Thor Fic: "In the shadows of the crossroads" (Loki, Avengers, R), 4a/10
LINK TO PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Title: In the shadows of the crossroads (Part 4: Eclipse)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Jane, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Carol Danvers (Ms. Marvel), Jennifer Walters (She-Hulk), original characters; mention of Agent Coulson, Scarlet Witch, others
Pairings: Thor/Jane, Loki/Darcy
Rating: R for language, violence, dark magic, alcohol use, sex, death, dubious consent (bodyswap), adultery, violence against children, and angst
Length: 15,850 words
Summary: More than twenty years have passed since Loki and Darcy first crossed paths, since whether they knew it or not they began on the path that led to their life together. Things in their world are happy, idyllic. But in another world trouble is resurfacing...and the consequences will be far-reaching and dire.
Notes: See part one for full notes. Also posted at AO3.
Part 4: Eclipse
Once upon a time (and wasn’t that a fitting way to begin with any story), Jane Foster spent all her time looking to the stars.
Things like friends, a social life, hobbies, dating…all these had fallen to the wayside. Jane was consumed by her work, by the siren call of numbers and equations, of figures and collected data-points on neat little computer-generated graphs. She lived a meek life defined solely by her role as scientist, and was glad for it.
Not just because she thought her work was important, because she believed in it, but because it made her happy. Others might look at what she was and call it boring, wondering how she did it - to her it was anything but.
So her days passed by up to her elbows in figures scrawled out in smeared pencil and disjointed, meditative, ink-stained pen, and she stayed into the late hours every night peering through a telescope, collecting and writing down numbers. And she was happy. She had everything she needed.
Because where most people saw dots on a page, or symbols in black and white, she saw entire galaxies. Universes of untold possibility out there, waiting to be explored.
Numbers and figures and equipment strung together in fervor by her own two hands. Reaching for her goals, feeling the rush of every moment spent on the journey getting there.
She kept her eyes to the heavens and her stars, head awash in dancing constellations. They were the only things she saw or needed to see. Her only concern the world of those far-off lights.
But that had been some time ago. And now she lived a different life.
A life where she was a married woman, a queen, and a mother. A life where her day-to-day was occupied by a whole mess of concerns she couldn’t brush aside, or ignore. Where she officially attended social gatherings, had a list of things to oversee the running of, squeezed in time with her husband where she could, and then did everything to make sure her children were clean and happy and well-behaved.
A life where the bulk of her scientific work had long been completed and compiled, papers presented and exclaimed over and then put away on a shelf, to be examined later by the generations to come after.
She still poked at her numbers and figures, the occasional chart, when she could. But now it was more a fond indulgence than a passion.
And her little battered notebook that she once carried with her everywhere had been retired. It still carried a mark of significance, because hidden amongst its pages was documentation of one of the most significant times in her life. But like many trophies its honor was an absent-minded one, a dusty reverence from where it had been tucked away between volumes at the top of her bookshelf.
She still glanced up to the stars. They still held interest for her - it was just now, she simply didn’t have the time.
And it didn’t bother her nearly as much as she might’ve once thought.
Nowadays she spent her time with other books - like the one full of stories she had currently open on her lap, sitting down in the garden as she read to her little ones.
“If Jill had been more used to adventures, she might have doubted the owl’s word,” Jane was narrating to them clearly as her eyes walked across the pages, “but this never occurred to her, and in the exciting idea of a midnight escape she forgot her sleepiness.”
Cordelia sat with her legs crossed and her hands folded, rosy-cheeked and attentive. She was getting too old for story time, or at least starting to get too old to be read to instead of doing it on her own, but she still enjoyed listening to the sound of her mother’s voice. And Arthur, her younger brother, loved any story so long as it contained some aspect of battles or adventure. He crouched next to his sister, bouncing up and down in excitement, silently and sometimes vocally encouraging Jane to go on.
Magni, meanwhile, was still only a toddler, and lay flopped on the blanket between his older brother and his mother’s knees. He didn’t really understand everything said, but he seemed happy listening regardless.
While outwardly Jane might’ve seemed entirely concerned with reading, in reality she was engaged in a slight bit of multitasking. As the outpour of words continued steadily over her mouth, she glanced to take in the three little figures in front of her with fond scrutiny.
Cordelia without a doubt was the one that looked the most like her. Both the boys had their father’s blond hair, his bright blue eyes, and she could tell they were already showing some of his features in their small but identical noses. Magni’s hair had already grown into a thick tuft, and Arthur’s mane reached well past his shoulders; the same style that his father had worn apparently when he was his age, and as a result the spirited young prince refused to let anyone trim, no matter how difficult it became at times to manage.
Cordelia by contrast had finer strands of brown hair that lay obediently flat, and was pale in comparison to the golden complexion of her brothers.
Jane was far from worried. All of Asgard sang songs and crowed praises about their queen’s beauty; and if they thought Jane was so remarkably beautiful, no doubt once her daughter was grown up they would think her so too.
(While she didn’t consider herself homely, the queen shrewdly thought the remarks over her looks were more a self-fulfilling prophecy. The other Asgardians must think: surely, she must be stunning that their king could’ve fallen in love with a mortal. And so they talked about it again and again, building her up in their minds until when they looked at her, the saw the radiance they’d imagined.)
She kept on reading, taking pleasure from watching the enraptured looks on their tiny faces, and was just reaching the end of the chapter when out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow moving by the end of the garden.
The green and gold of his layered robes nearly blending in among the sun-dappled plants of the garden, her brother-in-law crept forward with a languid, almost silent gait.
His hands laced behind his back Loki met her eyes with a smile, giving a nod to indicate she should continue on, that there was no need to make note of his presence.
It was pointless, though. The sharp eyes of Jane’s children had spotted her own gaze wandering, and curiously they had twisted about in their seats.
“Uncle Loki!” Arthur squealed and Cordelia cried, the former up like a shot and racing toward him, the latter gathering up her skirts in her hands as she ran close behind.
Jane stayed where she was and laughed to herself, closing the book and putting it away. Maybe it was the size of the palace that somehow made her kids act as if they didn’t already see Loki every single day.
Loki bent far forward at the waist so he was as on level with Arthur’s much smaller height as best he could be. With an amused grin he greeted his nephew by putting hands on his shoulders, stopping him just short of barreling directly into his body.
“What now, you little sprite,” he chuckled, resting a hand on Arthur’s head and tousling his hair. “Always so excitable! You run to me any faster and you might hurt your poor mother’s feelings.”
“Have you got anything for us, Uncle?” Cordelia asked in the blunt way that only the very young could get away with.
“Now I see how it is. I’ve spoiled you too much and ruined you for the pleasures of my company,” Loki said, mock-hurt. “You don’t care about me at all, only for the trinkets I can give you. Very well.”
He gave them each a silver coin, polished and shiny as if it was brand new. Cordelia ‘oooh’ed over hers admiringly and pocketed it with care, while Arthur clutched his tight in his little fist and all but promptly forgot about it, bouncing up and down.
“Is Skadi with you?” he demanded eagerly.
“Is she? And can’t you see for yourself? Where would I be concealing her, in my sleeve - I think she’s far too big for that. Don’t you?” Loki returned to him merrily, mouth stretched in an indulgent smile. “No, no; but she is back from her latest trip. I think you can find her near the training ring.”
He stood up quickly to let Arthur rush past him, for an instant looking like he ran the risk of being trampled by a miniature stampede of one.
The young prince idolized Skadi, impressed and hanging on her every action as one of Asgard’s finest up and coming warriors. Whenever he could Arthur followed his older cousin like a puppy, pressing her for stories and hanging on her every word. Jane often heard tales of Skadi’s latest adventures relayed to her in her son’s eager voice.
Cordelia wasn’t anywhere near as enthralled as her brother was, but she ran after him anyway, buoyed along by his enthusiasm. Both her oldest children gone Jane stood, and gathered up Magni to hand him off to the nursemaid that had been waiting patiently on the sidelines. The other woman departed, and the queen and her brother-in-law were left alone.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Loki said to her, an offhand apology.
Jane shook her head. “It’s not a problem. If anything, it’s the opposite.” Absently she smoothed down the front of her dress, chuckling disparagingly to herself. “When you have more than one kid at once and you spend most of every day around them, you get to that point where you start to really miss talking with adults.” She gave him a knowing smirk. “I could use a break once in a while.”
“I certainly understand.”
