Once Upon an Avenger

Chapter 15: Proof...

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since they locked Mischief down there, down in that... that dungeon. Hope was pacing around her bedroom, hiding from Sam, whom she'd successfully avoided since that day. Watching him stand there saying nothing in Loki's defence while the rest of the team locked him up like an animal had broken her heart. I've tried everything to convince them he's innocent. They're all too damn stubborn for their own good. He hasn't done anything wrong; I wish that they would just listen to me.

She clambered into her bed; Hope hadn't slept much in the past fourteen days, still unable to sleep with her guard up. But Natasha was right, she had to get some rest eventually. Every time she closed her eyes, Hope found herself in that flaming red room, and every time she'd wake up, there would be new burns on her arms from where the fire had scorched her bare skin. Tracing her hand over the marks, she would heal them, leaving but the memories of distant pain.

I'm so sorry, Mischief.

*

Peter and May had moved back out of the compound the following day. As much as everyone loved having them around, it was too much of a trek for him to get to school each morning and as Pete had said, 'you can't be a friendly neighbourhood Spiderman if you're living at a secret estate in upstate New York with no neighbours.'

Hope had actually spent quite a lot of time at their apartment over the past two weeks. She could tell that in their hearts they believed her when she told them that Loki was innocent, but they didn't want to go up against the Avengers. Hope understood why; after all, Tony had threatened to kick her out, on multiple occasions now. And being part of the team meant everything to Peter, that and they were a group of enhanced beings that ranged from Gods to a synthezoid.

When she wasn't at their appartement or arguing with her teammates about Loki's innocence, Hope was either visiting the prisoner, training alone, or out with Galaxy. The less time she spent around the Avengers, the better it was for all of their sakes.

*

Hope was rereading Henry's book for the millionth time when she heard a knock at the door. "Go away, mate!"

"Swan, I'm coming in; we have to talk..." Sam reached for the handle and pushed but the door didn't budge. "How? These doors don't have locks."

She chuckled to herself before making her way over to the door, opening it to reveal a bewildered Sam. She gestured for him to enter, but he couldn't make it through the doorway, it was as if something was stopping him.

"Blood magic, Wilson. Nobody can come in, not unless I break the spell, or someone from my bloodline does. But that's not likely to happen, seeing as somewhere they're cursed, by the same person who's haunting everyone here's dreams. Not that you would care; you're obviously happy with Mischief taking all the blame for her actions." Hope spoke softly in case anyone else was around, but that didn't disguise the anger and disgust in her voice.

"I know I've let you do—"

"Let me down?" Hope butted in. "I'd say that we're way past being let down."

"I'm sorry..." Sam looked to the floor. He knew that she could never hurt him, but that didn't change the fact that part of him was scared of her when she was like this. And he hated himself for it. Hope looked at him and sighed. She missed him but was still so angry. "How about we have some ice-cream downstairs?" He suggested.

"I never said I forgave you."

"I don't expect you to, but we both know that eating ice-cream alone sucks."