Aim Straight, 2/2. NC-17.
Title: Aim Straight
Series: #14 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence and torture.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has returned.
Current chapter:
One - Knife Edge
Two - Crossing Boundaries
"We have a hit, and you're not going to like it."
Clint looked up as Steve came into the room. He had been spending more time around Avengers Tower, not wanting to be around SHIELD offices. There were too many things there reminding him of Natasha, even if it was just scaring off the newbie field agents. Of course, staying in the Tower meant that he ran into Loki more often. Clint wasn't sure what his deal was, but he wasn't always an insufferable ass, at least. Loki didn't seem to be into self harm at the moment, but he did look positively unhinged sometimes. Steve and Sam still took him out into the city on their do-good errands and such, which kept Loki occupied and at least not murderous. Clint drew the line at adding him to the card games at Steve's, and Bruce and Tony usually didn't bother to show up despite the standing invitation. Tony had Pepper to spend his time with, and Bruce usually stayed by himself to meditate. It was sad, and sometimes made him wonder if it was appropriate to track down Betty Ross to invite her over. Bruce deserved to be happy just as much as the rest of them did.
"What's going on?" Clint asked, frowning.
"We've been keeping an eye on known Hydra spots, since that's where the trio would likely go," Steve said. "If they're reestablishing the Red Room, it's a logical place to start."
"And?"
"And Ekaterina Sarkissian was brutally murdered in her own home five days ago. She was tortured, Clint," Steve added gently. "Just like the mages at Ophelia's house."
"So we know where Yelena was," Clint said with a sigh.
"Nat was there," Steve told him. "There was literally writing on the wall. It's her handwriting, and there's a positive print. Full print. In Sarkissian's blood."
"She's letting us know she's alive," Clint remarked, sitting up straighter. "She's still alive, that's good. We still have a shot in tracking her down and getting her out of there."
Thinking of the last time they had all seen each other, Clint nodded. "There should be clues there in the house. She would have left something behind for us, just like she did in her hotel room."
Steve put a folder down on the table in front of him and opened it. "Here's what I got from a contact," he said. "I translated the French for you."
"Why am I surprised that you have contacts?" Clint snarked.
Laughing, Steve paged through the folder and pulled out the photographs. "It's not as good as being there, but hey. I may know someone in the French consulate, that's all. You know, a fan of the cowl and shield."
Clint snickered. "Promising your favors, Steve? I thought you had the hots for Thor's friend Sif."
The abashed expression on Steve's face made Clint laugh out loud despite the tightening in his chest at the sight of the photos. "She's a great dame," Steve said finally.
"You are so lame sometimes," Clint scoffed. "And I know Sam tells you that all the damn time."
"Maybe."
"Where is he, by the way? He's practically been living here lately."
"Had an extra meeting to go to."
"Is that where our resident psychopath went?"
Steve frowned at him. "Loki's been very good about obeying Natasha's rules. He hasn't stepped out of line with any of us."
"Natasha's not here," he admitted heavily. "And we don't maim and torture for fun, so we can't keep him in line that way."
"I don't think he was ever the type to murder for fun," Steve remarked. It sounded like a rebuke.
Clint sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe not. But he's coming up empty trying to track Natasha."
"Sarkissian had mages cast spells on things. It's blocking what he can do."
"Maybe," Clint replied. "But for someone boasting constantly that he's better than all of us..."
"If you were in the middle of enemies-or at least people that really didn't like you, even if they weren't going to hurt you-wouldn't you claim to be better than others? Keep them off your back and stay safe?" Steve looked at Clint intently. "He's done monstrous things, and working with us isn't absolving him of that. I'm sure he thinks we'll lock him away somewhere. It's what they usually do on Asgard, after all," Steve added.
"He cares about Natasha," Steve continued, looking down at the array of photos. Ekaterina Sarkissian had been left a bloody, broken mess, too similar to the mages she had employed. "She was there, so maybe now he can pick up something that will help him track her down."
"Okay," Clint sighed, rubbing at his face. "We'll have to get Loki and explain all this. Hopefully he won't fly off the handle or act like a little shit."
"Sometimes he's almost decent."
"When it suits him."
"When it suits him," Steve agreed. "Which in this case, it will."
It did. Loki listened intently and looked at the photos avidly. "Yelena erased parts of her existence," he began as he shuffled through the pages of the file. "I've been trying to track Natasha's spá, since it was not erased." He pursed his lips unhappily. "But it is still blocked by whatever spells Yelena had arranged for. This may help, but I would not promise with any certainty."
"Do whatever you have to do," Clint told him. "We need to find her. Yelena's unhinged, that soldier is a soulless monster-sorry, Steve, but you can't think it's your friend anymore-and every moment Natasha's over there is a moment too long." He tapped the photo of Sarkissian's body. "If she's with them too long, I don't want them doing this to her."
Steve sighed. "Sam said the same thing when I told him about meeting Bucky. He said it's not Bucky anymore, that maybe he's not the kind you save."
"Maybe he isn't."
"But that's what they said of Natasha," Loki said abruptly, standing up. "They told you she couldn't be saved, that she had to be stopped at any cost."
"She wasn't that far gone," Clint replied, nodding. Loki had seen that much in his head.
"We won't know anything for certain until we see them," Steve said. "Not when they feel threatened, but if they feel equal."
"I know you're all for truth and justice and whatnot," Clint began, shaking his head at Steve, "but I don't think they will ever see us anything other than a threat."
"They can't keep Natasha," Loki said, a dangerous and hard edge to his voice. The other two men startled at the sound of it and simply stared at him. Clint hadn't heard that tone in a long time, not since his possession, actually. They will fall. They have no other choice. I cannot give them any other choice.
"The trick will be finding Natasha without them knowing you did," Steve reminded him.
Loki's grin was full of teeth, a manic shark's grin. Clint felt very sorry for Yelena right then, because he could see Loki ripping out her throat with those teeth.
"With the power of Yggdrasil behind me, they'll never see me coming," Loki promised.
Clint absolutely believed him in that moment.
***
Dr. Edward Lansing worked out of San Marino State Hospital as one of the staff physicians. He was of average height, with black hair and black eyes that blinked owlishly from behind glasses. Skilled in medicine and biochemistry, Dr. Lansing used the locked psychiatric unit as his hunting ground without the knowledge of the attending psychiatrist. At AIM's behest, he had spent the past ten years working to recreate a super soldier serum formula that had died with Dr. Erskine. He crafted his own compounds and performed surgeries as he felt was necessary, especially if the chosen victim had no guardian to lodge formal protest. Many of the losses suffered initially during his experiments had been chalked up to complications from medical treatments and the patients' poor health status.
It was only in the past few years that Dr. Lansing's formula seemed to bear fruit. His version did make people stronger, but left them childlike. This made them easier to control, and he kept the instructions simple as well. They may have had limited efficacy, but what they could understand they did well. "You can't win it all," he had once told Ekaterina Sarkissian during a meeting discussing his research. "But don't discount the power they can have."
He was not the type to leave much to chance. It would be noticeable if half of his selected population died and the other half operated with the intellectual capacity of a three year old rather than a six or seven year old. Dr. Lansing developed a neural disruptor to try to control "ordinary" minds that he hadn't altered with his serum. It kept the hospital staff blissfully ignorant and able to abet his crimes.
Natasha had a fair number of the toys SHIELD had developed for her use, as well as whatever Yelena had stolen from Ophelia's labs. She had utterly decimated Hydra's power structure, all but destroying the organization. The peons left wouldn't be able to recreate the entire administration, and would be left more or less to their own devices. That would ultimately lead to their capture by various policing agencies, but Yelena didn't care about that. She had not only slaughtered the mages AIM had hired, but a fair bit of their top level agents as well. Yelena hadn't been sure if there were devices to counter Lansing's neural disruptor, which meant that they might be vulnerable to its effects.
"We've had our heads messed with too much," Natasha said, rubbing her face tiredly. "I don't want to lose it all over again."
"So the three of us have to attack at once, and not at the hospital," Yelena replied. "That's where he most likely keeps it. There's recon to do, of course-"
"-we'll need to know if he has a disruptor at home, too," James said, drumming his fingers on the small table where he was sitting. "That's going to be the easier location to infiltrate. The hospital likely has too many checkpoints and lockdown levels, since it's got a psychiatric ward, and those are usually locked."
"It'll be easy enough to bypass any security system he might have," Natasha said.
"This should be a team effort and not a solo op," James told them. "Going alone in this case could be a disaster. Even if he didn't work with AIM and would be competition, he must be eliminated immediately. All three of us would be too vulnerable to that disruptor."
"And we can't have any vulnerability," Yelena said, voice hard. "We're the best, the survivors of the Red Room. And Department X," she added, looking at James. "Staying at the top means eliminating as much of the competition as possible."
The day Natasha had killed Ekaterina Sarkissian, Yelena had been looking into the next potential target for the Red Room. Her goal was making herself visible, the better to ensure that the glory of the Red Room would be known, and she could command a fair price when negotiating a brand new contract. Eliminating Dr. Lansing was a necessity, but it was a death they all could take a measure of pride in. He went about stealing lives and choices, and now that could end. A justifiable death if there ever was one.
"We'll take the disruptor," Natasha declared abruptly. "Not destroy it. We'll destroy any plans to make it, any research he did on it, and no one else can build one." Understanding began to dawn in their eyes. "But if we have it, and we control others..."
"It will help us get the other big names off the map."
