Not The First Time, 2/5.
I had a 101 fever last night, so I took some Tylenol and went to bed early last night. So here, have the next chapter now. ^^;
Title: Not The First Time
Series: #15 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, #14 - Aim Straight)
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 underage sexual situations, drug use (with and without consent), dubcon, noncom, mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
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 to be the best. That means continuing to destroy potential rivals and enemies across the globe. That means evading SHIELD's efforts to rein them in. That means avoiding the Avengers.
No matter the cost.
Previous chapter:
One - Light In Darkness
Two - Hiding In Plain Sight
Natasha dreamed of fire. She wore light pink pointe shoes on her feet and a loose, gauzy red dress that accentuated her ample curves. Her hair was piled on top of her head, pins and coils of braids artfully attanged, as if she was on Asgard. Natasha saw she was on stage, and shifted to go en pointe. The audience in front of her didn't have faces and neither did the judges. None of them seemed to notice the tongues of flame licking at the walls or the erratic, awkward shadows flickering everywhere. They clapped politely at her first fluttery steps, disinterested in the dance she was to perform. She danced around the bloodied body of Yelena on the stage, a grand jeté over the corpse. Yelena was nothing more than empty eye sockets, her throat cut deep enough to expose bone and cartilage, her rib cage cracked open and exposing the empty chest cavity. Natasha knew she had yanked out the heart and lungs, had devoured them whole to gather strength for this performance.
James stalked onstage, glowering and wearing full Winter Soldier regalia. Now the audience came to life, eagerly awaiting what came next. They still ignored the fire, which came ever closer to the audience and stage.
The faceless crowd was eager to watch Natasha fight James, and didn't notice when the fire consumed the back row.
Eyes blank, he came toward her with his knife in hand. Though guns were strapped to his torso and thigh, he didn't reach for them. It was a sure sign this was a dream; when in Winter Soldier mode, there were often times where James didn't care about shooting innocent bystanders. All that mattered was the mission, the final result. If subtlety was required, a Widow would be sent in. If not, a Soldier would be.
Natasha pulled her punches and kicks at first, contorting herself and using ballet moves to artfully remain out of reach. James kept coming, relentless, as if he didn't know her. he didn't respond to any name he used for him. Looking back to the audience, she saw that several more rows were consumed by the fire.
There was an outline in the flames, someone she immediately knew was her mother. She pointed to an exit Natasha hadn't seen before. Natasha raised her hand in farewell, rolled beneath James' next blow, then escaped.
The Winter Soldier was after her; this wasn't her James, not when his eyes were blank, not when he carried a grenade launcher and a predator's grace. She felt the bullet pierce her abdomen, knew it to be a hollow point slug with the rifling filed off. That was his favorite ammunition, quick out of the barrel, difficult to trace, and enough of a signature that organizations tracking his movement could rack up a list of confirmed kills.
And she had kept track of that type of round for a long time. It had never shown up. It had been an exercise in self-flagellation, reminding herself over and over again that she had killed the one she loved, that she had destroyed the very things she tried to save. She had thrown everything away in a gamble and lost it all.
Natasha lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. The Winter Soldier was there with his knife, intent to finish the job. "James," she whispered. "James."
"He's dead," the Winter Soldier said in an emotionless voice. "I killed him."
She didn't even scream. There was no point, this was what she earned. If this was still a dream, she would ride it out. It was as much as she deserved, anyway.
***
"Natalia," Yelena sobbed. "You have to wake up."
Natasha jerked awake, her throat feeling raw and her cheeks wet. "What?"
"You were screaming. James put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, and that made things worse. Natalia, what were you dreaming about?"
"I killed you," she gulped, grasping Yelena's arms tightly. "And I couldn't kill James, but he was going to finish me."
Yelena cradled her close, and James was a lumbering presence behind her. "Natalia. I know you could never hurt me. No matter what I do to you, what others make us do to each other, you could never hurt me." She smoothed Natasha's hair from her temple, sweat making it stick to her scalp in clumps. "Come, we'll clean you up. It'll get better."
Natasha could see the truth in James' eyes. He would have killed her, once, if the Red Room commanded it. Before she had thrown herself at him, before they came to mean so much to each other, before they were used as weapons against each other. Now that they were the Red Room themselves, he wouldn't have to.
The two women were squeezed into the shower stall, James standing in the doorway as if keeping watch. Yelena didn't slip into any sexualized behaviors, and really did just wash Natasha's hair and scrub at her skin until the sour sweat was gone. Natasha shivered, and maybe there were tears, but the shower water washed it all away. This was weakness in the Red Room, and they would have been punished for this, but now that they were all that was left, they could make up the rules. This wasn't weakness, this wasn't wrong. She could cling to them in this moment, let them pull her back up, let her agent's persona slide back into place.
It was good that she broke off the deal with Loki. She couldn't handle that deadly dance of words that they had, couldn't be his domme when she felt like falling apart from the inside out. He was too unstable already, she couldn't contain him when she felt just like him.
"We'll need to move again," James murmured, watching Natasha towel herself off vigorously, her skin pink from the heat and scrubbing.
"I'll pack," Yelena offered as she dried herself off. "It won't take long."
"Do we have the next target?" Natasha asked, glad her voice no longer shook.
"There are more Hand training houses," Yelena told her. "I want to destroy the Naginata House. So we'll be up against their Scorpions and Shinobis."
Natasha laughed, a tired sound that hurt her own ears to hear. "You don't go halfway, do you?"
Her laughter was bright and bubbly. "Of course not. We'll also want to destroy the Katana and Tanta Houses. We'll take them all out, one by one, and utterly destroy the Hand before moving on to another organization." She smiled brightly at them both. "We took out one training house, we'll be able to destroy the rest."
"There are other hand to hand houses, I'm sure," James replied.
"We'll find them," Yelena said, her smile eager. She looked like an excited school girl, for all that she stood there naked in the bathroom. "We'll erase them all, and then no one will be able to say that we're not good enough. With the competition eliminated, we'll call all the shots."
Yelena certainly didn't seem like a marionette with cut strings now. Natasha found herself nodding. "I had swords and armor of my own before. I can probably go and get them."
"No," Yelena chirped. "We'll use their own equipment against them."
"Mine had spells laced into it."
Her expression didn't slip in the slightest, but a hard edge was in her eyes. "You won't go to them, Natalia. You're ours, remember? You're with us."
"Yes. But we want the best gear to take out the Hand."
"You're just shaken from your nightmare, love," Yelena replied, dismissive and still smiling brightly. It was eerie, and made Natasha wonder if she had triggered something else. "We'll have the best, and we are the best. They'll die, all of them. You'll see. You don't have to worry about any bad dreams."
James' hand came to rest on Natasha's waist. "Natalia," he said, a cautionary note to his voice. "I believe we can do this. The Hand was never a Red Room concern, and you know they sought to eliminate any viable competition."
Natasha let out a breath slowly. So much for leaving Clint and the others a message that she was all right. He didn't know about the Hand as far as she knew, so she would have to find another way. Nodding at James and Yelena, she pasted a smile on her face. "You're right. Just nerves. But if they have faulty gear, I'm blaming you," she added playfully, pointing at Yelena. "I had those weapons specially made for me on Asgard, and it's a shame not to blood them properly against my enemies." Yelena wouldn't know that was a lie.
