Much Madness Is Divinest Sense

By Lithia Sunset/Lithia DeLaSunset

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense

Chapter 1: Detained

"Who the hell let you drive?"

Pippin couldn't find it in herself to cringe. Or stop from being a smart-ass, as per usual.

"Santa Claus," she simpered. "Said I'd been an extra good girl this past year and all. Early present for good behavior."

A lot of witches and wizards found it hard to drive, anyway. She'd just been desperately eluding someone, however. Some weird stalker of which she hadn't been able rid herself. She tipped her head up to give the exasperated person in question a rather innocent look. She batted her eyelashes at the security guard.

"Miss-" he began, but she ducked away then, out of his reach, dashing head-first into the buzz of the office building before her, leaving the badly parallel-parked purple Volkswagen Bug and screaming guard behind her.

He had jumped back out of the way trying not to get hit when she'd swerved to a stop, one tire on the pavement. She'd leapt out excitedly, and that's when he'd shared his, in her opinion, rude concerns about her driving. Pippin could honestly drive better than she had, but being on the run kind of made her not care.

She skittered around employees, dodged the front desk clerk while they weren't looking, and dove into the elevator with a number of people who had ID badges pinned to the fronts of their business attire, all while clutching onto a sleeping cat. She tried not to jostle anyone, wishing she didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The cat, Merry, made a grumpy noise and turned over. He had a nicked ear, and a long, healed scratch along his side, a battle scar on his nose, and a bobbed tail. The people, of course, stared openly at her. Merry opened one bleary eye, gave them all the look, and closed it once more. His claws pricked at her arms through the sleeves of her over-large red sweater. She caught sight of herself, then, on one of the shiny surfaces in the elevator: her long, ginger curls; her large, grey, eyes; and her brown hands and face. Her bell-bottom jeans, blue sneakers, and bright top obscured the rest of her brown body, and her deep pocket obscured her wand. She had a matching red headscarf on, tied into a bow; there was a big pink heart on the front of her sweater, the sleeves of which partially concealed her hands. The straps of her black backpack stood out darkly.

Pippin shifted nervously, anxiously watching the people behind her. No one seemed too interested past mild curiosity and wondering why in the damn world she was there. This relieved her somewhat, and some of the tension left her shoulders. One woman near her seemed as if she had just refrained from saying anything to her. Her lips pursed, she squinted her eyes as if scrutinizing Pippin, and her arms crossed. Pippin rolled her eyes.

As soon as the doors dinged open, some of the crowd filed out and some more came in after they left. Pippin began drumming her fingers against her thigh impatiently. She turned her head and looked for a gullible-looking intern. Spotting one, she calmly sidled over to him. She put on her best charming, innocent smile. "Hey there," she said cheerily. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She winked. His lips quirked.

"Hello?" Pippin grinned winningly, glad he had paid her any mind. She needed an opening.

"Does, a-ah, Pepper Potts work here? I heard she did and I wanted to see her..." She twirled a curl around her finger. "Do you think that you could show me to her office?" She really layered it on think then, licking her lips and flipping her hair in subtle little ways she knew would make him focus in on her and get drawn in just like the others who'd come before him. The man opened and closed his mouth, helplessly caught.

"I-I-I," he stuttered. Pippin put a hand on his arm.

"Don't you know the way? I'm sure it wouldn't take long..." Meanwhile, she quietly filched the ID card of the old woman at her side while no one was watching, just in case. She hoped the clearance would be high enough.

"Um, sure," the intern finally murmured, running a hand through his short hair. His lips turned upward and he seemed to warm to her. "I can take you there." His shoulders straightened. He seemed to feel very important, Pippin mused. She figured that no one asked him anything like that, ever, the way he acted. Perhaps it was just the chance to do something concerning Ms. Potts. She was, after all, a very important woman. "You have an appointment?" Pippin bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn't exactly a lie. "Uh, yeah. She's expecting me."

The intern rubbed his hands together excitedly and pressed a button on the lift, swiping his card. Pippin noticed the bounce in his heel even before the door opened to the right floor and the two of them stepped out into office space. She glanced around as he led her through a maze of cubicles to a closed office. He knocked twice.

"Come in," a voice called. Pippin's brow furrowed, but she followed him inside anyway. The voice did not belong to Pepper. Instead, a cheery-looking young woman not too much older than Pippin looked up at them. She offered an enjoying smile.

"Hello there. What can I do for you?"

"This woman asked to see Ms. Potts. She says she's expected."

