Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-08-29 13:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, marvel (tv/movies): natasha romanoff, → week 019 (the monolith) |
Day 7 | Monolith
Loki stumbled backward, his feet sliding across the old wooden floor of the gym, momentarily reeling from Natasha’s punch. He managed to maintain his balance but just barely. For a split second a dark look flashed across his features. Then it slipped away, replaced with a knowing smirk. “Are you even trying?” Loki sneered. He had the distinct impression that Natasha was holding back. Then again, it was a first punch. Maybe she was just warming up. He shook his head, his hair swooping back over his shoulders. Then he rolled his neck from one side to the other, cracking at the top joint of his spine. “Oh, come on! You could hit harder than that before you had super powers!” Loki mocked. All in jest of course. He still felt a bit of a trill in his chest where her fist landed. It was definitely a harder hit than any normal human could have thrown. But Loki wasn’t going to compliment her just yet. Besides, this was as much fun and games as it was practice. Although, maybe it hadn’t exactly been the wisest decision to let the notorious Agent Romanoff use him as his experimental punching bag. Then again, she had to learn what the limits of her strength were eventually. And there weren’t really many options for adequate sparring partners around Derleth. None that could handle going a few rounds with a super powered individual, that is. And Loki was used to getting thrown about. Point of Reference: The Hulk. He lunged toward her with his upper body as though he might go for a jab, but at the last second ducked down and kicked a leg out to sweep out her forward foot. Natasha's mind processed information differently. Maybe that was because she'd been cycled through the Red Room's programming a few times before now, maybe it was just that potential that Melina had talked about. The program that assessed infants and their potential. Either way, she had become the type of person who had multiple choices ahead of her for a series of predictions. Not the kind of predictions someone like Strange would make, where he could literally see the future. Or the kind of predictions that Wanda could make, seeing into someone's mind. These were more like the kind that Steve could handle, processing multiple streams of information at once and then choosing a pose that would best predict several outcomes. It also helped that Natasha was completely attuned with her body. She knew every muscle, every bone, and knew how to play them as if she was a symphonic orchestra. She was a consummate chess player in that respect, knowing which parts to sacrifice to ensure that her mission, her goal was achieved. Limping, bleeding, sore… That didn't matter so much as getting what she needed. And what she needed was to get Loki on his back. Adjusting to super strength was difficult, yes, but now she had super stamina, durability, endurance, and agility. Her favorite though was superhuman reflexes. It meant that even if she misjudged a person's intentions, she had the reflexes to counter it. With a normal human being, that meant she moved much faster than they could, but with an Asgardian god? It meant she felt like something of a god herself. "Who knew Loki, of Asgard, was into BDSM?" she got in just before the attack. Knowing Loki and his ability to double cross when it came to — well, almost anything — Natasha had been prepared for some sort of fake-out. He darted forward, then made to sweep her leg. Having already prepared for an attack, she was already jerking backward which made it easier to move into a backflip, her other leg slipping out of the tight formation in the hopes of striking his face again. She was quick. Loki could have been quicker if he’d been more serious. But he knew he wasn’t going to hurt Natasha. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to see what she was capable of. This was more like playtime. And as much as he enjoyed trying to outwit her physically, he was really there for the wit and the banter. Well, and the company. Loki liked being around Natasha. He liked that he didn’t have to pretend around her. At least, not as much as he normally did. Her foot collided with the underside of his jaw and this time Loki did lose his balance. He tripped backward and caught himself on the side of the old bleachers which had been pushed flat against the wall in a closed position. He blinked a few times, more rattled after the kick than he had been from the punch. “What can I say?” Loki wiped a bit of blood from his lip where he’d reflexively bitten down after the hit. “My tastes are both dangerous and eclectic. Besides, you know what they say about people who are good in a fight.” He disappeared. Did he say he wasn’t going to use magic during this little workout? Well, he lied. No surprise there. He reappeared on her left and threw an elbow hard into her face. For a split second he was reminded of their unplanned altercation with the casino gangsters on Planet Vegas. Ah, nostalgia. Or the time Loki and Yennefer had fought off those knights in Fillory. It made him wish they could have a real fight against someone. He really wanted to put those daggers to good use. He was getting out of practice. “You know what else I like?” Loki snuck in closer while the hit had her off guard and caught her in a chokehold from behind. Then he squeezed. “Breath play.” "Did not peg you for an erotic asphyxiation fan," she hissed, struggling for breath. Why did they always get in close? Even the Winter Soldier recognized that the way to get to her was not through close quarters. That bit about knowing every inch of her body? That meant she knew what to do with it in any kind of situation. That she knew of. A snipe shot? Not so much. A person grabbing her in a chokehold? They had to get very close to keep it a chokehold. First her hands grasped at his wrist, then one moved to elbow him in the gut. The other? Well, she locked onto his wrist while she used the rest of her body to throw him over her shoulder. She was almost giddy at how much easier it was to throw a god over her shoulder. For starters, she could actually do it. "Oh." Her tone was dry when she looked down on him on the ground. There wasn't a hint of amusement in her face, unless you knew her well enough. "You meant me. Me being out of breath. Got it." She smirked. "For next time." “I’ll try anything at least twice,” Loki whispered against her ear. Then again, he never would have tried this in a real fight. Maybe if he wanted to incapacitate someone. Certainly not if he wanted to kill them. He usually saved getting close for an opportunity to use a blade. But that’s not what this was about. It wasn’t about winning — for once — it was about testing how far they could go. Or how far she could go. And if Loki was honest with himself, rare and isolated as those moments often were, Natasha seemed to be able to go a lot further than he expected. Perhaps he should have asked the White Lady for something more useful. Oh well. The consequences of hindsight. When he felt her grab for his wrist he spread his legs further apart to laden his stance. He was expecting a throw. He wasn’t expecting the elbow to the gut, however. And his reflex to that bony jab gave her all the loosening she needed to throw him overhead. Loki hit the ground hard because, let’s face it, he was heavy. The gym floor cracked under the weight and he winced. Not quite Hulk Smash, but definitely up there as one