WARNINGS: Violence, some gore, shooting scenario.

Here you go!


Steve's face was grim. "You should call the police."

Your fingers played with the edge of the pillow on your lap. "And say what? Clearly he's off the hook. I don't care what he does, as long as he stays away from me."

He sighed, clearly still unimpressed. "Yeah well, let's hope so. No way he's back working for Thor, right?" You shrugged. Steve sighed again. "I knew it was weird that you left the wedding so early. You know you can call me if you need help or feel unsafe, yeah?"

You smile at him, "Thank you. But honestly, I can't see us ever crossing paths again. It was just an unfortunate one-off."

"Let's hope," he muttered. "What about the flowers?"

You frown, "Flowers?"

A quiet tap came at Steve's door. "The flowers that turned up at work," he clarifies, getting up to answer it.

"What does that have to do with anything?" you asked.

"It's weird," Steve insisted. "You should tell Thor at least, just in case." He turned the lock, and opened the door. You sat straight up as a brunette walked in, her heels clipping against the wooden floor. She pauses when she sees you, and Steve shut the door behind her.

"This is Peggy," he said.

You tried not let your curiousity show - but you must have failed, because Peggy turned to him. "Nice to see your friends already know about me," she said in a crisp English accent. Then she turned back around and held out a hand. "Peggy Carter."

You leaned forward and shake it. She's not the tallest, but her grip is firm. "Nice to meet you, finally," you tell her, shooting a smug look at Steve. He darts into his kitchen immediately.

Peggy chuckled - she is very pretty, you notice, but there's a steeliness about her that makes you feel as if nothing ever gets past her. "Finally," she echoed with an easy smile. You move your legs off Steve's sofa for her to sit.

The man himself reappeared, beer bottles and a bag of crisps in hand. Peggy took hers and smoothly snapped the lid off with her bare teeth, catching it and throwing into the bin without looking. Your jaw drops - she is effortlessly cool. Steve seems flustered.

He sat on the arm of the sofa. "So, Peggy, what do you think of this. Say an old flame turns up out of the blue, wants to speak to you, you decline. Next day, suddenly flowers arrive for you at work with no name?"

Peggy wrinkled her nose. "Sounds a little try hard," she said. "But obviously the ex is filled with longing and wants to try and make amends." She looks between the two of you. "So, who is it?"

You glanced at Steve sharply. "Peggy works in the CIA," he says quietly.

His friend - maybe girlfriend? you can't quite tell - narrowed her dark eyes. "Why is that relevant?"

God damn him. You send him a glare. But it's obvious Steve is concerned, because he only held your gaze. After a long moment of silence, you give in. She is in the CIA at least. "I, uh... My ex is Loki. Odinson."

Peggy's eyes snapped to yours. "Loki? As in Thanos?" You nodded, and she sets her drink down. "Okay. Listen, I know you don't know me very well, but I take my job seriously, and I know all about Thanos. Loki might have cut his ties officially, but whatever is going on between you, I recommend you stay far away from it."

"Nothing is going on!" You said, exasperated. "Steve's just worrying."

"Yeah, obviously," he shot back. "Loki's been a ghost for years. He comes back for what, an hour? And you're getting pulled into a gunfight!"

"Excuse me?" Peggy asks.

"Oh my god," you muttered. "It's really nothing. I should go, and leave you guys to...? " Neither of them fill in the blank. You smirk and stand up. "Okay then! Nice to meet you, Peggy."

She waved a crisp at you. "Nice meeting you."

Steve walks over to the door, unlocking it. As he does so, you whispered, "Please remember I live under you so I can hear things."

"Jesus. Please leave," he muttered back, a pink blush on his cheeks. You stepped into the hallway, and he adds, louder. "And please keep an eye out. I'm concerned."

"I know - Steve, genuinely I am fine." You sighed. "I promise if Loki randomly appears outside my bedroom window with a portable stereo, I will call you, and you can punch him or whatever. Happy?"

He nodded seriously. "Happy."