The young woman's brow furrowed. "Ms. Potts didn't say anything about having any appointments scheduled this morning. You say you're expected?" She directed the attention at Pippin, who nodded. Frowning slightly, the woman picked up her desk phone and swiftly punched in an extension. "And I suppose you have a name," she said, trying not to sound rude. Pippin swallowed hard.

"She'll know who I am. Just tell her that the lantern's hung. Or you could tell her I know about S.H.I.E.L.D."

The woman didn't seem to know quite how to take that, but grew very quiet and closed off and went with it anyway, tapping her pen on her desk as she waited. When she finally got through, she sat back in her chair and began speaking into the receiver:

"I'm sorry to disturb you ma'am, but there's some woman here saying she's expected. She said something about a shield and a lantern being hung—" The woman sat up suddenly. "Why no ma'am, she's closer to my age than yours. Why—" She got cut off again and sat listening. She shook her head. "Yes, curly red hair. Grey eyes?" She glanced upward at Pippin for that one. "Yes, but not Caucasian. What do you want me to—" She fell silent once more. This time she stared rather intently at Pippin.

"All right ma'am, we'll hold her until later this afternoon." She hung up the phone and leaned forward over her desk. She pressed the buzzer. "Security, this is Pamela Welsh speaking. We have someone in my office of whom Ms. Potts wants detained until further notice. She's conducting an unscheduled business meeting at the moment."

"Security? Detained?" Pippin stepped back, but felt a hand close around her arm gently. She trend and saw that the intern had clasped a hold of her with a sheepish expression in place.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Ms. Potts doesn't mean this to be rude, I'm sure."

The door opened a few minutes later and a curious sort of man peered into the room. He immediately spotted Pippin, extending a hand to her.

"If you'd follow me."

Pippin shook her head. "No thanks, suite, I'd rather not. I'll just go. This was a big mistake, a misunderstanding, that's all…"

The man's smile only widened.

"This is not a request, Miss."

Pippin relented uncertainly, though still refusing to take his hand.

"All right. But. I don't enjoy being manhandled," she stated firmly. She stepped around him with what little room she had, holding Merry closer. He pressed his face more into her breast and snored. Fat lot of help he was, huh? And when she needed him to help her out a little, too. Pippin didn't see any stairs in sight, so no chances of making a break for it. They'd probably catch her anyway, she mused to herself. Dammit.

She allowed herself to be led by the nameless security agent and the nameless intern back through the cubicles and to the elevator, but turned, heading down a hallway that ended with another smaller and clearly private elevator. The guard wordlessly pulled out another ID badge with what appeared to be a higher clearance level. The doors dinged open. He turned to the intern still gripping Pippin.

"You can go back to work now. You won't be need for anything further. Thank you for your help." His fingers unclenched from her skin and he left, glancing back frequently until he had to turn out of sight. Pippin couldn't help but scoff. "Didn't even know his name. Bet you don't either."

He said nothing, but gestured toward the awaiting elevator. Pippin sighed and stepped in in front of him. The doors shut behind him.

"Jake," he said, startling her as they started to move upward.

"What?" She tipped her head curiously.

"You said I didn't know his name, but I do. His name is Jake Long." Oh.

"You probably just read his badge," she replied dismissively, masking her surprise. The man chuckled.

"You could have, too."

"Too nervous," she shrugged, leaning against the wall. The man copied her movements. It was unnerving, being analyzed and dissected based on the angle of how she leaned against a wall. She straightened. He straightened. She cleared her throat. He spoke. "You claim to know about S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ah, straight to the point. "Yes." No point in denying it. She had said so.

"And you claim association with Ms. Potts. Am I correct?"

"Maybe," she said, suddenly irritated.

"Why am I getting the third degree? All I wanted was to see Pepper Potts and instead I get the secret police called down on me like I'm in some sort of totalitarian state."

Seeming amused with her, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets.

"Miss…whoever you are, you don't throw around that acronym lightly. You and I both know we are not talking about an unassuming warfare item of antiquity."

"Not unless you want the right people to hear you," Pippin replied.

"Well, you certainly did."

"I meant Pepper. That's the only secret of hers I've got, and I figured she wouldn't just dismiss me if I…"

Pippin suddenly felt very, very small, and perhaps a little petty.

"You're from S.H.I.E.L.D, then?"

"Agent Phil Coulson."

"Are you taking me to some murder room, Phil Coulson?" She certainly hoped not. She wouldn't want to have to take certain measures.

"No, of course not." Not yet, she thought to herself. She fiddled with her sleeves and Merry's ears.

"I still don't know your name," Agent Coulson ventured.

