Weather Forecast
Steve had no idea what to do.
On one hand, it was Loki. 'Killed-eighty-people-in-two-days' Loki. Mass murderer. Tried to kill Thor. And Tony. And everyone in New York. Loki had brainwashed Clint and messed him up for life. Loki had terrorized citizens for the sole reason of fear.
...On the other hand, Loki looked like that.
Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from Loki's form. The sharp, icy eyes Steve remembered were now a dull, unseeing green. Maybe it was because he wasn't wearing the outfit. Layers of leather had been stripped away, leaving Loki in threadbare linen trousers. Instead of silver embroidery, Steve saw every notch of his spine.
Mud, dried blood, and scars smeared over every inch of the sallow, pale skin.
Maybe Steve should've been thinking about the proud God who loomed over dead bodies. But looking at the man in front of him... Steve only felt shock. He rubbed his hand over his face and took a shuddering breath.
"Oh, God..." Steve managed to gasp out. Words flew into his head but got stuck to the roof of his mouth. 'What the hell happened to him?'
Another clap of thunder shook the skies. Steve swallowed thickly, trying to breathe properly and gather himself together. After another second of staring, Steve realized vaguely that Loki was mouthing something.
"No- no, no, no, no-" His mouth repeated the same motion again and again, even though Steve was positive Loki wasn't making any sound.
Steve shook his head. "...Loki?"
The god's mouth snapped shut and Loki's thin frame stiffened painfully. If anything, the god seemed to curl even further into himself. Steve shivered as the cold rain seeped down his back.
'You think you're cold? Imagine how he feels, he's-'
"Loki?" Steve asked again, more firmly this time. He thought back to the panic attacks Clint went through, every night after Loki got into his head. He thought about Coulson. Tony shooting up into that wormhole, sounding like he was expecting nothing less. Everyone's terror.
Loki was a murderer. Steve narrowed his eyes in concentration. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.
He saw Coulson's Captain America trading cards that he had never signed, spattered in the man's blood.
Steve leaned over Loki and rolled the man onto his back.
He saw Natasha, flinching back from Loki's words. Faking it or not, he knew her past had gotten to her.
Steve reached out-
And he saw Loki.
Then and there. Bleeding, cracked lips. Bashed up, bruised and bloodied face. Scars and slices and all the signs of torture. Loki who was looking up at him, dazed.
"God damn it," Steve muttered. He couldn't kill the man in front of him- not like that.
He glanced towards his bag. He was pretty sure he had extra corded rope for climbing...
---
Natasha Romanov was used to waiting.
She had no shortage of patience. A sort of 'outlast' type of patience that came from a life of tireless, limitless training.
She also knew that Steve Rogers was a very impatient person. He got twitchy when he wasn't doing something. Not physically, of course- he didn't have Tony's twitchy fingers or Clint's leg-bounce.
But she knew Steve had been absolutely dying for the last weeks. Weeks of nothing, the most mundane of mundane schedules.
It wasn't as if Natasha liked it any better- staying at the Barton's home, that was- but she could keep doing it for years if she needed to.
Over the last weeks, she'd watched Steve grow more and more unsettled. They'd sparred twice a day, just to keep busy. He'd chopped enough firewood to last Laura a lifetime, and painted enough pictures in that damn sketchbook to last another.
"Rogers back from his run yet?" Clint asked from the doorframe, peeking into her room.
"No. You know Steve; he'd run straight to SHIELD headquarters if he could."
Clint smirked. He looked exhausted. "Eh. It wouldn't surprise me. I'll leave the front door unlocked for him, anyway. Oh, and- um- thanks for taking care of Nathaniel earlier. I'll see you tomorrow, Nat."
Natasha smiled. "Get some sleep, Clint."
Clint shot her a playful look before walking back out into the hallway. Once he was out of sight, Natasha let her smile fall.
Her room was nice. A bookshelf covered with intelligent novels, books she and Laura obsessed over. On the nightstand was an off-white lamp with a dusty floral shade. Clint called it hideous, Laura called it 'useable'.
It was the same room she'd always bunked down in when she visited. Laura always kept exactly five hangers in the wardrobe and the woven rug in front of the bed, not the door. Those little details that helped Nat relax.
Sometimes she was jealous of Clint's family. Something she could never have.
Then she remembered that nobody else on the team could have it, either. Thor had overwhelming responsibilities, Steve was a new man, Bruce physically couldn't, Tony would always have the public eye on him. Well, that, and Natasha had heard that Pepper left.
Besides, it wasn't as if Clint had it easy. He had a foot in two different worlds and he'd always had to make he tough calls.
Natasha wasn't sure she would even want a life like that. Safe... but no place for an assassin. She could never settle down for good. And it wasn't like she could have kids, anyway.
She leaned back on the mattress.
The alarm clock on the nightstand read 11:51PM.
Natasha squinted at it, contemplating. Steve was usually back by half-past. It wasn't like him to be late.
"Huh." She wondered aloud.
It was either fall into nightmares or wait up for Rogers to return. At least if she stayed up she'd be able to make sure he was alright.