Loki’s children were wild and what Darcy liked to call ‘free-range’, but definitely there had been a time Jane remembered when he’d been visibly exhausted, frustrated, and couldn’t go anywhere without one or more of them clinging to his hand.
He nodded to her. “In that case, your majesty, I am all too happy to provide the excuse for your temporary relief.”
“You do us a royal honor,” Jane replied sweetly, primly, playing the part of the lofty queen in small doses for her own amusement.
Loki pretended to take her at her word but she could see the laughter in his eyes as he bowed, and he dropped the pretense in favor of a more accurate familial closeness a moment later.
“How are you today?”
“I’m fine. Busy, and with nothing of real importance,” she remarked as she gathered up her book and some forgotten childish drawings, “but fine. And how about you?”
“If you have time later we could meet in the observatory. I’m sure there are a few old books on comets we’ve yet to go over,” Loki offered. The two of them had spent the occasional afternoon pouring over star charts down the years, heads bowed in intense concentration as they translated for one another.
“That would be nice, maybe.” Jane looked up at him. “Should I be reading anything into the fact that you didn’t answer my question?”
“Oh, I’m quite fine as well, myself.” Loki gave a careless shrug. “There’s nothing to report.”
But his voice was quieter and he didn’t look back at her as he said it, the focus of his gaze having become distant and restless. Jane frowned.
“Are you sure?” When he frowned back at her, she shook her head, almost laughing. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just making concerned conversation. That’s all.”
“I haven’t been sleeping entirely well,” Loki admitted softly. Jane took a better look at his face and realized on closer examination that yes, he did look a note paler than usual, and there were some shadows collected underneath his eyes.
“Bad dreams?” she guessed, gentle, filled with friendly concern. He was prone to them from time to time; though normally he hid it well, and Jane only learned about them in whispers from Darcy.
“Nothing so obvious.” Loki’s expression turned introspective, and he sighed. “It’s really nothing so concrete. But lately, for a while now, I’ve been plagued by this sense of…foreboding.”
“Really?” Jane tried to ignore the anxious flutter of her pulse in her breast. Loki was far from a seer, but his mystical affinities meant every once in a while his intuition ran more towards prophecy. A bad feeling from him wasn’t always just ‘a bad feeling’. “About what?”
His frown took on a note of mild frustration. “I couldn’t say. That’s the problem.” He looked away again, musing out loud. “For some time I’ve been unable to shake these thoughts that something dark lurks on the horizon. That something bad is coming.”
Jane moved closer, sympathetically, and laid a hand on his arm and was just about to offer some words of encouragement.
But they were interrupted by the appearance of another figure at the edge of the garden.
“Thor,” Jane remarked, in elated surprise. Despite herself she nearly forgot Loki entirely, hurrying to greet her husband.
Thor had been gone for the past few days to Earth on a sort of unofficial Avengers reunion. His showing up like this so suddenly was an unexpected treat.
As soon as she reached his side Jane threw her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. They slept together every night, ate their meals side by side - but sometimes it seemed as if she hardly ever got to be alone with him. He had so many duties as king. And she missed him whenever he was gone.
“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon.” Jane pulled back so she could look up at him, and the smile faded from her face.
Though Thor had embraced her back, putting one hand to her cheek and caressing her hair, he didn’t look entirely happy. In fact he seemed anything but. His face was dark, and troubled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked slowly. “Did something happen?”
Thor gave a heavy, somber nod.
“I am afraid so.”
He gazed past Jane towards what was behind her, and her heart sank as she turned to look back and saw Loki standing there, his face blank and his mouth pressed into a grim, resolute line.
“Forgive me, Jane. I would I were in the mood to celebrate our reunion more properly. But for now, I must have important words with my brother.”
*
Whenever Clint got hurt, be it on a mission, in training, or even just a freak accident, normally he would do his best to shrug it off, no matter how severe.
Everything from broken bones to ragged gashes in his skin to a dislocated jaw - he would inevitably be the guy everyone else was staring at while his superior yelled at him to drag his ass down to medical because he was walking funny and bleeding all over the floor.
Once, he had stood too close to an explosion and blown out an eardrum. Because he was in the field and they were up to their necks in the thick of it, he didn’t slow down or even say anything.
Almost three days went by before his handlers realized he was running around with partial temporary deafness. Now that had been a good time.
“Suicidal tendencies” had floated in and out of his psychological assessments, getting scratched off only to get penciled back in again, for as long as he had been with SHIELD.
Possibly longer; he wasn’t sure how long his file went back. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed to look at it.
Thing is, it wasn’t that he was trying to look tough, though, no matter what anyone thought. It was a habit ingrained in him from how he was raised, never to think much of the damage done to his body, never to raise a fuss. He would heal. And pain was nothing, only a symptom of living.
But after the way he’d felt when that evil ghoul of a woman walked through him at the Tower, the first chance he got Clint went to get checked out by the doctors, straight away.
This was one time he didn’t need to be told.
They didn’t find anything wrong with him: not that he’d really expected them to. He had a feeling he was probably fine and there was no lasting damage. Still, he’d wanted to be…sure. They tested his heart and his brain and ran an EKG and came back with a unanimous thumbs-up, no faulty wiring. He was good to go.
Clint nodded stoically and didn’t say anything, sticking true to his pattern. Continuing to not raise a fuss.
And all the while he sat there and listened to the sound of his own breathing, making sure he was still doing it evenly; making sure his lungs weren’t seizing up or the air wasn’t getting caught in his throat, making certain he wasn’t running himself ragged.
He tried not to dwell on that unearthly chilly feeling, on that cold that had cut through him straight down to his bones. On how for that one split second, he was convinced everything - and he meant everything - in his body, had just stopped.
And he tried not to think about how it was the second worst thing he had ever experienced in his life - and that he was incredibly irked to admit, it was even a very close second.
Meanwhile, though, he was standing on the bridge of the Helicarrier, which had somehow over time become the unofficial conference room whenever Fury needed to gather the Avengers for a team meeting. Clint glanced down and then back up again, outwardly collected and unperturbed as the director stalked back and forth in his long black trenchcoat.
“Let me see if I’m understanding this right,” the man began, putting his own spin on the conversation that had been in progress for several minutes now. “By the time Stark and Thor got everything sorted, the rest of the team was still too far away, and there was no sign of Loki.”
“Unfortunately,” Rogers sighed, his shoulders set especially tight, “that would be the summation of it, sir.”
“Pitifully unimpressive as it was, there really was nothing we could do,” Stark put in. “You saw the tape.”
There wasn’t even a nod from the director to acknowledge this, but he had. Turned out Stark putting cameras just about everywhere in his building for once wasn’t mildly creepy but actually quite useful. There had been fairly high-resolution footage of everything that happened after the three of them confronting Loki, including Selene’s disembodied foray into the building. The group of them had watched it together in near silence, broken only when Tony or Thor put in the occasional bit of narration to explain certain things.
Clint had been a little surprised that Selene had even showed up on the footage. If he’d had to think about it, he probably would’ve guessed she’d be somehow immune to audio or visual recording, like a ghost in an old horror movie. But evidently that was not the case.
Real life, once again somehow turning slightly stranger than fiction.
Fury’s expression was hovering somewhere between aghast and baleful. “So as of this moment we already have thousands of dollars in property damage, at least one known human casualty, and nothing to show for it.”
“Hey, not that your faux concern isn’t touching, but that’s my property, chief. Don’t pretend like that it’s really your problem.”
“As much of a relief it is to know that my tax dollars won’t be going towards this particular set of repairs, Mr. Stark, as of right now I’m unable to fully appreciate that.” Fury’s voice was completely flat.
Stark only shrugged, unperturbed. Considering the massive amounts of damage Clint had even seen, he thought the other man was reacting fairly cavalier about it. Despite all the drywall he and Thor had torn up, he seemed to think repairs could be taken care of fairly quickly and with minimal aggravation on his part.
Then again, he was a billionaire. Maybe this kind of thing really was just another day at the office to him.
“We’re getting off-topic here,” Rogers broke in again, mildly peevish. “Shouldn’t we be talking about what it was that happened?”
“What happened, Captain, as I seem to be hearing it, is that as of right now the situation with an escaped, destructive, insane mass-murderer has somehow gotten even worse,” Fury stated. Turning his back he stalked to his place in the center as he dropped the final word, “Which is impressive.”