The new lilies that have arrived sit on your desk. You stared at them, uneasily. After Monday, a new bouquet was delivered every day without fail. Steve's assertion that they were from Loki have got to you - if they are, you might take out another restraining order, just to make a point.

You shook your head. There's no proof yet - so no point dwelling on it.

The day passed in a blur; Thursdays were always the longest and busiest, and by the time you finally logged off for lunch it's gone 2pm. You pressed your palms against your temples; they throbbed unpleasantly.

"Hey, go take your break," Karen's voice sounded above you. You look at up her with a slight groan. "The releases are out to publish now - I'll keep an eye until you get back."

"Thanks Karen." You wrap the beige coat around you, and grab your umbrella. Sun had given way to a tropical storm, and it was humid and grey and drizzling outside. "Do you want a bagel?"

"Oh, please!"

You made your way to the elevator, nodding to staff on the floor as you go. When it opened into the foyer, you are greeted with security struggling against someone. There are too many suits to make the person out, so you slipped past with a sidelong look. "Crazy guy," the receptionists are saying as you leave, "If he turns up again, we should call 911."

It is a relief to breathe fresh air and stretch your legs; you walk the block until you reach one of the better delis - a good sandwich is exactly what you need.

Ordering for yourself and Karen, you checked your phone as you wait. Dating is a mix of fun and exhausting, and today you can't be bothered to answer any of the messages in the app. "Thanks," you told the cashier, taking the bag. In no rush, you opened the door back onto the street and a reflection of a woman with thick red hair catches on the glass.

You paused. It jogged a memory - turning around, you glanced across the cafe. A couple of teens who should have been in school, an elderly man, a young woman with a pram. No redhead.

"Miss, you okay?" The cashier called over.

You exit. As you strolled back down the street however, you took your phone out again. Waiting for the light to change at one of the crossings, you held your camera up and pressed the video button.

Heading back to the office, you keep phone against your ear and the video going as you walked the long way, crossing more times than is necessary. When you stepped back into the building, you headed straight to the desk. One of the women look up to greet you. "Can you keep an eye on the door please?" you asked, trying not to let your nerves show. "Especially for anyone with red hair."

"Sure." She repeated the request into her mouthpiece.

"And who was that earlier, with security?"

The receptionist rolled her eyes offhandedly. "Oh, this guy keeps turning up and trying to go upstairs. He's been a colleague who forgot his card, a janitor, a relative on an emergency visit," she counted the lies down on her fingers as she lists them. "So next he'll probably be a senior member of staff." She tittered. "Like we're stupid. He needs help."

"Which floor is he trying to go?" you asked.

"Uh... Floor 12, I think?" Yours was 20. Still, that eerie feeling stayed. "Don't worry ma'am, we have security well in hand," the receptionist assured you. It's kind of her; you thanked her and return to your office.

Back inside, you give Karen her bagel before closing the screen door and plugging your phone into your desk. The sandwich sits beside today's lilies, temptingly, but you're too nervous to eat it before checking the video. Casting it onto the computer screen, you turn the volume down and hit play.

A few seconds in, the shaky screen captures a woman with dark red hair stepping out of the deli while you wait at the crossing. She follows you across the road, then disappears - a few minutes alter, she is in the image again, metres behind you as you take the long walk back to the office. The last time the camera catches her is sitting down on a bench across the street as you enter the office building.

Lunch forgotten, you jumped out of your chair and pressed your face against the window. It is too high; the sidewalk is obscured by buildings and shadows and trees. Swearing to yourself, you grabbed your phone and sprinted out of the room as fast as your heels will allow. "Security!" you shout as you beeline for the doors. There's some confusion then the suits are behind you as you step into the street. Your eyes find her; the woman who had accompanied Loki at Thor's wedding.

Striding across the road, she stands, tucking a phone into her pocket. Her gaze moved across you and onto the three security guards behind you.

"Don't," you warned as she began to walk away. She stopped. "Why are you following me?"