Natasha told herself that SHIELD could never eliminate these groups legally. They hid in legal loopholes and countries with no extradition treaties. AIM and Hydra were trying to fill their power vacuums at the moment and easy to pick off. If they could do the same to the Ten Rings, Hand, Project Centipede, Black Spectre, the Brotherhood, the Vory or Yakuza... Some good could come from this. A little death and mayhem, and the world would be a little bit safer. She was no angel anyway, Ivan had seen to that. But he had considered himself a patriot, had honestly thought the Academy was a safe place for her. He had believed himself her father, thought that the glory of Mother Russia was important. It wasn't his fault everything fell apart, that life had only gotten harder over time.
Loss, deprivation and scarcity had left their indelible marks on her consciousness. Even if she appreciated fine things, she knew they weren't permanent. Things were fleeting. Sometimes people were, too. Nothing lasted forever; only children thought they could freeze moments in time and hoard them like jewels.
All she knew was sacrifice. What was a little bit more?
***
The space between the branches of Yggdrasil was quiet and still. The edges of magic glittered and shimmered for those who could see it, a shift in the fabric of reality. Loose tendrils of magic spun out from the main branches like twisting vines, and it was tucked away on those vines that Loki had crafted different hideaways. In a stronger juncture between branches, anchored with dragon bones and lost runes, were the nine rings of power Amora had crafted that SHIELD did not have in their possession. Or, Bruce didn't, but he was nominally working with Tony at SHIELD's behest.
Loki found himself drawn to the cage of bones, the nine rings floating within its sphere. He could feel the immense power there, knew how seductive and dangerous it could be. Desire pulled at him, begging him to make a fatal mistake and tuck himself inside the cage. We will be all for you, they promised. But that was a lie. No one and nothing could be all, not even Natasha, and she came the closest of any living being without even trying.
It was for Natasha that he collected these rings, and for her that he was back, even thinking about courting madness once more. Or perhaps he was already mad, and this would merely tip the balance further into that column.
Even without touching the bones, Loki tried to draw the power of the rings into himself. It wasn't the same as deconstructing the Essine Ruby. That had been delicious and wondrous, reshaping his innermost self as well as fueling the complicated magicks that had made him female and provided the basis for the protection spells on the bracelets he had made.
He had the shape of Natasha's fingerprint from the crime scene, strands of her hair and one of her camisoles from her hamper. Clint and Steve would no doubt call him a creeper for such a move, but a used camisole carried sweat and skin cells, further personal ties to anchor a locator spell strong enough to combat Yelena's blockade.
Floating in the ether, Loki sat cross legged in front of the dragon bone cage with Natasha's belongings. A thought, and they floated in the space between him and the cage.
Time to work his seidr and trace her spá.
He found Natasha's life thread as it intersected Ekaterina Sarkissian's. His consciousness traveled to the south of France, and he watched her scale the fence, climb to the roof of the building in the blind spot of the security system, and then creep across the building's façade. The blind spot was only two and a half feet wide, the sill three inches wide. Both were difficult to scale, but Natasha moved quickly, as if it was no trouble at all. Then again, with her training, it truly was no trouble for her to complete. Cutting open a pane of glass with a diamond-bladed tool, Natasha reached inside and opened the window. It didn't trigger the alarm, which would only activate if the sash was forced from the outside. She slithered inside, the faint light letting Loki see the series of knives and guns strapped to her body, the garrote and Widow's bites visible on her wristlets. She didn't have her nanomesh armor or other SHIELD issue belongings, which had been left behind when Yelena had taken her.
Speaking of which, Loki didn't see Yelena at all.
For someone aware of Natasha's capacity for cruelty, Clint was willfully blind. This had been Natasha's kill from start to finish, her revenge for Andorra, her way to extract the information she had wanted during that job.
Loki tried to trace Natasha's thread further, but the blockage stood in his way. He pushed harder, drawing on the power of the rings. You will let me pass, damn it all. You will let me see her, he demanded of the spá.
But fate never liked being commanded, and his efforts were shunted aside. Instead of moving forward, Loki's consciousness was thrown sideways and backward. Or maybe it was a separate strand of fate, a reality that never was and never could be.
Because Natasha was grinning at him, her arms looped around his neck as he carried her. They were in a large, airy room that reminded him more of his old quarters in Asgard. But this was definitely a Midgard home, the windows large and with sunlight streaming through. He could see trees and a garden beyond the glass, a winding staircase looping up to a second story from the vestibule. Wait, where were they standing?
"Don't tell me you're thinking of work," Natasha chided him playfully. "Not when we finally got a whole week off to ourselves."
He caught the glint of a ring, and suddenly realized that he wore a platinum band on his left hand, runic designs etched into the metal. She wore a matching one, studded with moonstones in artfully but magically significant locations on the ring. They were married, he realized suddenly, and worked together for SHIELD.
"No," he told her truthfully, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "I'm not thinking of work at all." He dipped his head down to taste her lips. "Just of you."
"Flatterer," she purred.
Their bedroom was as large as the room below, yet felt cozy. A king sized bed with forest green chenille spread, satin sheets, gauzy white fabric woven into the slats of the headboard. The furniture was of cherry wood, the carpets had a deep pile and the windows opened to a view of the garden. In the corner was a rocking chair and empty crib; somehow, he knew that the child was with a babysitter fully vetted and backed by SHIELD, in the off chance someone would think to harm the Black Widow and Trickster through their child.
They were lying on the bed next, Loki somehow losing time in the transition. Natasha was beneath him, her fingers threaded through his hair. It was wavy and long, and he liked the feel of her combing his tresses languidly as they kissed. He was propped up on one arm, his other skimming down her torso over her dress, until he reached her hip. It was a white dress, simple silken fabric, nothing fancy or special. She hadn't even worn weapons beneath the sleeves or strapped to her thighs, trusting him to take care of her safety while they were out at dinner together. Their anniversary dinner, two years married, five together as lovers.
Something pulsed and throbbed painfully in his chest. Could this be the future he could have made? Though his opportunity to pull apart and reshape reality was gone now, and he probably would have made errors invalidating this reality. The spá was so difficult to shape, after all. Tracing its path was hard enough, but reweaving reality to his liking? He never had the patience to take on that task.
Natasha's legs fell open, the skirt of the dress falling aside. She wore nothing more than a scrap of lacy fabric over her sex, waxed bare as a way to tease him. He liked the feel of her smooth skin as he traced her folds, but he also liked her coarse curls. Loki liked all of her, the swell of her breasts and curve of her hip, the way her belly hollowed when she lay on her back, the way her back swayed when she knelt on all fours in front of him. Natasha was beautiful and deadly, a scourge the mafia was afraid of.
She groaned and moaned so prettily for him, urging him on to do more than just fuck her with his fingers, but he teased her by swiping his thumb across her clit instead of merely sinking his cock into her. And then there was a touch of magic, giving her the sensation of his mouth on each breast as he kissed her, tongue stroking hers. She mewled against his mouth, panting and nearly yanking on his hair. Her other hand was at his back, scratching through his shirt. "Yes," she crooned when she shifted her head to draw in a breath. "Right there, God, you feel so good, just keep on going like that..."
Of course he would obey that kind of demand. Of course he would want her to cry out, come and tighten around his fingers. Then as the aftershocks hit her, he opened the front of his pants and pushed the fabric aside, sinking his cock into her. There was only a single layer, at least, as he didn't like the feel of mortal undergarments. The inconvenient part of this habit was the obvious wetness when his cock wept for want of her sex. But she was wet for him, slick and warm, like a fist around his cock. Loki moved his hand to her thigh, lifting her leg. She locked both of them around his waist, throwing her head back against the pillow, exposing the long column of her throat. He mouthed it, whispering endearments in Allspeak as she moaned in Russian. His thrusts were deep and long, slow at first, drawing out the inevitable conclusion. But this couldn't last forever, and he was speeding up almost against his will.
They lay tangled together afterward, and she rolled over on top of him. His seed dripped down her thighs, smearing across her dress and his pants. Natasha had a devilish twinkle in her eyes as she grinned down at him, her hands on his shoulders. "Use that magic to get hard again," she purred, sliding her slit along his soft cock. "C'mon, c'mon, I'm not done with you yet."
"You're insatiable," he teased, answering her grin.
"C'mon, fuck me hard, make me scream." Leaning back, she lifted the dress and took it off, tossing it aside. "Make me pass out from how good it is."
"Your wish is my command."
The spell was a simple one he'd used with her before, the minx. He was thick and hard again in no time, and she laughed delightedly as she wrested his clothes from him. All right, he helped, he was certainly no saint able to resist her. Natasha hummed contentedly as she sank down over him, taking him inside until he bottomed out, the head of his cock hitting the cervix. She rode him hard, clutching his thighs behind her, her breasts bouncing with each downward slide. Her eyes shut and she threw her head back when she came, Loki's fingers on her clit to help her along. He slid his other hand up from her waist to her breasts, kneading and stroking the slope of it as she slowed. "If I'm to make you pass out," he began, tapping her thigh, "then I suggest another position for it."
Natasha eagerly got on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, allowing him to stand and guide his cock into her. Loki slammed into her, making her cry out with each thrust. She pulled at the sheet and pressed her face into the bed to muffle her cries. Grasping her hair and tugging, Loki panted "Let me hear you, love."