Yelena blinked. "Asgardian steel? Hm..."
"We'll discuss this at our next location," James decided. "All of us are tired."
They collapsed on the hotel bed in a tangled mass of limbs after packing up all of their meager belongings. Getting a few hours of sleep would help before having to get on the road again. In spite of her private concerns, Natasha had no difficulty falling back asleep.
***
"Any hits?"
The poor junior agent startled, and Clint almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She wasn't that junior if she was a level five analyst, and the other agents had all pointed to her and said that she was the best at what she did. Clint had looked into her background first, and Zoe Veleke was a hacker on the side. She was born to a Philippine mother and a half Dutch, half Egyptian father; apparently they had all lived in New York City before moving to Atlanta, which Zoe considered home. She had been recruited by SHIELD after hacking into FBI databases in an attempt to erase her boyfriend's criminal record as a high schooler. Luckily for Zoe, SHIELD saw value in her skills. The job offer was permanent, thankfully the boyfriend wasn't. Zoe was good at languages and networks, and her college major in sociology helped her cement her standing as an analyst after graduation. She wasn't a fighter by any means, but she didn't have to be.
As level five, the petite brunette really shouldn't have had access to any of Natasha's dealings, but that was where her hacking skills came in. She intuitively knew where files would be hidden in the archives, both paper and electronic, and put in innocuous enough requests that allowed her plausible deniability as she went looking around for what she wanted. Getting Clint's request had made her light up; cracking level nine clearance codes would be quite the coup.
"Jesus, Barton," Zoe gasped. "Don't do that! You're some kind of ninja or something."
"Or something. Ninjas are quieter. If they're really good, you don't even know you're dead."
"Comforting," Zoe deadpanned. She saved the document she was working on and deftly tabbed over to the encrypted file she had been working on for Clint. "How is it that you never are in a suit and tie like everyone else?"
"I'm special," Clint snarked. He had worn dark indigo jeans and a button down shirt that day, which was decidedly casual in comparison to the dove gray skirt suit that she wore over a light blue blouse. It looked good on her, well fitted and a nice contrast to her olive skin and wavy black hair.
"That you are," she replied before turning her attention back to the screen. "Now, in answer to your original question..."
Clint visibly deflated with being told there were no hits on the Red Room, Black Widow or Winter Soldier keywords. "Oh."
"However," Zoe continued, "That's just going up to level seven clearance."
"Wait. How'd you get that clearance?"
"That would be telling," Zoe chirped in amusement.
"Putting it that way, though, implies you got higher than that."
"Because I did," she said proudly. "Now, I didn't attempt level ten. I'm not suicidal, after all. But I managed to crack a level nine antiterrorist channel."
"You must have worked all night on that."
"Three nights and two lunches."
"I owe you dinner."
"Get me a dedicated T3 line at home and I'll call it even," Zoe replied with a smile. "I'd appreciate that much more than a meal at some trendy downtown place."
"Why didn't you work for Stark again?"
"Wasn't interesting enough. Coding a new OS is boring."
Clint grinned at her. The banter almost reminded him of Natasha. When she got back, the two of them had to meet. They could talk hacking and geeky computer things for hours. "All right. So you cracked level nine. What dirty secrets are they hiding there?"
Zoe tilted her screen. "This is some very not pretty stuff, Barton. What are you guys up to?"
"Better if you don't know," Clint murmured, peering at her screen.
The encrypted report detailed the destruction of a Hand training house. Their mole in the system, Myung DaSilva, was the wife of SHIELD agent Manuel DaSilva. She was dead along with all of the other recruits there that day. The photographs of the deaths were graphic, ranging from knife work to pistols to explosions. It had drawn Zoe's attention because of the footnote that Myung claimed that the Hand and Red Room once shared training facilities. Prior teams investigating that claim found no evidence of that.
But if there was a connection, no matter how small, Clint was going to go for it.
"Is there a lot on these Hand guys?" Clint asked her.
Zoe gave him a scornful look. "There is an entire analyst team to watch these guys."
"Oh." He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I don't know. I get sent to go after Hydra or AIM. I haven't heard of these guys before."
"Think ninjas. Like, real life badass ninjas. They own far east Asia."
"Oh." He peered at the report again. "Why is this level nine stuff, then?"
"Not a clue. Maybe because of the agent involved?"
"No, no, that doesn't make sense. Look her up."
Though she pulled a face at him, Zoe did just that. Clint couldn't follow what she did to get back into the level nine databases, but it was just as well. It didn't make sense that this was level nine information, even though Agent DaSilva apparently had level nine clearance. He was a handler based out of Manila, on the counterterrorism task force, and apparently had married Myung to cement her loyalty to him. The Hand was one of his areas of specialty, just as Hydra and AIM were Natasha's.
"There," Zoe said finally, frowning at her screen. "I'm not sure if I tripped anything."
"That doesn't sound good."
She hit the print screen button and her printer whirred to life. Her fingers flew across the keys, and screens flipped past her eyes faster than Clint could keep up with. Definitely good friend material for Natasha, then. Zoe swore softly in Tagalog, then started typing faster. Sensing her urgency, Clint grabbed the screenshots and looked around the area. No obvious interest so far, but it was likely only a matter of time if the higher ups knew she hacked their system.
"You definitely owe me a dedicated T3 line," Zoe muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen.
"If I know Stark, he'll arrange for you to get your own ISP."
"Shit," Zoe hissed, then hit the print screen key again. "Your boy is not a very good man."
"What? Why?"
"I don't think he's double dipping, but he's done some serious shit as part of his deep cover. His wife was a perfect match for him."
"He was part of the Hand?"
"What better way to keep watch on them than to be part of them?" Zoe asked archly, not taking her eyes off of the screen.
Hacker, Clint reminded himself. It had likely been her philosophy when she was first hired on by SHIELD. Better than prison, too.
He definitely wouldn't be able to get anything over on Agent DaSilva on his own. He was good, but not that good to avoid detection by a ninja and then threaten said ninja to see if he knew anything about Natasha or the Red Room.
Then again, he knew a certain someone with distinct disdain for humanity and all its rules and regulations. And if it had anything to do with Natasha, Loki would be there in a heartbeat.
"All right. I think I routed enough packets so that they don't realize it was me. But if I'm fucked, I'm ratting you out, Barton," Zoe said, looking up from her screen.
The anxiety was only too real on her face, so Clint didn't even think to joke about it. "I owe you big for this, I know. Dedicated T3 line is coming up, I promise."
Zoe gave him a friendly punch in the arm and a smile. "Haven't pulled any scams like this in ages. With my own T3, custom firewalls and progs, I'll be able to dig in a little better if you need other stuff like this."
"Oh, nobody said anything about this being done, Zoe," Clint reminded her. "It's not over as far as I'm concerned until we bring Natasha home."
"Deep cover, though," Zoe commented. "If that's her play, she's good enough not to be found."
"She'll want us to find her."
"I guess this is where we find out if I'm good enough for that."
