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Chapter Twenty Seven

~Thea's POV~

I barely have time to wake up the next morning before Darcy comes flying inside, "Okay, let's wake up, Thea! Time to go!" I groan and sit up blearily. "Time to get back to earth!"

She flits out of the room before I can throw a pillow at her. 

I dress quickly, not because I have a lot of energy, but because I am so eager to be out of here. Last night, Thor had told me that Odin no longer wanted to talk to me. I didn't have a problem with that.

Afterwards, Thor had tried to talk to me on a more personal basis, but I was too worn out from my explosion from Clint (which I'm too embarrassed to apologize about), Jane's and my talk, and my tussle with Loki to really care. He had gotten my point and left my room only a few minutes after. I felt a little bad, especially considering I'm not going to be seeing him for a while.

Loki wouldn't let me say good-bye to Leah. His only response to my protests was to lock my bedroom door behind him. I screamed at him to let me out, but he wouldn't. My voice is still raw from yelling.

Now as I walk down the hallway with Natasha, Steve, and Loki, I avoid eye contact with two thirds of them. The only person I am halfway interested in talking to is Natasha, but apparently she's not in the mood to talk either. Probably because I nearly knocked out Clint, but also maybe because she's in the zone- this is what she does and she doesn't like being interrupted.

Leah, Thor, and Bruce are already gone. I refuse to let the weight in my chest to get heavier and look forward determinedly.

As we turn a corner that I recognize as the way to the rainbow bridge, Steve falls into step with me. "The three of you are going to be moved to a condo in Chicago."

I bite back my tongue to keep from re-informing him that yes, I was listening when Fury told me that last night.

"We don't know how long it takes until the government-the people under influence of the Imeldi plus the guys that just want you and your sister in their custody- finds you. Basically, you're playing cat and mouse."

"I'm happy to know that I can't trust anyone." I say dryly.

Steve shoulders his shield and shrugs, "Well," he sighs, "Yeah, you can't."

"Then why am I trusting you?"

He frowns ever so slightly, "Have we ever given you reason not to?"

I don't have a good reply to that, so I say, "Not yet."

Steve, still striding forward as if he's on some kind of mission (which technically, he is), replies, "I don't think you'll be disappointed, Thea."

I glance at him. "Let's hope not."

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again and says in the quietest voice I've ever heard from him, "Clint and I...well we're going to do everything we can."

I know what he's talking about and it takes me a couple seconds to compose myself enough to answer. "I know."

Steve nods sharply. "Good."

*

The return to earth is just like the journey to Asgard. Chaotic, short, colorful, and bright. The difference is the landing spot. Instead of being surrounded by tropical forest like I had expected, we are in the middle of a forest. And it's dark, the setting sun blinking drearily through the trees.

Waiting for the eight of us are two black cars, which to a normal spectator would be very oddly placed in the middle of the forest with no road except for a shallowed out dirt one.

Natasha, Tony, Steve, Clint, and I climb into the first one. I am squashed uncomfortably between Steve and Tony in the back seat, both whom are talking loudly over me.

"I think I should have called the window seat," I say after five minutes of trying to bear a conversation about electromagnetism and finite differences or something of the other.

"Your fault, you didn't speak up," says Tony, who is in a generously annoying good mood.

"Where the heck are we anyway?"

"Outside Chicago, where else?"

"Why are you here?"

Steve answers, apparently deducing that Tony and I have had enough bickering. "There's a S.H.I.E.L.D base downtown, which is where the rest of us are going before splitting up. That's one of the reasons why you're going there first."

"I thought we couldn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D." I say suspiciously.

Tony takes back over. "I wouldn't call it a base as much as a hidey-hole. Not a lot of people know about it, and the few that do are tight with Fury."

"I don't exactly see that as a good thing."

Leaning back and closing his eye as if he's about to enjoy a long massage, Tony replies, "Well kid, those are exactly my thoughts."

"That's not very helpful. And don't call me kid." When he opens my mouth, I add, "Or Spyder." 

He has the decency to look surprised, his eyes snapping open. "How'd you know I was going to say that?"

From the shotgun seat, Natasha says, while adjusting her headset, "It's called deductive reasoning, Stark. Try some sometime."