She smiled. Her canines are sharp. "I'm sorry but I don't know what you-"

"Oh stop," you snapped. "I caught you following me on my phone. I remember you at the wedding - what was your name?"

The woman looked a little disgruntled. "Natalia."

You frowned, but it will have to do. "Right, Natalia. Why are you spying on me?"

Her eyes widened innocently. "I'm not; I just went for lunch in the-"

"If you keep lying I'm going to call the police." You said flatly.

That seemed to amuse her. Her mouth quirks. "Okay, sure. But can we get rid of the goons?" You shook your head in annoyance. "I can't legally say anything in front of bystanders."

Jesus christ. "Fine!" Security are not happy, but at your insistence they retreated back across the road. Natalia - although you swore that wasn't quite right - watched them go before uncrossing her arms.

"What can I help you with?"

She's ballsy, you'll give her that. "Why are you following me?" you demanded. "Legally this is stalking."

"Actually, legally it's security detail. Better than those guys for sure."

Eyes narrowed, you stand still. "Security for what?"

"That's not in my remit to divulge," Natalia replied smoothly.

"Is this Loki's doing?" Her face gave away nothing. Your blood boiled. "Right. Well Natalia, leave me the fuck alone or I'll take you, and him, to court and slap you both with a massive fine and two restraining orders." She says nothing and you snap, "Who the fuck does he think he is anyway! I don't need security from him."

"Not from him," the other woman muttered.

"What?"

Natalia steps closer to you, "Have you received anything this week? Gifts, threats, people turning up at your house?" Your mouth goes dry. "Because-"

"Get the fuck away from me!" Your voice raised unceremoniously. Her eyes darted around as you dialled 911. You were done playing nice; if Loki thought he could intimidate you he was wrong. "I'm taking you to court."

"Sure," Natalia said, but you could hear the annoyance in her tone. "Just in case you need us-" something small and black flew through the air and dropped by your feet as the line rang. You automatically look down; a business card. You swiped it up just as a responder picked up the line.

"Hello, 911?"

"Hi, I-"

She's gone. Impossible, as you barely took more than three seconds to look away from her. You spin around in a circles, frantically searching, but to no avail.

"Hello? Do you need emergency services?"

"Uh..." What do you say? There's nobody to detain. "Sorry, I think it's dealt with."

"Right." The responder sounded miffed. "If that's all? I'm hanging up now." There was a click and the call ended.

Looking over your shoulder, security are still stood there. Less certain than you were, you return. "Thanks guys, I think it's dealt with for now. Could you go up to Karen on floor 20 and tell her I'm taking the rest of the day off please? I'll work from home tonight."

The burly men exchange a look but go on in. When they've left, you tap another number into your phone. It rings for almost a full minute before Thor's voice answered. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Thor," you cut straight to the point, "Where does Loki work? Is he there now?"

Thor sounded wary. "I'm not sure I should say. Why do you ask?"

"Because," you tried to stop your voice from rising with anger, "one of his new friends just turned up outside my office after following me around on my lunch break!"

"What?" There's a shuffle on the end of the line, and you can hear him stepping further away from background voices. When he returns, his voice is clearer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure," you snapped. "Where does he work?"

"I'll text you," Thor said grimly. "Hopefully this is just a misunderstanding."

"Sure," you replied coolly, "But if it's not I'm taking him to court." On the other end of the line, Thor sighs. There's a buzz as a text comes through. "Thank you."

His voice is tired. "I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon you know."

That takes the bite out of your words. "I know Thor, I'm sorry."

"It's not you. Loki knows when to pick his moments." You wondered how often they had seen each other - Jane had mentioned family therapy, so at least for some weeks. Actually, you decided, better not to ask.

"Yes he does. Anyway, bye Thor. I'll keep this out of your hair if I can."

Another sigh. "If you can."


The drizzle has turned into a grey downpour when the black cab pulls up outside the steps that lead up to a towering skyscraper. "Can you wait?" you asked the driver. When he makes a face, you pull out a note and pass it to him.

"Sure."