Clint gave her a huge grin. "From what I hear, you are. And if you got me level nine goods," he added, lifting the screen shots, "then you'll find her. I'm counting on it."
Now off to find the trickster god of chaos.
***
Natasha was on her hands and knees on the bed, naked and grasping at the fluffy white coverlet desperately. The man behind her grasped her hips tightly as he slammed to the hilt into her, deep and sure, just at the right spot to make her see stars. It was a good ache, pleasure flooding her spine and making her moan.
"Yes. Like that. Louder."
She knew that voice, but it didn't make any sense. Natasha turned her head to look at Loki, facial expression unguarded, his grunts of pleasure a counterpoint to the thrusts deep inside of her. He grinned at her, fierce and possessive, and then she could feel the ghostly magical hands caress and cup her breasts, abrading her nipples. A mouth was at her clit, licking just the way to make her mouth water. Natasha obliged him by moaning long and loud, squeezing around his cock in the way that made him groan and nearly come right there.
"You're calling me, Natasha," he growled. "I quite enjoy this, and I think you missed it."
What? What was he talking about?
"I don't even mind you summoning me as if I was some kind of creature you can control." Loki snapped his hips faster, used his magic to urge her on. A few more ghostly licks and she wailed as she came, overwhelmed and drowning in the feel of him.
I don't understand, she wanted to say, but that would be admitting weakness. She could never do that, never, and she had to maintain control. She had to act as if she knew everything, as if this didn't bother her in the slightest.
Sliding off of his cock, she turned onto her back and smirked up at him, spreading her legs wide for him. "Well, then. Why don't you tell me why I summoned you? It's not just for a fuck, no matter how good it is."
He preened at the compliment, just as she thought he would, and slid into her again. The magic hands were still toying with her nipples, so she let her hands wander across his stomach. Loki loved contact, the sensation of skin on skin. He was such a needy creature, such a desire to belong to someone, to mean something.
"You need me, don't you?" Loki purred. "They're escaping your control, aren't they?"
No. Yes. No.
Natasha moaned and scratched his stomach with her nails. His hips stuttered as he came, groaning. Loki's eyes met hers, and there was that look there again. She could deny it a thousand times, but he loved her. She couldn't say the same, and it would be easier to discount him if he didn't actually care about her. Somehow, challenging him had turned his anger to love over time, and he was a needy, greedy little bastard.
Loki curled up on his side next to her, one hand propping up his head as he sprawled, his other hand on her abdomen. "Perhaps there is something of the bond left between us, Natasha. Perhaps she didn't erase it completely. Your spá has changed, did you realize that? You are not the woman you were when you left to find Yelena Belova."
"I'm a dozen women, at least," Natasha replied somewhat flippantly.
"Yes, you are." Loki slid his hand down her stomach and into the red curls between her legs. "I would come to you if you wished it. Where are you? What are you doing now?"
This was it, she realized suddenly. She had wanted a way to tell the others where she was and what she was doing. The wish had curled itself inside her dreams, and that seemed to be the only way she could reach him. "We're hunting ninjas," she replied with a smirk. At his blank look, she ran a hand over his chest. "Yelena wants to destroy The Hand. We took down the hand to hand training house, though there are probably more of them. We're moving to take out other training houses, reduce their organization to rubble."
There was a flash of some kind of emotion on his face, perhaps pride or interest, but then it was masked. "The others worry for you. They said I was wrong, that you push us away to protect us, not because you no longer care about us."
"Clint said that, didn't he?" she asked, sliding her hand up to Loki's shoulder. He nodded, and she smiled. "He has proved consistently that he understands exactly how I work."
"He knows you best," Loki murmured, and she could hear the hurt in his voice.
"I would hope so. He's like family."
"And those two? Yelena and the Winter Soldier."
"My first family."
"Clint believes you wish to save them. Turn them from their purpose and bind them to SHIELD."
"I can give it a try."
"Do you really think you can?" Loki asked as she curled her hand around the back of his neck.
"I can give it a try," she repeated, pulling him down for a kiss. Loki sighed against her mouth and curled his fingers into her, fingers working through the slick to find the spots that had her humming and moaning in pleasure.
"They will pull you under," he murmured once he moved to kiss her jaw.
"You thought you could."
"But I didn't know you. I never knew you, it seems. I couldn't predict you, and I still don't understand how you didn't break beneath the weight of my plans. I don't understand your strength, how you can be so resilient. How you don't need me at all."
Natasha heard the plaintive note in his voice and doubted Loki was even aware it was there. She hooked her leg around his waist and pulled him closer. "You know what I value, but you don't understand why it matters to me. You have to believe in something bigger than yourself, something more important than yourself."
"You don't value your safety."
Her breath caught as his fingers moved within her. "The mission is what matters."
"I was a mission once."
"You still are."
"Aren't they your mission now?" Loki asked, viciousness in his tone. He thrust his fingers harder into her, thumb at her clit, and she moaned, throwing her head back. "You left me for them. They were more important to you-"
"They threatened to kill you all," she gasped. "Yelena... She'll do it. She will destroy herself to destroy you, and I'd lose you both."
Emotions played over his face, and Natasha could tell that he wanted to believe her, wanted to think that he mattered to her in some way. He loved her desperately, completely, and it made her feel hollow and a fraud.
She came, nails digging into his shoulder. "How did I call you to me, Loki?" she gasped.
He still worked his fingers into her. "I did not renew our broken bond. But perhaps a fragment of it remains, worked into your spá and a part of you. Like your magic recognition. Like the accounting you forced onto me."
"I didn't mean to do it," she told him.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I won't take advantage of this opportunity," he said with a grin.
What day was it? Was it even one of their deal days? Was that why she was able to call him to her in this dream?
Loki kissed her, mouth hot and open over hers. "I've claimed you as mine."
He would have to get in line. Yelena did that first, years ago, long before they knew what it could possibly mean.
"I will have you back again," Loki vowed. "I will do whatever it takes."
"Don't kill them," she gasped, arching into his touch.
"I make no promises."
"Promise me that," Natasha insisted, eyes boring into his. "Make me that promise. Choose to give me this one thing, that you will let them live, let me do what I have to do in order to bring them home."
Home. New York as home. She hadn't even realized she considered it that.
It was always about choices, about shifting chance and making a choice out of it, choosing the path she would take and not allow the Red Room to determine the shape of her life. But perhaps their reach was too long and too deep, and she didn't have a choice after all. Perhaps her life had always meant to be like this, always about sacrifice and loss.
"If they harm you, I cannot keep that promise."
She couldn't tell him that Yelena wouldn't hurt her, because she already had with those damn injections. Her memory slipped and slid at times, her past lives clamoring for attention.
Natasha cried out when Loki removed his fingers and pushed his cock into her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close. "Keep the others safe for me in New York," she gasped.
"They have the amulets I crafted for them."
"That saves them from magic, not from bullets or knives."
"I cannot save them from their own stupidity."
"Then save them from mine."
"If this doesn't work," Loki guessed, thrusting hard into her.
"I can do it. I can help them," she insisted. "But if I can't..."
"Don't worry about New York," Loki groaned. "Change them and bring them home, before I grow too impatient. Come back to me."