She lifted her head then, nearly howling in pleasure as he fucked her hard and deep, fingers digging into her hips to keep her balanced. Pressure built up at the base of his cock, twitching and only too ready to spill into her again. When she clenched down tight on him, that was too much. He came, spurting his seed, hands painfully tight on her hips now. She would bruise by morning, though Natasha didn't mind. She often traced them with a fingertip and told him how they made her remember how she got them in the first place. Loki was usually the one most uncomfortable with such displays, having been raised to treat a lady with respect. That worked most of the time, but times like this in the bedroom, a little rougher edge made the pleasure that much more delicious.
Lying sprawled across the bed, Natasha laughed breathlessly and pulled Loki down to the bed with her. "I love you," she told him, her expression one of shining affection.
Though it was everything his heart desired, Loki knew this wasn't real.
His consciousness was yanked out of this reality as the other Loki returned the endearment. He was a fool, such a fool. There would be no children. He was incapable of becoming a father in this lifetime. Natasha would never say she loved him, even if she actually did.
Loki wanted to scream and sob at the horror of it all. His magic skittered along the edges of the spá, unable to push forward. He couldn't bend her future to his will, could never insure that what he wanted would come to pass.
And then he was screaming, with only the emptiness of the Void to hear him. He was alone, alone, always alone, and he knew he deserved this. He didn't deserve Natasha's love, if she could even bear to house such an emotion. She was with two seasoned killers without any compunction whatsoever, and most likely over time she would resemble them.
Come back to me, Natasha, he thought, tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn't bear to look into the emptiness of the Void. By whatever you feel is holy, please come back to me. I am nothing without you, I see that now. I am an empty mirror while you're gone...
There. The faintest glimmer of something, and he hoped it was a thread of her spá. As he grew closer, he could see that it was, a bit frayed in places and rewoven in complex patterns he didn't recognize. But there was her underlying pattern, and he seized hold of it as tightly as he could, trying to get as close to the present day as possible.
Blink.
***
San Marino State Hospital was a tall and ugly building, the type Natasha and Steve would poke fun at. Most state hospitals seemed to be overbearing, gloomy, and industrial in appearance. It did have very good security and locked wards, which would have made getting in and out a lot more difficult than Natasha wanted. Dr. Edward Lansing's home, however, was not built like a fortress and certainly not defended like one. It was a small three bedroom home in a suburb, with a two car garage and small yard. He wasn't particularly close to his neighbors, and had a privacy fence along the edge of his property in the back. He had no pets and was single, with no girlfriend or children. There was a fairly standard alarm system on his home, one that Natasha could disarm in her sleep.
Yelena decided to do the recon on her own. She broke in while he was at the hospital and did a careful and thorough search of the house. She couldn't find the disruptor, and there were no files regarding its creation on his home computer.
Which meant there was only one, and it was at the hospital.
"If we kill him at his home, the experiments are done," Natasha mused, arms crossed over her chest. "Then there's breaking into the hospital. We can go in, ostensibly to release his subjects, but really, we're looking for the disruptor in his office. In the chaos, no one will know what the real target of our break in was."
"You're sure it has to be a break in?" Yelena asked, head tilted to the side.
"The other way to ensure the disruptor is even there would be to do a long term infiltration. But I'm sure none of us want to play the role of a mental patient and get experimented on," Natasha replied dryly. "Enough has been done to us already. Once we stop him, we can move on to the next target, too."
James looked at Natasha, his facial features revealing nothing, but his eyes assessing. "You're really with us on that." He paused. "I would have thought you'd be against killing."
Natasha gave him a level look, and saw that Yelena's expression was blank out of the corner of her eye. Still, Yelena would be hanging on her every word. "This man is far from innocent. Just because I've worked with SHIELD doesn't mean I didn't kill. It just had to serve a purpose."
"And the purpose here?"
"Stop him from developing that serum or destroying other minds."
"How virtuous," James remarked mildly.
"His serum doesn't work right. How long until someone finds his research and figures out where he went wrong?" Natasha asked archly.
"I'll take the hospital," James replied abruptly. "You go through the house after you kill him, in case he'd hidden it somewhere that Yelena could not see."
He was giving her the least visible locations. Was he trying to protect her reputation at SHIELD?
"I'll take care of him," she said with a nod.
Yelena looked between them. "And what about me?"
James looked at her. "I thought you would come with me. Watch my back in the hospital."
That mollified her. "Well, then. Yes."
Natasha knew it would mean a high death toll at the hospital. Innocents might die, though the innocents here were patients experimented on against their will. It wasn't the same kind of innocent she usually tried to save. They didn't have minds anymore, not really. And those affected by the disruptor would fight them, probably die for the effort. It would be strange to spare them, to try to undo the damage that was done; Lansing meant for it to be permanent, meant to be able to sell his perfected soldiers to the highest bidder. There was no saving them, no humanitarian action but to let them die while still vaguely human.
So she said nothing about the hospital and let Yelena pull her down to the bed, kissing her and pulling off her clothes. Natasha reached out for James, not wanting him to leave. Yelena had her tongue in Natasha's mouth, hands sliding across her skin as it was bared. Natasha helped and took off Yelena's clothes. The blonde was startled to see James staying nearby, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Hold her down," she ordered him.
James caught Natasha by the wrists and pinned them down to the bed above her head. "Promise me, Yelena," Natasha said, not even looking at James. "You won't go overboard. At the hospital, don't kill unless you have to. Don't make a mess."
"Can't destroy your innocents?" Yelena sneered, straddling Natasha's waist.
"You have to come back," Natasha insisted, eyes locked to the blonde's. "Promise me, Yelena. If too many die, they'll spare nothing to catch you, and you have to come back to me. Do what you need to do, just make sure you get out of that hospital and you come back."
Yelena's expression softened. Instead of looking haughty and angry, sure that Natasha was going to challenge her for supremacy, she smiled. "You do love me, don't you?" she asked, her smile almost pained at the edges. Natasha remembered her at age twelve or thirteen in the Red Room asking her the same thing. They had been beaten and locked in a steel room, no rations or water, and had to stay in the box for thirty-six hours. It would have been Yelena alone in solitary, but Natasha had taken the blame for the failed mission. Their superiors couldn't tell who was telling the truth, so they shared the same punishment.
Natasha smiled at her, soft and sweet as she had all those years ago. "Of course I do."
Relief and love shone through Yelena's expression. Memories must have slipped and slid inside her mind, too. She bent down to kiss Natasha, a hand cupping her cheek and the other helping her balance above Natasha. "I love you," she murmured. "I always will."
Sliding her tongue into Yelena's mouth, Natasha hooked a leg up to slide it along hers. "Then show me, Lena," she purred. "You have me where you want me."
Yelena laughed, a delighted and bright sound. She kissed Natasha, desire and joy evident in her touch. This was the girl Natasha remembered, the one she wanted to save from the Red Room all those years ago. This was who she had been once upon a time herself.
But the Red Room came, with guns and knives and teeth, turning girls into wolves and blades and wind up ballerina dolls and blank slates. Little girls alone couldn't fight it for long, couldn't stand up to the collective might of the Red Room.
Settling between Natasha's legs, Yelena kissed Natasha, mouth open and tongue running across her lips. She moved the hand down Natasha's throat to cup a breast, palm abrading the nipple slightly. Natasha's arms were held down, but she could wrap her legs around Yelena's waist, letting their bodies rub against each other. Yelena's breath quickened, and she moved faster, with sharper jerking movements as she mouthed kisses across Natasha's cheeks, jaw and neck. "Get out of your clothes," Natasha gasped.
She didn't need to be told twice, and licked a stripe up Natasha's belly before claiming her mouth again. Now it was skin on skin, James watching them move against each other. When Yelena moved down to suckle a breast, Natasha arched and cried out. She threw her head back, catching his eye. He was watching her, the pivot in this relationship, waiting to see what she would do. Beneath Yelena and the press of his hands, all she could do was feel. Yelena slid her fingers into her slick passage, working her body into a frenzy. Kiss me, she mouthed to James, so he shifted to kiss her and still keep her arms pinned to the bed.
When Yelena noticed that, she didn't even snarl or get jealous. She laughed and smiled coyly at James. "Let me get her ready for you, hm?" she purred.
Natasha moaned as Yelena scissored her two fingers inside of her and sucked on her clit. "Oh, Lena," she whimpered. The blonde had always known just where to touch and press to get her worked up, same as James. They completed her in different ways, and it always worked best when she didn't have to choose between them.
No, wait. She didn't have both of them in her bed at the same time before. That wasn't a real memory, it was one she had dreamed of, wasn't it? James behind her and his hands on her stomach and breasts, kissing her neck as she reached behind her to stroke him. Yelena in front of her, fingers between her thighs and mouth hot over hers. That happened, hadn't it?
What was happening to her memory?
She bucked beneath Yelena's mouth, straining against James' hands. Yes, yes, hold her in, hold her down, contain her, give her room to fly apart and lose control. She could have this, just this once, she wouldn't have to choose, wouldn't have to sacrifice, wouldn't have to tear herself apart to make everyone else happy. There were so rarely opportunities for this, when she didn't have to plot or plan or countermove.
Coming with a strangled groan, Natasha sagged down into the bed. Yelena still licked into her, still had her fingers working furiously to have her fly apart and dissolve into a puddle. James held her down with his metal hand and worked at his trousers with his flesh one, until his erect cock was free and brushing against her lips. Yes, she thought, opening her mouth to take him in, drown in the musky scent of his arousal. It turned out to be just a tease, because she couldn't suck in a breath with his cock in her mouth, not when she was trying to writhe. Yelena had her too close, too close, then spilling over the edges of her body.