Rogers drew his jaw tight, Stark made a face, Thor shifted slightly and frowned, and Banner’s mouth twitched in that way like he was trying not to laugh bitterly.
None of them, however, spoke up with a word to disagree.
Clint knew he wasn’t going to. He knew Natasha well enough to know she wouldn’t, either. She was as pragmatic as he was - sometimes even more so.
The coils and machinery around them hidden in the sleek walls hummed. There was the faint ever-present clicking and beeping sounds of the technicians at their stations. But in their corner of the bridge, all was complete silence. The air was thicker, pensive. For a few moments everyone seemed lost in thought.
As much as certain members of their operation hated to agree with him sometimes, Fury was right about everything. Loki was back on Earth, they didn’t know where he was, and far as they knew he was just as powerful as before -potentially even more so, considering he’d revealed a few new tricks.
Nothing that had happened at the Tower, that they had seen or heard or learned, changed any of that. It just made the situation stranger. And unsettling.
Clint had his arms folded across his chest, back leaning against the wall as he gazed down at the floor past his boots. He had his best poker face on but despite himself, he could feel his brows coming together where they creased in grim contemplation.
The fact that there was another world out there, close enough to their own that it could’ve been literally touched, was something that shouldn’t have mattered to him. So there was another him out there, virtually identical. So there was another team of Avengers that had formed up exactly the same. So what? When it came down to the bottom line, none of that had any effect on him.
But it was hard to get the image out of his head, what they had all seen on the tape. That gap in the fabric of the universe, and a set of almost identical twins staring back at them from the other side.
Aliens and space-travelers was one thing. But parallel worlds? The possibility he could fall through a hole somewhere and end up face to face with himself?
The limits to what he was prepared to deal with kept getting pushed, harder and harder.
And all the while he kept feeling echoes of the cold grasp that’d squeezed him, hanging over like a cloud he couldn’t shake off.
And all the while, there was the main point that Loki was out there, they were going to have to fight him again. And no matter how he tried to keep himself in the mindset that it was another mission, it couldn’t be.
Not with Loki. Not with what Clint still too clearly remembered happening to him. It could never be just another mission, because of that.
He glanced up and found his eyes immediately meeting Natasha’s, who’d been looking back at him with cool, intent scrutiny for who knew how long. Probably about as long as he had been thinking.
Her face was hard, in ‘ready-set-go’ battle mode; a blank and inscrutable mask. But as they looked to each other, exchanging a glance, Clint could read the faint concern in her eyes.
They met each other’s gazes and held it, unblinkingly. And neither of them had to move a muscle or say a word. She didn’t have to ask if he was okay. He didn’t have to tell her he was fine.
And she didn’t have to call him out and let him know that she knew he was lying. That he wasn’t completely fine.
And Clint didn’t have to worry about her saying or doing anything about it. Natasha could worry, but she would trust him to try and handle it on his own.
At least at first. If things got rough, no doubt she’d intervene.
She didn’t have to tell him that, either.
It was Thor who suddenly broke the silence by taking a step forward and deeply clearing his throat. Every pair of eyes shot to him automatically, whether they meant to or not.
“So,” he began, seriously but uncertain, “what are we to do now?”
Fury eyed him with his confident, tense air of cool control from his place on the central platform, arms out and hands gripping the rests in a way almost reminiscent of a king placed imperially on his throne.
“What we’re going to do,” he responded, “is handle the situation. The same way we would if this little fiasco hadn’t occurred.” He nodded to Agent Hill, who stopped eyeing the underlings at their computer bays and came forward to listen even more attentively than she already had been. “We keep an eye out for Loki. He can be as sneaky as he likes but he has to surface eventually. He has to, considering we know he wants a confrontation. And then, when he pops up, we engage.”
Turning his head he fixed his second-in-command in the sight of his one eye. “Agent Hill, I want you to head down to Surveillance. Make sure they’ve got the latest imagery data set up on Loki. I want the search up and running ASAP, planet-wide.”
“Yes sir.”
Hill gave the briefest of nods and then headed swiftly out, the door smoothly sliding shut behind her.
“That may take care of my brother, at least for now,” Thor continued insistently. “But it is not so much him I was speaking of. What about this sorceress?”
The director gave the Asgardian one of his flat, unimpressed looks. “What about her?”
“This…Selene is obviously an enemy to our counterparts in another world. If we are to put any faith in the things we observed as truth, it sounds as if she intends to pass through here! And then-”
“Whoa, whoa. Hang on.” Stark waved at him. “Back it up for a second.” He coughed. “First of all - like you said - we can only base anything off what we heard and saw if we can put any faith in it being true.”
“And considering Loki is involved, that’s a pretty big ‘if’,” Clint intoned.
“I don’t know.” Dr. Banner spoke up musingly, surprising a few of them. “Obviously things are never entirely clear with Loki. We all know that. But for what he did at the Tower to be some kind of set-up, it doesn’t really make any sense. What would be the point?”
“Considering I’m pretty sure Loki’s thought patterns might just run sideways, it might not be one that’s entirely obvious to the rest of us,” Stark muttered.
Rogers nodded, from his expression similarly wary. “If we act at all on this intelligence, we run the risk of the entire thing being some kind of trap.”
“I think Bruce may be right,” Natasha spoke up. Her composed, thoughtful expression showed she had been carefully weighing her thoughts, waiting for the right time to give input. “I’m not ruling out the possibility of a power play entirely, but it’s hard to see what he even stands to gain from it. It just doesn’t make sense.”
There was a beat. “Well I guess if the spy can’t see where a double-cross factors in, there might be something to it,” Stark admitted. “But so what?”
“Exactly,” Clint huffed.
“‘So what’?” Thor echoed slowly, growing affronted. He turned to stare more closely into Stark’s face, towering over the man without even trying. Stark, cocky bastard that he was, barely gulped before holding his own ground. “We saw what that woman did at the Tower. And that was without physically being present!”
His head turned from one of his teammates to the next, taking them all in, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Like they were acting like the crazy ones.
“You saw how my other self reacted. You heard that her intention was to come after Loki. Clearly, she is a threat.”
“To Loki,” Fury emphasized. “I realize that to you he’s still considered family, but if this woman really becomes a problem, then she’s still his problem, not ours.”
Thor gave an ugly, angry smile. He chuckled as he looked at the others again, this time disparagingly.
“So we are to stand aside and let him be hunted down as a beast would,” he said, accusing. “For it is beneath us to care for any danger, so long as it is inconvenient to our enemies.”
“Well it sounds horrible when you put it like that.” Banner’s tone was mild, even blasé. “No one’s suggesting we turn a blind eye, Thor. But going after a being who isn’t currently on this same physical dimension, as a preemptive move to protect somebody that hasn’t exactly done us any favors; it’s…it’s a little out of our jurisdiction.”
“No one is saying that we leave Loki to die if he’s actually in need,” Rogers chimed in.
“Out loud, nobody is saying that,” Stark of course couldn’t resist in a half-undertone, stealing a pointed look to Clint.
Clint put his back up and stared at him evenly, arms still tightly folded. He didn’t owe anybody a defense or an explanation. No matter what shit Stark was trying to stir.
The Captain of course ignored all that. “But you’re not wrong,” he continued, addressing Thor. “This person could clearly be dangerous, and we should be ready to have to try and deal with her - assuming she even makes it to our dimension.”
“Forewarned is being forearmed, but there’s only so much we can do in preparation for such an unknown factor,” Natasha put in primly, shifting her weight absently to one side. “Until we know for certain that Selene will come here, we really don’t have much reason to give her our focus.”
Thor had stood down slightly, his shoulders drooping. But he had the lingering manner of a man who still wanted to argue.
“But Loki said she has already murdered him in other worlds. Her goals are no secret, and she stated her intention to come here. Should we not be more assured she will soon cross our paths?”
“Considering what kind of people we’re dealing with here, I get the impression ‘soon’ is a little more relative,” Fury said in what for him counted as a soft, even a placating tone. “As Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers are suggesting, we can worry about all of that - later. Once we have more information confirming that it is a thing we should worry about.”
Thor nodded, looking as if he held back a sigh.
“I see. I suppose that you are all right. Forgive me, but…even knowing what my brother is, I cannot help but worry.”
“It’s fine,” Rogers brushed it off softly.
“We get it.” Stark came a step closer and reached up to pat Thor on the shoulder, grinning. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry.”