As your shoes land on the wet ground, a boom of thunder sounded in the distance. Great, you thought, dashing up the steps. The building is all black glass and marble. You could imagine Loki working here easily. Inside is filled with the heavy quietness of importance; the middle-aged lady behind the desk is dressed very smartly.

"I'm here to see Loki Odinson," you said.

She peered through her glasses at her screen, nails tapping against the keys. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to book you in-"

"I'm not a client," you interrupted her. "If I don't see him now, then I am going straight to the police. So he can either take 5 minutes now, or several hours later."

She raised her brows, unperturbed. "May I have your name?" You give it. "One moment please." She turned away, dialling the desk phone. "Sir, there's a woman - yes. Yes, she is. Just now, Sir. Oh, of course." The phone is placed back down and she looks back to you. "He's ready for you."

Your lips pressed together. She handed you a pass, "Floor 33. Left down the hallway, and opposite the private kitchen."

Everyone you passed was dressed for business, and the place is ostentatiously clean. The first elevator took you as far as the 30th floor; when you stepped out of the second, you followed the directions towards a mahogany door that read L ODINSON in polished bronze.

Pausing for a moment to contain yourself, you opened the door without knocking.

Loki's eyes flicked up to you and then back down to the sheaf of papers in front of him. "Indeed. If you excuse me, I have a meeting presently." He placed his phone back down and stands. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Would you like a drink?" He does not sound surprised to see you.

You don't sit. "I'm not staying any longer than I need to." He frowned but you pushed ahead, fury in your voice. "Stop sending people to watch me."

"That-"

"I don't care what your reason is Loki - I told you to fuck off." His lips thinned. Before he had fallen from grace, Loki had never been a fan of vulgar language. It gave you a little satisfaction. "It's stalking in the eyes of the law you know," you continued tightly. "I imagine it would be very easy for a lawyer to replace your restraining order."

A look of confusion showed on his face momentarily. "Restraining order?"

"Yes," you bit out. "After last time I saw you, I had one served. Don't you remember?"

His words are carefully controlled, "I'm afraid I don't, no."

You shift restlessly, forcing your hands not to ball up. "Let me remind you - after you ran away from your parents house, you broke into my apartment with some girl, whose name I don't know. I came home to find you going through my things?"

"I remember now, thank you," Loki muttered. You scoffed. His jaw ticked. "I understand you're confused, but-"

"I'm not confused," you snapped. "I'm angry. Stay away from me!"

"You've sought me out - I have been nowhere near you," he pointed out frostily.

Your temper spiked, "I know you sent Natalia Loki-"

"Natasha."

"Whatever her name is!" You marched up to his desk, jabbing your finger at him furiously. "I'm not the woman you once knew Loki. I will put you out of business if I have to."

He laughed, "Goodness. How fierce. Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you! I don't know or care what your reasoning is Loki; if I see Natasha or anyone else spying on me, I will go to every authority imaginable. I swear to god, I'll hire Jeri Hogarth. Thor won't stand up for you. Nobody respects you anymore - the judge won't care what your name is."

You could see his thoughts playing out behind his eyes. Slowly, they travel up and down your body, as if taking you in for the first time. "I can't do that," he replied softly.

He was utterly infuriating. An egocentric, shameless ass. "You don't have a choice," you hissed.

Loki laughed again, humourlessly. "I've heard that before." You don't care to ask what he means. His voice lowered, "Can you truly not take my word that I am not here to hurt you?" You rolled your eyes. Loki seemed to be rapidly running out of patience. "Listen to me. There are people, from the last few years of my life, who are dangerous-"

"Yes, Thanos, I know that. That doesn't mean you get to-"

"You have no idea what it means!" He snarled, suddenly sounding very much like the Loki you once knew. "Thanos is the head of an international crime syndicate! Mafia, Yakuza, whoever you can think of - he knows them all. If you remember, it was only on Sunday that you met some of his associates!"

"Because of you!" you hissed. He falters, eyes opening in shock. "Because you couldn't just leave me alone!"