"Lena," Natasha murmured when she was coming to, Yelena moving away from her and James shucking his pants to fuck her. Hands free, she propped herself up on one elbow and crooked a finger to beckon Yelena closer. "C'mere, gimme your pussy."
Yelena laughed again, delighted and terribly young in that moment. She kissed Natasha as James thrust into her, kneeling between her spread legs. Natasha licked into her mouth, holding her head in place, fingers tangled in her hair. She could taste herself on Yelena's tongue, could feel her tremors. Her other hand moved to pinch Yelena's nipple, making her squeal a little into Natasha's mouth. Letting go of her, Natasha helped move her into position over her mouth. It was easy to remember what Yelena liked, her body falling forward past Natasha's head, bracing herself on the bed with both hands. Natasha kept hold of her hips, thumbs spreading her wide and making it easier to taste her. James' cock twitched inside her at the sight, and he thrust even harder into her, making her breasts bounce.
Natasha could tell when Yelena was about to come by the way her thighs quivered against her cheeks. She thrust her tongue into Yelena, curling it a little, making Yelena mewl and moan deliciously. A little more, harder and just in the right spot had her crying out and shuddering as she came.
Now that there was nothing to distract her from the fullness inside her, and Natasha let her hands fall from Yelena's body. She moved off of her face, curling up around her as she writhed and gasped. Yelena held her close, cradling her as she closed her eyes and simply felt James fucking her hard, just as she liked it, then coming with a strangled groan. Yelena didn't even care about James falling heavily over them, bracing himself on his metal arm, or coming to lay down on top of Natasha. An arm around them both, Natasha kissed Yelena's cheek and then James'.
This was what she had to remember. This was the point of it all. This was what she had been fighting for all those years ago. People like Lansing and Sarkissian had to die before they destroyed more lives, left them in broken, jagged pieces. They couldn't walk away from the harm they did, and they couldn't pretend it never happened.
"Of course I'll come back to you," Yelena whispered into Natasha's ear in Russian. "You're home. We need each other."
James' breath was steady against her neck. "It will all be over soon," he promised.
And it would, in more ways than one.
***
Loki found Natasha alone in a rundown motel room. She looked tired, drawn thin in some places, but entirely hale and whole. Something like resentment flared in his chest. He had been worried sick, pining for her. A god pining for a mortal! She had reduced him to such a state without even trying, without it being her goal. Somehow, he had let her. Somehow, he had wanted her to do such a thing.
And it didn't even seem like it mattered to her.
Natasha looked up from scrubbing her hands in the sink. She was in her underwear, black clothing discarded at her feet. "You can't be here," she said. Loki could hear nothing in the cadence of her voice, as if he had no history with her.
She didn't move when he went to stand behind her, when he touched her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror, and hers looked empty. Loki looked down at her hands in the sink, and there was still some blood under her nails that she hadn't completely gotten rid of. "That's not your blood," he commented.
"Of course not."
She looked at him like a stranger, and after the vision on Yggdrasil, it was too much to take.
"Do you remember what you told me?" Loki asked, nearly shaking from the force of his emotions. "You told me the truth, did you not? You have always been honest with me before, even when I worked to undermine you. For all you hold dear, tell me the truth now," Loki cried, as close to begging as he could come.
I'll kill them if they get too close, Yelena had whispered into her ear, a hand fisted in her hair and the other buried between her legs, slicked and thrusting inside her at a steady pace. You belong to me, Natasha. You're mine. I'd even kill Winter if I thought we could spare him, but we need him. Yelena's fingers scissored inside of her, making her cry out and pull on the ropes holding her tight. Natasha was pinned, helpless beneath the onslaught of words and pleasure. Don't think I won't destroy them all to keep you.
You promised, Natasha had gasped, writhing beneath her, inner muscles clamping down tight on her fingers.
Yelena had laughed and pumped her fingers harder, until Natasha came. And you promised me. I remember, Natalia. I remember everything we promised each other. Yet you went to Winter. It wasn't for a job. You wanted him. You wanted him inside you. You had him fuck you. Her hand still moved, and Natasha whined and writhed. But him you can keep, I have no choice about that. The others... They aren't useful to me. You think so, Winter thinks so. But they're useless. So know this, Natalia. I will kill them all, make you watch me do it, and you will know it's because you betrayed me.
I didn't betray you, Natasha sobbed, twisting and gasping. Please, Yelena, please, she begged, unable to grasp her or shake her. The knots were too tight to slip through. I thought I'd lost you. I'd lost everything that mattered. They helped me. They got me through, they watched my back. Yelena pushed harder, making her groan in desperation. Please, Yelena. Please. Believe me, I didn't betray you. I would never betray you. It's always been you and me together in the Red Room. Natasha writhed, head thrown back as she started building toward another orgasm. It's going to be like it was. You and me. The Winter Soldier. We don't need anyone else, you don't need to waste your time on them. There's better things to do with your time.
Yelena didn't believe her, kept working her through the orgasm. Then she took her slicked fingers and pushed them against Natasha's ass, her thumb on Natasha's clit. And why should I believe you? You'd say anything right now.
No. The training. You know I can still think and plan. You know I'm not so far gone. She arched her back and cried out, pulling on the ropes again. Yelena, Yelena...
Another orgasm, and Yelena relented. She got up from the bed to wash her hand, then return to untie Natasha. Her wrists were raw, and Yelena tenderly licked the wounds. They'll heal in a few minutes, she told Natasha with a smile. Cherish them while you have them. This is our truth, our promise to each other.
Natasha remembered everything. And nothing.
"The truth isn't all things to all people at all times," Natasha said quietly, "and neither am I."
"Meaning?" Loki demanded.
"Meaning, I won't be back."
He reached out for her, but she took a step back. "You can't mean it. Your friends, you called them family." Loki managed to keep the desperation from his voice. "And you said you would contain me. You would be there."
Though she remained silent, Loki couldn't help but feel her guilt. That wasn't in the literal sense; she had not asked for the bond to be reinstated, and he wasn't going to look weak by begging for it. He refused to think it meant she hated him, and was glad to be rid of it. She wouldn't have saved him from Amora or brought her to Asgard to visit Frigga if that was the case. She wouldn't have said that sometimes he was a friend. Sometimes.
He deserved this, did he not? What other punishment would trouble him this way?
"You need to forget about me," Natasha said finally. "And tell the others to."
"Tell them yourself, if you can," Loki snapped. He still had his pride, and he was no one's errand boy. Her expression flickered for the briefest of moments, something like longing in her eyes. "I could remove them," Loki suggested, watching her closely. "Not kill them, I know how much you abhor that. Or I could remove you from their memories. The woman and that man will never know you ever existed. It won't pain them if I take you away."
He caught the flare of pain and panic in her eyes before it was suppressed. "No."
"Why not? If you care about all of us, is that not the best solution? No one dies." She had to be proud of him for that solution, rather that his simply killing them outright.
"Our memories have all been tampered with too much. Do not alter them."
He knew her sense of self had been hard won, that she hadn't always been the Natasha that he knew and loved. It had never occurred to him that others would have received the same treatment that she had. "Natasha..."
"I mean it, Loki. Don't touch them," she insisted when he remained silent.
"The others don't believe you have participated in murder. They think it is Belova."
"And what do you think?"
Her face was smoothed into an utterly blank mask. Loki found this more frightening than her prior flash of panic. She could be cruel, and Clint had said as much. They all knew how she had killed Amora, yet were willing to think it an anomaly.
Loki knew better.
"You did it," he said quietly. For a moment, her stillness actually brought to mind Therese from the group therapy sessions, though Natasha looked utterly blank instead of angry. "And what's more, I think you liked it. I think you enjoyed destroying those despicable excuses of humans. I think you felt as if you were destroying the ones that hurt you as a child."
Natasha's lips twitched. "Someone's been studying psychology."
Ignoring the barb, Loki grasped her hand. "Come home. Not for me," he said hastily, knowing she would not return for his sake. That pained him, but he pushed on. "The others miss you. They need your tempering influence."
"I am home. And Yelena and James need me, maybe more than anyone else does."
"They need more help than you can provide, isn't that so?"
"I can handle them."
"Natasha," he whispered insistently. "Let me help you. I can keep you safe. They're hurting you, breaking you apart." He reached out and grasped her hand, his heart quailing at her lack of response. "You cherish your mind, Natasha, and I know it's not the same."
Her expression hardened as he spoke, and Loki actually felt a twinge of fear. It wasn't that he thought she would physically harm him. He was too strong for that, and his magic could heal any major damage she chose to inflict on him. No, it was how cold she was, even for someone who never professed to love him in return. She knew him, all his weaknesses and strengths, and she looked like someone that would use it against him just because she could.
"You don't know me, Loki. You don't know what's happened, and you never will."
"Natasha..."
"Go back to New York. We're done here." She shot him such a withering look that he recoiled from her. "I have no reason to go back to New York, none at all. I'll let the lease on the Astoria apartment lapse. I won't need it anymore."
Stunned, Loki could only watch as she walked away. He made no move to go after her, even though he easily could have caught hold of her and kept her in one of his hideaways on Yggdrasil. Norns knew he dreamt of it often enough lately. But what then? How could he keep her there indefinitely if she hated him? If those two warped her mind and turned her into one of them? If they had no bond any longer?
He told himself it didn't matter. She didn't matter. It was a long game, that was all. A way to take apart the Essine Ruby. To gain the trust of these mortals and twist them to his will. He never wanted her, never.
Liar.
He knew this feeling for what it was: his heart breaking all over again.