Someone had said that to her before. Several someones. Different connotations, different jobs, different lifetimes.
Natasha closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her. It was easier if she stopped trying to think, stopped trying to best everyone at everything. Loki touched her with his hands and his magic, a steady rhythm building up until she shattered, crying out.
Loki cradled her in his arms afterward. "Let me come get you. You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be this way. You told me that, don't you remember. Let me get you and bring you home. I'll bring them, too, if you want them. I can open a portal, it'll be easy. Halfway across your world in an instant, just tell me when."
"They're not ready."
"How much more red will you have to add to your ledger, Natasha? Will they want the same things as you? Will they want a ledger given to them? Will you force one on them the way you did with me?"
Natasha squeezed her eyes shut again and refused to look at his accusatory expression. "They didn't try to kill millions. They didn't try to take over the world. The ones that are dying killed others. They hurt people, and now they can't anymore."
"Do you forget what I am, Natasha?" Loki purred in her ear. "I am the god of lies. I know a lie when I see it."
She grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. "We finish these jobs, they'll be free and I can bring them home. I can fix this. I can do this."
"Didn't you say that about me?" Loki asked quietly, sadness creeping into his voice. He touched her face gently. "You thought you were helping, and I hurt you. You hurt yourself to save me from Amora, and continually tried to save me from myself. I'm not fixed, Natasha. You can't fix me, I'm too broken for that. Everything I see tells me that Yelena is as broken as I am. Your Winter Soldier is as broken as I am. You can't save us, Natasha. We can't be fixed. If that's what you're waiting for, you'll never get to go home."
Giving him a sad smile, she cupped his face in her hands. "I can change things. I overshot my abilities with you, but I know them. Lady Hel gave me the time to do it, and James and Yelena won't leave me. I can do this, Loki."
"You like broken things," he murmured, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. "I suppose I should be grateful. I wouldn't have had any place to say on Midgard otherwise. But it won't help you in the end, Natasha. Even our association no doubt will harm you again in some way. I am not kind. I can't be good. I tried while you were gone. Did Steve tell you? Or your precious archer? I tried, but I cannot be what you want. What makes you think that your James or Yelena could be nice?"
"I'm not asking for nice. I'm asking for balance."
"Maybe we don't do balance."
"I think you're more capable of it than you think."
"How can you be such an optimist, even after everything you've done and seen?"
Natasha's smile was sad. "I know darkness exists. I'm in the dark all the time. But that means also that the light shines brighter when you see it."
"I don't have that light, Natasha. You are my light."
"Then you'll find your way eventually." She pulled him down for a gentle kiss to the lips. "I can't leave them, Loki. They need me. They love me, Loki. I can't throw that away."
"They're too broken to know love."
"Are you?" she asked archly.
Loki looked away, unable to answer in his shame.
"You aren't. There's no such thing."
"You said love is for children."
"We were children in the Red Room. They burned it out of us." Natasha was tired, so tired, and could hear the defeat in her voice. She was too exhausted for this kind of sparring, for hiding behind a fragment of self. "Love was useless for what they wanted us to become."
"They wanted spies. Soulless killers," Loki murmured.
"Love would only ruin that. But we still knew what it was. I learned it from death, and hardship, and brief acts of inexplicable kindness." She gave him a watery smile, thinking of how Yelena risked punishment and disfigurement over and over again in order to ease Natasha's pain, how she had found Yelena and cradled her when the nightmares grew too bad. "We were all we had there. I learned love from sacrifice."
"And you sacrifice yourself all the time," Loki murmured, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. At Natasha's nod, he sighed. "You shouldn't."
"No matter where I've gone, or what I've done-all the dark things I do not regret, but will never speak of- I can't regret it."
"If you regret, then all the sacrifice was for nothing."
"Exactly." She blinked back tears she hadn't intended to shed. "Our individual lives weren't supposed to matter. Everything we did was supposed to be for the glory of the Red Room, to complete the mission. Our lives didn't matter to them, but it mattered to us. It still influenced our decisions, the chances we took." She cupped his face with one hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. "So we sacrificed, measured how good we were by how we go on after our hearts break. It didn't matter, because hearts always break. Children are the only ones that think they'll die from it. We knew better. We knew that the edges broke us, sharpened us, made us better. We knew it was the only way to survive in the Red Room."
"You're not there anymore, Natasha. You don't have to be this way."
"Don't I?" she asked, not commenting on how his voice was breaking. "Don't you see how easily I can break you, even without saying anything of substance?"
"But you are. You are. You're telling me how much you love the people in your life, even if you can't say it."
"Aren't you listening? That doesn't matter. None of it does. I have to see this through."
"You're not even making sense."
"It's perfect sense."
"Dream logic, perhaps," Loki scoffed, pushing himself off and away from her. "You're going to tear yourself to pieces for people that don't understand the sacrifice you're making on their behalf." He had a stricken expression on his face when he turned back to her. "Just like you did for me all along."
Natasha sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "I have to see this through," she repeated. "I can fix this situation and bring them in. I need you to tell the others that."
Loki looked around the featureless room and then nodded. "The dream is fading."
She gave him a sad smile. "Time for me to wake up."
***
Loki jerked awake, eyes wild and heart pounding in his chest. He did feel as though he had bedded Natasha, had really had that conversation with her. Clint was still at SHIELD offices, but he knew Steve would be back from his volunteering. He felt like a crazed thing as he related the dream without the salacious bits, but Steve seemed to accept it. At least, he didn't seem overly upset or angry with Loki.
"We were hoping that was what she was doing."
"You believe me? You don't discount it as a mere dream?"
Steve gave him a pointed look. "Magic does lots of things I don't understand. Doesn't mean I'm going to ignore what it can do. Let's tell the others and see if we can track down where those three are going next."
"Because you want to save your friend."
"If you had any, you'd understand why we have to do this."
There was no malice in Steve's tone, but Loki still wanted to recoil. "It's a fool's errand."
"I've been called worse," Steve replied easily.
"But he didn't recognize you. He didn't know who you were."
"I know. It's still the right thing to do."
Loki let out an irritated breath. "You and your right thing to do." He glowered at Steve. "It's going to get you killed."
"Maybe. But you can't write off someone just because it's tough or inconvenient, not if they really matter to you."
Whatever cutting reply that Loki would have made was cut off when Clint came into the room with a handful of printouts. "I might have something," he said without preamble. "Some chatter in the antiterrorist groups possibly linked the Red Room to the Hand."
Steve and Loki shared a look. "You definitely have something," Loki said. He pushed his frustration with this entire situation down and again repeated the dream he'd had. "She refused to let me open a portal to her."
"Because she's stubborn and thinks she can do everything on her own," Clint replied, nearly rolling his eyes at Loki. "Don't open a portal right on top of her, then. Open it up somewhere else in the city and we go in, keep our eyes open."
"Do you really think she can bring them into the fold?" Loki asked.
"I brought her in," Clint offered.
"Save me from optimism," Loki replied darkly. "It's going to get us all killed."
"Might as well die for something," Steve said. Was he trying to rattle Loki?
