Silence. Absolute silence. Not even the rustling of leaves in the wind or the chirping of a bird can be heard. It is about four in the morning, and I enjoy the time when nothing and no one disturbs my inner peace. Inner peace, a state that seemed almost unattainable for me just three years ago.

The steady, almost inaudible sound of my lunging footsteps on the soft forest floor is strangely hypnotic. Like a heartbeat, the heartbeat of the forest. A smile comes to my lips as I ponder the metaphorical meaning of this thought.

Actually, I'm not one of those people who are up before sunrise, however, sometimes I just need that calmness that only comes before the first rays of the morning light announce the new day by immersing everything in a golden light.

This precious moment, which is almost magical, is something very special and is definitely worth getting up a little earlier every now and then. Even though Steve makes his disapproval of my early morning disappearances clear every time, I sometimes just can't resist the cool, clean morning air.

At times I'm still amazed at how fast New York has recovered from the Attack of the Chitauri, lead by that dark-haired and somewhat good-looking god that is currently under arrest somewhere in the Avengers tower. Eventhough I have tried to, I have not managed to get a peak at him. Not even once in all those months. I don't even know where exactly he is in the expansive tower.

I stop at a small lake. Above the treetops, the sky is just turning from a deep blue to bright orange. Various shades of purple make the scattered clouds look as if they have been painted, and when the sun finally rises as a fire-like ball above the trees, I can't take my eyes off it. The spectacle is short but beautiful.

I hold on to the moment, memorizing the outline of the trees, which look almost black in the light, and the interplay of colours in the sky. The way the sun is reflected on the mirror-like surface of the water is simply too beautiful to forget.

When the sky finally slowly loses its colourful hues, I start moving again. The first birds start chirping, and it won't be long before the first people show up here. Exhausted but happy, I finally arrive at the Avengers Tower, tracing my eyes up its mirroring facade, my thoughts yet again wandering off to the prisoner that is locked away somewhere inside there.

I don't know when I have become so curious about the god that nearly destroyed New York, but I think the Secrecy about the whole topic and the fact that literally anyone but me is involved in some way is part of the reason for my growing curiosity. Everytime I walk into a room and it suddenly gets quiet I know what was being discussed before I barged in. I somehow feel left out.

As the lift carries me towards my quarters, I lean my forehead against the cool wall and close my eyes for a moment. The lift stops, and I open my eyes again, wait for the door to finally open, and find myself facing a not very enthusiastic-looking Steve. I feel the resignation radiating off of him.

I smile innocently at him as I try to slip past him. I don't know why I even try. Before I can successfully slip past him, he reaches for my wrist and spins me around. "You know it's not safe."

His serious look makes me sigh softly, and I take a step toward him. "Steve, I need this. I've barely left this building in three years. I need air to breathe. I need space." He runs a hand through his blond hair. "I know. Still, We don't want to put other people in danger, do we?." I know he's right, and he knows it too.

"Training at ten?" He finally asks conciliatorily. Grinning, I accept his peace offering, turn and jog down the corridor that leads to my quarters. Normally, our training starts punctually at eight. With a glance at the clock, I realize that it is only six. I set my alarm for half-past nine before I disappear into my bathroom and take a quick shower.

My quarters are nice. Small, but nice. The bathroom is tiled in grey tiles. The shower takes up the whole of the shorter wall and is set into the wall like the bathtub. Because the tiles are roughened on the floor of the shower, it is not so easy to slip when showering.

My bedroom contains a large double bed, like every other bedroom in the Avengers Tower. The grey bed linen matches the colour of the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling window. The floor is covered by a fluffy black carpet, while on the wall, two large pictures add colour to the room. Above the headboard of my bed hangs a beautiful painting of the sea.

My living room, like the rest of my quarters, is also relatively simply furnished. A sofa and an armchair are placed around a small table opposite my TV, which is rarely used. A large round carpet covers the floor.