The End.
Series: #14 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence and torture.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has returned.
Current chapter:
One - Knife Edge
Two - Crossing Boundaries
"We have a hit, and you're not going to like it."
Clint looked up as Steve came into the room. He had been spending more time around Avengers Tower, not wanting to be around SHIELD offices. There were too many things there reminding him of Natasha, even if it was just scaring off the newbie field agents. Of course, staying in the Tower meant that he ran into Loki more often. Clint wasn't sure what his deal was, but he wasn't always an insufferable ass, at least. Loki didn't seem to be into self harm at the moment, but he did look positively unhinged sometimes. Steve and Sam still took him out into the city on their do-good errands and such, which kept Loki occupied and at least not murderous. Clint drew the line at adding him to the card games at Steve's, and Bruce and Tony usually didn't bother to show up despite the standing invitation. Tony had Pepper to spend his time with, and Bruce usually stayed by himself to meditate. It was sad, and sometimes made him wonder if it was appropriate to track down Betty Ross to invite her over. Bruce deserved to be happy just as much as the rest of them did.
"What's going on?" Clint asked, frowning.
"We've been keeping an eye on known Hydra spots, since that's where the trio would likely go," Steve said. "If they're reestablishing the Red Room, it's a logical place to start."
"And?"
"And Ekaterina Sarkissian was brutally murdered in her own home five days ago. She was tortured, Clint," Steve added gently. "Just like the mages at Ophelia's house."
"So we know where Yelena was," Clint said with a sigh.
"Nat was there," Steve told him. "There was literally writing on the wall. It's her handwriting, and there's a positive print. Full print. In Sarkissian's blood."
"She's letting us know she's alive," Clint remarked, sitting up straighter. "She's still alive, that's good. We still have a shot in tracking her down and getting her out of there."
Thinking of the last time they had all seen each other, Clint nodded. "There should be clues there in the house. She would have left something behind for us, just like she did in her hotel room."
Steve put a folder down on the table in front of him and opened it. "Here's what I got from a contact," he said. "I translated the French for you."
"Why am I surprised that you have contacts?" Clint snarked.
Laughing, Steve paged through the folder and pulled out the photographs. "It's not as good as being there, but hey. I may know someone in the French consulate, that's all. You know, a fan of the cowl and shield."
Clint snickered. "Promising your favors, Steve? I thought you had the hots for Thor's friend Sif."
The abashed expression on Steve's face made Clint laugh out loud despite the tightening in his chest at the sight of the photos. "She's a great dame," Steve said finally.
"You are so lame sometimes," Clint scoffed. "And I know Sam tells you that all the damn time."
"Maybe."
"Where is he, by the way? He's practically been living here lately."
"Had an extra meeting to go to."
"Is that where our resident psychopath went?"
Steve frowned at him. "Loki's been very good about obeying Natasha's rules. He hasn't stepped out of line with any of us."
"Natasha's not here," he admitted heavily. "And we don't maim and torture for fun, so we can't keep him in line that way."
"I don't think he was ever the type to murder for fun," Steve remarked. It sounded like a rebuke.
Clint sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe not. But he's coming up empty trying to track Natasha."
"Sarkissian had mages cast spells on things. It's blocking what he can do."
"Maybe," Clint replied. "But for someone boasting constantly that he's better than all of us..."
"If you were in the middle of enemies-or at least people that really didn't like you, even if they weren't going to hurt you-wouldn't you claim to be better than others? Keep them off your back and stay safe?" Steve looked at Clint intently. "He's done monstrous things, and working with us isn't absolving him of that. I'm sure he thinks we'll lock him away somewhere. It's what they usually do on Asgard, after all," Steve added.
"He cares about Natasha," Steve continued, looking down at the array of photos. Ekaterina Sarkissian had been left a bloody, broken mess, too similar to the mages she had employed. "She was there, so maybe now he can pick up something that will help him track her down."
"Okay," Clint sighed, rubbing at his face. "We'll have to get Loki and explain all this. Hopefully he won't fly off the handle or act like a little shit."
"Sometimes he's almost decent."
"When it suits him."
"When it suits him," Steve agreed. "Which in this case, it will."
It did. Loki listened intently and looked at the photos avidly. "Yelena erased parts of her existence," he began as he shuffled through the pages of the file. "I've been trying to track Natasha's spá, since it was not erased." He pursed his lips unhappily. "But it is still blocked by whatever spells Yelena had arranged for. This may help, but I would not promise with any certainty."
"Do whatever you have to do," Clint told him. "We need to find her. Yelena's unhinged, that soldier is a soulless monster-sorry, Steve, but you can't think it's your friend anymore-and every moment Natasha's over there is a moment too long." He tapped the photo of Sarkissian's body. "If she's with them too long, I don't want them doing this to her."
Steve sighed. "Sam said the same thing when I told him about meeting Bucky. He said it's not Bucky anymore, that maybe he's not the kind you save."
"Maybe he isn't."
"But that's what they said of Natasha," Loki said abruptly, standing up. "They told you she couldn't be saved, that she had to be stopped at any cost."
"She wasn't that far gone," Clint replied, nodding. Loki had seen that much in his head.
"We won't know anything for certain until we see them," Steve said. "Not when they feel threatened, but if they feel equal."
"I know you're all for truth and justice and whatnot," Clint began, shaking his head at Steve, "but I don't think they will ever see us anything other than a threat."
"They can't keep Natasha," Loki said, a dangerous and hard edge to his voice. The other two men startled at the sound of it and simply stared at him. Clint hadn't heard that tone in a long time, not since his possession, actually. They will fall. They have no other choice. I cannot give them any other choice.
"The trick will be finding Natasha without them knowing you did," Steve reminded him.
Loki's grin was full of teeth, a manic shark's grin. Clint felt very sorry for Yelena right then, because he could see Loki ripping out her throat with those teeth.
"With the power of Yggdrasil behind me, they'll never see me coming," Loki promised.
Clint absolutely believed him in that moment.
***
Dr. Edward Lansing worked out of San Marino State Hospital as one of the staff physicians. He was of average height, with black hair and black eyes that blinked owlishly from behind glasses. Skilled in medicine and biochemistry, Dr. Lansing used the locked psychiatric unit as his hunting ground without the knowledge of the attending psychiatrist. At AIM's behest, he had spent the past ten years working to recreate a super soldier serum formula that had died with Dr. Erskine. He crafted his own compounds and performed surgeries as he felt was necessary, especially if the chosen victim had no guardian to lodge formal protest. Many of the losses suffered initially during his experiments had been chalked up to complications from medical treatments and the patients' poor health status.
It was only in the past few years that Dr. Lansing's formula seemed to bear fruit. His version did make people stronger, but left them childlike. This made them easier to control, and he kept the instructions simple as well. They may have had limited efficacy, but what they could understand they did well. "You can't win it all," he had once told Ekaterina Sarkissian during a meeting discussing his research. "But don't discount the power they can have."
He was not the type to leave much to chance. It would be noticeable if half of his selected population died and the other half operated with the intellectual capacity of a three year old rather than a six or seven year old. Dr. Lansing developed a neural disruptor to try to control "ordinary" minds that he hadn't altered with his serum. It kept the hospital staff blissfully ignorant and able to abet his crimes.
Natasha had a fair number of the toys SHIELD had developed for her use, as well as whatever Yelena had stolen from Ophelia's labs. She had utterly decimated Hydra's power structure, all but destroying the organization. The peons left wouldn't be able to recreate the entire administration, and would be left more or less to their own devices. That would ultimately lead to their capture by various policing agencies, but Yelena didn't care about that. She had not only slaughtered the mages AIM had hired, but a fair bit of their top level agents as well. Yelena hadn't been sure if there were devices to counter Lansing's neural disruptor, which meant that they might be vulnerable to its effects.
"We've had our heads messed with too much," Natasha said, rubbing her face tiredly. "I don't want to lose it all over again."
"So the three of us have to attack at once, and not at the hospital," Yelena replied. "That's where he most likely keeps it. There's recon to do, of course-"
"-we'll need to know if he has a disruptor at home, too," James said, drumming his fingers on the small table where he was sitting. "That's going to be the easier location to infiltrate. The hospital likely has too many checkpoints and lockdown levels, since it's got a psychiatric ward, and those are usually locked."
"It'll be easy enough to bypass any security system he might have," Natasha said.
"This should be a team effort and not a solo op," James told them. "Going alone in this case could be a disaster. Even if he didn't work with AIM and would be competition, he must be eliminated immediately. All three of us would be too vulnerable to that disruptor."
"And we can't have any vulnerability," Yelena said, voice hard. "We're the best, the survivors of the Red Room. And Department X," she added, looking at James. "Staying at the top means eliminating as much of the competition as possible."
The day Natasha had killed Ekaterina Sarkissian, Yelena had been looking into the next potential target for the Red Room. Her goal was making herself visible, the better to ensure that the glory of the Red Room would be known, and she could command a fair price when negotiating a brand new contract. Eliminating Dr. Lansing was a necessity, but it was a death they all could take a measure of pride in. He went about stealing lives and choices, and now that could end. A justifiable death if there ever was one.
"We'll take the disruptor," Natasha declared abruptly. "Not destroy it. We'll destroy any plans to make it, any research he did on it, and no one else can build one." Understanding began to dawn in their eyes. "But if we have it, and we control others..."
"It will help us get the other big names off the map."