The trickster didn't dignify that with a response. They had to carefully plan this out, or else they might lose Natasha forever.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Soul Machine
Title: Not The First Time
Series: #15 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, #14 - Aim Straight)
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 underage sexual situations, drug use (with and without consent), dubcon, noncom, mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
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 to be the best. That means continuing to destroy potential rivals and enemies across the globe. That means evading SHIELD's efforts to rein them in. That means avoiding the Avengers.
No matter the cost.
Previous chapter:
One - Light In Darkness
Two - Hiding In Plain Sight
Natasha dreamed of fire. She wore light pink pointe shoes on her feet and a loose, gauzy red dress that accentuated her ample curves. Her hair was piled on top of her head, pins and coils of braids artfully attanged, as if she was on Asgard. Natasha saw she was on stage, and shifted to go en pointe. The audience in front of her didn't have faces and neither did the judges. None of them seemed to notice the tongues of flame licking at the walls or the erratic, awkward shadows flickering everywhere. They clapped politely at her first fluttery steps, disinterested in the dance she was to perform. She danced around the bloodied body of Yelena on the stage, a grand jeté over the corpse. Yelena was nothing more than empty eye sockets, her throat cut deep enough to expose bone and cartilage, her rib cage cracked open and exposing the empty chest cavity. Natasha knew she had yanked out the heart and lungs, had devoured them whole to gather strength for this performance.
James stalked onstage, glowering and wearing full Winter Soldier regalia. Now the audience came to life, eagerly awaiting what came next. They still ignored the fire, which came ever closer to the audience and stage.
The faceless crowd was eager to watch Natasha fight James, and didn't notice when the fire consumed the back row.
Eyes blank, he came toward her with his knife in hand. Though guns were strapped to his torso and thigh, he didn't reach for them. It was a sure sign this was a dream; when in Winter Soldier mode, there were often times where James didn't care about shooting innocent bystanders. All that mattered was the mission, the final result. If subtlety was required, a Widow would be sent in. If not, a Soldier would be.
Natasha pulled her punches and kicks at first, contorting herself and using ballet moves to artfully remain out of reach. James kept coming, relentless, as if he didn't know her. he didn't respond to any name he used for him. Looking back to the audience, she saw that several more rows were consumed by the fire.
There was an outline in the flames, someone she immediately knew was her mother. She pointed to an exit Natasha hadn't seen before. Natasha raised her hand in farewell, rolled beneath James' next blow, then escaped.
The Winter Soldier was after her; this wasn't her James, not when his eyes were blank, not when he carried a grenade launcher and a predator's grace. She felt the bullet pierce her abdomen, knew it to be a hollow point slug with the rifling filed off. That was his favorite ammunition, quick out of the barrel, difficult to trace, and enough of a signature that organizations tracking his movement could rack up a list of confirmed kills.
And she had kept track of that type of round for a long time. It had never shown up. It had been an exercise in self-flagellation, reminding herself over and over again that she had killed the one she loved, that she had destroyed the very things she tried to save. She had thrown everything away in a gamble and lost it all.
Natasha lay on the ground, looking up at the sky. The Winter Soldier was there with his knife, intent to finish the job. "James," she whispered. "James."
"He's dead," the Winter Soldier said in an emotionless voice. "I killed him."
She didn't even scream. There was no point, this was what she earned. If this was still a dream, she would ride it out. It was as much as she deserved, anyway.
***
"Natalia," Yelena sobbed. "You have to wake up."
Natasha jerked awake, her throat feeling raw and her cheeks wet. "What?"
"You were screaming. James put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, and that made things worse. Natalia, what were you dreaming about?"
"I killed you," she gulped, grasping Yelena's arms tightly. "And I couldn't kill James, but he was going to finish me."
Yelena cradled her close, and James was a lumbering presence behind her. "Natalia. I know you could never hurt me. No matter what I do to you, what others make us do to each other, you could never hurt me." She smoothed Natasha's hair from her temple, sweat making it stick to her scalp in clumps. "Come, we'll clean you up. It'll get better."
Natasha could see the truth in James' eyes. He would have killed her, once, if the Red Room commanded it. Before she had thrown herself at him, before they came to mean so much to each other, before they were used as weapons against each other. Now that they were the Red Room themselves, he wouldn't have to.
The two women were squeezed into the shower stall, James standing in the doorway as if keeping watch. Yelena didn't slip into any sexualized behaviors, and really did just wash Natasha's hair and scrub at her skin until the sour sweat was gone. Natasha shivered, and maybe there were tears, but the shower water washed it all away. This was weakness in the Red Room, and they would have been punished for this, but now that they were all that was left, they could make up the rules. This wasn't weakness, this wasn't wrong. She could cling to them in this moment, let them pull her back up, let her agent's persona slide back into place.
It was good that she broke off the deal with Loki. She couldn't handle that deadly dance of words that they had, couldn't be his domme when she felt like falling apart from the inside out. He was too unstable already, she couldn't contain him when she felt just like him.
"We'll need to move again," James murmured, watching Natasha towel herself off vigorously, her skin pink from the heat and scrubbing.
"I'll pack," Yelena offered as she dried herself off. "It won't take long."
"Do we have the next target?" Natasha asked, glad her voice no longer shook.
"There are more Hand training houses," Yelena told her. "I want to destroy the Naginata House. So we'll be up against their Scorpions and Shinobis."
Natasha laughed, a tired sound that hurt her own ears to hear. "You don't go halfway, do you?"
Her laughter was bright and bubbly. "Of course not. We'll also want to destroy the Katana and Tanta Houses. We'll take them all out, one by one, and utterly destroy the Hand before moving on to another organization." She smiled brightly at them both. "We took out one training house, we'll be able to destroy the rest."
"There are other hand to hand houses, I'm sure," James replied.
"We'll find them," Yelena said, her smile eager. She looked like an excited school girl, for all that she stood there naked in the bathroom. "We'll erase them all, and then no one will be able to say that we're not good enough. With the competition eliminated, we'll call all the shots."
Yelena certainly didn't seem like a marionette with cut strings now. Natasha found herself nodding. "I had swords and armor of my own before. I can probably go and get them."
"No," Yelena chirped. "We'll use their own equipment against them."
"Mine had spells laced into it."
Her expression didn't slip in the slightest, but a hard edge was in her eyes. "You won't go to them, Natalia. You're ours, remember? You're with us."
"Yes. But we want the best gear to take out the Hand."
"You're just shaken from your nightmare, love," Yelena replied, dismissive and still smiling brightly. It was eerie, and made Natasha wonder if she had triggered something else. "We'll have the best, and we are the best. They'll die, all of them. You'll see. You don't have to worry about any bad dreams."
James' hand came to rest on Natasha's waist. "Natalia," he said, a cautionary note to his voice. "I believe we can do this. The Hand was never a Red Room concern, and you know they sought to eliminate any viable competition."
Natasha let out a breath slowly. So much for leaving Clint and the others a message that she was all right. He didn't know about the Hand as far as she knew, so she would have to find another way. Nodding at James and Yelena, she pasted a smile on her face. "You're right. Just nerves. But if they have faulty gear, I'm blaming you," she added playfully, pointing at Yelena. "I had those weapons specially made for me on Asgard, and it's a shame not to blood them properly against my enemies." Yelena wouldn't know that was a lie.
