Visitations

1

"Tell me again."

"I've already told you everything. What exactly do you think I've left out?" Naomi felt like she was wasting air even asking.

Not even two days since coming home and S.H.I.E.L.D. had come knocking on her door looking for answers. Their debriefing felt more like interrogation and they spared no expense with this perfectly square, perfectly gray, empty room that contained one metal table, one overly bright light, and one very unsympathetic man in a tailored suit. Their concern was not the state of her health; they were purely invested in national security. And enforcement and logistics or whatever the hell the acronym stood for. So naturally her sappy sob story wasn't what they wanted to hear. Her tale of woe was mostly white noise to them, but she might have noticed a visible reaction when she mentioned her God of Mischief.

From what she recalled of the attack on New York, Loki surely ranked high on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list. She almost saw her interrogator's eyes roll behind his sunglasses as she briefly indulged him in their whirlwind romance. This guy, agent something-or-other had her pegged, the moment she was escorted in, as some sort of damsel in distress. By the end of the story, he'd probably relabeled her as one of those crazed women who intentionally marry serial killers. Whatever. She'd rather that than a damsel in distress.

"Forgive me if I find your story a bit backward," he continued with no remorse whatsoever. "You keep telling me that Thor, one of our Avengers, kidnapped you. And Loki, a mass murderer, is the one who saved you."

Oh yes. Wasn't that shocking? "Would you rather I lie?"

"Tell me again."

Naomi grumbled. "Thor kidnapped me. I was locked up and left to starve in a dungeon for months. Loki is the only reason I am alive. He nearly gave his life to save me. And if that's not definitive enough for you, then I don't think there's anything else worth saying."

"So Loki has been freed."

"He's no longer locked in a cell if that's what you're asking."

"Should we be expecting to see him anytime soon?"

Naomi sat back in her chair. This isn't goodbye. Loki's cool tone rushed over her, standing her hair on end. I'm going to miss you so much. But not for long. It was hard to smother a telling grin. See you soon. "He's no threat to you, if ever he does. But I'll never convince you of that." Not that it mattered. Loki would return for her and they would be together. And nothing else mattered. Naomi unfolded her arms and stood. "If your favorite thunder god meanders through anytime soon, ask him about what happened in that dungeon and he'll fold real easy."

"That will be all, Miss Scott."

The stiff abruptly stood, tucking the pile of paperwork beneath his arm. "Naomi," she gruffly corrected as the tamper-proof door to the outside finally opened, flooding the room with fluorescent light from the hall.

"We'll be in touch."

Naomi offered a half-assed nod in reply before he disappeared. "Yeah. I bet you will."

Six months later and nothing had changed.

She could remember oh so distinctly, locked in a dungeon, more than certain she would die there, wishing things could be normal again. And by normal she had envisioned home as it was years before her abduction. Normalcy as she had always known it. But she'd realized months ago she had only reached a new sad state of normalcy. Some things never change. But other things always do.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Have I ever wanted to talk about it?" she returned, her focus on the doodle-covered notepad in her hand.