A/N: Hello and welcome, fellow fanfic enthusiasts! This fic has been heavily influenced by many, many fan-theories that I've read on the web—things like Loki being mind-controlled and tortured, among others which would be spoilers to say at this time (wink!). So if you recognize an idea and you think you saw it on tumblr, then yes, you probably saw it on tumblr. I did not come up with all of this myself, nor do I own the Avengers or anything in the MCU! That is my disclaimer.
So, this is listed as friendship and romance because it's about Loki's character development and his relationship with Darcy, which is basically just friendship for a lot of the story. It will eventually become TaserTricks, but it's a slow-burner, and not in a sexual-tension kind of way, in a they-develop-a-really-strong-friendship-before-they-see-each-other-that-way kind of way.
Flames will be directed to Loki to deal with while I hide around the corner and giggle. See my profile for more information on flaming (and the difference between flames and criticism!) You have been warned.
And yes, I know I'm supposed to be working on Roux Reine… But this just kind of… happened? (Passive voice shifts the blame or responsibility for an action by making the subject the direct object. This has been your grammar lesson for the day. :-P :-P :-P) I saw Kong, Skull Island, and re-watched The Night Manager, so I'm on a Tom Hiddleston kick.
Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. Enjoy!
Hello
Darcy stood nervously in front of a big, heavy-duty, high-tech, carbon-poly-fiber-steel-something-really-advanced-and-strong-to-the-point-of-overkill door. Of course, considering who was behind that door, maybe it wasn't so much overkill… she gulped. Why had she wanted to do this again?
"Change your mind?" the unsmiling (but hunky) SHIELD agent asked, glowering down at her and taking in her every micro expression.
-0-
"Excuse me?" Fury responded dryly, turning on his heel to stare down at Darcy with his one eye. Something about his demeanor made her feel like even his eye patch was glaring at her.
"I'm pursuing a Bachelor's Degree in Political Science, with the intention of attending law school after I complete the program." Darcy explained. "There is an actual current terrorist with multiple intergalactic political entanglements on this base," she continued, gesturing at the floor beneath her feet with her index finger, to indicate their present location, "and I would like to interview him while we have him here, for academic purposes." Jane, Thor and Erik were staring at her in shock—she wasn't sure if it was because they'd never heard her speak so formally before or maybe because she'd just asked to go talk to Loki.
"It's not like I could do any harm," she continued, pressing her advantage since Fury didn't seem to know what to say to her; she'd spent the three hours she'd been in the SHIELD Triskellion so far making jokes, getting underfoot, bonding with Stark and generally getting on the more professional people's last nerve. Now suddenly she was standing up straight, making good points, and reminding everyone that she, too, had an education. "I don't know the codes to open his cell, I don't have any information that he would find useful, I don't have any SHIELD clearance or anything else that he could exploit. He gains nothing, you lose nothing; I just want to talk to him.
"Or," she added, quirking an eyebrow, "I could just stay here and keep annoying you. He gains nothing, I gain nothing…" Fury's eye narrowed. Darcy shrugged, knowing from the way he'd shifted in posture that she'd already won.
"You won't be able to publish anything," he started. She nodded, having anticipated that. "The nondisclosure agreement you signed at the front desk still applies."
"Purely academic curiosity," she assured him calmly, surprising those who knew her once again. Fury sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"I need some damn coffee… or a stiff drink," he muttered. "Agent Ward, escort miss Lewis to the detention level."
"Yes sir," Agent Ward responded uncertainly, leading the way out of Fury's office with a sidelong glance at the student beside him.
-0-
"Nope," Darcy responded resolutely. She'd probably never get this chance again, and she wasn't about to back down just because the door was intimidating her. "Let's do this."
Ward slid a glossy ID card down a slot, and a green light flickered on. Then a blue beam scanned his eye, and he pressed his thumb to a pad below the card slot. Lots of security indeed—although it was appropriate considering that the door was opening to reveal an alien sorcerer who had just tried to level New York and take over the world.
