Frostbite {Avengers}

7. Older- Sasha Sloan

And loving is hard, it don't always work
You just try your best not to get hurt
I used to be mad but now I know
Sometimes it's better to let someone go

" Roza" father said, his brown, warm eyes staring into mine. " There are more over here"

He pointed to a bush of berries, ripe from summer's fresh start. I brushed away my long, black hair, now grown nearly to my waist, and smiled. Berries were my favourite, and if that meant foraging for them in the cold underbrush, then so be it.

Father smiled sadly, the wrinkles in his eyes evidence of a happy life, a warm life. When I would turn away though, I knew that sadness would stay on him once more.

But then his eyes changed. They went from comforted to scared in a second, and in the blink of an eye, we were in the Red Room again, the barrel of a gun pointing to his head.

Darkness swirled and breathed around me, pulsing, writhing. It pushed against me until I was gulping down air, until I felt like I was dying. Until I couldn't move, and every part of my body felt as if it was going to cave in on itself. " You did this, Roza"

" I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" I whispered, and I tried to drop the gun, but it wouldn't budge. "I can't-"

And then Bang.

I woke up.

I stared into the darkness, trying to conjure fire into my hand to brighten up the room, but it didn't work, my hands shaking too much to flick that switch deep inside my soul. My breath came out in gasps, and I stood up, managing to create a bulb of flame, lighting every candle in the room. And then in the bathroom. Taking a bottle of vodka from beside me on the table, I took a swig, feeling it burn down my throat, my mind clearing up. Slightly.

Loki was still asleep, or so it looked like it. His black hair was cut shorter than before, he had cut it since last year, and he looked younger.

He was probably faking it though, as he did when we were working with the Avengers. He seemed to sit or lie there all night, never fully asleep, just awake enough to be alert at the hint of a sound.

My muscles ached from the couch, and I stretched in the darkness. According to the old clock above the mantlepeice, it was 4 o clock in the morning. Too late to go back to sleep, to early to wake up.

My hands were still shaking, and I took another swig, glad of my mind becoming more foggy.

As much as I hated to admit it, I missed the Avengers. They were my family, and for the past year and a half, I had always had them within reach, I knew Tony's number, and I knew where the compound was. Now, they were impossible to contact without begging Heimdall to send me to earth.

In this situation, it was hard think of what they would have done. Nat wouldn't have done it, end of story. Clint would probably have befriended everyone, Steve would have already stopped tge rebellion, and tony would have found a way to get back to earth without Heimdall. I missed them, or rather, I missed having them there to lean on.

No. Maybe I was just getting needy.

I walked outside to the balcony, ditching my duties to look after Loki, after all, he could look after himself. And I decided not to act like he couldn't anymore. He was Loki, a god. And who was I? Some assassin orphan who could only kill a few mortals.

The thought of killing intruded my mind again.

I enjoyed the training with Fandral, but when it came to it, I was slightly scared to fight again, and i knew the time would come.