What would you do for the ones you loved?

Your fingers posed over the edges of the keyboard, eyes fixated on the blinking cursor, urging you to begin typing. It was a simple task and every aspiring college student had to complete one if you wished to begin the next phase of your life. 

Though in all fairness, you weren't really sure why every college applicant had to write an essay. It wasn't like a pure mathematics major was going to end up writing Shakesperian sonnets across a chalk board over differential equations mind you. You weren't the best writer yourself when it came to composing personal essays that related to previous events of your life, this topic in particular seemed to hit straight home.

You hadn't talked to Banner since the morning encounter two days ago. There was an icy silence that existed between the two of you. There had always been some distance ever since the initial Incident, though the root of paternal familiarity still seemed to extend towards you. But the argument seemed to have broken that and Banner had recoiled back to his experiments and playthings in his laboratory, not wanting to be disturbed. Rogers was adamant (of course) that you remain separated from Banner for a while longer in order to minimise the possibility of triggering a 'Code Green.'

College had been something of quiet discussion between you and Banner, though Stark seemed to be more enforcing of it, assuming more of a fatherly figure to you than Banner had been in the last few years since the Incident. He remained persistent about the subject, suggesting that if you weren't going to use your 'Friends without benefits,' your powers, and suit up with the rest of the Avengers, then you might as well try to live a normal life. 

Normal life? 

You scoffed at the idea, the thought of living in the suburbs in the United States with a family, waking up to the smell of coffee and sunshine every morning like one of those insurance commercials for Viagra. Even if you assumed the facade of a normal individual, there was the inevitability that you would have another migraine. And with little hope for the near future of stopping them and that they only seemed to be lasting longer, you didn't see the point of trying to live a lie that you were anything but abnormal. 

Plus, you had told Stark, you had seen the biogenetics chart spelling out your internal metabolism and cellular division rates. You knew what those numbers meant, what they spelled out about how the Incident had permanently altered your life. Apply for college, major in physics as your father and ancestors had done for years and years, get a job and settle down? You had all the time in the world for that!

You didn't want to talk about it any longer, about how long you would live for, about what the energy raging inside your veins was doing to your genetic code. It was one day at a time for you, one day in a span of eons that would await. But you didn't want to think about that now, you had an essay to write. 

Loved ones?

Did it mean Banner, your only living biological relative (the whereabouts of your mother was a story for another time)? Or could you talk about others, those who weren't related to you by blood and bone? You could talk about Stark, you supposed. You cared for him with an emotion that you assumed you would have felt for Banner had he not been the way he was. You felt the same emotion towards others within the Avengers unit, for Romanoff, for Barton, Odinson, Rogers and the countless others that roamed the building from time to time. 

The blinking cursor continued to throb in sync with your incoming headache. No, it wasn't like the migraines that ripped your consciousness in half. This was your normal, average headache that any young individual was prone to after having been sleep-deprived for several hours and hopped up on a pint of coffee. 

You noticed the frantic scrambling of Rogers and Barton from the other end of the room, attempting to make the mess of Stark's living space somewhat habitable for whatever guest was intended to arrive that day. You knew who it was without anyone having to tell you. It was the man with the eyepatch that they went through so much trouble for, though you didn't know why they wanted to impress him so much. 

You weren't stupid, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn't signed the nondisclosure agreement that everyone who was an ordained Avenger had to sign before 'joining the team' as the man with the eyepatch had put it, so you weren't allowed to join in on the fun talks about whatever was wrong with the world that needed fixing. Though it wasn't hard to piece together some of the puzzle through the hushed whispers and who would be gone for long periods of time. 

You hadn't noticed Odinson in the complex for quite some time, so you assumed that the issue pertained somewhat to him. You knew that the strange muscle man was not from the green-blue planet that you inhabited, but belonged to some world far away. You thought it was strange how many civilisations of intelligent life forms all throughout the universe bore the same identical semblance to those that walked on the Earth, though perhaps a flesh sack that walked on two feet and made annoying noises with a hole on its face-flesh was what evolution had deemed best for the majority of life in the universe. Though sometimes they came in all sorts of fantastical colours like blue and green, but those you had only seen in your dreams. 

"(Y/n)."

Your eyes flickered from the computer screen to Rogers's face hovering over the laptop. "We need you to exit the room for a brief minute whilst Fury and the rest of the team discuss a few important matters." 

You studied the gathering in the room for a moment, your eyes hovering over Banner whom refused to meet your gaze even now. The man with the eye patch seemed to be engaged in a serious conversation with Stark, or what he was trying to make a serious conversation. Knowing Stark, he was trying to put a cocky spin on everything as frequently as he deemed fit. 

"I think I'm fine right here. I don't think me writing an essay for college will make anyone too uncomfortable?" You asked, directing your verbal daggers towards Banner, holding his icy grey eyes against your (E/c) coloured gaze. "As Banner put it, I'm delicate, is that the right word? Anything might set me off into a spiralling mess, trigger another migraine that could bring the whole tower down. I guess it runs in the family."

It was the eyepatch man's turn to speak. "On behalf of SHIELD, on behalf of the authority given to me from the government of the United States of America, I request that you leave the room and premises immediately as you do not have warrant to engage in the matters that we wish to discuss."

"I have all the authority in the world," you replied, your monotonic voice putting the entire room on edge. "I sat here first and the couch has my butt imprint to prove it. Plus, it's pretty obvious to piece together your crisis. Given that Odinson isn't in the room, it's safe to assume that he's currently engaged in some matter on his home world that threatens the security of this world."