He didn’t. Though Clint tried not to begrudge him his personal feelings too much; because even from an impersonal standpoint, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to keep looking over their shoulders.
The version of Loki that they knew, and an evidently similarly powered creature mixing it up in the flesh, with their planet stuck in the middle as their battleground…now that was a thing that could get admittedly pretty ugly.
And before there was any chance to elaborate on that thought, there was a flurry of activity on the Helicarrier bridge as the power flickered.
Clint stood as by his side Natasha’s hand went to one of her guns. They both gazed upward.
Stark likewise stared bemused at the ceiling. He raised both hands. “Uh. What the hell was that?”
Fury swept over the technicians who were furiously checking things on the screens in front of them. “Status?” he demanded, sharp.
“Looks like a power fluctuation,” the closest young man answered him, breathless and not daring to look up from the screen he was tapping as he did so. “It’s nothing generated by equipment failure on our part. Seems to have come from an outside source.”
Fury didn’t blink, staring him down even though he wasn’t turning. “How outside?”
The tech shook his head hard. “It’s not reading like an attack. Just a…slight anomaly. It’s already mostly fading.”
“Why does that not encourage me?” Fury growled, rhetorically. Behind him the team was already standing on their guard. “Someone had better be able to tell me what happened, people! I don’t care if it means you’ve gotta get out a flashlight and start crawling around in some wiring old-school to do it. Anomalies don’t get to just occur around here; not under my command. Check off every part of the system, grid by grid! I want-”
The door behind them opened, audibly, and Fury cut himself off as he swung around. The others looked back too.
Agent Hill strode back in, purposefully. But something was off with her expression. Though she was far from an easily shaken woman, her eyes were opened a little extra wide.
“What are you doing back here?” Fury demanded of her. She hadn’t nearly enough time to get over to Surveillance and come back; anyone familiar with the layout of the place knew that.
“Sir.” And now it sounded like she was clearing her throat awkwardly. “Forgive me for the interruption, but…” She paused, unsure how to say it. “There are some people in the other room that want to speak with the Avengers.”
Clint frowned, looking over to Natasha. She looked back, and then both of them exchanged questioning, wary glances with the others.
Fury was starting to look more concerned now. “What do you mean? What people?”
Hill drew up to her full height, exhaling like she couldn’t believe this was even happening to her.
“…The Avengers,” she said.
*
The grand golden palace of Asgard boasted many magnificent rooms, a seemingly endless series of long hallways and interlocking chambers. It could be a pleasure to go on a meandering stroll through these places; to get nearly lost at one’s leisure.
But there were other parts of the palace that were not so pleasant. And equally easy to lose the way inside, if one wasn’t familiar, or careful.
The unfurnished halls down near the dungeons, or leading outdoors to the barracks. The maze of empty stone catacombs set far beneath the other floors and used almost exclusively by servants, forgotten relics of a time long before. Hallways that were cold, and dark, and always smelled faintly of damp.
These isolated and quiet spaces, however, made a good place for an unhappy young prince to hide.
Despite the soreness of tired limbs and how he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his throat, Loki had run as fast as his little legs could carry him. Seeking a sanctuary, a far-off corner where he could become lost in the shadows.
Finding it, he crouched down, collapsing in on himself as he dropped to his knees, palms scraping the ground and shoulders buckling. The wooden practice sword, blade half-splintered, that he had carried all the way with him unthinking was flung away from his grasp as a hateful thing.
His small body shaking, he unfettered his sobs and began crying in earnest, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“It isn’t fair,” he managed at length in a creaky, broken whisper, his wails at last dissolving into intelligible speech.
He didn’t understand. He tried so hard, he really did. Attended to all his lessons, listened to his instructors, and fought again and again with every muscle in his body to make himself improve. Why did it never seem to make a difference?
Any other subject he focused on with his sharp mind and the full span of his attentions, and he always got it. Made leaps and bounds driven by determination. He could learn most anything in no time at all.
Why wasn’t the same true when he tried to apply himself to fighting?
Nearly every day the same thing happened, and it was torture. He got in the ring, feeling already sick to his stomach with dread, praying that somehow this time would be different. But it never, ever was.
Despite that they were all the same age and he had been practicing just as long and as hard as them, everyone else seemed so much stronger. He was clumsy in the ring, the way he never was anywhere else, unsure of his footing, unable to lift his shield or sword high enough or in just the right way.
Again and again he was knocked over, into the dirt, pale skin bruised and bleeding. The instructors looked down at him in dismay and disgust, and everyone else laughed.
Loki thought that maybe he could learn to bear it if everyone would realize he didn’t want to be terrible at things. If they would only acknowledge that he was trying, truly he was.
But no one did. They scolded him and pushed him harder, after he had already given everything he had. The other children sneered at him and made fun of him. They asked him what was wrong with him.
And Loki, when he hid himself away so as to finally give in to his frustrated tears, asked the same thing of himself.
Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t he be like everyone else? Why wasn’t it easy for him? Why did nobody understand?
But the worst part, the worst part of all, was his brother, Thor. Thor, who had been side by side with him for as far back as Loki could remember. Thor, who he did everything together with. Thor, who was supposed to be his greatest friend. Thor, who was supposed to be there for him, no matter what.
Now Thor was pulling away.
He wasn’t as mean as the others. But still, he teased him. Made light of all Loki’s shortcomings, and never seemed to see how broken and miserable his brother was feeling when he looked into his eyes. He offered the same empty advice to Loki as all the rest - ‘Try harder!’ - and never seemed to see he was trying, really he was.
And on the especially bad days…Loki could see he was ashamed of him. That it made Thor short-tempered, even unhappy, to have his embarrassing younger brother trailing after him.
Thor was making new friends, friends who wanted little to do with Loki, save as occasional target for cruel and dismissive words. Little by little, Thor was pulling away.
And where did that leave Loki? All alone, in the cool dark, with a tearstained face, and nothing but a broken practice sword, skinned knees and scraped knuckles to show for it.
His sobs vented themselves out and dwindled. Slowly he let his tears finish falling, and then dried his eyes and caught his breath. By himself, surrounded by strange echoes and looming shadows, the young prince thought not just about how unhappy he was - but how angry it made him.
That they would treat him this way, that they would punish him for things that weren’t his fault, that they would cast him aside and make him feel as if he were worthless…how dare they.
He was far, far cleverer than they. He knew that with fierce certainty within his young mind and his young heart. He knew things. And he would find a way to fight; he would find a way to show them, even if it wasn’t with a sword. There must be something else he could do. He only had to figure it out.
And then he would prove himself. And then he would never have to feel this way again.
He would never be alone. He would make everyone, especially Thor, so very sorry.
Slowly, carefully Loki picked himself up and got to his feet. He shut his eyes and scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, drawing a deep inhale.
He was still nothing but a boy, nothing but a child. But though he couldn’t know it for himself, a turning point had been reached.
This day, this moment, where he knelt isolated in the dark and forged a new goal for himself within his thoughts and emotions - it would be a moment that older, more experienced versions of himself would know to point to as one of greatest significance for the everything that came after.
He would remember this feeling for the rest of his life, the bitter aching throb of being humiliated and cast aside. It would still be clear inside him after many other things faded.
And at times when he had to make a decision, it would come back to him, driving him onward when he might’ve made other choices.
But that was the future, and it was far away, and still forming.
This was the present. Loki was a child with a lot of untapped potential, trying to understand a situation that’d been forced on him past his understanding. Trying to make the best of things. But he was still only a child.
Having gathered his strength, out loud Loki muttered, “I’ll show them. I’ll show Thor. I’ll show them all.”
He had thought - no, he had been sure - he was entirely alone down here.
But out of the darkness a low and ominous voice said, smoothly, “I am sorry to disappoint you, young one.”
Heart beating with sudden fright, Loki turned around. There at the edge of the shadows stood a figure mostly concealed by the dark.
As he stood there paralyzed, staring with wide eyes, the figure took a step closer, the shadows rolling off them.
Enough to reveal part of a face, with black and empty, burning eyes; wild black hair, and pale skin split by thick markings. A woman, he thought, though her voice carried a threat in every vibration.
She finished what she was saying, and as she spoke she revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth, like a monster.
“…But I’m afraid I have to tell you, that you just aren’t going to get that chance.”
Quick as a serpent lashing out, her arm reached forward to seize him. The last thing Loki saw were her clawed fingers coming to grab him, and past that the awful fangs that were set in a wide and mirthless grin.