Loki shuts his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, they are stoic. "Whatever the reason, you are not safe. They know your face now." The nerves in your stomach intensified. "Let me protect you. Clint and Natasha are the very best we could hope for."

"Don't say we." Natasha. You reached into your coat pocket and pulled out the card she had left. You placed it on the table in front of him. "I can deal with my own life. Stay out of it. And stop sending me flowers!"

"I never sent you flowers," he snapped back. "Tell me, if you're so angry then why haven't you called the police already?"

"For your family's sake," you snarled. "God knows they deserve a break form your drama." Loki's jaw clenched - but you are done with the conversation. You'd stated your piece. If he did not listen, then he knew what the consequences would be. You brushed him off as he called your name, and left the room. With any luck you'll never have to see him again.


Friday morning comes - and no lilies arrive. Not at 9am, not at 12pm. When you go out for lunch with Karen, there are no suspicious strangers following you. For the first time that week, you relax.

When the pair of you pass back through reception on your way in, the man is back; this time he is out arguing with security outside the building. Karen shook her head. "I wonder what he wants?"

Loki's face flashed through your mind. "Maybe he's a bitter ex," you muttered.

The floor is busy. For most of the staff this is the last day of the week. Not for you - the annual Stark Expo was coming up, so you had plenty of overtime ahead. You raised it with Karen in the office. She's is in the middle of scheduling meetings with you when a knock came, and you both looked up.

"Delivery," the courier said. He dropped a bouquet of white lilies on the table.

"Again?" Karen spoke, amazed. You stared at them. They lie there prettily, white petals soft against the hard wooden tabletop. "I guess I'll put these out?"

"Bin them," you said. You stalk over to the plants and snatch up the note. But it's not blank.

Instead it reads: Guess who?

"Karen," you say, turning, "Look at thi-" Screams interrupted your words; then you hear crashes of commotion from the open floor. Your heart jumps in your mouth, as you both dropped what you are doing and dashed outside. A loud pop sounded, and more screams come. A group of staff are pushing tables against the door.

"Shooter!" you heard someone say, and you ran back inside. "Karen, get your keys and go lock the door!"

She's gone as soon as the instructions leave your mouth. You dialled the reception with shaking fingers, eyes on the doorway. Nobody picked up and it rang out - with a curse, you hit the security number.

They do answer, before you can speak. "Everything is in hand - shooter outside the elevator on the 20th floor. Is the main door locked?"

"Yes," you answered shakily. "We've got tables too."

"That's really good work - get everyone away from the doors and out the fire exit." You hung up, grabbing your keys. Karen was almost back when you appeared on the main floor. "Everyone, security are here; fire escape now! Karen, you go," you pressed your keys into her hand and ran through the floor, head whipping around as you directed staff out.

It took a few minutes, but finally the last of the employees are running to the back corridor. You counted under your breath and followed them down the concrete stairs. 20 flights is a long way, and when you are all in reception again, you grabbed Karen. There are already police cars outside. "Take them out to the cars and do roll call! I counted 78."

"Of course," she said. She's trembling, but holding herself together well. You left her to it, dashing back inside. The foyer is almost empty except for a horde of cops, and the receptionists, pressed against the wall behind their desks.

"The floor's clear," you told them breathlessly. One of the secretaries nodded, her eyes wide and shocked. "Who is it?"

"I don't know - that guy was here again, kicking up a fuss, and whoever it was must have slipped past because I didn't see. I am so sorry!"

You looked around, trying to piece the situation together. "It's not your fault."

"This week is the worst," the other secretary blurted out fearfully. She sounded far less composed than her colleague. "That crazy guys, those weird emails, now a shooter? I hate this job!"

There are shouts from the stairwell and the police moved forward. "You guys should come outside. What emails?" you asked, getting out of the officers' way.

She gestured hysterically, "Oh all this shit about senior staff being accessible, pictures of people coming in and out of the building, requests for personal addresses-"

"Don't you think you should have said something before!" Her colleague exclaimed. "I didn't see those!"

"Well I didn't know!"

