A/N: This isn't going to be End-Of-Thor-2 compliant, and it's definitely not going to be possible-Thor-3 compliant. It takes place after the Avengers, and follows the general cliche of Thor bringing Loki back to Earth. Or Midgard. Whichever floats your helicarrier.

I got the idea of a babysitter for Loki from the incomparable Ironbell's fic, 'Seven Years of Winter'. It's a different spin on it, and I hope that it's different enough to, while admittedly not being entirely original, not be a complete and disgusting rip-off. Don't plagiarise, guys. It's bad.

I'll continue with this if I get good feedback on it; I haven't written any fanfic before, so, please be kind(?).

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC.

Sometimes, I get the feeling that Nat does not like me. She probably thinks that I'm careless or unobservant enough to not notice the waves of disapproval emanating from every inch of her ridiculously cat-suited body, but I haven't gotten to where I am now by being an idiot. It's surprising that she hasn't realised that.

Granted, where I am now exactly is a little sketchy. Neither of us know, and she's gone off on some recon spy contingency plan for escape while I'm trying to map us a way out of this cargo hold on a moving ship somewhere in the South China Sea.

"There isn't any other way out of here besides that door that you got shut on us. We should almost be at the Paracel Islands. Whatever you're doing, Kate, get us out of here now."

I didn't bother replying. There's only so much energy that I can spare to come up with witty repartee when I'm busy bouncing from mind to mind, rifling through recent memories for anything that is a key out of this reinforced steel cell with a ticking bomb in it that the Russian-ballerina-gone-wrong has planted perfectly –

– and bam, boom, baby, gotcha.

Leaping to my feet, I took off for the door that I had unfortunately slid shut without realising that it was self-locking. There was someone headed right this way and if I was suggestive enough, he would be an extremely obliging young man. Skidding to a stop in front of the reinforced steel, I shut my eyes and concentrated on projecting worry and suspicion and sudden and acute concern for the state of the bubble-wrapped cargo of innocuous vehicle parts into the very weak and docile mind I had snared.

I couldn't hear his footsteps approach, but I was still in his head when he started keying in the access code. That's when I frantically to Nat to get the fuck out of the line of sight before the man entered and I shut his consciousness down, lowering him gently to the floor.

Nat had launched herself out the door as soon as the idiot man had cleared it, and I felt optimistic enough to begin humming in my head as I let myself out, shut the door, and headed to the rendezvous point at a more sedate pace. The explosion rocked the ship just as I reached the airlock for the dive point as I reached out and gently shooed any and all that I could away from this particular part of this obscenely large vessel.

Nat arrived about two minutes after the explosion, slightly breathless and bloody. She was already fitting the oxygen mask to her head, so I scrambled to do the same while punching in the access code for the airlock.

I hope to god that she got what she was sent here to get, because I hate swimming and will not do this again.

When Fury told me to stay behind after the debriefing, I knew that I was in trouble.

"Lee."

God. Only in this country can you get away with calling people by their last names. There are like a million Lees back home. Way to make me feel like a special individual.

"Word is that you're careless, casual, and downright unappreciative of the importance of sticking to the goddamn plan."

That's a little harsh. Thanks, Nat.

I settled for shrugging. "Word is the same thing about Stark, and you leave him alone."

Fury leaned back in his chair, and I watched the fluorescent lights bounce off his head. I wished, fleetingly, that I were strong enough to break through his mind to see if he had ever looked any different with hair (he'd had hair at some point in his life, right?). "Stark is a genius. You are not."

Wow. These people suck at being comforting.

"Not to be a dick, or whatever, but I'm also the only telekinetic and telepath you've got. And I'm on loan."

And that's when he beamed. I couldn't repress the shudder that ripped through me at the sight. He should stop smiling. He shouldn't be allowed to. It's terrifying. "Actually", he said, snuggling deeper into his fancy-ass leather chair, "by this time tomorrow, you're going to have another friend to play with who can do exactly what you can, but more. He's on loan too, but it's arguable that he packs more of a punch than you do."

So does this mean that I can go home? Wait. Who the – this time tomorrow? I know that Thor's coming back tomorrow, because Jane Foster has informed every person she meets of that fact, but unless he's managed to learn a little more apart from grunting and swinging his hammer – " Fuck." I paled, paler than I thought I could. "Thor's bringing his madman not-brother back with him? He packs a punch, but the last I checked, wasn't New York the target of that punch? Why the fuck is that punch a good thing?"

"Well, he hasn't gotten his powers back, and his daddy issues haven't fully been resolved, but Thor's promised that he'll be behaving."

"That's quite a qualification, Director". I raised my eyebrows. "Why's he coming back at all? So, since he's going to be your resident mutant guru, does this mean that I can go home? Actually, he won't be a mutant guru, since he's practically useless without his powers. So, like, what's the point in him being here in the first place? Granted, you lot like to hire a whole fuckload of useless ponces; all you have to do is look at half of IT Maintenance -"

Fury's scowl rivalled that of a shar-pei's, except that the dogs were cuter. "The reasons for Loki's return are none of your business, Lee, and no, you can't go home. You're going to be here to keep an eye on him."

Hahahaha. Haha. Ha. No, wait. He's serious?

"He has an older brother the size of five of your average American truckers after thanksgiving dinner to keep an eye on him. If you want someone to check his brain for naughty thoughts, you've come to the wrong telepath. My telepathy, like Jedi mind tricks, only works on the weak-minded. The only other thing I can do is move stuff around a little faster than most people while not having to get up from my chair. Call the Phoenix Force back to earth or something. I'm not babysitting a bloodthirsty lunatic, and this is not what my government contracted me out to do." I folded my arms, glaring at his stupid shar-pei face. "Also, making the mutant play nanny is SO clichéd."

Fury stood up suddenly, his chair wheeling away to hit the wall behind him. I took a step back and resentfully tilted my head up to meet his eye. Maybe this is the part where I cross the line and he kills me and ships my body back to my family, who still think that I'm working at a law firm here (and proudly tell all the relatives who don't care enough to ask).

"The contract with your government has been renegotiated. They too, see the importance of keeping you here, where you can actually do something to help the world, instead of sitting on your whiny upper-class ass. You may not have any loyalty to me, but do not disrespect the decision of your country to send you here. You are a soldier, Lee. Soldiers follow my orders, because I am your commanding officer. Is that clear?"

Maybe this is why he's called Nick Fury. You might as well call a spade a spade…

"Is that clear?"

I swallowed my pride and it went down like cod-liver oil. "Yes, Sir."

"You will be at the drop zone tomorrow with Dr. Foster and her team. Do not let on that your mission is to watch Loki, but I expect to know his movements at any and every given time. Is that also clear?"

I ground my teeth. "Yes, Sir."

"You will follow orders and not get in the way of anyone else following their orders. Understood?"

This is getting old. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Get your bedtime reading from Nancy. Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir."

I turned on my heel and tried to leave as huffily as I could whilst not being a complete child. Stopping by Fury's inhumanly placid secretary, I received a thumb drive with information that almost certainly detailed everything about Loki, down to his stretchy green Lycra underwear, before stomping down the hall on the long trek back to my quarters.

Fantastic, Kate. Some god out there really must hate you.

A/N: I know that Kate's awfully whiny at the moment, but things can only progress from here. Send me some love, please?