Loki was acting strange.

Willow was good at knowing things like this—his behavior, the way he spoke and his facial expressions were all a testament to how weird he was being. The worst part was the headaches he would get and how he would shrink in on himself as if he was trying to fight something off. When they were over with, he became more and more odd, but not in a bad way.

Of course, he threatened her every now and then with the usual scowl and the eye rolling and the muttering under his breath about getting stuck with a Bilgesnipe of a woman, but he was suddenly so unsure of himself, that much Willow could gather.

He would run his hands through his hair as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown or sigh loudly and shake his head while twiddling his thumbs in a nervous manner. Now, he was pacing back and forth in front of the young woman. His face, less gaunt than before, seemed a little more animated and the circles under his eyes had almost disappeared, his skin appearing healthy from the sallow complexion it had been.

Whatever it was that was bothering him he clearly wouldn't get over any time soon, but it wasn't Willow's problem.

She had a lot to think about while being kept as a prisoner, starting with the Tesseract—the very thing that had caused so much trouble for them ages ago.

What Loki needed it for was beyond her, but the activity going on within S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't lessen her worries. For them to use such a dangerous energy to forge weapons of great measures made Willow distrust the organization the second she had walked into the lab and saw the HYDRA rifle. Thor had said using the Tesseract drew his brother in, attracted him like bugs to a light, so didn't that mean it was just as much their fault as it was Loki's? And then, the nuclear missile intended to wipe out Manhattan because the World Council hadn't thought the Avengers could handle the threat. The god of thunder had been correct in questioning S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust in their "champions."

"You lie...and kill...in the service of liars and killers."

Willow squeezed her eyes shut.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," Loki echoed from where he sat at the mouth of the left tunnel. He was tossing small pebbles at the wall, staring at Willow expectantly.

"Be a dear and entertain me with your dull thoughts."

"....you were right," she said quietly.

It was too late to take it back as the god of mischief sat up in surprise. Oh, how she wished she could punch the the smug look that was beginning to daunt on him right off his face when she clicked her tongue in disgust.

"Not as dull as I expected."

She tilted her head back against the wall.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to stab you in the face for being a complete jackass. Not to mention you dropped me through the sky and wanted to kick me off the top of a building."

"Minor casualties," he shrugged.

"But, the people behind the scenes, the big names and faces—they're just as bad as you. What you told me in the Helicarrier...you were right."

"I'm glad we can agree on something."

"That's the farthest we'll ever get to agreeing on anything."

She sighed in frustration.

"I can't believe you got us locked in here with not the slightest idea of how to get out."

Loki tilted his head.

"Why? Are you afraid? Is being in my presence making you uncomfortable?"

His voice was suddenly low as he rose to his feet and moved to sit in front of her. She scooted away from him as far as her chain would allow, but he moved with her until their legs were almost touching and he gave her a sly grin.

"Go away."

"What is it really about me that you can't stand?"

A thin blade flourished in his hand and he spun it deftly around his fingers.

"That you detest, that you loathe with every single grain that makes up your soul? Do you really hate me or are you forced to hate me because we stand on two different sides of a spectrum we both belong to?"

"I hate you because you're a murderer," she snarled, "because you killed Agent Coulson in cold blood and because a mother might never get to see her daughter live out the rest of her life. You are nothing but a killer."

"You don't know that."

"I know enough."

"Can you really not see it?"

"Don't start with that bullshit."

"Does it hurt to know that none of you—not your brother, not your team, not the side you fight for—are innocent? You play like you're so high and mighty, when you're no better than me."

Loki lightly ran the blade down the side of her temple, to her cheek and stopping right at her chin. His eyes were gleaming in the weak light and Willow felt like her lungs were on the verge of combusting as he moved to utter in her ear.

"Moonshadow...," he whispered, "wouldn't it be a shame for people to know who you really are."

"You don't know anything about me."

He chuckled, moving away.

"I know about," he began slowly, "the people...or the bodies, I should say—"

"Shutup," she tried to say, but his voice only grew louder, drowning out her protests as he continued.

"The horrifying scenes that gives you nightmares, making it difficult for you to rest as you toss and turn with a deep, gnawing guilt that won't stop eating at you—that makes you so ill with fright and no matter what you do...no matter what you tell yourself in order to feel better...you live on."

Loki was glaring at her now, accusing her silently.

"But how could you...knowing what you did?"

"I said shutup!"

She was curled up against the wall now, her face blank and her eyes unseeing as tears began to trickle down her cheeks at the flashbacks that were forced out of her mental suppression, much more vividly than ever, and she clutched at herself for a grasp on reality, her body trembling with fear as she dug her nails into her skin. Loki slowly stood up, watching the scene before him calmly although something deep within jumped for his attention, wanting to be acknowledged.

He forced it down.

"And you call me a monster."

Time.

It was an irrelevant thing, difficult to keep ahold of and almost unrecognizable to the young woman as she sat against the wall with no distinct feeling.