This draws a smile from me and a barely concealed smirk from Steve. Tony rolls his eyes dramatically, "You know, guys, I don't feel very appreciated."

"Sucks to be you," I say, stifling a yawn. It had taken me forever to fall asleep, and Darcy's waking methods aren't exactly subtle.

"Remind me next time that when you ask me questions," says Tony, reaching over to poke me in the shoulder, "To not answer."

"Fine, then I'll ask Steve. He's nicer to me anyway."

"Nicer, pft. It's more of an eccentric combo of steroid solution, cheap theatrical façade, and of course the rah-rah-rah of American patriotism."

Seeing as Steve doesn't seem to take offense to Tony's words, this is either a typical type of exchange between them or he just doesn't care. I'm guessing that it's a little bit of both.

I lean back against the headrest. "He's still nicer."

"Well thank you, Thea," says Steve, glancing out the window, which gives him a view of nothing but trees.

Tony rolls his eyes to the ceiling of the car and then closes them again.

"How long's the drive?"

"Ask Steve," says Tony. "Argh, Thea, what's your problem?" The latter comment is added when I punch his shoulder. "I'm trying to get some shut eye, and you're the one who said you were going to ask Steve."

"I know."

"Then why'd you punch me?"

"'Cause I wanted to."

Tony gives me a steely look before closing his eyes for a third time, bracing himself as if waiting to get interrupted again.

"We'll be there in about an hour and a half," says Steve, answering my earlier question, apparently having chosen to stay out of the argument until now.

Ninety minutes usually go slowly for me, and these are no different. No more than fifteen minutes later, I find my eyelids drooping from a combination of boredom and exhaustion; my head reluctantly leans against Steve's broad shoulder. The hum of the engine comforts me a bit, little comfort it can possibly be. Soon enough, I am dozing in and out of consciousness.

At one point, I think I hear Natasha say, as if from thousands of worlds away, "Is she asleep?"

Tony says something back, probably full of sarcasm like usual.

I think Barton says something too, but doesn't mention Jack so I immediately don't care.

From next to me, Steve says something incomprehensible. I think he's talking about me, but that's when I finally fall asleep completely, the car rocking me back and forth and the rain getting harder as we head into a storm.

*

The next thing I consciously remember is Steve carrying me down some sort of gravel path, by the sound of it. I open my eyes blearily. True enough, we are in what seems to be a small back garden, very narrow that leads up towards a tall tower of condos. Judging by the loud sounds and weird combinations of smells, we are either right in the middle of Chicago or just beyond it.

My eyes are too heavy, but I fight to stay awake. "What...time is it?" I mutter, mostly for the sake of conversation that will stop me from sleeping.

Steve glances down at me. "I think around eight."

"Oh," I yawn. I sense the presence of three other people in front of us, and I suspect that it is Loki and Natasha, plus Tony, more than likely. "I can walk now."

"You sure?" Steve asks, setting me down on my feet.

"Yep," I say warily. Natasha glances back at me, then continues walking towards the condo, speaking to Tony in hushed tones. I guess Clint is manning the car.

Inside, the condo "lobby" is stale and pale, like the underbelly of a dead fish, and so dim, I can barely see in front of me. The floor is black and white tile that is so bright, it looks completely out of place. The floor creaks from above us. "Are there even elevators here?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't bet on them working," replies Steve as Clint hauls open a door in a hallway. That's when the lights click on.

The most surprising thing is Loki. His hair has been plastered back, making him look younger. The oddest thing is that he's wearing normal clothes; dark pants and a dark shirt. I can't help but giggle slightly, and when he glares at me, I say, "You look funny."

Loki's glare intensifies, and he smacks the back of my head as I pass him. "I'm going to politely pretend I didn't hear that."

We climb some stairs, leading to another dark hallway. I usually don't get creeped out by much, but this is beyond frightening. It doesn't help that the architecture is plainly gothic and that it's storming slightly outside. I stick close to Steve.

Natasha mysteriously produces a key from somewhere, and iron, antique looking one that is rusted. She thrusts it into the keyhole of the door farthest down the hallway, and with a creek, it opens.

I'm not exactly shocked by the dismalness of the room. There are only three lights in what I assume to be the main room. There's no television either, but one large sofa that smell like mothballs, a kitchenette that doesn't look like it's working, and a two doors that lead to either side of the room, which I assume goes to bedrooms.