Banner rocked on his feet whilst the eyepatch man drew his breath in sharply. How tempting it was to use your power, to rip apart their minds just like your migraine often did to yours, to expose their thoughts raw and open. The mind was often man's last sanctuary, the one part that no force or power could dare to infiltrate. For if you could not be safe even in your own mind, if you could not hide your thoughts, than what were you? Surely not independent, surely not free. You had never tried the golden power before, the power that allowed you to rip into the mind of another living creature. At least, you hadn't dared to try it on a human, though you did practise on an unfortunate cockroach that had scurried across your bedroom floor and had scared the living shit out of you. Nevertheless, you learned that the cockroach was currently worried that her fiancee was cheating on her with another man and that he may be pregnant with another child. 

Yes, it was a strange experience and you didn't wish to go through it again. Plus, the nasty migraine that followed was enough to put you back into your place. 

"Fury." It was Stark's turn to intervene. You thought the name was quite odd: Fury. You had always called him Eyepatch Man and never wished to change the address for it suited his nature. Fury seemed to have a comic book ring to it, like some drunken writer that had stayed up all night wanted to introduce a dramatic character into the storyline and felt that Fury was the most intimidating name on the planet. Though it was Nick Fury, his full name. Had to add the Nick in there to make it sound a little better. 

"Do you really want to intervene right now?" Eyepatch Man rolled his one good eye towards Stark, clearly annoyed at the child billionare's presence. 

"Well, given that this is my building, because if you hadn't noticed, it has my name on it," Stark happily pointed out as he had several times before, "I think I have the higher authority to designate who gets to be in what room. I mean, I could put you out on the patio and the adults can have the conversation on their own."

"And how exactly did you get the money to fund the construction of this building?" Fury snapped back, his words dripping in sarcasm. "Remind me who your number one buyer was before Stark Industries shut down their weapons programme."

"That's besides the point," Stark growled, clearly upset that his ego was under attack. "You don't get to make the choices around here, not about us, about (Y/n) or anything else. You may have signed the papers creating the Avengers Initiative, but we're the ones in it. And whether or not (Y/n) has joined or not does not get to exclude them from these conversations - "

"Thor is dead," the Eyepatch Man interjected, his voice cold and foreboding. You took a step backwards, not having expected the weight of such news. "See? I told you I didn't want them in the room, but you and your ego demanded it, so there you go."

There was immediate chatter and chaos that erupted among the gathering of Avengers, though you found that you remained silent throughout the noise. There was a strange ringing in your ears that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, the same ringing that you always heard during your migraines whenever your vessel began to scream. 

Odinson, dead? 

You didn't think that was possible, for wasn't he supposed to be some sort of god immune to the tribulations of age, time or injury? You had watched from the confines of Stark Tower as he had ravaged through the Battle of New York against any army from outer space, being shot and stabbed multiple times and brushing off the enemies that would have ended any common man. You knew that most of those on Earth had taken an attraction to Thor, but you had never harboured such feelings. He had been a friend, no, a family member that was part of the Avengers unit you had known ever since you had been brought in after the Incident. 

You heard shouts now though you weren't particularly concerned about what they were arguing about now. But then there was a hand clamped on your shoulder and you were staring directly into Stark's eyes as he shouted something at you. It was only then did you realise that the room was on fire, though it wasn't the kind of fire that you found on Earth. 

It was a primordial fire that seemed to have existed since the beginning of time, the kind of fire that burned within the new universe seconds after it had burst into existence. Blue flames crackled across the furniture within the living room, consuming couches and tables but left no smoke nor ash. The floor was beginning to crack, hairline fractures in the seemingly unbreakable granite floor. Purple light emerged from the cracks as if some raw power was threatening to break through from another world or perhaps universe, radiating from underneath your feet. 

The group of heroes had taken a step backwards and you found that amusing, that the Earth's mightiest heroes were afraid of you of all people. "(Y/n)!" You heard Stark shout your name once more which snapped you out of your senses. You were aware of the devastation around you and with a mere emotion, a mere thought that gave little attention to what power or energy you were summoning forth, the damage, cracks and fire alike, vanished in a puff of green static. 

"That's better," Stark assured you, though you knew it was anything but that. Odinson was dead and whatever force that had killed him was coming for the planet, coming for you. You didn't know how you knew it, but it was a feeling that seemed rooted within the very energies that hummed inside your bones. All this time, you and Banner had thought that the cosmic wavelengths of light had been travelling throughout the universe since the beginning of time, but perhaps they had been running away from something. 

"But how?" The words escaped your throat, but your mind felt distant, disconnected from the vessel that you were tethered to. You knew that this was the beginning of another migraine but you didn't pay any attention to that, desperate to hear the information before you slipped from this world once more into a chattering fit. 

"We don't know," Fury replied. "We assumed that it was his adopted brother that played a role in it, given their history with one another. Thor was out on a mission, ensuing peace in a realm called Vanaheim when a force wrecked the area, consuming every life form within the region including Odinson. Asgard relayed the information to us and assured that Loki remained within his prison cell for the duration. If he had a role in it, which I feel isn't likely, he didn't do it there."

But you weren't listening anymore. Your mind was worlds away, torn away from the vessel back on the blue-green world, floating away into the cosmos on a sea of stars.