28 - hopeless

                                    

                                          
_Loki_
                          
I stand there stiffly, staring at the floor. Through the glass in front of me, I can see the child finally move for the first time in hours. Thank the gods, I was worried he'd stopped breathing. 
                          
The bruising around his throat is the most concerning at the moment. I can tell he's struggling to breathe by the shallowness of each of his gasps for oxygen. 
                          
No matter how hard I try to ignore my worry for the boy, I can't deny my subtly racing pulse as I glance at his slumped-over form. 
                          
"You have your stone." I nod my head to the black suitcase on the table across the room that harbors the radioactive material. "You have your leverage." I gesture my head to Peter, refusing to look at him for too long. "Now give me my freedom." 
                          
Heitman fixes the tips of his clean, white gloves, "You get your freedom when we get ours." 
                          
I tense, but immediately hide it behind a casual demeanor, "And what kind of freedom might you want?" If I can convince them I could somehow give them their freedom, they might be stupid enough to believe me. 
                          
Everyone seems to be stupid enough to believe me. 
                          
Why did Peter have to be stupid enough to believe me? 
                          
No, stupid isn't the right word. Peter has never been stupid...
                          
Perhaps 'hopeful' is better?
                          
No...
                          
Hopeless. 
                          
He'd been hopelessly believing in people who simply have no hope left. 
                          
I have no hope left. 
                          
"Ruling the mortal world, of course." His thick German accent cuts through my thoughts. "With our new weaponry—" He carelessly gestures a hand to the suitcase, "—and our leverage—" Using the same hand, he points to Peter hunched over in the chair on the other side of the glass. "—they wouldn't dare try to touch us." 
                          
I take note of the way the man says "our". Good. He has yet to remove me from the equation.  
                          
"And what might the plans be for our leverage?" I smirk, trying to play the part of the 'villain' everyone knows me to be. It's an exhausting role, really. "Ransom?" 
                          
Not that I care. I can't care. I put him here, I have no right to care about the boy. 
                          
They can torture him for all I care. Beat him to to a pulp. It doesn't matter. 
                          
It shouldn't matter. 
                          
Why does it matter? 
                          
"Ah, we don't need plans for that." He shrugs away and goes back to the suitcase. 
                          
I pause. "Whatever do you mean?" 
                          
"All SHIELD needs to know is that we have leverage. It doesn't matter what we do with it unless we're dangling it in front of their faces." 
                          
I try to make sense of the new intel, "So, you're just going to leave him there?" Neglect him? 
                          
"Precisely. Almost like a, ah," He seems to look for the correct English, "Ah, a house plant." Heitman smirks at the simile. "We know it's there. So does everyone else. However, it does nothing but look pretty until we find an occasion to need it." 
                          
My emotions speak before I can process them, "But if you don't water it, it's going to die." My tone is sterner than I had intended it to be. 
                          
Heitman freezes, "You do realize we're talking about a plant, right?" He chuckles lowly at our analogy. 
                          
"Ah, yes." I stutter. Come on, Loki—pull it together. 
                          
"Well, I'll be off." He finishes fiddling with his gloves and grabs the handle of the suitcase. "I'll be keeping this where it is...safe." The German gives me a shady glare. 
                          
I nod and hold my arms behind my back as he walks out, leaving me to stand with the guard eying me from doorway. 
                          
I can't go back on the decisions I made. I know that. 
                          
I can't change it. The damage is done. It won't be put back together. Neither will Peter. 
                          
The least I can do for the two Romanoffs is keep the boy alive for as long as I am able. 
                          
But even gods have their limits. 
                          
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HAHAHA okay i'm on a roll, maybe another update? i also feel super bad for that last cliffhanger lol
                          
(edit: YES ANOTHER UPDATE, keep scrolling!)
                          
-cow