Natasha told herself that SHIELD could never eliminate these groups legally. They hid in legal loopholes and countries with no extradition treaties. AIM and Hydra were trying to fill their power vacuums at the moment and easy to pick off. If they could do the same to the Ten Rings, Hand, Project Centipede, Black Spectre, the Brotherhood, the Vory or Yakuza... Some good could come from this. A little death and mayhem, and the world would be a little bit safer. She was no angel anyway, Ivan had seen to that. But he had considered himself a patriot, had honestly thought the Academy was a safe place for her. He had believed himself her father, thought that the glory of Mother Russia was important. It wasn't his fault everything fell apart, that life had only gotten harder over time.
Loss, deprivation and scarcity had left their indelible marks on her consciousness. Even if she appreciated fine things, she knew they weren't permanent. Things were fleeting. Sometimes people were, too. Nothing lasted forever; only children thought they could freeze moments in time and hoard them like jewels.
All she knew was sacrifice. What was a little bit more?
***
The space between the branches of Yggdrasil was quiet and still. The edges of magic glittered and shimmered for those who could see it, a shift in the fabric of reality. Loose tendrils of magic spun out from the main branches like twisting vines, and it was tucked away on those vines that Loki had crafted different hideaways. In a stronger juncture between branches, anchored with dragon bones and lost runes, were the nine rings of power Amora had crafted that SHIELD did not have in their possession. Or, Bruce didn't, but he was nominally working with Tony at SHIELD's behest.
Loki found himself drawn to the cage of bones, the nine rings floating within its sphere. He could feel the immense power there, knew how seductive and dangerous it could be. Desire pulled at him, begging him to make a fatal mistake and tuck himself inside the cage. We will be all for you, they promised. But that was a lie. No one and nothing could be all, not even Natasha, and she came the closest of any living being without even trying.
It was for Natasha that he collected these rings, and for her that he was back, even thinking about courting madness once more. Or perhaps he was already mad, and this would merely tip the balance further into that column.
Even without touching the bones, Loki tried to draw the power of the rings into himself. It wasn't the same as deconstructing the Essine Ruby. That had been delicious and wondrous, reshaping his innermost self as well as fueling the complicated magicks that had made him female and provided the basis for the protection spells on the bracelets he had made.
He had the shape of Natasha's fingerprint from the crime scene, strands of her hair and one of her camisoles from her hamper. Clint and Steve would no doubt call him a creeper for such a move, but a used camisole carried sweat and skin cells, further personal ties to anchor a locator spell strong enough to combat Yelena's blockade.
Floating in the ether, Loki sat cross legged in front of the dragon bone cage with Natasha's belongings. A thought, and they floated in the space between him and the cage.
Time to work his seidr and trace her spá.
He found Natasha's life thread as it intersected Ekaterina Sarkissian's. His consciousness traveled to the south of France, and he watched her scale the fence, climb to the roof of the building in the blind spot of the security system, and then creep across the building's façade. The blind spot was only two and a half feet wide, the sill three inches wide. Both were difficult to scale, but Natasha moved quickly, as if it was no trouble at all. Then again, with her training, it truly was no trouble for her to complete. Cutting open a pane of glass with a diamond-bladed tool, Natasha reached inside and opened the window. It didn't trigger the alarm, which would only activate if the sash was forced from the outside. She slithered inside, the faint light letting Loki see the series of knives and guns strapped to her body, the garrote and Widow's bites visible on her wristlets. She didn't have her nanomesh armor or other SHIELD issue belongings, which had been left behind when Yelena had taken her.
Speaking of which, Loki didn't see Yelena at all.
For someone aware of Natasha's capacity for cruelty, Clint was willfully blind. This had been Natasha's kill from start to finish, her revenge for Andorra, her way to extract the information she had wanted during that job.
Loki tried to trace Natasha's thread further, but the blockage stood in his way. He pushed harder, drawing on the power of the rings. You will let me pass, damn it all. You will let me see her, he demanded of the spá.
But fate never liked being commanded, and his efforts were shunted aside. Instead of moving forward, Loki's consciousness was thrown sideways and backward. Or maybe it was a separate strand of fate, a reality that never was and never could be.
Because Natasha was grinning at him, her arms looped around his neck as he carried her. They were in a large, airy room that reminded him more of his old quarters in Asgard. But this was definitely a Midgard home, the windows large and with sunlight streaming through. He could see trees and a garden beyond the glass, a winding staircase looping up to a second story from the vestibule. Wait, where were they standing?
"Don't tell me you're thinking of work," Natasha chided him playfully. "Not when we finally got a whole week off to ourselves."
He caught the glint of a ring, and suddenly realized that he wore a platinum band on his left hand, runic designs etched into the metal. She wore a matching one, studded with moonstones in artfully but magically significant locations on the ring. They were married, he realized suddenly, and worked together for SHIELD.
"No," he told her truthfully, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "I'm not thinking of work at all." He dipped his head down to taste her lips. "Just of you."
"Flatterer," she purred.
Their bedroom was as large as the room below, yet felt cozy. A king sized bed with forest green chenille spread, satin sheets, gauzy white fabric woven into the slats of the headboard. The furniture was of cherry wood, the carpets had a deep pile and the windows opened to a view of the garden. In the corner was a rocking chair and empty crib; somehow, he knew that the child was with a babysitter fully vetted and backed by SHIELD, in the off chance someone would think to harm the Black Widow and Trickster through their child.
They were lying on the bed next, Loki somehow losing time in the transition. Natasha was beneath him, her fingers threaded through his hair. It was wavy and long, and he liked the feel of her combing his tresses languidly as they kissed. He was propped up on one arm, his other skimming down her torso over her dress, until he reached her hip. It was a white dress, simple silken fabric, nothing fancy or special. She hadn't even worn weapons beneath the sleeves or strapped to her thighs, trusting him to take care of her safety while they were out at dinner together. Their anniversary dinner, two years married, five together as lovers.
Something pulsed and throbbed painfully in his chest. Could this be the future he could have made? Though his opportunity to pull apart and reshape reality was gone now, and he probably would have made errors invalidating this reality. The spá was so difficult to shape, after all. Tracing its path was hard enough, but reweaving reality to his liking? He never had the patience to take on that task.
Natasha's legs fell open, the skirt of the dress falling aside. She wore nothing more than a scrap of lacy fabric over her sex, waxed bare as a way to tease him. He liked the feel of her smooth skin as he traced her folds, but he also liked her coarse curls. Loki liked all of her, the swell of her breasts and curve of her hip, the way her belly hollowed when she lay on her back, the way her back swayed when she knelt on all fours in front of him. Natasha was beautiful and deadly, a scourge the mafia was afraid of.
She groaned and moaned so prettily for him, urging him on to do more than just fuck her with his fingers, but he teased her by swiping his thumb across her clit instead of merely sinking his cock into her. And then there was a touch of magic, giving her the sensation of his mouth on each breast as he kissed her, tongue stroking hers. She mewled against his mouth, panting and nearly yanking on his hair. Her other hand was at his back, scratching through his shirt. "Yes," she crooned when she shifted her head to draw in a breath. "Right there, God, you feel so good, just keep on going like that..."
Of course he would obey that kind of demand. Of course he would want her to cry out, come and tighten around his fingers. Then as the aftershocks hit her, he opened the front of his pants and pushed the fabric aside, sinking his cock into her. There was only a single layer, at least, as he didn't like the feel of mortal undergarments. The inconvenient part of this habit was the obvious wetness when his cock wept for want of her sex. But she was wet for him, slick and warm, like a fist around his cock. Loki moved his hand to her thigh, lifting her leg. She locked both of them around his waist, throwing her head back against the pillow, exposing the long column of her throat. He mouthed it, whispering endearments in Allspeak as she moaned in Russian. His thrusts were deep and long, slow at first, drawing out the inevitable conclusion. But this couldn't last forever, and he was speeding up almost against his will.
They lay tangled together afterward, and she rolled over on top of him. His seed dripped down her thighs, smearing across her dress and his pants. Natasha had a devilish twinkle in her eyes as she grinned down at him, her hands on his shoulders. "Use that magic to get hard again," she purred, sliding her slit along his soft cock. "C'mon, c'mon, I'm not done with you yet."
"You're insatiable," he teased, answering her grin.
"C'mon, fuck me hard, make me scream." Leaning back, she lifted the dress and took it off, tossing it aside. "Make me pass out from how good it is."
"Your wish is my command."
The spell was a simple one he'd used with her before, the minx. He was thick and hard again in no time, and she laughed delightedly as she wrested his clothes from him. All right, he helped, he was certainly no saint able to resist her. Natasha hummed contentedly as she sank down over him, taking him inside until he bottomed out, the head of his cock hitting the cervix. She rode him hard, clutching his thighs behind her, her breasts bouncing with each downward slide. Her eyes shut and she threw her head back when she came, Loki's fingers on her clit to help her along. He slid his other hand up from her waist to her breasts, kneading and stroking the slope of it as she slowed. "If I'm to make you pass out," he began, tapping her thigh, "then I suggest another position for it."
Natasha eagerly got on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, allowing him to stand and guide his cock into her. Loki slammed into her, making her cry out with each thrust. She pulled at the sheet and pressed her face into the bed to muffle her cries. Grasping her hair and tugging, Loki panted "Let me hear you, love."
