The Disgraced Avenger (An Avengers Fanfic) [Completed] #1

Presents and Coulson *

The sedative was either too weak to hold me down or they wanted me to wake up. Probably the first one. So I awoke strapped down to a bed. I hit my head back against the pillow and scoffed, the straps instantly unbuckled.

"Took you long enough," Castor muttered, she was seated in a chair next to my bed, her feet on the bed. "The Avengers are all worried about you. They all tried to come in at some point and talk to you,"

"How long has it been?" I groaned and rubbed the back of my head, the memories taking their time to trickle back into my consciousness.

"Eight hours," Castor looked at her nails which were chewed and chipped. "There was this whole border protection thingie, where SHIELD had to land because some Maple Leaves had their pants a bit too high up their butt. But hey, it means that you're awake when we land, which is always a bonus,"

I looked at my doctor's report at the end of my bed; my doctor was someone by the name of Dr. Jemma. I scanned through her report; emotional trauma-

My thoughts were interrupted by the entering of a nurse who stopped still at the sight of me.

"Oh- you're awake," she said, surprised, obviously not expecting me to be functioning and thoroughly pissed off, "um, do you want a shower before we board the helicarrier?"

"It'll probably be my last, so, yeah, that'd be great," I said with happy sarcasm, the bitter edge crept into my voice. I didn't have time to cry for dad, not here, not now.

She left to go get clothes for me.

"She can't see you?" I asked to Castor, trying to clear my thoughts and distract myself. The question I asked was closer to a statement.

"I think it's because I released myself while you were unconscious." Castor shrugged."Meaning that I wasn't like fully formed or something. Maybe I just have the presence of an illusion.

The jumpy nurse returned and then directed me to the showers in record time. Castor waited outside. I spent a rough ten minutes under the shower, letting the grit, worry and grime wash off of me. As soon as it sunk in, I began to cry. He was gone. My father was gone. I could've saved him, yet I was selfish and was too late.

"Tell me something that I can hold onto forever and never let go," I whispered in his ear.

"Let go," he whispered back.

...

As I was being transported back to my room, I checked my pocket, and noticed it was empty. Worry struck me instantly. Loki's last gift had been stolen from me.

"Took you a little while to notice," Castor said sarcastically.

"Where is it?" I asked, trying to control the frantic edge creeping into my voice.

"Phil has it," it took me a second to get the facts right.

"Did you say-" I spluttered. Now I was confused. Phil was dead, he died in my arms or in my knees. After the Battle of Manhattan we'd buried him.

"Phil, I don't think any of the Avengers know, but he's been running the whole field operation side of this mission," Castor said casually.

"Where did you learn this?" I asked.

"Hey, I'm a nosy girl," Castor said and raised her hands in mock surrender. Castor, with no moral boundaries to keep her, had probably been checking in on the agents thought's in the surrounding quinjets.

"Take me to him," I said carefully. The bubbling pool that was my pissed level beginning to rise and spit.

"Okay, whatever, follow me," she said and I stormed down the corridors after her.

...

"Access denied," the mechanical voice spoke. I sighed, and felt the illusion wash over me. Nick Fury now stood at the doorway to Coulson's office, or whatever this place was.

I tried the Iris scanner again, hoping that magic could override mechanics. I wasn't disappointed as the door satisfyingly slid open.

Coulson looked up from his work and stood respectively.

"Cut the crap Coulson, I need my book," I said, letting the illusion burn away. My pissed level was at seventy percent. My sass was at fifty.

"Becky-" Make that a ninety percent pissed.

"Don't." I growled, "call me that. Only friends call me that, and family, you sir, seem to not fall into the category of either," Sass at seventy-five percent and rising.

It was allow blow, disowning Phil, but right then I almost couldn't care less.

Almost.

The book laid on the cluttered mess of a desk, the pages open, blank. This means Phil had already searched the book that was meant for me. Mine. Not his, not SHIELD's, mine. Pissed level one hundred percent.

"There is nothing in there for you," he said, noticing that I'd seen it.

The book flew to my hand, "Not for you there isn't," I exited the office with Castor's sassy approval.

I returned to my room, glaring at the mirror provided, I hated these clothes. Dark tracksuit pants and a white tank top, my dark hair was pulled away from my face. Dark bags were under my green eyes. I decided to try shifting my clothing. Loki could do so, why couldn't I?

He's a god, please remember, Castor muttered, sitting at the bedside seat.

After ten full minutes of no response, I tried for an illusion. A white, pale top with jeans, and a silvery blue windbreaker, similar to what Castor was wearing last night. My dark ringlets hung around my shoulders, my necklace and bracelet in their respective places, no illusions needed for those, they weren't removed in my abduction.

I dragged in a breath and clenched my eyes shut. Blood, I remembered, covering me, covering him, flowering out in a beautiful spiral design that you'd see at abstract art collections. Blood, hot and sticky, life once in that blood, life no longer flowing. I clenched my eyes shut even harder, blood, the metallic stink that clouded my thoughts. The redness of the blood. All-

Castor stood abruptly in warning as guards came to collect me, six of them in front, six behind. The jet had landed, and now I was marched out out of the back and onto the top of the helicarrier which was in water mode. The Avengers had already arrived, lined up beside. As I walked passed I imitated Loki's smirk, knowing it broke them inside. I relished in their pain. How much pain had they cause me. The hot flush of hurt that made me want to cry spread in my chest again.

I didn't, instead, I mentally stitched the little pieces of me back together as me walked, the tears subsided.

I was hoarded to Loki's cell, not mine, Loki's. "Like father, like daughter," I muttered as I was pushed inside. I examined the cell, obviously it wasn't the exact same, but it was pretty damn close. I looked at the glass, the columns, the bedded seat. I took another moment not to cry. Showing weakness is not permitted.

A few minutes later, Fury came in to see me.

"Good to see I was missed," I said, grinning at him, hoping that my facade wouldn't crack in this little interrogation.

"These are the nessescary precautions," Fury was stone-cold and stoic. It hurt me to realise that he didn't care about the past. He only cared that any possible threats were neutralised or taken out. In a way, we both had changed. I noted that with a grimace.

I snorted, "For what? For me? For Castor? Because of my father?"

"All of them," he snapped, then he left.

Well that just put a ray of sunshine in my day. I thought as the doors closed with a whoosh.

Question of the Day: What's your favourite colour?

Mine is cerulean blue

HULK SMASH!