Barely glancing at the room, Natasha locks the door behind her and then marches straight toward the left door. I spot something odd next to it- a keypad. She inputs five numbers (the first three of which I did not spot) and opens it.

My jaw drops.

It's another condo, or that's what I guess it is. It's bright inside, that's the most obvious difference, along with the sofa, table and chairs, large kitchen, and oddly enough, what looks like a central counsel with about four huge computer screens. There are about three more doors that I guess lead to more bedrooms. Or other spiffy condos.

"Courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D." says Natasha, immediately heading over to one of the huge computers. Tony and Loki disappear into two of the other doors- from what I can tell, yes, they are bedrooms.

Steve and I meander over to where Natasha is typing on the screen, although it actually looks like she's typing the air. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"Telling Fury that we're here."

"What if someone hacks those computers?"

"It's encrypted by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best," says Natasha. "Nobody's getting anything from this thing unless they have the USB stick, which is currently five inches from my face.

"It's the United States government," I point out. "Can't they get into anything the want?"

Natasha shrugs unconcernedly. "Not if S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't want them too."

I'm not sure I have as much faith in S.H.I.E.L.D. as Natasha, but I refrain from comment.

Twenty minutes later, Steve looks like he's about to leave. "What about Tony?" I ask.

Natasha, not looking up from the screens, replies, "I guess you didn't hear. He's staying with us, apparently." I can't tell how happy she is about this information.

"Why?" I ask, trying to suppress a groan and probably failing.

Natasha smirks slightly. "Not sure. Fury's orders. He said something like 'I want someone on Loki's side, because I'm damn sure the girls will give him a hard time'."

"He has a point," I say, winning a smile from Natasha.

Steve's form of good-bye is a curt nod in my general direction, the seriousness of it masked by the warm smile he gives me too. "I'll see you soon."

Seeing as he's about to rescue who I suppose is my closest friend my age at this moment (I mentally get shivers from the word 'friend' but ignore it), I probably should say something. Nothing comes to mind though, and I say, "Bye," in much too shaky of a voice.

Steve puts his arm around me briefly, smiles at me again, and then walks out of the room, whistling.

"Make sure you lock the door," sings Natasha, who seems like she's in a good mood. There's a distant "I will" from the other room.

"So what's for dinner?" I ask curiously, glancing at the kitchen.

She shrugs. "Depends on how well Tony can cook. I know I can't."

"I know how to make spaghetti," I volunteer. "And sauce."

Still looking at the computer, she shrugs, "Go ahead and see what you can find."

Ten minutes later, Loki walks out of the room to find me burning pasta. He wrinkles his nose. "What is that? Midgard food?"

"No," I snap, my relatively bad mood growing worse. I dump the black stuff in the trash can.

"Well I hope not." Loki raises his eyebrow. "It looks atrocious."

"You look atrocious in those clothes."

"You are atrocious."

"So are you," I say, hoping that 'atrocious' translates into something along the lines of 'extremely annoying'.

"Enough chit-chat," says Tony, walking into the kitchen. "What's for dinner? Burnt rubber?"

Loki smirks.

"Ha. Ha." I say, throwing a towel at him. "NATASHA!" I call. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

"I will be in a minute," she says cheerfully.

"Two against one, sucks to be you," says Tony, mocking my words from earlier. He swats my shoulder like I'm an insect. "Out of my kitchen."

"Who says it's yours?"

"I do. Now shoo."

*

After a reasonable meal of roasted chicken and pasta that I refuse to call delicious even though it is, I take a long, hot shower and then change into some shorts and a T-shirt. When I walk out of the bedroom Natasha and I share (why Loki and Tony have separate rooms, I don't get), I find Tony sitting on the couch watching television and Natasha (once again) on the computers. I don't know where Loki is, so I guess he's in his bedroom.

I plop down on the other huge, soft sofa and open my book. Loki had de-pixelated Gone with the Wind, but the condo had a whole wall of books, so I have no problem finding one I want to read: The Fault in Our Stars. Quite frankly, it's probably the only book on the shelf that has been written in the twenty first century.

I'm on page thirty-five when someone snatches it out of my hand. I groan. "Give it back, Tony."