She lifted her head then, nearly howling in pleasure as he fucked her hard and deep, fingers digging into her hips to keep her balanced. Pressure built up at the base of his cock, twitching and only too ready to spill into her again. When she clenched down tight on him, that was too much. He came, spurting his seed, hands painfully tight on her hips now. She would bruise by morning, though Natasha didn't mind. She often traced them with a fingertip and told him how they made her remember how she got them in the first place. Loki was usually the one most uncomfortable with such displays, having been raised to treat a lady with respect. That worked most of the time, but times like this in the bedroom, a little rougher edge made the pleasure that much more delicious.
Lying sprawled across the bed, Natasha laughed breathlessly and pulled Loki down to the bed with her. "I love you," she told him, her expression one of shining affection.
Though it was everything his heart desired, Loki knew this wasn't real.
His consciousness was yanked out of this reality as the other Loki returned the endearment. He was a fool, such a fool. There would be no children. He was incapable of becoming a father in this lifetime. Natasha would never say she loved him, even if she actually did.
Loki wanted to scream and sob at the horror of it all. His magic skittered along the edges of the spá, unable to push forward. He couldn't bend her future to his will, could never insure that what he wanted would come to pass.
And then he was screaming, with only the emptiness of the Void to hear him. He was alone, alone, always alone, and he knew he deserved this. He didn't deserve Natasha's love, if she could even bear to house such an emotion. She was with two seasoned killers without any compunction whatsoever, and most likely over time she would resemble them.
Come back to me, Natasha, he thought, tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn't bear to look into the emptiness of the Void. By whatever you feel is holy, please come back to me. I am nothing without you, I see that now. I am an empty mirror while you're gone...
There. The faintest glimmer of something, and he hoped it was a thread of her spá. As he grew closer, he could see that it was, a bit frayed in places and rewoven in complex patterns he didn't recognize. But there was her underlying pattern, and he seized hold of it as tightly as he could, trying to get as close to the present day as possible.
Blink.
***
San Marino State Hospital was a tall and ugly building, the type Natasha and Steve would poke fun at. Most state hospitals seemed to be overbearing, gloomy, and industrial in appearance. It did have very good security and locked wards, which would have made getting in and out a lot more difficult than Natasha wanted. Dr. Edward Lansing's home, however, was not built like a fortress and certainly not defended like one. It was a small three bedroom home in a suburb, with a two car garage and small yard. He wasn't particularly close to his neighbors, and had a privacy fence along the edge of his property in the back. He had no pets and was single, with no girlfriend or children. There was a fairly standard alarm system on his home, one that Natasha could disarm in her sleep.
Yelena decided to do the recon on her own. She broke in while he was at the hospital and did a careful and thorough search of the house. She couldn't find the disruptor, and there were no files regarding its creation on his home computer.
Which meant there was only one, and it was at the hospital.
"If we kill him at his home, the experiments are done," Natasha mused, arms crossed over her chest. "Then there's breaking into the hospital. We can go in, ostensibly to release his subjects, but really, we're looking for the disruptor in his office. In the chaos, no one will know what the real target of our break in was."
"You're sure it has to be a break in?" Yelena asked, head tilted to the side.
"The other way to ensure the disruptor is even there would be to do a long term infiltration. But I'm sure none of us want to play the role of a mental patient and get experimented on," Natasha replied dryly. "Enough has been done to us already. Once we stop him, we can move on to the next target, too."
James looked at Natasha, his facial features revealing nothing, but his eyes assessing. "You're really with us on that." He paused. "I would have thought you'd be against killing."
Natasha gave him a level look, and saw that Yelena's expression was blank out of the corner of her eye. Still, Yelena would be hanging on her every word. "This man is far from innocent. Just because I've worked with SHIELD doesn't mean I didn't kill. It just had to serve a purpose."
"And the purpose here?"
"Stop him from developing that serum or destroying other minds."
"How virtuous," James remarked mildly.
"His serum doesn't work right. How long until someone finds his research and figures out where he went wrong?" Natasha asked archly.
"I'll take the hospital," James replied abruptly. "You go through the house after you kill him, in case he'd hidden it somewhere that Yelena could not see."
He was giving her the least visible locations. Was he trying to protect her reputation at SHIELD?
"I'll take care of him," she said with a nod.
Yelena looked between them. "And what about me?"
James looked at her. "I thought you would come with me. Watch my back in the hospital."
That mollified her. "Well, then. Yes."
Natasha knew it would mean a high death toll at the hospital. Innocents might die, though the innocents here were patients experimented on against their will. It wasn't the same kind of innocent she usually tried to save. They didn't have minds anymore, not really. And those affected by the disruptor would fight them, probably die for the effort. It would be strange to spare them, to try to undo the damage that was done; Lansing meant for it to be permanent, meant to be able to sell his perfected soldiers to the highest bidder. There was no saving them, no humanitarian action but to let them die while still vaguely human.
So she said nothing about the hospital and let Yelena pull her down to the bed, kissing her and pulling off her clothes. Natasha reached out for James, not wanting him to leave. Yelena had her tongue in Natasha's mouth, hands sliding across her skin as it was bared. Natasha helped and took off Yelena's clothes. The blonde was startled to see James staying nearby, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Hold her down," she ordered him.
James caught Natasha by the wrists and pinned them down to the bed above her head. "Promise me, Yelena," Natasha said, not even looking at James. "You won't go overboard. At the hospital, don't kill unless you have to. Don't make a mess."
"Can't destroy your innocents?" Yelena sneered, straddling Natasha's waist.
"You have to come back," Natasha insisted, eyes locked to the blonde's. "Promise me, Yelena. If too many die, they'll spare nothing to catch you, and you have to come back to me. Do what you need to do, just make sure you get out of that hospital and you come back."
Yelena's expression softened. Instead of looking haughty and angry, sure that Natasha was going to challenge her for supremacy, she smiled. "You do love me, don't you?" she asked, her smile almost pained at the edges. Natasha remembered her at age twelve or thirteen in the Red Room asking her the same thing. They had been beaten and locked in a steel room, no rations or water, and had to stay in the box for thirty-six hours. It would have been Yelena alone in solitary, but Natasha had taken the blame for the failed mission. Their superiors couldn't tell who was telling the truth, so they shared the same punishment.
Natasha smiled at her, soft and sweet as she had all those years ago. "Of course I do."
Relief and love shone through Yelena's expression. Memories must have slipped and slid inside her mind, too. She bent down to kiss Natasha, a hand cupping her cheek and the other helping her balance above Natasha. "I love you," she murmured. "I always will."
Sliding her tongue into Yelena's mouth, Natasha hooked a leg up to slide it along hers. "Then show me, Lena," she purred. "You have me where you want me."
Yelena laughed, a delighted and bright sound. She kissed Natasha, desire and joy evident in her touch. This was the girl Natasha remembered, the one she wanted to save from the Red Room all those years ago. This was who she had been once upon a time herself.
But the Red Room came, with guns and knives and teeth, turning girls into wolves and blades and wind up ballerina dolls and blank slates. Little girls alone couldn't fight it for long, couldn't stand up to the collective might of the Red Room.
Settling between Natasha's legs, Yelena kissed Natasha, mouth open and tongue running across her lips. She moved the hand down Natasha's throat to cup a breast, palm abrading the nipple slightly. Natasha's arms were held down, but she could wrap her legs around Yelena's waist, letting their bodies rub against each other. Yelena's breath quickened, and she moved faster, with sharper jerking movements as she mouthed kisses across Natasha's cheeks, jaw and neck. "Get out of your clothes," Natasha gasped.
She didn't need to be told twice, and licked a stripe up Natasha's belly before claiming her mouth again. Now it was skin on skin, James watching them move against each other. When Yelena moved down to suckle a breast, Natasha arched and cried out. She threw her head back, catching his eye. He was watching her, the pivot in this relationship, waiting to see what she would do. Beneath Yelena and the press of his hands, all she could do was feel. Yelena slid her fingers into her slick passage, working her body into a frenzy. Kiss me, she mouthed to James, so he shifted to kiss her and still keep her arms pinned to the bed.
When Yelena noticed that, she didn't even snarl or get jealous. She laughed and smiled coyly at James. "Let me get her ready for you, hm?" she purred.
Natasha moaned as Yelena scissored her two fingers inside of her and sucked on her clit. "Oh, Lena," she whimpered. The blonde had always known just where to touch and press to get her worked up, same as James. They completed her in different ways, and it always worked best when she didn't have to choose between them.
No, wait. She didn't have both of them in her bed at the same time before. That wasn't a real memory, it was one she had dreamed of, wasn't it? James behind her and his hands on her stomach and breasts, kissing her neck as she reached behind her to stroke him. Yelena in front of her, fingers between her thighs and mouth hot over hers. That happened, hadn't it?
What was happening to her memory?
She bucked beneath Yelena's mouth, straining against James' hands. Yes, yes, hold her in, hold her down, contain her, give her room to fly apart and lose control. She could have this, just this once, she wouldn't have to choose, wouldn't have to sacrifice, wouldn't have to tear herself apart to make everyone else happy. There were so rarely opportunities for this, when she didn't have to plot or plan or countermove.
Coming with a strangled groan, Natasha sagged down into the bed. Yelena still licked into her, still had her fingers working furiously to have her fly apart and dissolve into a puddle. James held her down with his metal hand and worked at his trousers with his flesh one, until his erect cock was free and brushing against her lips. Yes, she thought, opening her mouth to take him in, drown in the musky scent of his arousal. It turned out to be just a tease, because she couldn't suck in a breath with his cock in her mouth, not when she was trying to writhe. Yelena had her too close, too close, then spilling over the edges of her body.