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER
Title: In the shadows of the crossroads (Part 4: Eclipse)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Jane, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Carol Danvers (Ms. Marvel), Jennifer Walters (She-Hulk), original characters; mention of Agent Coulson, Scarlet Witch, others
Pairings: Thor/Jane, Loki/Darcy
Rating: R for language, violence, dark magic, alcohol use, sex, death, dubious consent (bodyswap), adultery, violence against children, and angst
Length: 15,850 words
Summary: More than twenty years have passed since Loki and Darcy first crossed paths, since whether they knew it or not they began on the path that led to their life together. Things in their world are happy, idyllic. But in another world trouble is resurfacing...and the consequences will be far-reaching and dire.
Notes: See part one for full notes. Also posted at AO3.
Part 4: Eclipse
Once upon a time (and wasn’t that a fitting way to begin with any story), Jane Foster spent all her time looking to the stars.
Things like friends, a social life, hobbies, dating…all these had fallen to the wayside. Jane was consumed by her work, by the siren call of numbers and equations, of figures and collected data-points on neat little computer-generated graphs. She lived a meek life defined solely by her role as scientist, and was glad for it.
Not just because she thought her work was important, because she believed in it, but because it made her happy. Others might look at what she was and call it boring, wondering how she did it - to her it was anything but.
So her days passed by up to her elbows in figures scrawled out in smeared pencil and disjointed, meditative, ink-stained pen, and she stayed into the late hours every night peering through a telescope, collecting and writing down numbers. And she was happy. She had everything she needed.
Because where most people saw dots on a page, or symbols in black and white, she saw entire galaxies. Universes of untold possibility out there, waiting to be explored.
Numbers and figures and equipment strung together in fervor by her own two hands. Reaching for her goals, feeling the rush of every moment spent on the journey getting there.
She kept her eyes to the heavens and her stars, head awash in dancing constellations. They were the only things she saw or needed to see. Her only concern the world of those far-off lights.
But that had been some time ago. And now she lived a different life.
A life where she was a married woman, a queen, and a mother. A life where her day-to-day was occupied by a whole mess of concerns she couldn’t brush aside, or ignore. Where she officially attended social gatherings, had a list of things to oversee the running of, squeezed in time with her husband where she could, and then did everything to make sure her children were clean and happy and well-behaved.
A life where the bulk of her scientific work had long been completed and compiled, papers presented and exclaimed over and then put away on a shelf, to be examined later by the generations to come after.
She still poked at her numbers and figures, the occasional chart, when she could. But now it was more a fond indulgence than a passion.
And her little battered notebook that she once carried with her everywhere had been retired. It still carried a mark of significance, because hidden amongst its pages was documentation of one of the most significant times in her life. But like many trophies its honor was an absent-minded one, a dusty reverence from where it had been tucked away between volumes at the top of her bookshelf.
She still glanced up to the stars. They still held interest for her - it was just now, she simply didn’t have the time.
And it didn’t bother her nearly as much as she might’ve once thought.
Nowadays she spent her time with other books - like the one full of stories she had currently open on her lap, sitting down in the garden as she read to her little ones.
“If Jill had been more used to adventures, she might have doubted the owl’s word,” Jane was narrating to them clearly as her eyes walked across the pages, “but this never occurred to her, and in the exciting idea of a midnight escape she forgot her sleepiness.”
Cordelia sat with her legs crossed and her hands folded, rosy-cheeked and attentive. She was getting too old for story time, or at least starting to get too old to be read to instead of doing it on her own, but she still enjoyed listening to the sound of her mother’s voice. And Arthur, her younger brother, loved any story so long as it contained some aspect of battles or adventure. He crouched next to his sister, bouncing up and down in excitement, silently and sometimes vocally encouraging Jane to go on.
Magni, meanwhile, was still only a toddler, and lay flopped on the blanket between his older brother and his mother’s knees. He didn’t really understand everything said, but he seemed happy listening regardless.
While outwardly Jane might’ve seemed entirely concerned with reading, in reality she was engaged in a slight bit of multitasking. As the outpour of words continued steadily over her mouth, she glanced to take in the three little figures in front of her with fond scrutiny.
Cordelia without a doubt was the one that looked the most like her. Both the boys had their father’s blond hair, his bright blue eyes, and she could tell they were already showing some of his features in their small but identical noses. Magni’s hair had already grown into a thick tuft, and Arthur’s mane reached well past his shoulders; the same style that his father had worn apparently when he was his age, and as a result the spirited young prince refused to let anyone trim, no matter how difficult it became at times to manage.
Cordelia by contrast had finer strands of brown hair that lay obediently flat, and was pale in comparison to the golden complexion of her brothers.
Jane was far from worried. All of Asgard sang songs and crowed praises about their queen’s beauty; and if they thought Jane was so remarkably beautiful, no doubt once her daughter was grown up they would think her so too.
(While she didn’t consider herself homely, the queen shrewdly thought the remarks over her looks were more a self-fulfilling prophecy. The other Asgardians must think: surely, she must be stunning that their king could’ve fallen in love with a mortal. And so they talked about it again and again, building her up in their minds until when they looked at her, the saw the radiance they’d imagined.)
She kept on reading, taking pleasure from watching the enraptured looks on their tiny faces, and was just reaching the end of the chapter when out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow moving by the end of the garden.
The green and gold of his layered robes nearly blending in among the sun-dappled plants of the garden, her brother-in-law crept forward with a languid, almost silent gait.
His hands laced behind his back Loki met her eyes with a smile, giving a nod to indicate she should continue on, that there was no need to make note of his presence.
It was pointless, though. The sharp eyes of Jane’s children had spotted her own gaze wandering, and curiously they had twisted about in their seats.
“Uncle Loki!” Arthur squealed and Cordelia cried, the former up like a shot and racing toward him, the latter gathering up her skirts in her hands as she ran close behind.
Jane stayed where she was and laughed to herself, closing the book and putting it away. Maybe it was the size of the palace that somehow made her kids act as if they didn’t already see Loki every single day.
Loki bent far forward at the waist so he was as on level with Arthur’s much smaller height as best he could be. With an amused grin he greeted his nephew by putting hands on his shoulders, stopping him just short of barreling directly into his body.
“What now, you little sprite,” he chuckled, resting a hand on Arthur’s head and tousling his hair. “Always so excitable! You run to me any faster and you might hurt your poor mother’s feelings.”
“Have you got anything for us, Uncle?” Cordelia asked in the blunt way that only the very young could get away with.
“Now I see how it is. I’ve spoiled you too much and ruined you for the pleasures of my company,” Loki said, mock-hurt. “You don’t care about me at all, only for the trinkets I can give you. Very well.”
He gave them each a silver coin, polished and shiny as if it was brand new. Cordelia ‘oooh’ed over hers admiringly and pocketed it with care, while Arthur clutched his tight in his little fist and all but promptly forgot about it, bouncing up and down.
“Is Skadi with you?” he demanded eagerly.
“Is she? And can’t you see for yourself? Where would I be concealing her, in my sleeve - I think she’s far too big for that. Don’t you?” Loki returned to him merrily, mouth stretched in an indulgent smile. “No, no; but she is back from her latest trip. I think you can find her near the training ring.”
He stood up quickly to let Arthur rush past him, for an instant looking like he ran the risk of being trampled by a miniature stampede of one.
The young prince idolized Skadi, impressed and hanging on her every action as one of Asgard’s finest up and coming warriors. Whenever he could Arthur followed his older cousin like a puppy, pressing her for stories and hanging on her every word. Jane often heard tales of Skadi’s latest adventures relayed to her in her son’s eager voice.
Cordelia wasn’t anywhere near as enthralled as her brother was, but she ran after him anyway, buoyed along by his enthusiasm. Both her oldest children gone Jane stood, and gathered up Magni to hand him off to the nursemaid that had been waiting patiently on the sidelines. The other woman departed, and the queen and her brother-in-law were left alone.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Loki said to her, an offhand apology.
Jane shook her head. “It’s not a problem. If anything, it’s the opposite.” Absently she smoothed down the front of her dress, chuckling disparagingly to herself. “When you have more than one kid at once and you spend most of every day around them, you get to that point where you start to really miss talking with adults.” She gave him a knowing smirk. “I could use a break once in a while.”
“I certainly understand.”
