𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 | maria hill + loki laufeyson

six

EVERYONE AT S.H.I.E.L.D KNEW Agent Stark.

They knew her because of what had earned her the moniker 'Talon.' They knew her because of her unrivalled ability to be one with the shadows. They knew her because her tactics were cunning theatrics which only she could harness. They knew her because there was unquestionable reason as to why she was one of Nick Fury's most trusted allies.

Everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D admired Margot.

They admired her because she would smile at you as she passed and it would warm your frostbitten heart. They admired her because her laugh was a spell that made you temporarily forget the burdens of the job. They admired her because, despite the claws of despair that had slashed at her heart over the years, she could somehow manage a good face at a job that would never let those scars completely heal.

Margot never wanted to be seen without her good face and so they didn't. That was what her escapes to the theatre were for. There, performing in a world that was not her own, peace was not so unfamiliar.

But there was no escaping the war at hand. Not when death had rolled the dice and knocked one of Margot's pieces off the board.

Margot was still sat beside Maria when Fury announced the news over comms. It was fast. Four words. They were supposed to go in one ear and out the other. Quick to lessen the pain, the same philosophy for ripping off a bandaid. But this was not a bandaid. The words went in Margot's ear but they spread from there like a virus, infecting every system, every breath, every thought until her entire state of being was defined by only those four words.

Agent Coulson is down.

Those words were the last she heard before sound was cruelly crushed out of existence.

Her eyes sought out Maria first without conscious instruction to do so. In Maria was sorrow. Confirmation.

But Margot would not accept it.

She tried to convince herself of his life by recalling memories of him, but it did not work because he was dead. She tried to convince herself of his life by summoning the joy he always brought her, but it did not work because he was dead. She tried to convince herself of his life by keeping a good face on, but it did not work because he was dead. She tried to breathe with ease, but it did not work because Phil Coulson was dead.

Margot did not believe she would ever grasp the idea.

She couldn't even quite grasp the glass of water Maria held out for her. There had been yelling just moments before. A feminine voice. It must have been Maria calling for the drink. Even now as Maria urged her to take a sip, the words were fuzzy.

Margot stood up. That she knew for certain because its abrupt nature did not sit well with her head, but she pushed through.

Emotionally, Margot was still sitting, frozen in time at the moment Fury delivered the news. Physically, she was walking. Putting one foot ahead of the other felt fundamentally wrong. She felt the elastic tether that connected her physical self to her emotional self left behind. The resistance it created made every step a test of her strength.

She entered the holding room and the first thing she allowed herself to notice was that Loki escaped from the cell. The next thing she allowed herself to notice was the blood stain on the wall to her right. The last thing she allowed herself to notice was the body that three agents were placing inside a body bag.

She put those pieces together. Loki escaped. Phil was here. Loki stabbed Phil. Phil was dead.

Phil was dead.

It echoed.

The tether between her two selves suddenly gave out, snapping all her emotions back into her body at the speed of light. It knocked all the air out of her as the whole moment was burned into one real, devastating memory.

All of a sudden, Margot could hear everything crystal clear again. The world could only pause for so long until it had to keep turning. It was a cruel reality.

"Agent Stark."

Nick Fury came to her side. It was the smallest she had ever seen him.

"Director."

"Agent Hill told me to give you this as soon as you left her side."

He held out a glass of water.

She accepted it and took a sip. The cold water fell down her throat, waking her up. It didn't feel right to be awake.

"He was my SO. You were his."

"I know."

"...Does it hurt to move?"

"...Like hell."

"Admit that to anyone else?"

"No."

Between those words was another conversation, a conversation of shared pain and understanding, a conversation between two spies come undone by a common thread.

Margot walked out of the room, nimbly grasping the glass of water with the tips of her fingers.

Thor walked toward her. She recalled the favour she asked of him and how that turned out. Some plan of hers.

She saw his fervent apologies etched on his face before a single word came out of his frown.

"I have failed you, Margot. I ca–"

Her arms flew around his torso and she grasped him with an intensity only tragedy could surmise. The glass of water spilled from her hand as tears spilled from her eyes.

Thor responded instantly. He cradled the back of her head and rubbed the small of her back as she heaved heavy sobs against his armour.

Those four words echoed.

Phil Coulson was dead. The world continued to turn. Margot begged it to stop and wait for her.