Their voices are drowned out by yelling as the police poured back into the foyer. "Get behind the desk!" One of them bellowed towards you, and you do so immediately. The secretary gripped your hand as a ring of them escort the shooter out, his delivery clothes now rumpled and arms twisted behind his back. Your jaw dropped.

"The delivery man?" you question out loud.

One of the security guards coming down the stairs hears you. He shrugs. He is remarkably unphased - but that's his job, you supposed. "People are crazy Miss. God knows what goes through their minds. You're head on Floor 20?" You nodded. "You'll probably need to give a statement." You followed him out, into the circus. There's a local news crew just setting up - the action was over too fast for them to get a good shot, but they will do their best.

After about half an hour, you signed off your statement and headed back inside. Nobody will get any more work done today.

"Okay everyone," you addressed the floor, "I think we'll call it a day. Anything urgent can be done from home, so everyone take a laptop. I'll send out an email with information for counselling and wellbeing; if anyone feels like they are unable to come in on Monday, just send an email and I'll approve it. Good work guys, really. You all did so well."

The crowd dispersed - some leave immediately, others chattered nervously in groups as they collect their things. Karen followed you back to your office. "What the hell," she stated, running a hand through her hair. "He seemed so normal - I mean he was literally just in here with us!"

A shiver ran down your spine. "People are crazy," you echoed the security guard. "Thank you so much Karen. Do you want to take next week off? I think you deserve it."

"Huh... Yeah maybe just Sunday and Monday? I'm saving my holidays for Christmas."

You sighed, "Take Tuesday too, off the record. I'll fix it."

"Okay. Okay."

You looked at her closely, "Do you have a way home?"

Karen shook her head, "I'm fine, I usually walk. My sister lives nearby so I think I'll go there now."

"Okay good." You eyed her again. "Eat something sugary, for shock you know?"

She laughed breathlessly. "Oh yeah, I'm shocked alright. So, wait what about you? I don't think walking's a good idea."

"I'll grab a cab," you told her. The two of you finish off some last tasks and then take extra care to lock up. When you go back down to the reception, its as if the events never happened. The receptionists have gone though. But there's a familiar face waiting outside the door.

"Steve!" Karen jumped at your voice. He jogged forward and you embraced him, "What are you doing here?"

"Are you kidding? It's all over the news," he replied. Karen muttered a goodbye and set off home. He looked after her, "Is she okay?"

"I think she's in shock. I told her to eat something sugary."

Steve nodded. "I've come to walk you back, in case something had happened."

Walking seemed like a good idea; it might help you shake off the nerves. After the two of you are a fair distance from the camera crews, he said. "This doesn't have anything to do with Loki does it?"

"Why would it?" you asked, uneasy. "It was the delivery man. He..."

"He what?"

You chewed the inside of your cheek. "He came in to deliver more flowers-"

"What!"

"- and then went crazy in the hallway. Nobody's hurt though, just spooked."

"Yeah they said that on the news," Steve replied. He looks none too happy. "I don't know, this is weird."

You shook your head, trying not to let him get to you. "The word coincidence exists for a reason."

He shot you a cynical look. "Sure. Look I have a date with Peggy tonight, but if you want I could get one of the boys to call round and check on you later. You know Sam right?"

You poked his arm. "I knew she was your girlfriend! Your cool, British, CIA agent girlfriend. Agent Peggy Carter!"

He chuckled, "Nothing official. Good to know you're a fan though."

"Oh definitely," you laughed. "And no, Steve, I don't need you to send random men around to keep watch on me. I'm not your sister, you know."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just looking out for the little guy."

"I'll be fine. I'm working from home this weekend anyway, so I promise I won't even leave my apartment. Happy?"

"You make it sound like I'm holding you hostage," he said exasperatedly. "I just think Loki's bad news."

"I know you do Steve. I promise, I'm taking it seriously." This was exactly why you hadn't told him about the fiasco with Natasha - but it was nice that he cared.

Steve walked you right to the door of your apartment. "I'm heading out at 7," he told you as you unlocked it.