Loki’s children were wild and what Darcy liked to call ‘free-range’, but definitely there had been a time Jane remembered when he’d been visibly exhausted, frustrated, and couldn’t go anywhere without one or more of them clinging to his hand.
He nodded to her. “In that case, your majesty, I am all too happy to provide the excuse for your temporary relief.”
“You do us a royal honor,” Jane replied sweetly, primly, playing the part of the lofty queen in small doses for her own amusement.
Loki pretended to take her at her word but she could see the laughter in his eyes as he bowed, and he dropped the pretense in favor of a more accurate familial closeness a moment later.
“How are you today?”
“I’m fine. Busy, and with nothing of real importance,” she remarked as she gathered up her book and some forgotten childish drawings, “but fine. And how about you?”
“If you have time later we could meet in the observatory. I’m sure there are a few old books on comets we’ve yet to go over,” Loki offered. The two of them had spent the occasional afternoon pouring over star charts down the years, heads bowed in intense concentration as they translated for one another.
“That would be nice, maybe.” Jane looked up at him. “Should I be reading anything into the fact that you didn’t answer my question?”
“Oh, I’m quite fine as well, myself.” Loki gave a careless shrug. “There’s nothing to report.”
But his voice was quieter and he didn’t look back at her as he said it, the focus of his gaze having become distant and restless. Jane frowned.
“Are you sure?” When he frowned back at her, she shook her head, almost laughing. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just making concerned conversation. That’s all.”
“I haven’t been sleeping entirely well,” Loki admitted softly. Jane took a better look at his face and realized on closer examination that yes, he did look a note paler than usual, and there were some shadows collected underneath his eyes.
“Bad dreams?” she guessed, gentle, filled with friendly concern. He was prone to them from time to time; though normally he hid it well, and Jane only learned about them in whispers from Darcy.
“Nothing so obvious.” Loki’s expression turned introspective, and he sighed. “It’s really nothing so concrete. But lately, for a while now, I’ve been plagued by this sense of…foreboding.”
“Really?” Jane tried to ignore the anxious flutter of her pulse in her breast. Loki was far from a seer, but his mystical affinities meant every once in a while his intuition ran more towards prophecy. A bad feeling from him wasn’t always just ‘a bad feeling’. “About what?”
His frown took on a note of mild frustration. “I couldn’t say. That’s the problem.” He looked away again, musing out loud. “For some time I’ve been unable to shake these thoughts that something dark lurks on the horizon. That something bad is coming.”
Jane moved closer, sympathetically, and laid a hand on his arm and was just about to offer some words of encouragement.
But they were interrupted by the appearance of another figure at the edge of the garden.
“Thor,” Jane remarked, in elated surprise. Despite herself she nearly forgot Loki entirely, hurrying to greet her husband.
Thor had been gone for the past few days to Earth on a sort of unofficial Avengers reunion. His showing up like this so suddenly was an unexpected treat.
As soon as she reached his side Jane threw her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. They slept together every night, ate their meals side by side - but sometimes it seemed as if she hardly ever got to be alone with him. He had so many duties as king. And she missed him whenever he was gone.
“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon.” Jane pulled back so she could look up at him, and the smile faded from her face.
Though Thor had embraced her back, putting one hand to her cheek and caressing her hair, he didn’t look entirely happy. In fact he seemed anything but. His face was dark, and troubled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked slowly. “Did something happen?”
Thor gave a heavy, somber nod.
“I am afraid so.”
He gazed past Jane towards what was behind her, and her heart sank as she turned to look back and saw Loki standing there, his face blank and his mouth pressed into a grim, resolute line.
“Forgive me, Jane. I would I were in the mood to celebrate our reunion more properly. But for now, I must have important words with my brother.”
*
Whenever Clint got hurt, be it on a mission, in training, or even just a freak accident, normally he would do his best to shrug it off, no matter how severe.
Everything from broken bones to ragged gashes in his skin to a dislocated jaw - he would inevitably be the guy everyone else was staring at while his superior yelled at him to drag his ass down to medical because he was walking funny and bleeding all over the floor.
Once, he had stood too close to an explosion and blown out an eardrum. Because he was in the field and they were up to their necks in the thick of it, he didn’t slow down or even say anything.
Almost three days went by before his handlers realized he was running around with partial temporary deafness. Now that had been a good time.
“Suicidal tendencies” had floated in and out of his psychological assessments, getting scratched off only to get penciled back in again, for as long as he had been with SHIELD.
Possibly longer; he wasn’t sure how long his file went back. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed to look at it.
Thing is, it wasn’t that he was trying to look tough, though, no matter what anyone thought. It was a habit ingrained in him from how he was raised, never to think much of the damage done to his body, never to raise a fuss. He would heal. And pain was nothing, only a symptom of living.
But after the way he’d felt when that evil ghoul of a woman walked through him at the Tower, the first chance he got Clint went to get checked out by the doctors, straight away.
This was one time he didn’t need to be told.
They didn’t find anything wrong with him: not that he’d really expected them to. He had a feeling he was probably fine and there was no lasting damage. Still, he’d wanted to be…sure. They tested his heart and his brain and ran an EKG and came back with a unanimous thumbs-up, no faulty wiring. He was good to go.
Clint nodded stoically and didn’t say anything, sticking true to his pattern. Continuing to not raise a fuss.
And all the while he sat there and listened to the sound of his own breathing, making sure he was still doing it evenly; making sure his lungs weren’t seizing up or the air wasn’t getting caught in his throat, making certain he wasn’t running himself ragged.
He tried not to dwell on that unearthly chilly feeling, on that cold that had cut through him straight down to his bones. On how for that one split second, he was convinced everything - and he meant everything - in his body, had just stopped.
And he tried not to think about how it was the second worst thing he had ever experienced in his life - and that he was incredibly irked to admit, it was even a very close second.
Meanwhile, though, he was standing on the bridge of the Helicarrier, which had somehow over time become the unofficial conference room whenever Fury needed to gather the Avengers for a team meeting. Clint glanced down and then back up again, outwardly collected and unperturbed as the director stalked back and forth in his long black trenchcoat.
“Let me see if I’m understanding this right,” the man began, putting his own spin on the conversation that had been in progress for several minutes now. “By the time Stark and Thor got everything sorted, the rest of the team was still too far away, and there was no sign of Loki.”
“Unfortunately,” Rogers sighed, his shoulders set especially tight, “that would be the summation of it, sir.”
“Pitifully unimpressive as it was, there really was nothing we could do,” Stark put in. “You saw the tape.”
There wasn’t even a nod from the director to acknowledge this, but he had. Turned out Stark putting cameras just about everywhere in his building for once wasn’t mildly creepy but actually quite useful. There had been fairly high-resolution footage of everything that happened after the three of them confronting Loki, including Selene’s disembodied foray into the building. The group of them had watched it together in near silence, broken only when Tony or Thor put in the occasional bit of narration to explain certain things.
Clint had been a little surprised that Selene had even showed up on the footage. If he’d had to think about it, he probably would’ve guessed she’d be somehow immune to audio or visual recording, like a ghost in an old horror movie. But evidently that was not the case.
Real life, once again somehow turning slightly stranger than fiction.
Fury’s expression was hovering somewhere between aghast and baleful. “So as of this moment we already have thousands of dollars in property damage, at least one known human casualty, and nothing to show for it.”
“Hey, not that your faux concern isn’t touching, but that’s my property, chief. Don’t pretend like that it’s really your problem.”
“As much of a relief it is to know that my tax dollars won’t be going towards this particular set of repairs, Mr. Stark, as of right now I’m unable to fully appreciate that.” Fury’s voice was completely flat.
Stark only shrugged, unperturbed. Considering the massive amounts of damage Clint had even seen, he thought the other man was reacting fairly cavalier about it. Despite all the drywall he and Thor had torn up, he seemed to think repairs could be taken care of fairly quickly and with minimal aggravation on his part.
Then again, he was a billionaire. Maybe this kind of thing really was just another day at the office to him.
“We’re getting off-topic here,” Rogers broke in again, mildly peevish. “Shouldn’t we be talking about what it was that happened?”
“What happened, Captain, as I seem to be hearing it, is that as of right now the situation with an escaped, destructive, insane mass-murderer has somehow gotten even worse,” Fury stated. Turning his back he stalked to his place in the center as he dropped the final word, “Which is impressive.”
