Mischief Managed | Loki

Memories

     "You sure did give us a scare." My eyes opened to harsh whiteness all over causing me to squeeze them shot. Still, I opened them full to see Fury sitting at the foot of the bed.

      "Took quite a blow to the side," he continued, his hands neatly folded in his lap.

     Hissing at pain, I forced myself to sit up in the bed. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and thought back to what had happened before the world went black. Loki, fighting, explosion, Hulk, Coulson...

      "Coulson," I said, drawing me eyes up to Fury, "What happened to Coulson." Fury sat there, looking at me in silence. I felt my heart begin to drop to the pit of my stomach.

      "He survived," he answered. I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing a bit more.

      "But the others are under the assumption that he is dead," he finished. My eyes darted back to Fury, wide in shock.

      "Why didn't you tell them," I asked.

      Fury sighed, "To give them a sense of motivation. Agent Coulson agreed to it, if that helps at all."

      "Not really," I stated, "What happened with Loki?"

      "He got away with the tesseract but he's heading to New York," he answered, "The team is getting ready to head out soon."

      "Then I need to go," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My face winced as pain shot from my side.

      "You're in no shape for a fight like this," he stated, standing up from his chair.

      I looked at him, "A quick mix of some herbs and I can feel completely fine." I pushed myself up off my bed, walking over to the small table that had my bag on it.

      "It won't heal you. In your state, this would be a suicide mission," he argued. I began pulling out what herbs I had stowed away, taking out small amounts from each jar.

      "Then I'll die a good death," I stated, "Be remembered for something good."

      Fury paused, "What I said was out of line and I'm sorry...But it doesn't mean you have anything to prove! What about your parents?" I paused at what I was doing, my mind drifting to my parents.

~

      I stood in my room, looking around at the bare walls and empty drawers. My bed was stripped, three bags packed and stacked neatly on top. My head hung low, my lips pulled into a tight line.

      "It's what's best," I whispered to myself, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.

      "Dinner time, honey," yelled my father, his voice floating from the bottom of the stairs.

      I took a breath, sliding my wand into my back pocket and pulling my shirt over it. I turned around, walking out of the room and down the stairs. I let my hand drag against the railing, feeling for familiar dents in the wood. My eyes lingered on the wall, taking in every picture and all it's detail. One picture was of a small girl with pigtails and a sweater; and giving a cheesy, toothless grin to the camera.

      The next was the same girl, just a bit younger, standing with a couple. The woman had chocolate brown hair, grey eyes that held tears, and a smile that seemed to light up the picture. The man had peppered hair, his eyes were a mix of green and blue that were squinted as he wore a big smile. The two were knelt down beside the girl, their arms wrapped around her...the day they adopted me. I lifted my hand, letting my fingers trace over their faces gently.