of the better throws he’d experienced. And Loki had a lot of practice being tossed around. It had been one of Thor’s favorite pastimes, after all. “All this chit-chat. I see now why it was so easy to raze half a city before getting caught.” Loki hooked his foot around her heel while he was on the ground and tugged forward to pull her off balance. “Too much talking. Not enough dancing.” Then he did his disappearing act again. Only this time when he reappeared he was barreling towards her. Alright, not graceful, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to get her on the ground. And if he had to be a little sloppy to do that then so be it. Hand-to-hand combat had always been his third preference, after all. Following magic and weapons with a pointy edge. He rammed into her chest and sent them both rolling to the floor. Then he grappled for that mounted position. When he finally got it, he held her tight between his legs, grasping her wrists against the floor. Cue that insufferable grin. “Hello, darling.” Natasha had not seen that coming, especially not so clumsily. She'd opened her mouth to say something about it, but found herself, ironically, out of breath the second he hit her chest. And again when she ended up on her back. Her head hit the gym floor, and while it stung, it didn't hurt as bad as it normally would have. Natasha was a champ at taking hits, she'd been doing it her entire life, but there was nothing quite like being thrown to the ground by the god of mischief. Natasha smirked. She enjoyed the challenge that games of cat and mouse brought. There was nothing quite as exhilarating, and she hadn't really done a whole lot of spy games in the last five years. Sitting in the Avengers compound as command left her without that outlet. "Is that what we're doing? Dancing?" Her lip curled into the corner of her mouth. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck just a little bit more. From this position, he could probably smell her shampoo and the vague scent of some sort of jasmine perfume. She squirmed beneath him, using her body to distract him even as she got into a position to — Flip! Now she was on top. She didn't use her hands to hold him down though. She used her legs to pin his wrists to the floor while she sat straddled on top of him, looking down at him. "I guess I haven't been doing it right all this time." There was a momentary lull in Loki’s thoughts before she flipped him over onto his back. He’d been close to Natasha before, but this was different. For reasons Loki couldn’t explain — probably because it was best not to dwell too deeply on his own psychology — this kind of interaction was much more intimate to him than warm embraces or sensual kisses. That probably said more about him than anyone needed, or wanted, to know. But this was the kind of physical connection he could understand without too much thought. It felt natural to him. Perhaps because being combative, emotionally as well as physically, was so natural to him. Hence the lull. A brief distraction brought on by their closeness. By the feel of her beneath him, wriggling between his legs, and the subtle scent from her skin and hair. The jasmine he recognized immediately. And yes that did spark a certain wonder in his thoughts. Because he hadn’t noticed that before. At least, not since last week when he’d—well, he probably couldn’t take credit for everything. But it was something else that gave him pause. He prided himself on having a keen and focused mind, but even the God of Mischief could get waylaid by a fleeting aroma. But before he could figure it out he was — flip! — on his back again. He blew a strand of hair away from his face. Oh! That’s what it was. Almond. Very delicate. Very faint. Like cyanide. “There’s no wrong way to dance. But some ways are better than others.” Loki writhed under her weight, trying to pull one of his arms out from its pinned position. When that didn’t work he arched his hips upward to try and interlock one or both of their legs. He could have used magic to get out of the hold with very little difficulty, but suddenly he wanted to do it the old fashioned way. Wonder why. “I see someone hasn’t forgotten leg day.” He twisted himself, bending one shoulder almost out of socket in order to slip his right arm out from beneath her. But he didn’t do anything with it. Not yet. Another wriggle and squirm. Trying unsuccessfully — maybe purposefully so — to slide out from under her tight grip. “You smell nice, by the way. Are you wearing that for me?” "I'm wearing it for me. There's a reason I chose jasmine to begin with." She hadn't been afforded a lot of luxuries in the Red Room, and mostly when on assignments, there were strict rules. If you were breaking and entering, you didn't want to be caught by your perfume. Once she was an Avenger, she started wearing perfume here and there. Subconsciously, he was right though; she had chosen to wear it today. It would be a complete lie to say that Natasha wasn't feeling a certain way right now. Loki was more than attractive (and yikes, did he know it), and it had been a very long time… She felt a closeness with Loki that she hadn't felt in a long time. A kinship. A bond that she hadn't experienced with another person in some time. This was a moment, she realized. One of those moments where you could turn something from one thing to something completely new. Uncharted territory. And there was the very obvious physical closeness too. Her straddling him and he'd arched his hips to meet hers, and now their bodies were pressed together in all the right places. She felt desire stirring inside her. It had been a long time since she felt like someone understood her. Like someone cared about her needs almost above themselves. Loki had been a good friend to her these last few months, and maybe she was confusing that for something more. It didn't feel like that, at the moment, but some hindsight would give her a better view. There were a lot of factors for it that she didn't feel like thinking about right now, which probably should have informed her that she shouldn't lean down to whisper in his ear. She rolled her hips as she arched her back to lessen the physical distance between them. Her chest grazed his as she breathed heavily. Her hand moved between her legs, brushing across him from one bulge to something that was way too hard and felt like glass. Her lips purposefully teasing his ear. "Is that a dagger in your pants, or are you just happy to —" It turned out to be a vial of something shimmering. It didn't look real which meant it had to be something… magical? Asgardian? Both? She frowned, curiously and confused. Then it lit up, glowing softly. "That is not what I was expecting. What is this?" His eyes caught hers when she pressed downward to hold her position over his hips and started to lean forward. There was a brief something in her gaze. Probably in his as well. A look that seemed to suggest that their relationship, or at least this sparring match, was on the crux of changing. Loki wasn’t naive. He was consciously aware of the potential turning point of this moment. A point he wanted but also didn’t know how much he wanted. And also didn’t want. Although for reasons far more complex than he’d admit to and certainly outweighed by the obvious wanting. Loki held his breath as she bent in close to him. He kept his focus on her face to avoid the strain he felt between his legs, threatening to distract his rational mind even more than that sweet but muted scent of jasmine wafting off her neck. He didn’t even realize that he’d placed his free hand on her hip until she snaked her fingers down between her legs. No, between their legs. Or, at least, closer to his lower abdomen than he ever expected her to get. Loki’s heart pounded in his chest. A steady beat of anticipatory staccato. He wasn’t thinking of anything else. Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind a logical part of his internal compass was pointing out that this was exactly what Natasha was trained to do. This was how she’d manipulated him the first time around. Albeit that had been with a glass wall between them and with words instead of hips. But the mechanism was the same. And Loki was falling for it again. To which his more irrational and emotional self disagreed. No, this wasn’t a ploy. This was something else. This was— Her lips parted near his ear and at the first utterances of her whisper he almost turned his face into her mouth. Almost. Especially when she said the word ‘dagger’. But before he did she found something she wasn’t supposed to. And Loki’s arousal, both the emotional one and the steadily burgeoning physical one, dissipated instantly. His expression blanched with fear. “Nothing,” Loki said too quickly. Too suspiciously. Too obviously. That was the most careless and unprepared lie he’d probably ever told. Loki pulled his other arm out from under Natasha’s hold and snatched up the object which contained the glittering light. Then it dissolved in a magical wave of iridescent green and disappeared from sight. Concealed somewhere else on his body. Someplace Natasha hopefully wouldn’t find. Then he covered up his awkward unease with a grin. A grin that wouldn’t fool anyone. “Forget about it. It’s not important. Where were we?” Natasha felt like the moment crumbled away the second he snatched the vial out of her hand. He could have played this any other way and it would have alleviated her suspicions. Instead, he'd been sloppy and obvious. He kept things to himself, and she had gone through enough secrets and lies. There was a tiny bit of relief that the decision to stop this was out of her hands. She pushed down on his chest as she stood up, yanking her leg over him as if she was trying not to touch him. Her expression had darkened with hurt. "Nothing. Not important." She scoffed, exhaling sharply through her nose. "It's important enough to hide it with magic so I can't find it again." He didn't have to be perfect, and she didn't want him to be. He was more interesting when his strengths and weaknesses were on display. He was a full-fledged person and not some cartoon villain the world had made him out to be. But she did expect a level of honesty. She'd been honest with him from the moment she offered her friendship. She'd told him things she hadn't even told Steve or Tony. While she believed he hadn't shared any of that information, the fact that he couldn't even simply tell her that it was something important that he didn't want to talk about stung. He'd lied to her instead. "It's important enough that you couldn't even lie properly." Natasha wasn’t the only one who was disappointed. Loki had enough disappointment in himself for the both of them. Hel, he had enough disappointment for all of Derleth. He didn’t want to lie to Natasha. He hadn’t planned on lying to her. It was simply instinct. His reaction was faster than his thoughts. And that hurt him as much as it did her. Because Loki had been honest with her these last months. Ever since she offered him her friendship he’d made a point to tell her the truth. Not everything, of course. But he had opened up to her more than he had with anyone else in recent years. Recent centuries, really. Natasha made Loki feel good about himself. She made him like himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way. Maybe he never had. It wasn’t a perfect feeling, of course, because Loki was far from perfect. But it was a start. It was a change. And despite all of the difficulties he’d experienced since arriving in Derleth, he liked the changes in himself. And he owed that growing piece of self-appreciation to Natasha. Entirely. But Julia’s shade—that was complicated. And he hadn’t been prepared for anyone, Natasha least of all, to know about it. “Natasha, wait!” Loki scrambled to a stand. All of the humor and amusement from moments ago wiped away from his features. In their place were emotions Loki didn’t often allow himself to show. Embarrassment, regret, fear. But not the fear of something terrifying. Fear of loss. What he’d done was unacceptable. Even if his intentions had been good or true. There was no excusing his decision. Because it wasn’t his decision to make. It never had been. And, if nothing else, he should have marched himself directly to Julia’s room immediately after waking up from that last dream. But he didn’t. And while he had fully intended to give her the shade at the party the night before, he didn’t do that either. Loki was a coward. And he didn’t want Natasha to know that he was so weak and so selfish. “You’re right. It is important, but…” But what? What could he say to possibly redeem himself? If he continued lying, she’d never trust him again. If he told her the truth, he’d lose whatever they had two minutes ago. Loki was conflicted. He didn’t know what the right answer was. Possibly because there wasn’t one. “I’ve done something. Something that I thought was the right thing to do at the time, but in retrospect it may be unforgivable...” She had every intention of leaving. She'd grabbed her bag with her towel and water bottle in it and thrown it over her shoulder. God of Lies and Mischief, right? She should have seen it coming, but she had been trying hard to give him the wiggle room to be something more if he wanted. Natasha tossed her hand wraps into the bag, trying not to let this bother her. Except it did. Natasha tried to examine why. He didn't owe her anything. He didn't have to tell her all of his secrets. He didn't even have to tell her what was in it. It was the very clear and obvious lie that had bothered her. Like it had with Fury, it struck her as the kind of thing she had done once upon a time — though never as obviously as that. Maybe that's why she was hurt. Because she had seen the expressions on other people's faces — people she cared about — when they realized that she'd been in on something they hadn't been. Like Steve on the Lemurian Star. No, that was your mission. She'd told herself at the time that had been work; you compartmentalized or you compromised the mission. Now she could hear Steve's voice asking her to be a friend. Her mission here had been simple, though she wouldn't call ignoring history simple. If he couldn't be honest with Thor, then why did she expect it for herself? Natasha stopped though. To hear him out. "Whatever it is — you won't know that until you — " She spun around to face him. "You brought whatever it is here. You didn't hide it with magic. It's almost like you wanted me to find it." Just maybe not in the way she had. Natasha wasn’t wrong. Was she ever? Loki had Julia’s shade on him the day before. He’d brought it with to the party, hoping he’d have the strength and the good sense to finally give it to her. But he hadn’t given it to her. Which meant he’d had ample time to return it to its hiding place under his bed. Instead he kept it on him. Was Natasha right? Was it because some part of him wanted her to find it? Because part of him wanted her to know? To help him make the right decision, perhaps? Or was he simply so selfish and so obsessed with the shade that he couldn’t keep it too far from his person? Loki didn’t