Natasha waited another ten minutes before sitting herself back up and wandering down to a darkened kitchen.
---
Steve got back after midnight. He assumed that everyone would already be asleep, since they usually were when he came back at eleven-thirty.
It was for the best.
Honestly, Steve wasn't sure he wanted to tell any of them that Loki was back. Especially not Clint.
Steve took a deep breath right before he opened the door. It let out a traitorous squeal and Steve cringed, hurrying into the dark kitchen and locking the front door behind him.
He turned around, and-
There was Natasha, sitting on one of the woven seats, staring at him.
Complete silence filled the room for a couple of minutes before Steve slumped and sat down next to her. The game was up.
"You're late, Rogers," She stated the obvious.
Steve made a frustrated noise. Natasha noted the mud caked into his pants, the dirt and grime over his hands... what had he been doing?
Natasha held his gaze. "You're nearly two hours late, Steve. I'm assuming it's not a good thing."
Steve sighed. His hands fidgeted at his side, pulling at a loose thread on his pants. Natasha knew all the little movements, the body language that gave it all away.
"Like ripping off a band-aid," Natasha insisted quietly. Even so, she wrapped her robe a little tighter around herself. She mentally prepared herself for any level of shock, horror, anything that could throw her off. The longer Steve hesitated to tell her, the more wary she grew. How bad could it be?
They held eye contact for a moment more. Steve inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, and for a second, Natasha was sure he was going to tell her anything. But then he deflated and shook his head. Steve's eyes lost their spark and she knew he had closed down.
"Just needed a bit more fresh air, that's all."
She hummed in response. "Hm. Get some rest, Rogers."
They both wandered back upstairs to their separate guest rooms. Steve felt Natasha's eyes digging into the back of his head as he walked. They both knew that Steve was hiding something. Steve knew that Nat knew that he knew something.
Nat knew that Steve knew that she knew he knew something.
Then Steve ducked into his room with a mumbled 'goodnight' and hurried to shut the door. The moment passed.
Natasha paused for another moment before going to her own room. She knew something was up, she just had to find out. If it was important, she needed to be able to assess the situation. Besides, Fury would be asking for a briefing soon.
---
"Good morning, Steve. Sleep okay?"
Steve looked up to where Laura was making breakfast. He gave her a tight, polite smile. "Yes, Mrs. Barton. Thank you, again, for letting us stay with you. I know it can't be easy, and we really appreciate it."
She laughed a little. "Oh, call me Laura. 'Mrs. Barton' makes me feel old."
"Right." Steve responded, shifting his weight.
"It's no trouble," Laura continued, turning back to the stove. "Whatever I can do to help. Would you like some breakfast? There's plenty for everyone."
Steve adjusted the bag he had slung around his shoulder. "Ah, no thank you. I wanted to go out hiking today."
The other woman shot him an amused look. "Steve, if you're going hiking that's even more reason to eat." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to retort. "I'm not going to make you stay, no worries. But take some of this along with you, huh?" She jostled around in the fridge before pulling out a water bottle, trail mix, jerky, and granola bars. Laura offered it towards him, and he took it gratefully.
"Thank you," Steve said honestly, putting the food into his bag. "I'd best be off, then. Have a good morning, Mrs. Bar- er- Laura."
Laura gave him a smile and a nod and turned back to the stove. Steve hurried out the door and began jogging towards the hill in the distance. He didn't notice the redheaded figure taking off after him and following from a distance.
Maybe it hadn't been his best move. The previous night, he hadn't had a clue on what to do with Loki. After deciding not to kill the god- at least, not before figuring out what the hell was going on- Steve had tied him up and pulled him into the nearby overhang, where the highest point of the hill hung over the bottom and formed a cave.
So Steve had tied Loki up in a cave.
What else was he supposed to do?
When Steve reached the base of the hill, where the cave-type-thing was located, his heart stopped momentarily because where the hell was Loki?! And then as he came further inside, he saw the familiar dusty, filthy trousers Loki had worn.
Loki looked like a corpse. Like someone who had died in the cave years before.
"Shit," Steve breathed out.
Maybe it would've been better if Loki had disappeared. Steve would rather have had the objective of finding the god. He had no idea how to deal with a captured Loki, much less one that looked like... that.
"Loki?" He called out hesitantly.
The darkened figure at the back of the cave tensed, but didn't respond.
Steve took a few steps closer. Loki was curled in on himself, lying on his side, with his back turned towards the mouth of the cave. Despite not being able to see his face, Steve could clearly see the corded ropes that tied Loki's wrists and ankles together.
"Loki," Steve tried again, praying for some sort of reaction.
There was the definite sound of a gun clicking behind them and Steve jerked around. Natasha was standing in the entrance to the cavern, hands carefully aiming a gun in Loki's direction. She was braced in a defensive position, and her eyes were wide and sharp, but her face was emotionless.
Steve felt his throat constrict and he took another step backwards, towards the back of the cave, slowly raising his hands up. "Nat..." Steve trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.
"Explain, Rogers," Natasha said mildly.