A green plant with large leaves that diffuse a fresh smell is placed in one corner, and one of the walls is made entirely out of glass and offers a breathtaking view over New York. At night, when I can't sleep, I often sit on the floor in front of the glass and admire the city lights.

I grab a towel and disappear into my bedroom, where I crawl into bed and snuggle up in the soft covers, falling asleep quickly until my alarm clock rudely startles me from my slumber.

Grumpily, I search for my training clothes before shuffling into the kitchen to look for something edible in the fridge that is stuffed to the hilt. How can it be that the fridge is almost overflowing with food, but I still have trouble finding something I can actually eat safely?

The yoghurt in the back corner beckons me kindly, but I've made that mistake before, and I certainly won't repeat it. I just barely escaped the death that had waylaid me in the form of an extraordinarily angry Natasha.

It had taken me a week of pancakes to convince her not to kill me. Sighing, I settle for a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee before heading to the training room, where I'm sure Steve is already waiting for me.

He's dragged a dummy onto the large mat in the center of the room, a pair of red boxing globes waiting for me on the bench at the side of the room, along with a fresh towel and a bottel of water.

The rhythmic sound of punching echoes through the room as Steve bounces in front of a punching bag, swinging his fists against the item dangling from the ceiling. When he spots me in the doorway, he stops the bag from swinging back and forth and walks over to the dummy, beckoning me closer.

I grab the pair of gloves and approach him, listening to him as he explains a technique to take down an armed opponent. We start training, and after thirty seconds, when I miss the first time, it dawns on me that this session will not end that soon.

After two hours of exhausting training, sweat runs down my back, and my limbs tremble with exertion. Steve really takes the training seriously and keeps pushing me beyond my limits. Surprised by the sound of the door, I lower my arms and turn around, curious who has just entered the training room.

Smiling, I wave at Tony and promptly get a stern look from the super soldier in return. "Keep going, y/n!" He instructs before walking over to Tony, who beckons him impatiently.

As soon as the Blonde Avenger turns his back on me, I let go of the poor dummy and drop backwards onto the mat. Sprawled out like a starfish, I lay on the soft training mat and stare at the ceiling. My breath is still coming in jerks, and suddenly, I start giggling.

All the blood rushes to my head and makes me slightly lightheaded. Black spots appear at the edges of my sight, and I start blinking in an attempt to get rid of them.

After only a few seconds, I start to feel normal again. When two heads appear in my view, I start giggling again. Identifying the two faces as Steve and Tony, I smile at them. Tony's amusement makes my smile grow even wider. "Hey, Shorty."

He offers me a hand to help me stand up. "I'm not short." I pout. "Sure." I huff, and he smirks at me before his face turns serious. "I have something important to talk about. Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

I am sure I hear Steve mutter something about the importance of regular training as I follow Tony into the conference room. So much for cosy. Rolling my eyes, I watch the cocky genius at the head drop into a chair and follow his example.

Admittedly, the chairs are not that uncomfortable. With every second that passes, my unease and discomfort grow, and I am about to disturb the silence when Tony suddenly sits up straight and rests his forearms on the table before making eye contact.

"You know why we train you?" Nodding, I ask him to continue. "Your ability can be very useful, and I am sure it will help you in your new task." "Tony, you know I can't control it. Steve just rubbed it in my face again this morning that I am a threat to people."

"That's right. However, I am not talking about that thing. You can read minds, can't you?" "Tony, it's not mind reading. I can only sense emotions and strong thoughts. I can't see them. I just feel them." He rolls his eyes again. "Whatever."

The steady drumming of his fingers on the table echoes in the giant room and begins to tug at my nerves. Can't he just say what he has to say? "We need you to interrogate someone. We can't see through his façade. But maybe you can."

My eyes widen in disbelief. I've never been allowed to be a part of anything remotely resembling an important mission, and now I'm even allowed to interrogate someone! "Who are we talking about?" Again, a heavy silence settles over the room until Tony finally mumbles a single word. "Loki."