know. He hoped she was right. He hoped it was because he was seeking out an honest soul to help guide him towards doing the right thing. But that sounded a little too altruistic for Loki. God of Mischief, after all. God of Chaos. Of lies and deception and disappointment. Not the God of Good Deeds. He sighed. It was an action that encompassed most of his upper torso. His shoulders stooped, his head dipped downward. His face was despondent and pained. It was the look of someone who knew they’d done something wrong and wouldn’t be able to repair the damage. It was the posture of a man who knew he was about to lose the trust and confidence of someone he cared about. It was the premeditated grief of someone who was probably going to lose their best friend. One of their only friends. Their first friend. “It’s…” Loki took a deep breath and straightened his stance. Well, Hel. If he was going to admit it he might as well do it looking Natasha in the eye. So he did. “It’s Julia’s shade.” That revelation hit Natasha more than any sucker punch could have. The bag dropped from her shoulders to the floor with a thump that seemed barely louder than the rush of blood in her ears. Her lips pursed, her jaw twitched, and she blinked away her complete and utter frustration. All she had left was anger. The White Lady had shut her down in the middle of asking. Was this why? Because Loki already had it? When and how? Natasha could feel the anger flicker and flare into a wildfire inside her. How many times had she talked about Julia's shade with him? The consequences? That she'd tried to ask the White Lady for it? She tried to keep her voice steady, but it was low and quiet, and so very on edge. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Loki winced, not from her words or any signs of an incoming punch, but from the sudden stiffness in the air between them. It was the slow-burning rage boiling in Natasha. He could see it on her face despite her steady composure. He could sense it. It was practically palpable. And truthfully? It was terrifying. Loki held up his hands, wordlessly pleading. That universal sign of ‘let me explain.’ But that was just buying time, wasn’t it? Because Loki didn’t have an explanation good enough to support why he’d gone on a quest to obtain the missing piece of Julia’s soul only to not give it to her. “It’s a long story,” he said, taking a slow and cautious step backwards. “And it’s not really hers. Well, it is, but not exactly. When we were in Fillory I asked the White Lady for Julia’s shade, but she couldn’t give it to me. Instead she told me where to find someone who could. And when I found that person, well, she was a Julia…” Which only made it worse, didn’t it? Because that meant there were two Julia’s without their shade instead of one. That hadn’t occurred to Loki until that precise moment and he fumbled to continue. “But I didn’t take it! She gave it to me!” "And that makes it better? That some Julia with her shade gave you the shade, expecting you to give it to the other one. And what did you do with it? You kept in your pocket? Why? So you could laugh to yourself about how you had a piece of this woman's soul stashed away from her?" She knew that Julia was the one who had killed him. There was no doubt about that. When Natasha had originally assumed it was Sylvie because of Loki's odd 'dagger to the heart' in reference to her, but he immediately denied that. When she asked about Julia? Dodging and weaving. She didn't even need to be a master of human psychology to figure that one out. "So you could see what she would do without it? Jesus Christ, Loki, she murdered you. Not only could that have been avoided, but now if you give this back to her, she's going to not just remember it, she's going to feel that." Natasha knew that feeling well. It had taken a while to break out of her programming, but once she did, she never stopped feeling lesser than, never stopped trying to figure out ways to make up for the shit she had done, and now Loki had doomed this woman to a similar fate. Natasha's hand rose. She stopped herself from stepping into his space. She forced her hand back against her mouth, palm toward him for a moment, before she balled up her fist. "Do you have any idea of what you've done to her?" “What?” Loki blinked, momentarily confused by Natasha’s response. It had never occurred to him that someone might think he was doing this for fun. That he was doing it for a laugh. And that insinuation cut an emotional thread in Loki. That hurt more than any of her earlier punches and throws. But of course she thought that. Why wouldn’t she? He was Loki, after all. Everything was a trick. Everything was a game. Life was an opportunity to play a cruel joke on his nearest and dearest. Everyone would have assumed his intentions had been mocking, derisive, and childish. Why not Nat, too? It’s not as though he’d proven himself to her otherwise. “No,” he insisted. “It’s not like that. I would never—” But Loki cut himself off because that wasn’t true. He absolutely would have. The old Loki wouldn’t have thought twice about why he’d kept Julia’s shade. It would have been a joke. Like stabbing Thor when they were children or cutting off Sif’s hair. “No, I asked for it because I wanted to give it to her. That was the plan. Truly.” But. Loki frowned when Natasha continued. He wasn’t surprised that she’d figured out who had killed him. If anyone was going to work it out, it was going to be Natasha. Even if they hadn’t grown close as friends she probably still would have been the first to put the pieces together. Natasha paid attention better than anyone else in Derleth, with perhaps the exception of Ikol. And while Loki didn’t always act it, he was much more cautious about giving away too much while the other Loki was watching. “That’s exactly why I can’t give it to her! You understand. You know what it’s like to do something so horrendous that you’ll never be able to wipe it from your conscience. You know what that feels like. So do I. I don’t want Julia to hurt. And I don’t want her to feel pain or guilt for what she’s done to me or anyone else.” And that was true. Because Loki liked Julia. He saw a lot of himself in her. And he knew that in her position he might do everything exactly the same. Loki took a deep breath and sighed. “Shortly after I acquired the shade I asked her what she wanted most in the world. She wanted revenge. She was brutalized by a god in her world. All she wants is to end his reign of terror. If I returned her shade to her then she might never be able to complete her mission. Or if she did, she’d have to live with that. And I can’t take that from her. I can’t stand between someone else and the thing they need to move on in their life…” If only Loki could see the paradox of his own words. Because that’s precisely what he’d done without knowing it. But all he could think of were the choices he’d made in his past and how they’d left him in the aftermath. Loki could use the excuse of being under someone else’s thrall when he stormed New York. And yes, that was true. But he’d always had his soul when he did so. And the pain of living with that, and with the countless times he’d betrayed his brother and family, was unbearable most of the time. How could he possibly wish that on another person? “I didn’t do anything to her. She never had it to begin with. And it’s not even hers.” Natasha, more than anyone, understood the pain he thought he was preventing Julia, but the truth was: people needed that pain to grow and move on with their lives. She thought he understood, and