Yelena blinked. "Asgardian steel? Hm..."
"We'll discuss this at our next location," James decided. "All of us are tired."
They collapsed on the hotel bed in a tangled mass of limbs after packing up all of their meager belongings. Getting a few hours of sleep would help before having to get on the road again. In spite of her private concerns, Natasha had no difficulty falling back asleep.
***
"Any hits?"
The poor junior agent startled, and Clint almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She wasn't that junior if she was a level five analyst, and the other agents had all pointed to her and said that she was the best at what she did. Clint had looked into her background first, and Zoe Veleke was a hacker on the side. She was born to a Philippine mother and a half Dutch, half Egyptian father; apparently they had all lived in New York City before moving to Atlanta, which Zoe considered home. She had been recruited by SHIELD after hacking into FBI databases in an attempt to erase her boyfriend's criminal record as a high schooler. Luckily for Zoe, SHIELD saw value in her skills. The job offer was permanent, thankfully the boyfriend wasn't. Zoe was good at languages and networks, and her college major in sociology helped her cement her standing as an analyst after graduation. She wasn't a fighter by any means, but she didn't have to be.
As level five, the petite brunette really shouldn't have had access to any of Natasha's dealings, but that was where her hacking skills came in. She intuitively knew where files would be hidden in the archives, both paper and electronic, and put in innocuous enough requests that allowed her plausible deniability as she went looking around for what she wanted. Getting Clint's request had made her light up; cracking level nine clearance codes would be quite the coup.
"Jesus, Barton," Zoe gasped. "Don't do that! You're some kind of ninja or something."
"Or something. Ninjas are quieter. If they're really good, you don't even know you're dead."
"Comforting," Zoe deadpanned. She saved the document she was working on and deftly tabbed over to the encrypted file she had been working on for Clint. "How is it that you never are in a suit and tie like everyone else?"
"I'm special," Clint snarked. He had worn dark indigo jeans and a button down shirt that day, which was decidedly casual in comparison to the dove gray skirt suit that she wore over a light blue blouse. It looked good on her, well fitted and a nice contrast to her olive skin and wavy black hair.
"That you are," she replied before turning her attention back to the screen. "Now, in answer to your original question..."
Clint visibly deflated with being told there were no hits on the Red Room, Black Widow or Winter Soldier keywords. "Oh."
"However," Zoe continued, "That's just going up to level seven clearance."
"Wait. How'd you get that clearance?"
"That would be telling," Zoe chirped in amusement.
"Putting it that way, though, implies you got higher than that."
"Because I did," she said proudly. "Now, I didn't attempt level ten. I'm not suicidal, after all. But I managed to crack a level nine antiterrorist channel."
"You must have worked all night on that."
"Three nights and two lunches."
"I owe you dinner."
"Get me a dedicated T3 line at home and I'll call it even," Zoe replied with a smile. "I'd appreciate that much more than a meal at some trendy downtown place."
"Why didn't you work for Stark again?"
"Wasn't interesting enough. Coding a new OS is boring."
Clint grinned at her. The banter almost reminded him of Natasha. When she got back, the two of them had to meet. They could talk hacking and geeky computer things for hours. "All right. So you cracked level nine. What dirty secrets are they hiding there?"
Zoe tilted her screen. "This is some very not pretty stuff, Barton. What are you guys up to?"
"Better if you don't know," Clint murmured, peering at her screen.
The encrypted report detailed the destruction of a Hand training house. Their mole in the system, Myung DaSilva, was the wife of SHIELD agent Manuel DaSilva. She was dead along with all of the other recruits there that day. The photographs of the deaths were graphic, ranging from knife work to pistols to explosions. It had drawn Zoe's attention because of the footnote that Myung claimed that the Hand and Red Room once shared training facilities. Prior teams investigating that claim found no evidence of that.
But if there was a connection, no matter how small, Clint was going to go for it.
"Is there a lot on these Hand guys?" Clint asked her.
Zoe gave him a scornful look. "There is an entire analyst team to watch these guys."
"Oh." He held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I don't know. I get sent to go after Hydra or AIM. I haven't heard of these guys before."
"Think ninjas. Like, real life badass ninjas. They own far east Asia."
"Oh." He peered at the report again. "Why is this level nine stuff, then?"
"Not a clue. Maybe because of the agent involved?"
"No, no, that doesn't make sense. Look her up."
Though she pulled a face at him, Zoe did just that. Clint couldn't follow what she did to get back into the level nine databases, but it was just as well. It didn't make sense that this was level nine information, even though Agent DaSilva apparently had level nine clearance. He was a handler based out of Manila, on the counterterrorism task force, and apparently had married Myung to cement her loyalty to him. The Hand was one of his areas of specialty, just as Hydra and AIM were Natasha's.
"There," Zoe said finally, frowning at her screen. "I'm not sure if I tripped anything."
"That doesn't sound good."
She hit the print screen button and her printer whirred to life. Her fingers flew across the keys, and screens flipped past her eyes faster than Clint could keep up with. Definitely good friend material for Natasha, then. Zoe swore softly in Tagalog, then started typing faster. Sensing her urgency, Clint grabbed the screenshots and looked around the area. No obvious interest so far, but it was likely only a matter of time if the higher ups knew she hacked their system.
"You definitely owe me a dedicated T3 line," Zoe muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen.
"If I know Stark, he'll arrange for you to get your own ISP."
"Shit," Zoe hissed, then hit the print screen key again. "Your boy is not a very good man."
"What? Why?"
"I don't think he's double dipping, but he's done some serious shit as part of his deep cover. His wife was a perfect match for him."
"He was part of the Hand?"
"What better way to keep watch on them than to be part of them?" Zoe asked archly, not taking her eyes off of the screen.
Hacker, Clint reminded himself. It had likely been her philosophy when she was first hired on by SHIELD. Better than prison, too.
He definitely wouldn't be able to get anything over on Agent DaSilva on his own. He was good, but not that good to avoid detection by a ninja and then threaten said ninja to see if he knew anything about Natasha or the Red Room.
Then again, he knew a certain someone with distinct disdain for humanity and all its rules and regulations. And if it had anything to do with Natasha, Loki would be there in a heartbeat.
"All right. I think I routed enough packets so that they don't realize it was me. But if I'm fucked, I'm ratting you out, Barton," Zoe said, looking up from her screen.
The anxiety was only too real on her face, so Clint didn't even think to joke about it. "I owe you big for this, I know. Dedicated T3 line is coming up, I promise."
Zoe gave him a friendly punch in the arm and a smile. "Haven't pulled any scams like this in ages. With my own T3, custom firewalls and progs, I'll be able to dig in a little better if you need other stuff like this."
"Oh, nobody said anything about this being done, Zoe," Clint reminded her. "It's not over as far as I'm concerned until we bring Natasha home."
"Deep cover, though," Zoe commented. "If that's her play, she's good enough not to be found."
"She'll want us to find her."
"I guess this is where we find out if I'm good enough for that."
Clint gave her a huge grin. "From what I hear, you are. And if you got me level nine goods," he added, lifting the screen shots, "then you'll find her. I'm counting on it."