"Lena," Natasha murmured when she was coming to, Yelena moving away from her and James shucking his pants to fuck her. Hands free, she propped herself up on one elbow and crooked a finger to beckon Yelena closer. "C'mere, gimme your pussy."
Yelena laughed again, delighted and terribly young in that moment. She kissed Natasha as James thrust into her, kneeling between her spread legs. Natasha licked into her mouth, holding her head in place, fingers tangled in her hair. She could taste herself on Yelena's tongue, could feel her tremors. Her other hand moved to pinch Yelena's nipple, making her squeal a little into Natasha's mouth. Letting go of her, Natasha helped move her into position over her mouth. It was easy to remember what Yelena liked, her body falling forward past Natasha's head, bracing herself on the bed with both hands. Natasha kept hold of her hips, thumbs spreading her wide and making it easier to taste her. James' cock twitched inside her at the sight, and he thrust even harder into her, making her breasts bounce.
Natasha could tell when Yelena was about to come by the way her thighs quivered against her cheeks. She thrust her tongue into Yelena, curling it a little, making Yelena mewl and moan deliciously. A little more, harder and just in the right spot had her crying out and shuddering as she came.
Now that there was nothing to distract her from the fullness inside her, and Natasha let her hands fall from Yelena's body. She moved off of her face, curling up around her as she writhed and gasped. Yelena held her close, cradling her as she closed her eyes and simply felt James fucking her hard, just as she liked it, then coming with a strangled groan. Yelena didn't even care about James falling heavily over them, bracing himself on his metal arm, or coming to lay down on top of Natasha. An arm around them both, Natasha kissed Yelena's cheek and then James'.
This was what she had to remember. This was the point of it all. This was what she had been fighting for all those years ago. People like Lansing and Sarkissian had to die before they destroyed more lives, left them in broken, jagged pieces. They couldn't walk away from the harm they did, and they couldn't pretend it never happened.
"Of course I'll come back to you," Yelena whispered into Natasha's ear in Russian. "You're home. We need each other."
James' breath was steady against her neck. "It will all be over soon," he promised.
And it would, in more ways than one.
***
Loki found Natasha alone in a rundown motel room. She looked tired, drawn thin in some places, but entirely hale and whole. Something like resentment flared in his chest. He had been worried sick, pining for her. A god pining for a mortal! She had reduced him to such a state without even trying, without it being her goal. Somehow, he had let her. Somehow, he had wanted her to do such a thing.
And it didn't even seem like it mattered to her.
Natasha looked up from scrubbing her hands in the sink. She was in her underwear, black clothing discarded at her feet. "You can't be here," she said. Loki could hear nothing in the cadence of her voice, as if he had no history with her.
She didn't move when he went to stand behind her, when he touched her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror, and hers looked empty. Loki looked down at her hands in the sink, and there was still some blood under her nails that she hadn't completely gotten rid of. "That's not your blood," he commented.
"Of course not."
She looked at him like a stranger, and after the vision on Yggdrasil, it was too much to take.
"Do you remember what you told me?" Loki asked, nearly shaking from the force of his emotions. "You told me the truth, did you not? You have always been honest with me before, even when I worked to undermine you. For all you hold dear, tell me the truth now," Loki cried, as close to begging as he could come.
I'll kill them if they get too close, Yelena had whispered into her ear, a hand fisted in her hair and the other buried between her legs, slicked and thrusting inside her at a steady pace. You belong to me, Natasha. You're mine. I'd even kill Winter if I thought we could spare him, but we need him. Yelena's fingers scissored inside of her, making her cry out and pull on the ropes holding her tight. Natasha was pinned, helpless beneath the onslaught of words and pleasure. Don't think I won't destroy them all to keep you.
You promised, Natasha had gasped, writhing beneath her, inner muscles clamping down tight on her fingers.
Yelena had laughed and pumped her fingers harder, until Natasha came. And you promised me. I remember, Natalia. I remember everything we promised each other. Yet you went to Winter. It wasn't for a job. You wanted him. You wanted him inside you. You had him fuck you. Her hand still moved, and Natasha whined and writhed. But him you can keep, I have no choice about that. The others... They aren't useful to me. You think so, Winter thinks so. But they're useless. So know this, Natalia. I will kill them all, make you watch me do it, and you will know it's because you betrayed me.
I didn't betray you, Natasha sobbed, twisting and gasping. Please, Yelena, please, she begged, unable to grasp her or shake her. The knots were too tight to slip through. I thought I'd lost you. I'd lost everything that mattered. They helped me. They got me through, they watched my back. Yelena pushed harder, making her groan in desperation. Please, Yelena. Please. Believe me, I didn't betray you. I would never betray you. It's always been you and me together in the Red Room. Natasha writhed, head thrown back as she started building toward another orgasm. It's going to be like it was. You and me. The Winter Soldier. We don't need anyone else, you don't need to waste your time on them. There's better things to do with your time.
Yelena didn't believe her, kept working her through the orgasm. Then she took her slicked fingers and pushed them against Natasha's ass, her thumb on Natasha's clit. And why should I believe you? You'd say anything right now.
No. The training. You know I can still think and plan. You know I'm not so far gone. She arched her back and cried out, pulling on the ropes again. Yelena, Yelena...
Another orgasm, and Yelena relented. She got up from the bed to wash her hand, then return to untie Natasha. Her wrists were raw, and Yelena tenderly licked the wounds. They'll heal in a few minutes, she told Natasha with a smile. Cherish them while you have them. This is our truth, our promise to each other.
Natasha remembered everything. And nothing.
"The truth isn't all things to all people at all times," Natasha said quietly, "and neither am I."
"Meaning?" Loki demanded.
"Meaning, I won't be back."
He reached out for her, but she took a step back. "You can't mean it. Your friends, you called them family." Loki managed to keep the desperation from his voice. "And you said you would contain me. You would be there."
Though she remained silent, Loki couldn't help but feel her guilt. That wasn't in the literal sense; she had not asked for the bond to be reinstated, and he wasn't going to look weak by begging for it. He refused to think it meant she hated him, and was glad to be rid of it. She wouldn't have saved him from Amora or brought her to Asgard to visit Frigga if that was the case. She wouldn't have said that sometimes he was a friend. Sometimes.
He deserved this, did he not? What other punishment would trouble him this way?
"You need to forget about me," Natasha said finally. "And tell the others to."
"Tell them yourself, if you can," Loki snapped. He still had his pride, and he was no one's errand boy. Her expression flickered for the briefest of moments, something like longing in her eyes. "I could remove them," Loki suggested, watching her closely. "Not kill them, I know how much you abhor that. Or I could remove you from their memories. The woman and that man will never know you ever existed. It won't pain them if I take you away."
He caught the flare of pain and panic in her eyes before it was suppressed. "No."
"Why not? If you care about all of us, is that not the best solution? No one dies." She had to be proud of him for that solution, rather that his simply killing them outright.
"Our memories have all been tampered with too much. Do not alter them."
He knew her sense of self had been hard won, that she hadn't always been the Natasha that he knew and loved. It had never occurred to him that others would have received the same treatment that she had. "Natasha..."
"I mean it, Loki. Don't touch them," she insisted when he remained silent.
"The others don't believe you have participated in murder. They think it is Belova."
"And what do you think?"
Her face was smoothed into an utterly blank mask. Loki found this more frightening than her prior flash of panic. She could be cruel, and Clint had said as much. They all knew how she had killed Amora, yet were willing to think it an anomaly.
Loki knew better.
"You did it," he said quietly. For a moment, her stillness actually brought to mind Therese from the group therapy sessions, though Natasha looked utterly blank instead of angry. "And what's more, I think you liked it. I think you enjoyed destroying those despicable excuses of humans. I think you felt as if you were destroying the ones that hurt you as a child."
Natasha's lips twitched. "Someone's been studying psychology."
Ignoring the barb, Loki grasped her hand. "Come home. Not for me," he said hastily, knowing she would not return for his sake. That pained him, but he pushed on. "The others miss you. They need your tempering influence."
"I am home. And Yelena and James need me, maybe more than anyone else does."
"They need more help than you can provide, isn't that so?"
"I can handle them."
"Natasha," he whispered insistently. "Let me help you. I can keep you safe. They're hurting you, breaking you apart." He reached out and grasped her hand, his heart quailing at her lack of response. "You cherish your mind, Natasha, and I know it's not the same."
Her expression hardened as he spoke, and Loki actually felt a twinge of fear. It wasn't that he thought she would physically harm him. He was too strong for that, and his magic could heal any major damage she chose to inflict on him. No, it was how cold she was, even for someone who never professed to love him in return. She knew him, all his weaknesses and strengths, and she looked like someone that would use it against him just because she could.
"You don't know me, Loki. You don't know what's happened, and you never will."
"Natasha..."
"Go back to New York. We're done here." She shot him such a withering look that he recoiled from her. "I have no reason to go back to New York, none at all. I'll let the lease on the Astoria apartment lapse. I won't need it anymore."
Stunned, Loki could only watch as she walked away. He made no move to go after her, even though he easily could have caught hold of her and kept her in one of his hideaways on Yggdrasil. Norns knew he dreamt of it often enough lately. But what then? How could he keep her there indefinitely if she hated him? If those two warped her mind and turned her into one of them? If they had no bond any longer?
He told himself it didn't matter. She didn't matter. It was a long game, that was all. A way to take apart the Essine Ruby. To gain the trust of these mortals and twist them to his will. He never wanted her, never.
Liar.
He knew this feeling for what it was: his heart breaking all over again.
The End.