Rogers drew his jaw tight, Stark made a face, Thor shifted slightly and frowned, and Banner’s mouth twitched in that way like he was trying not to laugh bitterly.
None of them, however, spoke up with a word to disagree.
Clint knew he wasn’t going to. He knew Natasha well enough to know she wouldn’t, either. She was as pragmatic as he was - sometimes even more so.
The coils and machinery around them hidden in the sleek walls hummed. There was the faint ever-present clicking and beeping sounds of the technicians at their stations. But in their corner of the bridge, all was complete silence. The air was thicker, pensive. For a few moments everyone seemed lost in thought.
As much as certain members of their operation hated to agree with him sometimes, Fury was right about everything. Loki was back on Earth, they didn’t know where he was, and far as they knew he was just as powerful as before -potentially even more so, considering he’d revealed a few new tricks.
Nothing that had happened at the Tower, that they had seen or heard or learned, changed any of that. It just made the situation stranger. And unsettling.
Clint had his arms folded across his chest, back leaning against the wall as he gazed down at the floor past his boots. He had his best poker face on but despite himself, he could feel his brows coming together where they creased in grim contemplation.
The fact that there was another world out there, close enough to their own that it could’ve been literally touched, was something that shouldn’t have mattered to him. So there was another him out there, virtually identical. So there was another team of Avengers that had formed up exactly the same. So what? When it came down to the bottom line, none of that had any effect on him.
But it was hard to get the image out of his head, what they had all seen on the tape. That gap in the fabric of the universe, and a set of almost identical twins staring back at them from the other side.
Aliens and space-travelers was one thing. But parallel worlds? The possibility he could fall through a hole somewhere and end up face to face with himself?
The limits to what he was prepared to deal with kept getting pushed, harder and harder.
And all the while he kept feeling echoes of the cold grasp that’d squeezed him, hanging over like a cloud he couldn’t shake off.
And all the while, there was the main point that Loki was out there, they were going to have to fight him again. And no matter how he tried to keep himself in the mindset that it was another mission, it couldn’t be.
Not with Loki. Not with what Clint still too clearly remembered happening to him. It could never be just another mission, because of that.
He glanced up and found his eyes immediately meeting Natasha’s, who’d been looking back at him with cool, intent scrutiny for who knew how long. Probably about as long as he had been thinking.
Her face was hard, in ‘ready-set-go’ battle mode; a blank and inscrutable mask. But as they looked to each other, exchanging a glance, Clint could read the faint concern in her eyes.
They met each other’s gazes and held it, unblinkingly. And neither of them had to move a muscle or say a word. She didn’t have to ask if he was okay. He didn’t have to tell her he was fine.
And she didn’t have to call him out and let him know that she knew he was lying. That he wasn’t completely fine.
And Clint didn’t have to worry about her saying or doing anything about it. Natasha could worry, but she would trust him to try and handle it on his own.
At least at first. If things got rough, no doubt she’d intervene.
She didn’t have to tell him that, either.
It was Thor who suddenly broke the silence by taking a step forward and deeply clearing his throat. Every pair of eyes shot to him automatically, whether they meant to or not.
“So,” he began, seriously but uncertain, “what are we to do now?”
Fury eyed him with his confident, tense air of cool control from his place on the central platform, arms out and hands gripping the rests in a way almost reminiscent of a king placed imperially on his throne.
“What we’re going to do,” he responded, “is handle the situation. The same way we would if this little fiasco hadn’t occurred.” He nodded to Agent Hill, who stopped eyeing the underlings at their computer bays and came forward to listen even more attentively than she already had been. “We keep an eye out for Loki. He can be as sneaky as he likes but he has to surface eventually. He has to, considering we know he wants a confrontation. And then, when he pops up, we engage.”
Turning his head he fixed his second-in-command in the sight of his one eye. “Agent Hill, I want you to head down to Surveillance. Make sure they’ve got the latest imagery data set up on Loki. I want the search up and running ASAP, planet-wide.”
“Yes sir.”
Hill gave the briefest of nods and then headed swiftly out, the door smoothly sliding shut behind her.
“That may take care of my brother, at least for now,” Thor continued insistently. “But it is not so much him I was speaking of. What about this sorceress?”
The director gave the Asgardian one of his flat, unimpressed looks. “What about her?”
“This…Selene is obviously an enemy to our counterparts in another world. If we are to put any faith in the things we observed as truth, it sounds as if she intends to pass through here! And then-”
“Whoa, whoa. Hang on.” Stark waved at him. “Back it up for a second.” He coughed. “First of all - like you said - we can only base anything off what we heard and saw if we can put any faith in it being true.”
“And considering Loki is involved, that’s a pretty big ‘if’,” Clint intoned.
“I don’t know.” Dr. Banner spoke up musingly, surprising a few of them. “Obviously things are never entirely clear with Loki. We all know that. But for what he did at the Tower to be some kind of set-up, it doesn’t really make any sense. What would be the point?”
“Considering I’m pretty sure Loki’s thought patterns might just run sideways, it might not be one that’s entirely obvious to the rest of us,” Stark muttered.
Rogers nodded, from his expression similarly wary. “If we act at all on this intelligence, we run the risk of the entire thing being some kind of trap.”
“I think Bruce may be right,” Natasha spoke up. Her composed, thoughtful expression showed she had been carefully weighing her thoughts, waiting for the right time to give input. “I’m not ruling out the possibility of a power play entirely, but it’s hard to see what he even stands to gain from it. It just doesn’t make sense.”
There was a beat. “Well I guess if the spy can’t see where a double-cross factors in, there might be something to it,” Stark admitted. “But so what?”
“Exactly,” Clint huffed.
“‘So what’?” Thor echoed slowly, growing affronted. He turned to stare more closely into Stark’s face, towering over the man without even trying. Stark, cocky bastard that he was, barely gulped before holding his own ground. “We saw what that woman did at the Tower. And that was without physically being present!”
His head turned from one of his teammates to the next, taking them all in, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Like they were acting like the crazy ones.
“You saw how my other self reacted. You heard that her intention was to come after Loki. Clearly, she is a threat.”
“To Loki,” Fury emphasized. “I realize that to you he’s still considered family, but if this woman really becomes a problem, then she’s still his problem, not ours.”
Thor gave an ugly, angry smile. He chuckled as he looked at the others again, this time disparagingly.
“So we are to stand aside and let him be hunted down as a beast would,” he said, accusing. “For it is beneath us to care for any danger, so long as it is inconvenient to our enemies.”
“Well it sounds horrible when you put it like that.” Banner’s tone was mild, even blasé. “No one’s suggesting we turn a blind eye, Thor. But going after a being who isn’t currently on this same physical dimension, as a preemptive move to protect somebody that hasn’t exactly done us any favors; it’s…it’s a little out of our jurisdiction.”
“No one is saying that we leave Loki to die if he’s actually in need,” Rogers chimed in.
“Out loud, nobody is saying that,” Stark of course couldn’t resist in a half-undertone, stealing a pointed look to Clint.
Clint put his back up and stared at him evenly, arms still tightly folded. He didn’t owe anybody a defense or an explanation. No matter what shit Stark was trying to stir.
The Captain of course ignored all that. “But you’re not wrong,” he continued, addressing Thor. “This person could clearly be dangerous, and we should be ready to have to try and deal with her - assuming she even makes it to our dimension.”
“Forewarned is being forearmed, but there’s only so much we can do in preparation for such an unknown factor,” Natasha put in primly, shifting her weight absently to one side. “Until we know for certain that Selene will come here, we really don’t have much reason to give her our focus.”
Thor had stood down slightly, his shoulders drooping. But he had the lingering manner of a man who still wanted to argue.
“But Loki said she has already murdered him in other worlds. Her goals are no secret, and she stated her intention to come here. Should we not be more assured she will soon cross our paths?”
“Considering what kind of people we’re dealing with here, I get the impression ‘soon’ is a little more relative,” Fury said in what for him counted as a soft, even a placating tone. “As Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers are suggesting, we can worry about all of that - later. Once we have more information confirming that it is a thing we should worry about.”
Thor nodded, looking as if he held back a sigh.
“I see. I suppose that you are all right. Forgive me, but…even knowing what my brother is, I cannot help but worry.”
“It’s fine,” Rogers brushed it off softly.
“We get it.” Stark came a step closer and reached up to pat Thor on the shoulder, grinning. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry.”
He didn’t. Though Clint tried not to begrudge him his personal feelings too much; because even from an impersonal standpoint, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to keep looking over their shoulders.