she suspected that somewhere deep down inside, he did know. He was currently in Make Excuses Mode. Any excuse will do! She dropped her fist to her chin, looking up at him. "That's not your decision to make for her. Of course, a soulless Julia is going to want revenge more than anything else. Of course, a soulless Julia that doesn't know her soul is here wouldn't think of it." Natasha tossed back her head, looking at the ceiling. All the metal bars that would move for various sports, the ladders that made their way to the rafters. She almost half expected to see Clint hanging out up there. One arm fell to her side as she held out the other hand. She took a step close to him. "You don't get to make that choice for her. Only she does. You're going to give that back to her right now. What she does with it? Whether or not she — takes it or uses it or however she becomes whole again — is up to her." She was really tired of people taking away other people's choices, men most of all. If Julia had her shade, and she didn't not to do whatever she needed to mend that part of her, then that was on her. “She’s not soulless,” Loki snapped. Although why he snapped, he wasn’t sure. Maybe part of it was to defend Julia, even though Julia was the last person who needed defending at the moment. But most of it was still Loki just trying to defend himself. Defend his own actions. Actions which Natasha was breaking down quickly with reasonable and rational logic. Loki didn’t have a leg to stand on in this matter. He’d known that for weeks, but he’d tried not to think about it. Sometimes if you kept telling yourself a choice was good, you believed it. Even if it was never good to begin with. “It’s just a piece of her soul. It’s not all of it. I wouldn’t hold someone’s entire soul from them. I’m not that—” What? Evil? Villainous? Narcissistic? Cruel? Uncaring? Selfish? And then came the memory of the night Julia had stabbed him. How she’d fooled him into believing there was something between them. That she liked him or cared about him or simply enjoyed his company. Even though he knew she couldn’t feel that way while he had the piece of her that allowed her to express those feelings. He thought of the moment the sword pierced his chest. And the uncomfortable embarrassment of being tricked at his own game. Because he was the Trickster God, after all. That was his territory. And being made to feel weak and vulnerable by a game of his own making? That riled more anger in him that he cared to admit. “I can’t.” Loki chewed on his lower lip. Not in self-pity but in frustration. “I’ve tried. There was a window when I could have. When I really wanted to. When I thought maybe I could be a good person. Do the right thing. Be somebody’s hero.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of it. He’d never be that kind of hero. He’d always be torn between the worst parts of himself. “But now ... I’m just too damn angry.” "Semantics, Loki. I know it's not her entire soul, but it's the piece of her that feels. That's thinks about her actions before she does them." Her arm flailed to the side as she explained. Natasha closed a little more distance between a conversation halfway across the gym didn't seem to be getting the point across. "You didn't see her slaughter an entire group of Lorian soldiers with a wave of her arm. The only reason she stopped was because we made her. And she was pissed." It was Natasha's turn to roll her eyes. Angry, self-pity, frustration. He was going to have to get over that if he wanted to turn over this new leaf he wanted. He needed to push past this. She had to wonder though, if she hadn't been pushing him hard enough. She wanted this to be his decision, guided by his own conscience. Not something he thought she wanted him to be. Or someone else wanted him to be. "Fuck being a hero. Doing the right thing isn't easy. It's not about accolades. It's not about someone popping a foot up and proclaiming you my hero." Here, she mimicked what she was talking about, even going so far as to bat her eyelashes. If she hadn't been so angry, it might have been a little funny. Someone might have found it charming (or it might have been downright frightening). Now she turned deadly serious. "I'm not going to give you an ultimatum. I'm not going to wag my finger at you and tell you to do the right thing or else. You have to do it because it's what's right, not because there's some looming threat of retribution if you don't." She reached down to retrieve her bag once more. It felt like the heaviest bag in the world, despite her super strength. That wasn’t how Loki expected her to respond. Then again, leave it to Natasha to defy expectations. Or maybe he did expect it, but didn’t want it. Maybe he wanted her to be more heated. More physically angry. Then Loki could react as he always did, by deflecting what was really going on with something else. If she yelled at him, he could yell back. If she hit him, he could hit back. But if she was simply disappointed in him? Disenchanted? Saddened? Well, there was no way in which Loki could divert that on her. He couldn’t pivot those emotions to any other exterior source. He could only take them in on himself. And he already felt that way about himself. Sure, he hid it most of the time. He pushed it back into the recesses of his being. He refused to acknowledge them most of the time. But the truth was — and Natasha probably knew it — that Loki had more self-loathing than anyone. And to know that someone he cared about was disappointed in him was far worse than any gut punch. Fuck. Why did change have to hurt so much? Why couldn’t she just force him to do the right thing so they could go back to the way things were? But Loki knew why. He wasn’t that naive. Not that oblivious. And he’d already said why himself on multiple occasions. Albeit mostly at night when he was lying in bed, alone, listening to Julia’s shade weep in his thoughts. Because that’s not how it worked. Hel, even Bucky had tried to ram that explanation down his throat. Because change, friendships, relationships, doing the right thing, being a good person—all of those things required work. There was no shortcutting. And saving Thor and a handful of Asgardians didn’t mean anything if Loki just turned around and went back to his old ways. That was the easy way out. Loki reached into his pocket and removed the shade, this time enwrapped in a small velvet bag to conceal its shimmering glow. He frowned. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear it. Hello? Can you hear me? And Loki felt a pang of loneliness. He hated the sleepless nights and the endless regret. He hated the shame he felt every time he heard Julia’s voice or saw her on campus, either in person or in his dreams. But he’d grown accustomed to the company. Loki didn’t move from his spot, but he held his arm outward. “Take it.” He felt the muscles in his fingers shake as though he might snatch it back if she weren’t quick enough. So he set the bag on the gym floor and took two large steps away from it, trying to remove the temptation. He wiped the back of his hand against his left eye. “I know you’ll give it to her. I trust you. I don’t trust myself.” This was not her burden to bear. He had gotten the shade with whatever intentions he had. It was his to take care of. She wasn't going to fill in as Morality, Loki's fallback whenever he got in over his head because of a stupid decision he'd made. He had to dig himself out of this one, and trying to shove it off on her was just another scheme ultimately. If she did it, it was off his conscious. He could wallow in his self-pity, woe-is-me-I'm-forever-Loki and not have to worry about change. "No." She nodded her head toward the velvet bag on the floor. "You have to do this, Loki. Not me. Not Sam Wilson. Not Steve Rogers. You." She knew how hard it was to turn that page. It was a struggle, and ultimately, doing the right thing would cost her her life. She knew how hard it was, goddamnit. "If you really want to turn things around, this is your burden. You have to take this first, scary step. Everything before this was easy." Complete and utter understatement that bit. She knew it wasn't easy. He'd been holding back some of his anger and frustration, learning to get control of it, and that was momentous. She'd been proud of him, even if she hadn't thrown a parade. He'd had enough of those on Asgard, and no one here got one just for holding their temper. "Decide who you're going to be." Again Natasha defied his expectations. And Loki panicked in response. His body tensed. His features drew into a pained scowl. He was frustrated and annoyed. Both at himself, no surprise there, but also at Natasha. This was his first step. Giving it to her was his step. His decision. His choice. If she forced him to take it back then anything could happen. He might keep it forever. Or worse. “I can’t.” Loki shook his head. And if there had been any pretenses before this moment, they fell away. Because this was the moment when Loki was really and truly authentic in his response. “I can’t look at her.” He’d crossed paths with Julia last week in the pawn shop and the rage he felt, both towards her and himself, had been so intense he’d barely been able to stand. And when he saw her fall into an unconscious sleep in front of the monolith that rage resurfaced. He managed to temper himself which was a significant feat in and of itself for Loki. But the anger was still there. And he knew that if he sought her out at that precise moment, even with Natasha in tow, he might not be able to overcome those feelings long enough to hand over the shade. And the funny thing about it all? Julia wouldn’t even care. Well, on some minimal level she might care. In the sense that her memory would tell her that this was something she should care about. Loki returning her shade was no small thing. But she didn’t have the part of her soul necessary to support the feelings she would normally have. And so Loki’s fear of looking in her eyes and seeing disappointment was merely that—a fear. Unrealized. “I have decided. I’ve decided that I’m not the one who should give it to her. That would just make things worse.” Because then Julia would know. She would know that he had the shade this entire time. But again it begged the question: would she care? Loki tried to keep a stalwart illusion, but underneath he was cracking. Breaking. Every week there had been something. It was all piling up. The emotional weight he’d put on his own shoulders was more than he could bear. And it was all going to collapse. Not because he refused to give Julia her shade. But because Natasha was going to leave him. “I can’t do it,” he whispered. His heart was pounding. His nerves shaking. Knees close to buckling. “Natasha, please. I’m begging you.” Natasha wasn't unsympathetic to his plight. She knew how hard taking that first step was. Spending time with someone who forgave you — or at least gave you a second chance — was easy. She remembered spending most of her time with Clint after she'd chosen to go west. He'd been the one to extend his hand. He'd taken hers and carried her with him for a while, using his good name to lift hers. Being on the other side of this… She didn't realize just how hard it had to have been for him, hoping she made the right choices — not for him, but for herself. Natasha remembered confessing about using Antonia Dreykov as collateral damage to ensure that Dreykov himself was dead. He'd been angry with her, angrier than she'd ever see him at any other time, but he understood that things sometimes had to be done in steps. Step one: offer friendship truly. Step two: have honest conversations. Step three. Step three… Natasha drew in a breath. She didn't want to coddle him — he was a thousand something year old god — but she also realized she didn't want to push him away completely. If she forced him to do this, would he end up resenting her? She could take it if he decided to, but she didn't want to have to. This place, Derleth, was all she had left, and Loki had become a fixture in her version of it. Was it so selfish to want to keep a friendship after a lifetime of being used and then trying to make up for that? Couldn't she just have this one thing? Another breath before she crouched to the floor and gently picked up the velvet bag. She stayed there, looking at the top of the vial. This was a part of someone's soul. Natasha wondered where hers had gone. A soul for a soul, right? She tripped up on the idea that she even had one, given the things she'd done, but she had to have if Clint had gotten the Stone. Was hers trapped in the stone? From her spot, crouched, she looked up at him. "I'll give it to her under one condition." It had been simpler when it was just between Julia and him. When Loki only had to worry about one person’s disappointment — a person who couldn’t really feel disappointed — then there was no fearing the wrong choice. It was easy. Because even though he’d been avoiding Julia, Julia hadn’t been avoiding him. In fact, if anything, she’d seemed more content than ever since she’d killed him. That had stirred something in her. It had pleased her. And Loki didn’t have to think hard to understand why. It was because she had proof. Just like when she slept with him in Fillory. Proof that he was a god. Proof that she could kill a god. Proof that she could return to her realm and be successful in her mission. She could end the life of the god who’d wronged her. Who’d harmed her friends. Who’d brought unspeakable terror and trauma upon her life. Loki should have been angry. He was angry. But he understood. And it helped convince him that he made the right choice in not returning Julia’s shade. Again, it was easy when it was just the two of them. But now Natasha knew. And in the long run it was good that she knew. Loki knew that deep down. He’d been struggling to keep this secret to himself. But it hurt to see her impression of him change so quickly. Had he ruined it forever? Would she look at him and see that villain he’d been when they first met? Could he ever redeem himself in her eyes? Would they ever be friends again? The thought that he might have destroyed what they had made him physically ill. He didn’t realize how important she was to him since his arrival in Derleth. He hadn’t appreciated what her friendship meant to him and how it was helping him cope with his death at Thanos’s hands. Loki didn’t know if he could survive this limbo — this twisted afterlife — without Natasha. He didn’t know if he’d want to. He watched her crouch down to pick up the shade and his stomach clenched. He was begging. There might not have been any words, but his face was clear. He needed her to do this. He wouldn’t be able to on his own. And if he didn’t then the consequences would tear down everything he’d built since she’d offered him her friendship. “Anything,” Loki said. “I’ll do anything.” She knew how to read people. She'd been trained since she was a child. It was so ingrained in her now that she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to. Loki was terrified. She just wasn't sure he was scared enough. While she didn't