Everything to her in that moment was meaningless.

"It's not your fault!"
"Stop lying, Steve! Why are you lying—"
"We can't do anything more for them, Will!"
"No! Don't—"
"Grab her!"
"Let me go, let me go—"
"We need to move out!"

"NO! DON'T LEAVE THEM! PLEASE! STEVE, NO!"

"Stark, put her under!"

"Bucky...don't let them do this...don't let them..."
"Shhh...you'll be okay, Will. You'll be okay."

"Colonel, it was a mistake."
"And we can't afford to make another one! I want you on the next ship back home immediately!"

"Colonel, please—"
"That's enough out of you, Carter!"

"I'm not going back."

"I don't know what the hell Erskine saw in you! You're a waste of my time and I don't give a damn if you have the same thing running through your blood, either!"

"You need me!"

"You are not Captain America. We don't need you."

Willow's eyes shot open and she gasped as she was dragged back to consciousness, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she put a hand over her heart. She could feel the skin around her eyes swelling from the amount of tears she'd cried and she moved into a lotus position, slowly as her body was cramping from the tight ball she had curled herself into. Willow gripped the sides of her head as her hands shook lightly.

"Bad dream?"

"Don't," she croaked, her throat dry and her stomach aching painfully in response, "don't talk to me."

Loki was at the mouth of the tunnel again, watching her struggle with herself before she took a deep breath and slumped against the wall in defeat. They both sat in silence, one pondering the position he'd found himself in and the other trying to hold it together and failing at the same time.

"I did not lie about our similarities."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?"

"You fight with yourself as I do. You have done certain things to belong as I have." He glanced at Willow. "We are the same, are we not?"

"No, we are not," she hissed.

"Don't you dare try to place me in the same category as you! You're completely insane—a psychopathic murderer with no kind of emotion! We couldn't be any more different!"

Loki laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

"Once again, your pride takes over your reality. You fail to see the truth. Your brother—"

"Don't bring him up," she said warningly.

"Outshines you," he continued, ignoring her, "and orders you around. You are cast aside and overlooked by everyone as if you simply don't exist. To the others, you are nothing more than the sister of the righteous Captain America. Isn't this true?"

Willow didn't look at him, but Loki could tell that his words had affected her, much more so than he believed.

"I know what it's like to have a star for a brother," she murmured, her throat tight with anger, "but the only difference is that I didn't let it get to me. Steve and I have separate roles—"

"Ah, yes. The beholder of the glory, fighting for the true and the brave, while you hide in his shadow," Loki drawled, toying with his knife and occasionally wincing as his coat shifted over his mark.

"I can't imagine your frustration."

"Somehow, I think you can. You brought an alien army here because your brother is the one your parents probably picked over you. And who could blame them, being stuck with a mentally unstable son like you?" Willow snapped.

Loki sent her a nasty glare, but she was completely past keeping her cool as she sat up.

"You say we're the same in that sense. Maybe we are. But, I didn't want the spotlight because I didn't need it! You did and look where it got you—your army blown up, that stupid cube gone and the both of us locked in a bunker all because you couldn't get a throne back home. I'm sorry, whose looking more pathetic in this situation?"

When he said nothing, she nodded and leaned back against the wall.

"That's what I thought." 

"I detest you," Loki stated plainly.

"Well, that makes two of us."

"Annoying little peasant," he growled.

"Greasy-haired rat," she shot back.

Loki stood up and walked further down the tunnel until it came to the opening where it connected to a dead end and sat down with a huff. Willow shook her chains at him and flipped him off with both hands.

"Motherfu—"
"Infuriating—"
"Son of a—"
"Maddening woman—"
"Jackass—"

Time was irrelevant, indeed, for many minutes did pass as the super soldier and the god of mischief continued to hurl insults at each other with the threat of death mixed in here and there. By the time they finished, it was at least a little more than half an hour later as Willow forced herself to sleep in order to forget about the pain of thirst while Loki looked on, a small piece of begrudging respect gained for the young woman.

He watched her as she slept sometimes—not for very long but long enough to scoff in disgust and turn away—or wandered back and forth down the tunnels, his mind forever thinking about things that needed to be done. At some point, Loki stopped and looked at Willow's sleeping face once more.

His mind was growing clearer and little by little was he breaking free from the mindset of one being that had cleverly taken advantage of his pain. He was trying to see what he looked like, what his actions meant and how his words had sounded from her point of view.

But why should her point of view matter? he thought, wrinkling his nose in contempt.

"Complete jackass!"
"A psychopathic murderer with no kind of emotion!"
"Mentally unstable son like you?"
"Whose looking more pathetic in this situation?"

"You are nothing but a killer."

A small grin—very, very small, but it was there—tugged at the corner of his mouth before falling away.

Such a contentious and vexing young woman.

——————
☀︎celine's corner☀︎

the snark—the sassiness—-

so, this is love? hmhmhmhmmm
xoxo, ilene woods