Author's note: Well, this is my very first story set post-movie, if only by a few hours, and even though it is one of the shortest, I am still quite proud of it. I hope you like it. Remember that the author has a very fragile ego, and any review would be greatly appreciated on that score. As always, none of this belongs to me.

All my love,

Ballerina Terminator

The Monster

14 hours after the Battle of New York...

Detention Level of SHIELD HQ...

While Loki knew that it would be her when he turned around, it surprised him to see her there, not so much because Agent Romanoff had once again entered a room he was in without him realizing it instantly, although that was unexpected. It surprised him that she was there at all. She stood in front of this new glass enclosure, calmly – even patiently – waiting for him to notice her presence, and the expression on her face could only be described as 'serene,' despite the darkening bruises that had blossomed on the left side of her face. He also noticed, even though she was not moving, that she was sparing her right leg just a bit.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, not caring that it sounded bitter.

"I just wanted a chance to speak… candidly. I believe that the last time we spoke there were-" she paused again to consider her words "-other circumstances that interfered." She spoke softly and carefully, almost kindly, no longer giving the impression of a cat tensed to either pounce or bolt, but rather a lioness, completely at ease and secure in her strength. The change in her air made it clear how much of a pretense her previous attitude had been. This woman before him now would have to be terrified almost beyond reason before anyone would even suspect that she was scared at all. The change annoyed him, and her stated motive for this exchange sounded absurd.

"You think we got off on the wrong foot, and you want to start again?" Loki asked with incredulity, wondering wildly if this was some kind of preamble for an attempt at rehabilitation.

"I do feel that our last conversation was rather misleading, and I didn't want to leave you with the wrong idea."

"You think that I have the wrong idea about you?"

"Actually, to be honest, I think you've got the wrong idea about a lot of people. Clint Barton, for example, is – and always has been – a good man. Despite everything, he has spent his entire adult life endeavoring to put a stop to injustices all over the world, preventing bad people from doing bad things," she explained in reasoned tones. "But to answer your question, yes, I do think that you have the wrong idea about me."

"Oh, but you cannot deny that everything that I said about you is true," he breathed maliciously, as though slipping a dagger into a gap in armor, aching to penetrated her calm.

He failed, and regrettably, he found the pitying amusement more disconcerting.

"You see," she said with a sarcastic smile playing on her lips. "That is where you are getting the wrong idea. You recite to me all of my crimes as though you are telling me something that I don't know!" All of a sudden, the amusement was gone, replaced with scornful mockery. "You honestly think that I had just forgotten everything that led me to this point? Do you imagine that I don't see every stain of my sins every time I look in the mirror? Do you really believe that I ever expected to be afforded any kind of redemption for my work in SHIELD, as though anything that I ever do could even begin to make up for all of the terrible things that I've done?"

Her gaze hid none of her derision. "You sought to inspire fear by killing nearly 100 people in a matter of days, but I've killed twice that number in twenty minutes. And you really thought that Banner was the monster here? Please."

Now her face lost all expression, and her voice became cold and hard. "There has only ever been one monster here, and it has always been me," she spat. "You wanted to know why I wanted to speak to you? I came here to make sure that you understand one single thing very clearly." She took a step forward, meeting the eyes of the powerful being before her, and suddenly the barrier between them seemed insubstantial. "I don't care if there is nothing left of me but a rotting corpse; if you ever do anything to hurt Clint Barton again, I will crawl out of my grave to come after you, and I will find you if I have to cross the universe to do it. When I find you, and I will, you will come to understand exactly how seriously I take my debt, and when I'm done with you, you will regret that the Hulk had gotten to you before me!"

Loki hadn't realized that he was taking a step back until after he had done so, and he immediately cursed himself for the sign of weakness, but she seemed either not to notice or care.

She merely recomposed herself into the cool demeanor with which she had begun, and said dispassionately, "I'm glad that we could have this little chat." Then, she turned to walk out of the room.

But he wouldn't be Loki Silver-tongue if he couldn't recover his equanimity in conversation quickly. Just before she reached the door, he called to her. "Agent Romanoff."

She paused and glanced back, eyebrows raise in question.

"Before, when I asked you if this was love…"

"Yes?"

"You didn't say no," he pointed out.

"You say that like it could possibly matter," she said in a soft, cold voice.

Again her response was one that he had not expected, and he couldn't help asking, "Does it not? At least, for you?"

She gave him a withering glance that very nearly hid the pain before turning to leave the room. When she was out of ear-shot, she muttered to herself, "He knows I'm the monster too."