"Great. Don't check on me, because I plan to be in the bath for a long while tonight." Candles, chocolate, maybe a show or some music. It sounded like heaven right now. But for the next few hours, you had work to do.

You wished him well and locked the door behind you. Beans mewed and ran to greet you, purring up a storm. After giving her lots of attention - and food - you settled down and opened up your laptop. The day had by all standards been a HR nightmare.


It's well after 7 when you finally closed it again. Already, employees had written in to say they wouldn't be in the office Monday. Several calls had been made to senior executives, and you'd had to phone your parents and fill them in. They lived on the West coast, soaking up the sun and sea air as they gradually stepped back from their duties. You missed them.

You needed food, you realised when your tummy rumbled while water filled your large bathtub. Picking up your phone, you found it had died while you were working. "Damn," you muttered. You left it to charge in the bedroom.

The bath done, candles lit, cat sleeping; finally, you stripped down and sunk into the water. You wanted nothing more than to just close your eyes and think of nothing - blissful oblivion - but adrenalin still coursed through your veins.

Guess who? The note had said.

That did not seem like something Loki would do. Unless he was trying to rile a reaction out of you? It had been years since you'd known him. You think back on the receptionists words. What had she said? Pictures of people coming and going, contact info?

Maybe it would be a good idea to move into another apartment for a while. Or work from home for a few weeks. No, you couldn't do that - you had to sign off on things physically.

Suddenly it all seemed very overwhelming. You splashed out of the tub. Phone charged to 10 percent, you picked a restaurant and ordered whatever you saw first. With at least an hour to spare, you returned back to the tub and set up a feel-good film on your personal laptop. Finally, your shoulders ease up in the hot water.

Less than half an hour later, a noise interrupted you. You frowned, and paused the movie. As you listen, a hard knock came at your door. Food was very early.

"Hang on!" You shouted.

You wrapped a fluffy towel around you and clipped your hair up. The knocks get louder and harder. You scowled, dashing to the door. "I'm co-"

The door flew open with a loud bash; Beans jumped awake at the noise, her back arched and ears flat. Just as you registered all this, a hand closed around your throat and the world spins as your feet leave the floor. There's no chance to breathe, no sense to be made.

The hand dropped you to the floor gracelessly. When you stagger up again, the door is closed and around you stand four men, their faces covered by balaclavas.

You are incredibly vulnerable. You should have said yes to Steve, should have let Sam or Bucky come round to check up on you.

But Steve wasn't here. Your phone was rooms away.

The lamp beside your sofa turned, on and you clutch the towel. A man leaned forward in the warm light. The surroundings of your apartment, with its light walls and welcoming aura is replaced by a lonely, shadowy room. The cat has disappeared somewhere. Then you looked at the man sitting down, and your throat closed up. He was the same man from outside Thor's wedding.

"Recognise me, do you?" he said. "Good. So you know who we are." You shook your head. His fingers fiddled with a random pencil, turning it over and over, rolling it between his palms. "Let's not make this more difficult than it will already be."

You swallowed. "Is this about Loki?"

He seemed bored. "Who else?"

"I don't know where he is."

"Well that's unfortunate." The man's eyes went to the pencil. You glanced around in terror at the other four. He says nothing else and the silence grows. As it does, your breathing increases. "Shut her up."

You don't see who it is, the movement too fast. Pain bloomed across your cheek as a heavy fist connected with the side of your face. The floor is suddenly beneath you hands.

You looked up again, scared. From this perspective, you saw him clearer now, and his name came to you. Ronan. His eyes are a tired blue. They connected with yours, devoid of pity. "Okay, let's get on with this. You're Loki's girl, yeah?"

"No, I-"

A boot slammed into your side. You shriek with pain. "I promise I'm not! I was his fiance, a long time ago, years ago! I don't have anything to do with him now."

Ronan made a doubtful noise. "I really don't have time for this." He sucked on his teeth and stood up. "Listen, I've been through a lot of hassle to get to you okay? So you really don't want to piss me off even more now." You backed against the wall as he began to pace.