The version of Loki that they knew, and an evidently similarly powered creature mixing it up in the flesh, with their planet stuck in the middle as their battleground…now that was a thing that could get admittedly pretty ugly.
And before there was any chance to elaborate on that thought, there was a flurry of activity on the Helicarrier bridge as the power flickered.
Clint stood as by his side Natasha’s hand went to one of her guns. They both gazed upward.
Stark likewise stared bemused at the ceiling. He raised both hands. “Uh. What the hell was that?”
Fury swept over the technicians who were furiously checking things on the screens in front of them. “Status?” he demanded, sharp.
“Looks like a power fluctuation,” the closest young man answered him, breathless and not daring to look up from the screen he was tapping as he did so. “It’s nothing generated by equipment failure on our part. Seems to have come from an outside source.”
Fury didn’t blink, staring him down even though he wasn’t turning. “How outside?”
The tech shook his head hard. “It’s not reading like an attack. Just a…slight anomaly. It’s already mostly fading.”
“Why does that not encourage me?” Fury growled, rhetorically. Behind him the team was already standing on their guard. “Someone had better be able to tell me what happened, people! I don’t care if it means you’ve gotta get out a flashlight and start crawling around in some wiring old-school to do it. Anomalies don’t get to just occur around here; not under my command. Check off every part of the system, grid by grid! I want-”
The door behind them opened, audibly, and Fury cut himself off as he swung around. The others looked back too.
Agent Hill strode back in, purposefully. But something was off with her expression. Though she was far from an easily shaken woman, her eyes were opened a little extra wide.
“What are you doing back here?” Fury demanded of her. She hadn’t nearly enough time to get over to Surveillance and come back; anyone familiar with the layout of the place knew that.
“Sir.” And now it sounded like she was clearing her throat awkwardly. “Forgive me for the interruption, but…” She paused, unsure how to say it. “There are some people in the other room that want to speak with the Avengers.”
Clint frowned, looking over to Natasha. She looked back, and then both of them exchanged questioning, wary glances with the others.
Fury was starting to look more concerned now. “What do you mean? What people?”
Hill drew up to her full height, exhaling like she couldn’t believe this was even happening to her.
“…The Avengers,” she said.
*
The grand golden palace of Asgard boasted many magnificent rooms, a seemingly endless series of long hallways and interlocking chambers. It could be a pleasure to go on a meandering stroll through these places; to get nearly lost at one’s leisure.
But there were other parts of the palace that were not so pleasant. And equally easy to lose the way inside, if one wasn’t familiar, or careful.
The unfurnished halls down near the dungeons, or leading outdoors to the barracks. The maze of empty stone catacombs set far beneath the other floors and used almost exclusively by servants, forgotten relics of a time long before. Hallways that were cold, and dark, and always smelled faintly of damp.
These isolated and quiet spaces, however, made a good place for an unhappy young prince to hide.
Despite the soreness of tired limbs and how he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his throat, Loki had run as fast as his little legs could carry him. Seeking a sanctuary, a far-off corner where he could become lost in the shadows.
Finding it, he crouched down, collapsing in on himself as he dropped to his knees, palms scraping the ground and shoulders buckling. The wooden practice sword, blade half-splintered, that he had carried all the way with him unthinking was flung away from his grasp as a hateful thing.
His small body shaking, he unfettered his sobs and began crying in earnest, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“It isn’t fair,” he managed at length in a creaky, broken whisper, his wails at last dissolving into intelligible speech.
He didn’t understand. He tried so hard, he really did. Attended to all his lessons, listened to his instructors, and fought again and again with every muscle in his body to make himself improve. Why did it never seem to make a difference?
Any other subject he focused on with his sharp mind and the full span of his attentions, and he always got it. Made leaps and bounds driven by determination. He could learn most anything in no time at all.
Why wasn’t the same true when he tried to apply himself to fighting?
Nearly every day the same thing happened, and it was torture. He got in the ring, feeling already sick to his stomach with dread, praying that somehow this time would be different. But it never, ever was.
Despite that they were all the same age and he had been practicing just as long and as hard as them, everyone else seemed so much stronger. He was clumsy in the ring, the way he never was anywhere else, unsure of his footing, unable to lift his shield or sword high enough or in just the right way.
Again and again he was knocked over, into the dirt, pale skin bruised and bleeding. The instructors looked down at him in dismay and disgust, and everyone else laughed.
Loki thought that maybe he could learn to bear it if everyone would realize he didn’t want to be terrible at things. If they would only acknowledge that he was trying, truly he was.
But no one did. They scolded him and pushed him harder, after he had already given everything he had. The other children sneered at him and made fun of him. They asked him what was wrong with him.
And Loki, when he hid himself away so as to finally give in to his frustrated tears, asked the same thing of himself.
Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t he be like everyone else? Why wasn’t it easy for him? Why did nobody understand?
But the worst part, the worst part of all, was his brother, Thor. Thor, who had been side by side with him for as far back as Loki could remember. Thor, who he did everything together with. Thor, who was supposed to be his greatest friend. Thor, who was supposed to be there for him, no matter what.
Now Thor was pulling away.
He wasn’t as mean as the others. But still, he teased him. Made light of all Loki’s shortcomings, and never seemed to see how broken and miserable his brother was feeling when he looked into his eyes. He offered the same empty advice to Loki as all the rest - ‘Try harder!’ - and never seemed to see he was trying, really he was.
And on the especially bad days…Loki could see he was ashamed of him. That it made Thor short-tempered, even unhappy, to have his embarrassing younger brother trailing after him.
Thor was making new friends, friends who wanted little to do with Loki, save as occasional target for cruel and dismissive words. Little by little, Thor was pulling away.
And where did that leave Loki? All alone, in the cool dark, with a tearstained face, and nothing but a broken practice sword, skinned knees and scraped knuckles to show for it.
His sobs vented themselves out and dwindled. Slowly he let his tears finish falling, and then dried his eyes and caught his breath. By himself, surrounded by strange echoes and looming shadows, the young prince thought not just about how unhappy he was - but how angry it made him.
That they would treat him this way, that they would punish him for things that weren’t his fault, that they would cast him aside and make him feel as if he were worthless…how dare they.
He was far, far cleverer than they. He knew that with fierce certainty within his young mind and his young heart. He knew things. And he would find a way to fight; he would find a way to show them, even if it wasn’t with a sword. There must be something else he could do. He only had to figure it out.
And then he would prove himself. And then he would never have to feel this way again.
He would never be alone. He would make everyone, especially Thor, so very sorry.
Slowly, carefully Loki picked himself up and got to his feet. He shut his eyes and scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, drawing a deep inhale.
He was still nothing but a boy, nothing but a child. But though he couldn’t know it for himself, a turning point had been reached.
This day, this moment, where he knelt isolated in the dark and forged a new goal for himself within his thoughts and emotions - it would be a moment that older, more experienced versions of himself would know to point to as one of greatest significance for the everything that came after.
He would remember this feeling for the rest of his life, the bitter aching throb of being humiliated and cast aside. It would still be clear inside him after many other things faded.
And at times when he had to make a decision, it would come back to him, driving him onward when he might’ve made other choices.
But that was the future, and it was far away, and still forming.
This was the present. Loki was a child with a lot of untapped potential, trying to understand a situation that’d been forced on him past his understanding. Trying to make the best of things. But he was still only a child.
Having gathered his strength, out loud Loki muttered, “I’ll show them. I’ll show Thor. I’ll show them all.”
He had thought - no, he had been sure - he was entirely alone down here.
But out of the darkness a low and ominous voice said, smoothly, “I am sorry to disappoint you, young one.”
Heart beating with sudden fright, Loki turned around. There at the edge of the shadows stood a figure mostly concealed by the dark.
As he stood there paralyzed, staring with wide eyes, the figure took a step closer, the shadows rolling off them.
Enough to reveal part of a face, with black and empty, burning eyes; wild black hair, and pale skin split by thick markings. A woman, he thought, though her voice carried a threat in every vibration.
She finished what she was saying, and as she spoke she revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth, like a monster.
“…But I’m afraid I have to tell you, that you just aren’t going to get that chance.”
Quick as a serpent lashing out, her arm reached forward to seize him. The last thing Loki saw were her clawed fingers coming to grab him, and past that the awful fangs that were set in a wide and mirthless grin.
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER