Prologue
Nick Fury's instructions bounced between the confines of her skull, scattering to dust in the face of every other rattling thought she wrestled with.
We need to know something, anything, about his plans with the Cube.
Her breath caught in her chest and she stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall as a tightening sensation yanked behind her breastbone. As though a thread was wound around her head and it was being mercilessly pulled, cutting deeper into the flesh.
"Stop," she breathed, placing her hands on her knees as she bent over. Her breath was shallow through her teeth.
Thor's expression when he had seen her again. The grief behind his smile, the slight tremble in his hands after he hugged her, openly, in front of everyone. His chestplate had been cold from the outdoor air, but the hug had been so warm, so tender.
She wondered if her absence had actually hurt him more than if she had stayed, a solemn reminder of the loss Asgard had endured.
The All Father and Queen had both forgotten about her. Escaping to Midgard had been no easy feat, riddled with the cobwebs of traveling through the stars…
She shook her head, blinking away the burning in the back of her eyes.
The grated metal floor reflected the hazy fluorescent lights, each flicker caught by her vision.
Everything was so raw.
Alive.
He was alive.
She was unsure of what emotion one was supposed to feel from such news. It was certainly not happiness she had felt when she learned the true reason Fury had sent for her. He was alive, he was active, he was a bastard.
Thor was quieter than she remembered him, his towering frame accentuated by the floor length cape that Stark felt the need to rib him about in every other sentence.
She had sat silently, watching them all discuss their next course of action.
Thor was adamant that he was going to return to Asgard with his brother, adamant that Loki deserved the same treatment as any Asgardian, adamant that he was family.
"He killed 80 people in two days," Agent Romanoff muttered.
Thor faltered. "He's adopted," was the retort, meant as a jest, but for Cathryn, it was an ice shard to the heart.
Adopted.
Her world had fallen apart many times before and she had withstood it. But she was not sure anything hurt as much as that horrid week following the elder Odinson's coronation.
She raised her head, glancing down the way she was instructed to go. She knew they were all watching her in the main console room. Wondering why she was leaning against a wall, not moving, not obeying.
Cathryn closed her eyes tightly, the sharp pain in her chest becoming no less, just more bearable.
She knew what they wanted from her. Ask the right questions. Trap him in his words. Coax him into cockiness. He would not expect to see her here, it could throw off his guard. If his defenses had ever been down around her, then perhaps they had an inroad.
There was once a time, she thought, that his defenses had been down around her. When he started looking at her like he looked at no one else. When the line between his brows smoothed out when she came up beside him, when she touched his hand and his cold fingers curled around hers.
But so much had changed during that week–
"Hansson, what are you doing?" Fury's deep voice cut into her thoughts through her com.
She clenched her jaw, reaching up to press the button on it to respond, then paused, glancing around for a camera, then holding its empty stare.
They had their script for her—the questions they had for him.
But what about her questions for him? What about her history, her rights, her debts?
Like Thor, she did not care what SHIELD wanted from Loki.
With a final defiant stare, she ripped the com from her ear and tucked it into a pocket over her breast before continuing down the hallway to the artificial blue light.
She paused in the doorway, staring at the glass cell, held precariously over what was obviously an ejection door. It was a cage for a monster, something they all feared. And despite all their proud talk, she knew that's why they had put him here.
A monster they feared.
She descended the steps cautiously, her hand skating over the cold railing. Her boots made no sound on the floor.
His back was to her, broad shoulders slumped slightly, his dark hair shining in the light. He tipped his head as she stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides.
She shifted her stance, purposely shuffling her feet slightly.
He turned, looking at her over his shoulder and the horrid color of his eyes cut her to the core first.
Blue.
The corner of his mouth tipped up, twisting into a smile and it was clear now. The grief in Thor's face, the cocky talk from Stark, the low anger in Romanoff's voice.
He killed 80 people in two days.
And now he stood before her, someone she had thought dead for over a year and he was certainly dead.
Cathryn was positive, in mere seconds, that her husband was completely gone.