"Maybe if you were actually going to Pepper and not the roof…"

Coulson showed surprise that she'd figured that. To his intense stare, she said shrugged and gestured to accompany her explanation. "I'm not stupid. No buttons, quick and quiet getaway with no witnesses, plus there's nowhere to hold me there. I figure since you're S.H.I.E.L.D and you've already started interrogating me that you'll take me back, grill me, and possibly give me a pair of bracelets until, or maybe if, I see Pepper. I figure you'll vet me, maybe torture me since I know you guys are kinky like that, and make sure I'm not an axe murderer type or something."

"Or something."

"Probably more like national security risk."

"Probably."

The elevator stopped. The doors opened.

"Hey, skinny britches."

Coulson turned to her, eyebrows raised. He seemed very laid-back, lighthearted, and at ease. "You like me or something, or do you always smile at people like that?" She moved forward slowly, carefully opening and closing her eyes so her lashes flashed just right, and the light hit her eyes just right. She tilted her head and focused directly on him. Coulson froze, his smile flickering.

"Would you please move out of the elevator and come with me, Miss?"

No longer sounding jovial, his tone had gone completely cold. Curious but startled, Pippin obliged silently, not saying another word even as he led her across the roof, onto the landing pad, and into the helicopter.

Loki paced the inside of his containment center, the yellow glow of the boundary coming into and out of his line of sight. He paused, scowling down at the hideous attire he had on his person. He didn't know what they'd done to him, but he felt different, chained from the inside and the outside. He felt defeated, and depressed. No books, no visitors, and no sunlight. He'd gotten paler and gaunter, his hair unkempt. He desperately craved some kind of interaction, even with his vile excuse for a father, or with Thor. Instead, perpetual solitude. Blank walls anywhere he could see, with not even one unattractive or uninspiring painting.

He lifted his foot to walk again, but froze as he felt a new presence very close by his high-tech dungeon. Someone near the door. Would he have someone joining him, then? Surely not. They wouldn't risk sticking someone else into the same little detention unit as his. He'd either do away with them or escape with them. He strode quickly to the end of his cell, then, as far as he could, and peered out, but the bend in the hallway prevented him from seeing them.

He hissed in annoyance but dismissed the incident quickly. It didn't mean anything. Probably just another S.H.I.E.L.D recruitment effort of another power. His lips curled back in disdain. He hated the lot of them. He'd been glad to get away from his original captor, although he knew that despite not being tortured by S.H.I.E.L.D, he had a much grimmer predicament before him. He would live decades, even centuries longer, as long as he had basic necessities. That was a long time to be isolated in near-sensory deprivation. He knew that without anything to occupy him, his spiral into complete insanity would be inevitable. Be almost welcomed it. Then he could forget about everything, and all of the pain would cease to pound against him day by day.

He went and sat on the horrendous bed they'd given him, staring at his dish of meager sustenance they'd provided. Sometimes he wished they'd starve him, execute him outright even. It would be quicker, at least. But Thor in all his nobility would not allow it. Thor still preached humane treatment.

Thor never visited.

Loki upset his food tray and stared at the mess, and then he stared at the Elven-made power-neutralizing restraints on his wrists and ankles. He was a lost cause, apparently. What was the point in continuing to live out his wretched existence a moment longer?

Pippin didn't understand the sudden detached attitude Coulson had turned on towards her. Was he some kind of sociopath? Had he been playing her? Those thoughts and others worried her as the helicopter came to a final halt, the blades stilling. Coulson didn't even look at her when he opened the door and held it. Blinking, Pippin clambered out after him into bright daylight. She kept her head down and trailed along behind him.

"Are you cross with me?" She asked him in her meekest voice so she wouldn't sound either too flirty or too hostile, or even vulnerable.

"No," Coulson responded shortly, adding nothing more.

Pippin persisted. "Then why are you suddenly acting like the world's biggest dick? You did a complete one-eighty on me, and I don't appreciate it." Coulson stopped so suddenly that Pippin almost walked into him.

"What the—"she screeched.

"What I don't appreciate," he said between clenched teeth, "is someone trying to mess with my mind."

Pippin's forehead scrunched in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about, Agent Coulson?"

He faced her. "What you did back there. Whatever that was. I don't very much like mind control."

Pippin blinked. Oh. Oh. Her mother had warned her…she scuffed her sneaker along the rooftop. "Sorry. I forget how easy it kind of happens sometimes. I didn't mean to, then."