"It's Mr. Stark to you," Tony leafs through it. "I've heard about this. Apparently it's really good, but also really depressing."

"I'll take my chances," I say, trying to grab it, but Tony swings it away from me, a grin on his face like a ten year old who hears the ice cream truck. "TONY!"

Loki chooses this time to appear from the other room. "What happened to the book I gave you?" he asks in an annoyingly belittling tone.

"You made it vanish, remember?" I remind him, as I (unsuccessfully make a grab for The Fault in Our Star. "Could you help me get this back, please?"

Loki raises his eyebrows at me before reaching his hand out as if he were snatching something; seconds later, The Fault in Our Stars is in his hands (much to Tony's chagrin). He opens it.  "What sort of name is Augustus?"

"A nicer name than yours," I say nastily.

He gives me a positively nasty look in return, and when I try to grab the book from his hands, he, like Tony swings it away from me. The problem is, he is much taller than Tony, so I know it's going to be hard to get it back.

"Natasha!" I wail. "They took The Fault in Our Stars!"

"Boys, give Thea back her book," says Natasha in a fake patient voice.

Loki doesn't pay the slightest bit of attention to her. He continues to tease me as I try to grab the book. At one time, when I nearly have it, he makes it vanish. It lands three feet away from me, on the coffee table. I know there is no point in making a grab for it, so I beg, "Please, Loki. I'll stop making fun of the clothes that make you look hilarious." I offer him my biggest puppy-dog face- it has to be a really good book for me to give a puppy-dog face to Loki.

He huffs, and then I feel a smack on my head, and I realize the book has hit the back of it as Loki levitates it from the air. I snatch it. "Thank you."

"Go to bed." He says sternly.

"No."

"Yes."

"No." I sit criss-crossed on the sofa and open The Fault in Our Stars to page thirty six.

"Yes." His voice is dangerous.

"I'm not a child, and you're not in charge of me."

"Technically, he is," calls Tony from where he is flipping through channels at breakneck speed.

"Oh, shut up, Tony."

"You shut up."

"How about we all shut up and get some sleep?" says Natasha in a false-sweet tone. She has finally moved away from the computers. "If we're on the run tomorrow, who knows the next place we'll be sleeping?"

I get up, and that's when I realize that The Fault in Our Stars has mysteriously vanished. I'm too tired at this point to care, so I through a pillow at Loki (he leans to the left slightly and it misses him easily) in my form of revenge. "I hate you."

"I know." He smirks, his hands behind his back suspiciously in a way one might hold a book.

"Please can I have the book?" I ask.

He considers me for a couple moments, then lightly bonks my head with it before placing it in my hands. "I still think Augustus is a ridiculous name."

"Still less ridiculous than yours. At least it doesn't sound like a girl's name."

I think Tony snorts back a laugh, but I could be wrong.

Loki responds by hauling me up with one and throwing me on the sofa before I have time to comprehend my position. "Ow..." I groan as I sit up. He pushes me back down and soon he is pinning be down on the couch.

"Take it back." He orders.

"I don't like lying," I say, earning a scoff from Loki, Natasha, and Tony. "So I'm going to have to refuse tha-mmpph." Loki pushes me down on the sofa again.

"Loki for the love of God, let go of her," sighs Natasha, apparently through with the entertainment.

Loki holds me down for a few more seconds, just to prove a point, and then gets up. I follow him into his bedroom, which is only lightly plainer than Natasha's and mine. "Can I have the book?"

He snorts. "No book for you, Thea, until you learn manners."

"Excuse me, I have perfect manners."

"Oh please." Loki flicks my forehead before throwing The Fault in Our Stars on the dresser- I know it' pointless to try and get it. "Now go to bed before my ears fall off from hearing you ramble on and on and-Thea!"

I laugh at his response to my shoving him backwards. In retaliation, he grabs me around my waist and pulls me out of my room, into mine, before unceremoniously throwing me on the bed. "Sleep. Now."

"Only if I get the book in the morning."

"Fine. Goodnight."

"'Night," I say sweetly.

As soon as the door closes, I run over and lock it. Then, I uncover from the blankets The Fault in Our Stars, which I had nabbed from the dresser as Loki dragged me out of the room. Smirking, I unfold page thirty-seven and begin to read.

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