Loki did not react in any way as Darcy and Agent Ward entered the room. He was in a cell about the size of Darcy's apartment bedroom, made of metal bars embedded in a solid sheet of something thick and transparent—glass, plastic, Star Trek transparent aluminum… she wouldn't put the last one past these SHIELD people. Iron Man could probably invent some.
The cell contained a toilet, something that looked like a water fountain or a sink, and a bed that was nothing more than a slab with a folded-up blanket on one end. That was all—except for Loki himself. The alien sat with his back to one of the transparent walls, in profile to the door, legs stretched out in front of him, empty hands in his lap, face unreadable. He didn't so much as twitch when the door noisily opened, and the two pairs of footsteps approached him.
"Well, I'll be outside," Ward announced after critically surveying the cell and checking the readout on a computer screen—most likely displaying the security settings. "I'll be monitoring you, so holler if you need anything."
"Will do, Agent W," Darcy responded casually. Ward fixed Loki with what was probably supposed to be an intimidating glare—which the alien didn't seem to notice-and then left, closing the massive door behind him. When the echo died away, silence reigned. There were no other cells in this block—they were completely alone, except for the cameras. He still hadn't reacted to her presence at all. It was possible he thought she was too far beneath him to warrant noticing, but she imagined it was more likely that he was examining her from a distance, behind the privacy of stillness and indifference since he had no other privacy in that fishbowl cell.
"Hey," she greeted him cordially, walking up to the partition and dragging a wheeled office chair with her, out from behind the computer desk. She situated it about three feet from the cell, and arranged herself comfortably on it. Finally, he moved, turning his head to regard her with a sort of blank disdain.
"What do you want?" he demanded in a low, drawling monotone.
"Well," she said, the skillful lay summary she'd spent the last hour crafting slipping from her mind, "I wanted to talk to you." It was very different to stand in a room full of professional people and spew out logic than it was to sit in a prison asking an intergalactic terrorist for an interview. And it wasn't that she was scared of him—the unhealthy pallor of his bruised and cut face, the exhausted droop of his shoulders, and the dull thousand-yard stare of his eyes made him look thoroughly beaten. No, what made it difficult for her was the interpersonal closeness. Because until she got close, he was "alien" and "terrorist." But now that she had to make eye-contact, he was "Loki," and she wasn't really sure how to deal with that.
He snorted derisively, but without any real strength behind it, and turned his eyes back to the area above his outstretched feet.
"Fury is really reaching, sending you," he murmured. He thought when she said "talk" she meant an interrogation, she realized with a muted jolt of shock.
"Actually," she responded a little more confidently, "I had to argue my way in here." His forehead twitched into a slight frown, and he glanced at her sidelong, not turning his head.
"I'm a political science student," she continued. "You're in here because you committed an act of political violence. I wanted to interview you. Unless," she added casually, "you have something better to do with your time." This made him turn and appraise her properly—she had a good point and she knew it. He was a genius, well-known for his stellar people-manipulation skills, so he had to be bored out of his skull, locked up in solitary. A week had passed since New York, and if Darcy remembered right, Thor had said it would be another two weeks before conditions were right to use the Tesseract to transport him back to Asgard to be imprisoned there. Apparently there was a certain level of knowing what one was doing necessary for using the cube at will—and Thor did not.
"What is it you want to hear, miss…?" Loki asked, surveying her critically.
"Darcy," she responded brightly. "And I guess whatever you have to say. Why earth?" she added, realizing that an interview wasn't going to go anywhere without her asking some questions to get the ball rolling. "Other than the fact that we had the tesseract here—'cause you could've taken it and left. Why us?"
"You've thought about this," he commented lightly. "Maybe I didn't have a reason. Perhaps I'm just pure evil, wanting to destroy everything in my path—you were just the closest species at hand."
"People don't do shit like that without a reason," Darcy responded flatly. "Especially smart people. I'll buy that it's a complicated reason, or maybe not a reasonable reason, but not that there's no reason."
"Hm," he hummed, somewhere between a sigh an a laugh and an exhale. "And I suppose you're 'smart people' too, miss Darcy?" he said in a low, musical hiss, sarcasm and boredom and an echo of false flattery wrapping around his words and dripping from his tongue. Darcy knew she should probably be offended, but getting angry wouldn't get her anywhere, so she did what she always did—she snorted with laughter.