Coulson's jaw tightened, clenching and unclenching. He spun and began walking again. Pippin scurried to keep up with him, not exactly ashamed but sort of amazed that he had realized what had been going on at all. She was half-veela, which meant she had a certain…allure. A special veela enchantment ingrained in veela that drew others to her, and that made it pretty easy to get what she wanted from just about anyone. It had been something she'd used so often at times that she wasn't even aware of turning on the old veela charm. Poor Coulson, what he must think of her, and they'd just met….It didn't make it easy, being part veela in a magical society that raved about blood purity. Her father had been a muggle-born, which worsened it, and his grandmother, it was rumored, had been an elf. Not some lowly house elf, but some other sort from somewhere very far away. She'd left him with his father, and he'd grown up without her. It didn't make any difference, though. Even if she'd stayed, her line of mixed blood would have been treated the same way anyhow. Pippin, though, rather liked not being exactly human. She had human rights, and human emotions, and human flaws, but she also had much, much, more. And it made her unique. A small smile flitted across her face at that.

The light outside did nothing to change how the light hit her going into the building. Overbearing and sterile, it nearly blinded her. She tried her best to follow Coulson down winding hallways, twisting and turning and taking lifts up and then down depending on location, something she assumed kept her from seeing certain things. As they neared one section, Coulson stopped even more abruptly than he had outside and swore heavily. Confused, Pippin gazed at him for an answer. His shoulders were tight, and when he turned to her he almost seemed accusing before that accusatory glimmer in his eyes passed.

"What?" Her eyes darted around warily and her lips parted. A feeling of foreboding pooled into her stomach.

"You're secreting heavily from your adrenal gland," she said aloud. She lowered her voice. "What did you do? Did you take me somewhere we're not supposed to be? Do you even have clearance to be here?"

"I have clearance," he said simply, sounding angry with himself as he continued. "But no, you most certainly should not be here. I've been trying to keep you away from our projects and ended up bringing you here by mistake. I…forgot." He ran a hand over the bald crown of his head, frowning softly. His eyes darted to her face, suddenly suspicious again. "Did you do this? Did you make me hazy and distracted? Are you working together? Are you here to free him?"

"Free who?" Pippin asked, stepping to look through the security glass at the long hallway beyond the door to their left. Coulson grabbed her and held fast, staring into her eyes. Merry hissed groggily, still asleep.

"You know who," he hissed. "How could you not?" Pippin squirmed, but kept their eyes locked. She softened her voice to sound as injured as possible. "You're hurting me. You know you want to let me go."

Coulson blinked and paused momentarily, slightly confused and at a loss as to what he'd been about to say to her. She knew that look, so she kept going. "Please." She shifted Merry to one side. Her hand turned and trailed her fingers down his arm as best she could with it pinned. "Please let me go, Agent Coulson."

She kept up the small, innocent touch, her voice weaving him deeper, her eyes pulling him in further into the trance. A door slammed somewhere ahead of them, and Pippin, despite herself, turned to look. That was all it took. Coulson's entire frame shuddered as if he'd been dashed by cold water. Just then, he seemed to return to himself. He shook his head furiously and retreated, yanking his hands away. "I would appreciate it if you stopped doing that."

Pippin shrugged. "You let go, didn't you?"

Coulson stared at his hands, then past her, through the little frame of glass over her shoulder. "I guess you really don't know, do you?"

"Know…?"

"Loki," Coulson said, "Loki is in there. Locked up tightly, of course. Asgardian tech, mixed in with layers of protection provided by other realms, reinforced with a few fail-safe techniques of our own."

"You're kidding," Pippin breathed.

"I want to see."

Immediately Coulson hardened in demeanor and tone. "He's not an exhibit at the museum or a puppy in a storefront window. He's a killer, a murderer, a destroyer. You could be the nicest person in the world and he would still try and rip you apart, or turn you against your allies."

"Then he doesn't need me, now does he?" Pippin said gently, seeing the tension as something more personal. "He wronged you, too, didn't he? This isn't just about him being a great big bag of dicks and starting a war against us, is it?"

"He tried to kill me," Coulson responded, adding, "And you can't see." He waved a hand in what Pippin assumed to be the general direction of Loki, locked away tight away from everyone. "No one can ever see. Aside from mealtimes, he has nothing else, and absolutely not under any circumstance is he allowed to have visitors. Not even Thor."

"Total isolation," Pippin blurted. "How…lonely." Coulson gave her a once-over as if she were very strange.

"You're going to drive him mad, if you haven't already."

"If he breaks and slips into a catatonic state, we're all better off," Coulson murmured.

"That's cruel," Pippin whispered.

"As was he," Coulson retorted bitterly. Pippin sighed. "Let's go then. If I can't see, there's no use staying here any longer. It's not practical."

Relief emanated from Coulson, and he led her away from what she could only see as Loki's tomb.