Now off to find the trickster god of chaos.
***
Natasha was on her hands and knees on the bed, naked and grasping at the fluffy white coverlet desperately. The man behind her grasped her hips tightly as he slammed to the hilt into her, deep and sure, just at the right spot to make her see stars. It was a good ache, pleasure flooding her spine and making her moan.
"Yes. Like that. Louder."
She knew that voice, but it didn't make any sense. Natasha turned her head to look at Loki, facial expression unguarded, his grunts of pleasure a counterpoint to the thrusts deep inside of her. He grinned at her, fierce and possessive, and then she could feel the ghostly magical hands caress and cup her breasts, abrading her nipples. A mouth was at her clit, licking just the way to make her mouth water. Natasha obliged him by moaning long and loud, squeezing around his cock in the way that made him groan and nearly come right there.
"You're calling me, Natasha," he growled. "I quite enjoy this, and I think you missed it."
What? What was he talking about?
"I don't even mind you summoning me as if I was some kind of creature you can control." Loki snapped his hips faster, used his magic to urge her on. A few more ghostly licks and she wailed as she came, overwhelmed and drowning in the feel of him.
I don't understand, she wanted to say, but that would be admitting weakness. She could never do that, never, and she had to maintain control. She had to act as if she knew everything, as if this didn't bother her in the slightest.
Sliding off of his cock, she turned onto her back and smirked up at him, spreading her legs wide for him. "Well, then. Why don't you tell me why I summoned you? It's not just for a fuck, no matter how good it is."
He preened at the compliment, just as she thought he would, and slid into her again. The magic hands were still toying with her nipples, so she let her hands wander across his stomach. Loki loved contact, the sensation of skin on skin. He was such a needy creature, such a desire to belong to someone, to mean something.
"You need me, don't you?" Loki purred. "They're escaping your control, aren't they?"
No. Yes. No.
Natasha moaned and scratched his stomach with her nails. His hips stuttered as he came, groaning. Loki's eyes met hers, and there was that look there again. She could deny it a thousand times, but he loved her. She couldn't say the same, and it would be easier to discount him if he didn't actually care about her. Somehow, challenging him had turned his anger to love over time, and he was a needy, greedy little bastard.
Loki curled up on his side next to her, one hand propping up his head as he sprawled, his other hand on her abdomen. "Perhaps there is something of the bond left between us, Natasha. Perhaps she didn't erase it completely. Your spá has changed, did you realize that? You are not the woman you were when you left to find Yelena Belova."
"I'm a dozen women, at least," Natasha replied somewhat flippantly.
"Yes, you are." Loki slid his hand down her stomach and into the red curls between her legs. "I would come to you if you wished it. Where are you? What are you doing now?"
This was it, she realized suddenly. She had wanted a way to tell the others where she was and what she was doing. The wish had curled itself inside her dreams, and that seemed to be the only way she could reach him. "We're hunting ninjas," she replied with a smirk. At his blank look, she ran a hand over his chest. "Yelena wants to destroy The Hand. We took down the hand to hand training house, though there are probably more of them. We're moving to take out other training houses, reduce their organization to rubble."
There was a flash of some kind of emotion on his face, perhaps pride or interest, but then it was masked. "The others worry for you. They said I was wrong, that you push us away to protect us, not because you no longer care about us."
"Clint said that, didn't he?" she asked, sliding her hand up to Loki's shoulder. He nodded, and she smiled. "He has proved consistently that he understands exactly how I work."
"He knows you best," Loki murmured, and she could hear the hurt in his voice.
"I would hope so. He's like family."
"And those two? Yelena and the Winter Soldier."
"My first family."
"Clint believes you wish to save them. Turn them from their purpose and bind them to SHIELD."
"I can give it a try."
"Do you really think you can?" Loki asked as she curled her hand around the back of his neck.
"I can give it a try," she repeated, pulling him down for a kiss. Loki sighed against her mouth and curled his fingers into her, fingers working through the slick to find the spots that had her humming and moaning in pleasure.
"They will pull you under," he murmured once he moved to kiss her jaw.
"You thought you could."
"But I didn't know you. I never knew you, it seems. I couldn't predict you, and I still don't understand how you didn't break beneath the weight of my plans. I don't understand your strength, how you can be so resilient. How you don't need me at all."
Natasha heard the plaintive note in his voice and doubted Loki was even aware it was there. She hooked her leg around his waist and pulled him closer. "You know what I value, but you don't understand why it matters to me. You have to believe in something bigger than yourself, something more important than yourself."
"You don't value your safety."
Her breath caught as his fingers moved within her. "The mission is what matters."
"I was a mission once."
"You still are."
"Aren't they your mission now?" Loki asked, viciousness in his tone. He thrust his fingers harder into her, thumb at her clit, and she moaned, throwing her head back. "You left me for them. They were more important to you-"
"They threatened to kill you all," she gasped. "Yelena... She'll do it. She will destroy herself to destroy you, and I'd lose you both."
Emotions played over his face, and Natasha could tell that he wanted to believe her, wanted to think that he mattered to her in some way. He loved her desperately, completely, and it made her feel hollow and a fraud.
She came, nails digging into his shoulder. "How did I call you to me, Loki?" she gasped.
He still worked his fingers into her. "I did not renew our broken bond. But perhaps a fragment of it remains, worked into your spá and a part of you. Like your magic recognition. Like the accounting you forced onto me."
"I didn't mean to do it," she told him.
"I know. But that doesn't mean I won't take advantage of this opportunity," he said with a grin.
What day was it? Was it even one of their deal days? Was that why she was able to call him to her in this dream?
Loki kissed her, mouth hot and open over hers. "I've claimed you as mine."
He would have to get in line. Yelena did that first, years ago, long before they knew what it could possibly mean.
"I will have you back again," Loki vowed. "I will do whatever it takes."
"Don't kill them," she gasped, arching into his touch.
"I make no promises."
"Promise me that," Natasha insisted, eyes boring into his. "Make me that promise. Choose to give me this one thing, that you will let them live, let me do what I have to do in order to bring them home."
Home. New York as home. She hadn't even realized she considered it that.
It was always about choices, about shifting chance and making a choice out of it, choosing the path she would take and not allow the Red Room to determine the shape of her life. But perhaps their reach was too long and too deep, and she didn't have a choice after all. Perhaps her life had always meant to be like this, always about sacrifice and loss.
"If they harm you, I cannot keep that promise."
She couldn't tell him that Yelena wouldn't hurt her, because she already had with those damn injections. Her memory slipped and slid at times, her past lives clamoring for attention.
Natasha cried out when Loki removed his fingers and pushed his cock into her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him close. "Keep the others safe for me in New York," she gasped.
"They have the amulets I crafted for them."
"That saves them from magic, not from bullets or knives."
"I cannot save them from their own stupidity."
"Then save them from mine."
"If this doesn't work," Loki guessed, thrusting hard into her.
"I can do it. I can help them," she insisted. "But if I can't..."
"Don't worry about New York," Loki groaned. "Change them and bring them home, before I grow too impatient. Come back to me."
Someone had said that to her before. Several someones. Different connotations, different jobs, different lifetimes.