want to add to his burden, there were some things she just was not willing to take on herself — because she couldn't or because she wouldn't. She had an entire universe on her shoulders. Not anything, she thought. Anything meant giving this back to Julia because she deserved to have it. Because he had gotten it for the purpose of giving it back to her, that's what he'd said. She believed him when he said it; he'd been panicking, desperately clutching at anything to give him a reason for keeping it. A good one. She could follow his logic to that ending, but there was still one important thing: It wasn't his soul he was fucking with. She stood up, holding the vial tightly between her fingers. Natasha looked in his face, sternly, resolutely. "You have to come with me." Loki’s expression hardened at her response. He should have seen it coming. He should have guessed that Natasha wouldn’t go easy on him. In truth it infuriated him. It made him want to storm out of the gym, leave the shade in her possession, and force her to deal with it. At least, that was his old self instinctively reacting to her condition. To her trick, as it were. The stubborn, childish, hardheaded Loki letting his frustrations get the better of him. That’s what he wanted to do. Again, because that was easy. That’s what he knew. That’s what he’d always done. But he suppressed that urge. Because for one of the first moments in his life, Loki could see clearly the consequences of his actions. Or, in this case, his inaction. If he didn’t agree, if he walked away and left the burden on Natasha, it would be over. And he might never be able to get that back. Especially since he knew Natasha was right. It wasn’t his choice. It had never been his choice. It had always been Julia’s decision. And Julia couldn’t be entirely faulted for her actions. The things she did without her shade might not have even occurred to her otherwise. Might not. But Loki hadn’t given her the opportunity to prove that she would react differently. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. Would that be easier? Would having Natasha at his side give him the confidence he needed to return the shade to Julia willingly? Would it improve his standing with her? Or would it have the opposite effect? He tried to imagine how that would go and all he could picture was how that would look. Loki, head down, like a child about to be reprimanded for insubordination. Natasha the strong willed adult standing in the background making sure he did the right thing. Quietly forcing an apology. Julia probably wouldn’t care. But Loki? And Natasha later on? How would they look back on the moment? Over a thousand years old and he couldn’t look someone in the face and apologize? Someone who couldn’t even feel disenchanted by the crime he’d committed? He was surprised by the voice that answered him. It wasn’t his own. It was hers. It was Sylvie’s. ‘You are not him.’ Loki flinched at the memory of those words. They hit him like a wall. Not so much from the ache he remembered in Sylvie’s voice but from the recollection of his own instinctive feeling. It was true. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. And since learning more about her he felt his instincts were confirmed. He wasn’t him. And he was better. He wouldn’t have hesitated. “No,” Loki said. Then he exhaled a heavy breath and held out his hand for the shade. “I’ll do it myself.” Then Natasha would know for certain that it was his choice. So would Julia. And so would he. And if there was a Valhalla waiting outside of Derleth’s bubble, maybe it would know too. Natasha felt as if she was walking on the edge of a knife. She didn't want Loki to look back on this moment and feel as if she had pushed him to do the right thing, but that was the chance she had to take. If this had been something else, a less meaningful object than a piece of someone's soul, she would not have been so hard on him. Or as disappointed. She wanted him to do this for the right reasons, and not because he was terrified that Julia wouldn't be able to forgive him for it. Knowing the rest of Julia's friends, this was probably something of an everyday occurrence for them. (Not that it made it any less of a big deal to Natasha.) She understood why he was concerned about losing Julia. Would she be the same person with her feelings whole and intact? Would she look at him differently for what he'd done? So when he said he'd do it, Natasha jerked back a little. He'd just been pleading with her that he couldn't do it. She wanted to believe him now — she believed in him — but something felt off. She held onto the shade. "Why the sudden change?" She let her jaw unclench the slightest, her brows minorly unfurrowed. "What changed your mind?" She was hesitant. Maybe she didn’t even believe him. Loki couldn’t blame her. His responses over the last ten minutes felt like a roller coaster even to him. And it was complicated how his mind — and his heart — kept trying to weave their way through this ever growing labyrinth of emotions. A new wall appeared at every turn. Every justification he tried to use turned into an excuse. Every particle of truth another minutiae of a different lie. Loki had never had to balance this many feelings and this many choices simultaneously. The selfish path was, for him, the most natural. The most convenient. The safest. Weighing what was good for Julia and what was right, which Loki still believed to be two different things, wasn’t easy. Weighing what was easiest for himself in the moment and what was best for him in the long run, was almost torturous. And maybe he was thinking about it too hard. Maybe for someone like Steve or Sam or most of the other heroes he’d aggravated over the years, the answer was simple. Black and white. But it wasn’t for Loki. Thinking about someone else first was new for Loki. And thinking about himself objectively was also new. When he looked around, he didn’t see right or wrong. All he saw were shades of grey. Because I want to be the best. That was his gut response to Natasha’s question. There were a multitude of Lokis in the universe. In the universes. And, if Sylvie was to be believed, they all shared a lot in common. Selfishness, betrayal, narcissism, ego, lust for power. And what happened to all of them? Struck down by some vast overseer. Or left to fulfill their single minded destinies. Happiness didn’t sound like it was in the cards for any Loki. That’s something which had been brewing in his mind ever since Sylvie told him her truth. A truth he believed even though he had no reason to. (Because he saw that look in her eyes. A look he’d seen on himself when he did tell the truth.) Loki always made the wrong decision. And the best it could ever earn him was death. He didn’t want that anymore. But not wanting that meant doing things differently. Doing everything differently. And, at this point, what did he have to lose? He was already dead. “It’s selfish, really,” Loki said. He placed his hands on his hips. “Most everyone here still has a chance to go home and finish their lives. They have the opportunity to change their futures. They can make different choices. I can’t. There’s nothing left for me. If I disappear tomorrow or two weeks from now or two years from now, it’ll be over. And there will either be nothing waiting for me. Or, if the stories are true, I’ll be reunited with my family.” Loki pursed his lips in a thoughtful pause. “But that only works if I deserve to be reunited with them. And … yes, I have done one good thing in my life. And it was not insignificant. But if I don’t