Silhouettes | Loki fanfiction

III

In which there is flying death traps and internal-Bruce monologues

  "I uhh..."

 Bruce stumbled over his words. He honestly had no idea how long the search could last for, and once finished, whether SHIELD would risk letting him slip through their fingers again. 

Freja's forehead scrunched together at his unsaid words and Bruce felt an overwhelming urge to pull her close like he did when she was a little girl. To hold her and whisper until all the pain and bad things went away.  Only, he was the one causing all the pain and she - she suddenly wasn't so little anymore.

Bruce blinked. Freja, his Freja suddenly looked so different.    

Her hair was ginger now, no longer the fiery curls he used to brush his fingers through, but a coppery colour that reminded him painfully of his wife. In fact, if it hadn't been for Freja's multitude of freckles (though no-one was entirely sure where she got them) Bruce could almost have believed Liv was standing in front of him. But heck his Freja had grown tall - well, relatively speaking.  At 5ft4 she wasn't going to be receiving any basketball scholarships anytime soon. But still. This wasn't the girl he left behind.

"How long-?" The words were out before he could stop them.

"Six years." Freja smiled grimly, not quite looking him in the eye. 

It hurt Bruce more than he cared to admit. He ran a hand over his jaw. Six years. Six years of being a monster. Of being dangerous and uncontrollable. Six years of running. Of being a terrible dad. Six years of leaving his daughter with a housekeeper acting as both parents. He felt sick. 

And yet here he was. Doing it again.

If someone asked him later why he did he it, he'd say it was the redness in Freja's eyes. Or the smug look on Natasha's face who seemed to be enjoying this. Maybe it was that he was sick of being alone. Or because he was scared of what was going to come. But, if he was being honest. It was because Freja, who refused to meet his gaze, who pulled at her jumper sleeves like he did, who'd grown up all alone in this big house, was still his daughter and he missed her so much.

"Come with me."

"What?"  Freja's hands wrung desperately, her eyes wide and incredulous - but she was smiling. 

Natasha was not. 

"Dr Banner." Her voice was low and dangerous but Bruce didn't care. If SHIELD wanted him so badly then they'd take Freja too. Like heck he was going to let them be separated again. He kept his eyes on his daughter.

 "Freja?"

Her lips quirked. "I - I'd like that." 

Bruce's creased, worried face cleared and he pulled Freja in for a hug. "Go pack  Ӓlskling. We need to leave in an hour."

Freja nodded, already half out the door when Bruce's voice stopped her again. 

"Also, Freja. Your painting? Mum would... she would have been proud."

* 

A tiny, but official looking aeroplane was waiting for them on the field of the local children's park. It was sleek, fancy; painted in defence force blue with the stylised eagle of SHIELD above the door. Inside, there was only enough room for two rows of two seats - and even that at a push. It seemed way too small to even think of attempting to challenge the laws of aerodynamics, though Bruce knew better. 

Not that his multiple PHDs and experience in extreme physics went far in reassuring him. It was one thing to study and design these planes. Another to be using them. 

 He buckled himself in with clumsy fingers and though the pilot had given them a headset to communicate he couldn't hear anything over the roaring engines of the flying deathtrap. He ground his knuckles into the palm of the other hand and peered through the window, watching the hurricane of leaves that sped away from the quickening rotor blades. The plane lurched and shook then began rolling over the grass. Slowly at first then faster, faster, faster.

He shut his eyes. Arms tensing at every bump and swerve. Had it occurred to anyone at SHEILD that putting a known easily angered monster in a tiny - high up - vehicle might not be a great idea? He was already stressed. All it would take would be one wrong bounce. One angry pigeon. One near miss and it would be game over.  A cool presence covered his hand and despite the fact they were now hurtling at a 45 degree angle into the sky, he cracked an eye open. 

It was Freja, her small hand folded over his. As if knowing the very thoughts that ran through his head, the anxiety that plagued his bones. She squeezed his fingers and every last doubts he had about bringing her instantly vanished.

Natasha had said that Nick Fury was not going to like this new development though she herself hadn't protested too much when Bruce had announced his sudden, spontaneous decision. But then, Bruce felt like she was going to enjoy watching the showdown. She was, he decided, someone who liked when stuff was happening. 

And, the smile that had lit up Freja's face when he'd mentioned how proud Liv would have been was worth any telling off a fancy High-Op director could give him. 

At least, that's what he told himself

A/N: Ahh!! Next chapter we get to meet Cap and an extremely grumpy Nick Fury :) I'm excited!