𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 | maria hill + loki laufeyson

seven

MARGOT FLOATED AROUND IN THE void the back of her eyelids swallowed her in. It had been an hour or so since she closed her eyes, an hour or so since Thor set her down on a cot and informed her brother of her whereabouts and desolate state. Despite all her wordless prayers for reality to slip away, sleep never came for her, so she just floated around, a prisoner to her conscious thoughts and feelings. Margot just wanted to dream.

Tony sat at her side, wordless for the whole time. She was the only person who knew that Tony Stark was capable of silence. He comforted her best this way; it had worked when she was eleven and nightmares about their parents were making consecutive appearances, and it was working now when she was thirty-two and nightmares about the rest of her family were coming true.

It hurt to open her eyes; her tears had swollen them to an uncomfortable size and they did not sit well in their sockets, but what really made it hurt was that opening them meant to accept that this was her reality.

She turned to look at Tony and he conjured a smile for her. Her reality still had him.

"Don't leave me," she told him; raw, vulnerable, eleven and needing her older brother to stay with her forever. The scene was the mirror image of many sleepless childhood nights.

He shook his head. "Nonsense. You're leaving first out of the two of us. All that crap you put into your body as a kid."

Margot sat up. "I didn't touch junk food 'til I was twenty-three."

"Yeah, you ate the other stuff. Vegetables and all that crap." He smiled. I won't leave you, he said.

Margot was informed that Clint Barton was awake not more than five minutes later, but she waited an extra ten before heading down to visit him. That ten should have given Natasha– who Margot had no doubt was already with him– enough time to brief him on what had happened: who was still here and who was gone. Margot did not want to be around for that. Those words, those four words and any variation of them, she never wanted to hear them again.

She passed by several agents down the hall but spared none her usual smile and greeting. Her steps were heavy. Thump after thump. She needed to get it all out before she arrived. There was nothing warm in her to give to these passing agents, but she would ensure that by the time she reached his door, Clint would receive only the best of her.

She entered a room identical to the one she left. Clint sat atop the trot and Natasha leaned against the wall across from him. The sombre air thinned out in her presence. She walked in satisfied that she had mustered enough shine in time to chase her best friend's gloom away.

Margot carefully closed the door behind her. "Glad to know your knees still work."

"Glad to know you haven't given up on your dream of becoming a comedian."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Glad to know you two are still children."

Both Margot and Clint gave Nat a look. She was the youngest out of the three of them.

"So, how'd you get him out?"

Margot strolled over to the cot and sat beside Clint. "An exorcism, no big deal." She settled against the wall, tucking her knees in against her body. Her teases would not stop coming out. A mental recording played back in her head of Maria saying she cracked jokes when she was uncomfortable. Perhaps some things were too big to fully conceal behind a mask.

The smile Clint wore melted when he caught sight of Margot's shoulder all bandaged up with blood-soaked fabric. "Did I do that?" he asked. His voice... he already knew, and Margot's patched-up joy shattered once more.

Flashes of Clint on the bridge lost and not him at all invaded Margot's mind like a parasite fixed on tearing her insides. The blue, so vibrant, it was the only life in him then. The rest of him was dea–

Mask on. Mask on.

"It's just a nick. Your handling was terrible. Someone needs to get back into training," she said, her sunshine more forced than natural. The actress could not act.

Clint could not meet her eyes. "How many agents did I–"

Natasha stepped forward. "Don't do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic, and nothing we were ever trained for."

She looked at Margot. Those words were meant for her too.

Monsters and magic, and nothing we were ever trained for. Three of some of the greatest agents to ever grace S.H.I.E.L.Ds ranks and the world was faced with something none of them were trained for. Margot wasn't sure how that was supposed to comfort her.

"Loki, did he get away?"

"He did," Margot replied.

"I don't suppose you know where?" Natasha asked Clint.

"I didn't need to know, I didn't ask," he said. "He's gonna make his move soon, though. Today."

Margot closed her eyes, and the vision of Loki was so vivid that it wouldn't be absurd to assume that it was real and he had infiltrated her consciousness. No, he wasn't there, not in her mind. No, Loki was in every breath she took and every breath Phil didn't take. Second by second, that number rose, and second by second, her composure grew, fueled with determination to achieve a single goal.

"Then why are we still sitting here?" Margot said.

"She's right. We got to stop him."

"Who's we?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever's left."

Clint sat up. "You two are spies, not soldiers. Now you want to wade into a war?"

"Loki made it personal. I don't take to that well." Margot looked at Nat. "You?"

"I've been compromised." Natasha looked down, and for a minute, Margot thought she would leave it at that. "I got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."

Margot stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Nat said.

"To find Cap. I'm dying to kick Loki's ass."