Natasha closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her. It was easier if she stopped trying to think, stopped trying to best everyone at everything. Loki touched her with his hands and his magic, a steady rhythm building up until she shattered, crying out.
Loki cradled her in his arms afterward. "Let me come get you. You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be this way. You told me that, don't you remember. Let me get you and bring you home. I'll bring them, too, if you want them. I can open a portal, it'll be easy. Halfway across your world in an instant, just tell me when."
"They're not ready."
"How much more red will you have to add to your ledger, Natasha? Will they want the same things as you? Will they want a ledger given to them? Will you force one on them the way you did with me?"
Natasha squeezed her eyes shut again and refused to look at his accusatory expression. "They didn't try to kill millions. They didn't try to take over the world. The ones that are dying killed others. They hurt people, and now they can't anymore."
"Do you forget what I am, Natasha?" Loki purred in her ear. "I am the god of lies. I know a lie when I see it."
She grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. "We finish these jobs, they'll be free and I can bring them home. I can fix this. I can do this."
"Didn't you say that about me?" Loki asked quietly, sadness creeping into his voice. He touched her face gently. "You thought you were helping, and I hurt you. You hurt yourself to save me from Amora, and continually tried to save me from myself. I'm not fixed, Natasha. You can't fix me, I'm too broken for that. Everything I see tells me that Yelena is as broken as I am. Your Winter Soldier is as broken as I am. You can't save us, Natasha. We can't be fixed. If that's what you're waiting for, you'll never get to go home."
Giving him a sad smile, she cupped his face in her hands. "I can change things. I overshot my abilities with you, but I know them. Lady Hel gave me the time to do it, and James and Yelena won't leave me. I can do this, Loki."
"You like broken things," he murmured, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. "I suppose I should be grateful. I wouldn't have had any place to say on Midgard otherwise. But it won't help you in the end, Natasha. Even our association no doubt will harm you again in some way. I am not kind. I can't be good. I tried while you were gone. Did Steve tell you? Or your precious archer? I tried, but I cannot be what you want. What makes you think that your James or Yelena could be nice?"
"I'm not asking for nice. I'm asking for balance."
"Maybe we don't do balance."
"I think you're more capable of it than you think."
"How can you be such an optimist, even after everything you've done and seen?"
Natasha's smile was sad. "I know darkness exists. I'm in the dark all the time. But that means also that the light shines brighter when you see it."
"I don't have that light, Natasha. You are my light."
"Then you'll find your way eventually." She pulled him down for a gentle kiss to the lips. "I can't leave them, Loki. They need me. They love me, Loki. I can't throw that away."
"They're too broken to know love."
"Are you?" she asked archly.
Loki looked away, unable to answer in his shame.
"You aren't. There's no such thing."
"You said love is for children."
"We were children in the Red Room. They burned it out of us." Natasha was tired, so tired, and could hear the defeat in her voice. She was too exhausted for this kind of sparring, for hiding behind a fragment of self. "Love was useless for what they wanted us to become."
"They wanted spies. Soulless killers," Loki murmured.
"Love would only ruin that. But we still knew what it was. I learned it from death, and hardship, and brief acts of inexplicable kindness." She gave him a watery smile, thinking of how Yelena risked punishment and disfigurement over and over again in order to ease Natasha's pain, how she had found Yelena and cradled her when the nightmares grew too bad. "We were all we had there. I learned love from sacrifice."
"And you sacrifice yourself all the time," Loki murmured, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. At Natasha's nod, he sighed. "You shouldn't."
"No matter where I've gone, or what I've done-all the dark things I do not regret, but will never speak of- I can't regret it."
"If you regret, then all the sacrifice was for nothing."
"Exactly." She blinked back tears she hadn't intended to shed. "Our individual lives weren't supposed to matter. Everything we did was supposed to be for the glory of the Red Room, to complete the mission. Our lives didn't matter to them, but it mattered to us. It still influenced our decisions, the chances we took." She cupped his face with one hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. "So we sacrificed, measured how good we were by how we go on after our hearts break. It didn't matter, because hearts always break. Children are the only ones that think they'll die from it. We knew better. We knew that the edges broke us, sharpened us, made us better. We knew it was the only way to survive in the Red Room."
"You're not there anymore, Natasha. You don't have to be this way."
"Don't I?" she asked, not commenting on how his voice was breaking. "Don't you see how easily I can break you, even without saying anything of substance?"
"But you are. You are. You're telling me how much you love the people in your life, even if you can't say it."
"Aren't you listening? That doesn't matter. None of it does. I have to see this through."
"You're not even making sense."
"It's perfect sense."
"Dream logic, perhaps," Loki scoffed, pushing himself off and away from her. "You're going to tear yourself to pieces for people that don't understand the sacrifice you're making on their behalf." He had a stricken expression on his face when he turned back to her. "Just like you did for me all along."
Natasha sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "I have to see this through," she repeated. "I can fix this situation and bring them in. I need you to tell the others that."
Loki looked around the featureless room and then nodded. "The dream is fading."
She gave him a sad smile. "Time for me to wake up."
***
Loki jerked awake, eyes wild and heart pounding in his chest. He did feel as though he had bedded Natasha, had really had that conversation with her. Clint was still at SHIELD offices, but he knew Steve would be back from his volunteering. He felt like a crazed thing as he related the dream without the salacious bits, but Steve seemed to accept it. At least, he didn't seem overly upset or angry with Loki.
"We were hoping that was what she was doing."
"You believe me? You don't discount it as a mere dream?"
Steve gave him a pointed look. "Magic does lots of things I don't understand. Doesn't mean I'm going to ignore what it can do. Let's tell the others and see if we can track down where those three are going next."
"Because you want to save your friend."
"If you had any, you'd understand why we have to do this."
There was no malice in Steve's tone, but Loki still wanted to recoil. "It's a fool's errand."
"I've been called worse," Steve replied easily.
"But he didn't recognize you. He didn't know who you were."
"I know. It's still the right thing to do."
Loki let out an irritated breath. "You and your right thing to do." He glowered at Steve. "It's going to get you killed."
"Maybe. But you can't write off someone just because it's tough or inconvenient, not if they really matter to you."
Whatever cutting reply that Loki would have made was cut off when Clint came into the room with a handful of printouts. "I might have something," he said without preamble. "Some chatter in the antiterrorist groups possibly linked the Red Room to the Hand."
Steve and Loki shared a look. "You definitely have something," Loki said. He pushed his frustration with this entire situation down and again repeated the dream he'd had. "She refused to let me open a portal to her."
"Because she's stubborn and thinks she can do everything on her own," Clint replied, nearly rolling his eyes at Loki. "Don't open a portal right on top of her, then. Open it up somewhere else in the city and we go in, keep our eyes open."
"Do you really think she can bring them into the fold?" Loki asked.
"I brought her in," Clint offered.
"Save me from optimism," Loki replied darkly. "It's going to get us all killed."
"Might as well die for something," Steve said. Was he trying to rattle Loki?
The trickster didn't dignify that with a response. They had to carefully plan this out, or else they might lose Natasha forever.
***
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To Chapter Three - Soul Machine