feel like it’s enough, then it’s not.” He looked up at Natasha, brows furrowed, eyes tired. “And I can live here in eternity with Julia hating me for what I did. She has that right. And maybe she should. But I don’t want to spend an eternity with you hating me.” Loki sighed. “Or hating myself.” Her lips parted in surprise. It wasn't often that Natasha was caught off guard. She thought she'd figured out his reasons for not wanting to give it to Julia, but she had the wrong person. People, really. While she wouldn't have hated him for putting this off on her, she would have been disappointed for a longer time. It would have taken longer for her to get over it. But there had never been any danger of her hating him. "Oh," was all she whispered in return. Her entire demeanor changed then. Sternness melted into sympathy, the hard look in her eyes softened, and her death-grip on the shade lessened. Then she held the vial in its velvet bag out for Loki to take. Her own internal thought process started thinking about her own sacrifice. Sacrifices, really. She'd started down that path, and it just never felt like enough. Even as she was falling down that cliff on Vormir, she wasn't sure if that would be enough to make up for the pain and suffering she'd caused. It wouldn't be enough for those years she could have looked for Yelena. It wasn't enough to bring Thor back to himself, or keep Bruce from leaving her all those years ago. It wasn't enough to lock herself in Avengers compound and run the group, with no outside life. She understood much more than he might realize. "For the record," she started, her voice still quiet and a little thick with emotion. She tried to force a crooked half smile as a defense. "Hating you was not on the agenda. Everyone makes mistakes. Even gods are allowed to." Had anyone who’d arrived after death been returned? Loki wasn’t certain. It was difficult to keep count. He supposed it was possible. If Derleth, or whoever ran Derleth, determined that they no longer fulfilled their purpose in the experiment then they would be shuffled back to wherever they came from. In the cases of some of them — Loki, Natasha, Fandral, Dahj, Tim — returned to nothingness. Or whatever existed for them after death. But it had occurred to Loki early on, although he did his best not to dwell on it, that those who arrived after death might be the ones to stay the longest. Possibly forever. For the sheer fact that they didn’t have anywhere else to return to. Derleth was all they had. And if they treated it right, it could become a new home. So, it wasn’t the first time that Loki had considered the possibility that he and Natasha and those few select others could be there forever. Julia still had a life to return to. A mission to complete. A future that some of the other Magicians knew about. Derleth could send her back at any moment. Would it hurt Loki if she disappeared with things left unfinished between them? Would he be ashamed if she returned before they’d found common ground? Yes. But it wouldn’t hurt as much as Natasha’s eternal disappointment. Or an eternity of bad blood between him and Fandral. These were the people Loki needed to be careful with. Because they might be his only companions for the rest of his life. And if Derleth continued to reset, then that life could be painfully long. Loki reached out and took the shade back. No snatching this time. A careful, solemn exchange. He glanced down at it in his hand for a moment, brief but meaningfully. Then he slipped it back into his pocket. The next step was supposed to be the hard part. But why did he suddenly feel like the hard part was already over? There was a palpable weight in the silence between them then. Loki had a fleeting urge to close the distance between them, but he didn’t. And when she finally spoke up, her voice a little more cracked than he expected, he was glad he didn’t. Because he wasn’t sure what he would have done. Something else that he’d later regret perhaps. “Well, don’t let me off the hook just yet,” Loki said with a similar halfhearted grin. “I still have to give it to her.” "Oh, you're still on the hook. Very much wriggling on it." Natasha chuckled, but like Loki, she felt like they had pushed through some invisible wall. Maybe something that had been there because of Loki's shame over the shade. It was out and in the open now, and sometimes that lessened the load on your shoulders. She hoped that was how it felt for him. Now that that conversation was over, there was the remembrance of what had almost happened. Natasha would be lying if she didn't admit that she was a little disappointed that it hadn't, but she understood the reasons it shouldn't. He needed someone he could count on, and sex always complicated that. She'd need to be mindful of that in the future, not allow anything to get that out of hand again. For starters, no jasmine perfume around Loki. She didn't realize he'd notice it, and if he noticed it, then it was something he liked. May have nothing to do with her, so much as the scent itself, but that was off the table for now. Nothing involving anyone straddling the other either. There were a few little things here and there to remember. She was also very good with just not talking about it at all, so she didn't broach the subject. That was a road best left to others. "Do you want me to be around when you deliver it? Somewhere around but out of sight?" Loki couldn’t help but grin at the way Natasha said ‘wriggling.’ And the laugh, too. That eased some of the tension inside of him. Didn’t alleviate it completely, because he knew that despite her levity she was serious. He could still mess this up. He could still fail to do what he said he would do. What he promised he would do. But he didn’t think he would. Because something had changed. And not just something that was spoken between them. They’d crossed a line in their friendship. At the moment it felt like a good line. It was like walking up multiple flights of stairs and finally glancing back and discovering he was over the halfway point. Could he tumble backwards? No doubt. But for the time being he was in new territory. As for what might have happened — or what had almost happened — Loki tried not to linger on it. Friendship was new for him. Trusting people was new. Opening up about himself and his past and feelings, all of that was unfamiliar to him. It was an experience he’d never truly had. And it did sometimes make him uncertain where the barrier was between friendship and something more. He would never deny that he felt a certain thrill when Natasha was on top of him. When he inhaled her scent. When she whispered in his ear. There was desire there. But there had always been some kind of sensuality between them. Even when they first met, and granted most of that was probably one-sided, there had been a sexual tension. At least from Loki’s standpoint. Natasha was a harder read. Her deceptions were more elusive. There were moments when Loki wanted her. And then there were moments when he just wanted to be near her. Like the previous week when she allowed him to sleep on her floor. There hadn’t been anything licentious in those interactions. Intimate, yes. But not sexual. And Loki liked that. That closeness that friends had. Also he knew he was undeserving of Natasha. She was too good for him, in every way imaginable. And Loki cared about her too much to put her through him. Loki was a disaster when it came to complicated relationships. “Maybe just walk with me back to the dormitory?” Loki asked. “The rest I should be able to do on my own.” |