"C'mon, I'm a broke college student with an expulsion record involved in all of this because I work my ass off, unpaid, for six college credits of internship not in my major just to get in better graces with my shithead advisor, currently trying, on a whim, to have a conversation—that I can't record or use in any papers—with an alien terrorist. And I'm not even drunk. That sound smart to you?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow.
"So, this is about improving your academic standing," he murmured, tilting his head back and raising his eyebrows in the "ah-hah" gesture. She snorted again.
"I can't even tell anyone I was in this building," she responded. "This is about the fact that there's a real live terrorist I can talk to, or I can sit in a boring meeting room full of boring people saying boring things and watch your brother and my boss making mushy goo-goo eyes at each other—and lemmie tell ya, both of those get old really fast."
"He's not my brother," Loki snapped, whipping his head around to glare at her with a ferocity she hadn't expected. "Or hadn't you heard?"
"I know there's drama, and that you were adopted," Darcy admitted. "I'm not sure if Asgard and Earth have the same definitions of 'family' and 'adoption.' But in any case, I kinda' feel like I'm going to catch cooties just being in the same room as him and Jane, now that she's got the whole slapping-him-across-the-face thing out of her system."
"She slapped him?" Loki asked, quirking an eyebrow with a gleam of interest.
"Twice," Darcy responded. "Once for leaving her without explanation and then not coming back for a year, and once cause she was in shock and wanted to make sure he was real." Loki exhaled sharply through his nose—the smallest laugh.
"That must've been a sight," he commented. "Jane's the tiny scientist, is she not?" Darcy nodded.
"She had to stretch up on her tip-toes to reach," Darcy admitted with a grin as she remembered. "The look on Thor's face was priceless—I think he expected her to fling herself into his arms, old-school romance style."
"I can imagine," Loki nodded, almost smirking himself. "I'm guessing Director Fury is similarly unamused by their antics?"
"Oh yeah," Darcy recalled, "he tried to tell them to take it out of his office, but, well, Jane's little and cute but when she's angry she turns into a little concentrated firebolt of rage, and I think he got the idea early on that messing with her would be more trouble than it was worth, y'know?"
"So, that's two of you who've annoyed Fury into submission today," Loki mused. "Is that typical of Midgardian women, or just your particular culture?"
"Uuuum," Darcy started, frowning and thinking. "I guess it's not… uncommon, at least in the US. I wouldn't know about other countries, though. I'm supposed to take Gender and History next semester… if my advisor doesn't do anything douchey again and make me do another useless internship."
"Caught in the system, are you?" he noted, with less sarcasm—and was that something resembling empathy? It wasn't like he was looking at her sadly and saying "you poor darling!" but he wasn't making fun of her, and that was a step in the right direction.
"Story of my life," Darcy agreed with a humorless laugh. "And it's not like I'm a bad student, either," she continued, gesturing widely with her hands. "I just had too much of a sense of humor at my old school, pushed too many people's buttons. Now the admin at my new school just want to screw me over because I 'must not take my education seriously.' I guess I'm imagining the giant tuition bills I pay every semester, or maybe all that money isn't 'serious' to them." She sighed irritably. "Who knows," she muttered, propping her elbows on her legs and resting her face in her hands, mashing her cheek to the side and pouting.
"Sounds frustrating," Loki observed. "Odd that someone like you, who seems to hold great disdain for authority, would intend to become a lawyer—if I'm not mistaken, the ultimate champion of authority."
"Well, everyone gets screwed by the system, unless they're rich and powerful," Darcy explained, sitting up straight and shrugging. "So I want to be someone who really understands and can use the system, y'know?" Loki turned his head and made proper eye-contact with her for the first time. Green eyes stared thoughtfully into brown for a long moment.
"You are one of the clever ones, aren't you?" he murmured, this time without the mockery.
"Eh, maybe," Darcy responded with a shrug and a grin. "But I also struggle with operating an ATM and failed Calc 1 twice in a row, so I guess it's all relative."
A/N: So, there's the first chapter! Review and tell me whatcha think!
