparently. I watch him still half stunned as he puts down his tea cup, and only snap out of it when I realize he is saying 'my' name.
"No, sorry, its fine, its just didn't think you would answer me." The smile returns as more of a smirk.
"Ahh, I see your time in S.H.I.E.L.D slipping through." Then the smirk vanishes into something more casual and relaxed. "I see no reason to keep the time of day from you, not when I've offered to answer much greater questions."
Right, he did. I muse, trying to keep my mental embarrassment from becoming physical as well, with questionable success. I use the tea in my hand as a distraction. I once mused Clint's life was so interesting because he drew a bow on a God, but here I am, having milk tea with one, and honestly that is much more my style anyways.
"Why the tea?" His inquiring brow and the tilt of his head in his response, a question to my question. "Well, I mean, I don't imagine the Vikings drank a lot of tea, do you actually like it or did you just 'summon' it for my benefit?"
"True." He says with yet another one of those pleased twinkles in his eyes. "The Northmen had no such refinements, except in their dealings with traders from the East. However, I actually do enjoy tea myself, I picked up the taste for it in the time I spent with the Vanir."
"The Vanir?" I ask, a sensation somewhere between a twinge and a tingle dancing at the base of my skull. "Yes, the native inhabitants of realm called Vanaheim. The people whose magic and blood flow in you."