"See, that's the thing with you high-fliers. You're so fuckin' easy to find. A few minutes of google and there you are - birthplace, workplace, social media, email address, phone numbers... Ripe for the picking." The words made the hairs on your skin prickle uncomfortably and you did all you could to suppress a shudder. "But getting up close and personal? That takes skill." He stops pacing. There's a small scraping noise as he picks something up. When he turns back around, a gun is held in his hands.

"You cannot imagine the skillset I have," he told you calmly. "And unless you want to find out, I suggest you give us some info."

"What do you want to know?" You tried to keep your voice from sounding hysterical. If you were going to die, you weren't going to go out a blubbering mess. "I'm not lying, I barely know anything-" You stop short as Ronan points the gun at you lazily.

"Where does he live?"

It wasn't wise to not answer him. "I know where he works."

"Not what I asked, but fine. Where?" You tell him the address. After this, if you survive, you're going to phone Thor straight away and warn him. "Better. Now you're getting it!" Ronan chuckles to himself, then stops. "Where do his family live?"

Your heart sinks in your chest. "They're not the US-" Ronan cocks the gun and your voice raises, "- they just got married! They're on their honeymoon!"

He buys it. "When will they be back?"

You faltered, unable to think on your feet with the fear that coursed through you. "Fucksake." He crosses the floor in two paces and pulls you up by your hair. You cry out in pain. The gun presses against your throat. "When. Will. They. Be. Back?"

"Next month," you stammered out, "They're going to Norway and then to Italy." Ronan hums, but doesn't remove the gun. The barrel is long - a silencer, you realised with dread. If they shoot you, how long would it take anyone to know?

"Okay. That's nice. You've been pretty helpful." The gun moved off your throat. He frowned, tilting your face into the lamplight. "Bit of a bruise there. Unfortunately, it's not quite enough."

His words have barely entered your brain when he brought the gun down on your cheek; again and again. You screamed as blood fills your mouth, and scrabble for his face. Ronan released you with a muted yelp - and another pair of hands closed around your shoulders. Blood runs from your nose and mouth, and its a struggle to open one eye fully.

A solid punch landed in your gut - it winded you instantly and you sagged in the brute's arms. The towel around you loosens a little from the movement. Oh god no, you think dizzily. "Bathroom," you heard Ronan command, and then you're being marched unsteadily towards the kitchen.

It's the wrong way, but then he said, "Sink will do."

You twisted violently as the faucet runs and someone moves around. "Get off me!" you shrieked in the darkness. Another punch forced the breath from your chest.

"Sorry babe," an unsympathetic voice spoke in your ear, "Gotta send a message."

Your knees hit the cabinet doors; then a crushing force on your neck pushed your head down into water, and you floundered, hands raking for purchase on the countertop. Water filled your mouth and throat and you choke - then they pulled you up again.

You coughed up tapwater.

"- the fucking window!" Ronan is roaring. "Go, go!"

The men scattered at his order, through the door and down the hallway. Outside, you can hear voices and a tussle. But you're in too much pain to take much notice. You stemmed the blood coming from your nose with a hand, traipsing to the door and closing it with shaking fingers. The noise dies away, and you run as fast as you can for the bathroom.

You splashed water on your face, washing the blood out of your eyes and mouth. The punches on your stomach have made it hard to breathe. What you needed was your phone. You knock the candles into the bathwater with one hand, and are about to head for the bedroom, when a loud thump comes from the lounge.

You froze.

Rapid footsteps appeared, searching through the apartment. Then, a tap on the door of the bathroom. A somewhat familiar voice spoke. "Hey! You in there?" Your head swam. Are you imagining things?

"Just open the door, Nat."

The door opened. Natasha, or Natalia, stands, there, a gun in hand. She breathed a sigh of relief. "She's here, Clint."

"Alive?" Another familiar voice - this time, Clint, the man who had jumped in to save you at the wedding, appeared. He whistles. "Damn. You look kinda rough lady. Come on, we gotta go."