Chapter 1
~Praying won't do it, Hating won't do it, Drinking won't do it, Fighting won't knock you out, of my head.~
'Loki, please, come home, I miss you, I need you here, please, please please.'
Darcy's curled up on her sofa, the overly big one that she splurged on last Christmas, praying to him, begging him to come home, that she misses him, and she needs him here with her, that she can help him, but he's trying not to listen, ignoring the desperate pleas.
Once again Loki has left without telling anyone where he's gone. After spending a few weeks with Darcy he's just left, after considering just how quickly she was falling for him, he decided that he could never love a mortal. Still unhappy with himself and not willing to let anyone help him, he quickly sank back in to the insanity that caused his first attack on Midgard.
Darcy slowly started to get over him, using a method that Tony often favoured. She would go out to various pubs and bars, in hope of drowning her sorrows and finding a way out of this misery.
Trying to avoid anyone that she already knows Darcy heads out to the next bar on the list that she composed last week.
Slipping through the thick cloud of smoke Darcy finally reaches the door that lets her out in to the cold night, stumbling a little trying to get up the steps leading on to the street. Trying to avoid bumping in to any of the couples that seem to turn up where ever she is, Darcy fails to notice the shadow that is following her down the alley, slowly getting closer, getting faster.
The darkness is starting to creep her out a little, so in go the ear buds, trying to block out the fear, hand gripping around the taser that always keeps her safe, a few more steps and Darcy has finally seen the mysterious figure.
She can see the shadow getting bigger, catching up to her. She starts to walk a little faster, trying not to look like she is panicking. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and the alcohol in her system making everything fuzzy and confusing. "Oh shit!" she exclaims as she falls flat to the floor, the taser flying from her grasp. The shadow hasn't waited for her to get up, all she can "no, get off me!" she cries as this mysterious man kneels down next to her.
Pulling her on to her back. Climbing between her thighs, pushing and pinning her arms above her head. She can feel his...intention... pressing up against her, making her scream out.
The stench rolling off of him feels toxic in her throat, he stinks of cheep whiskey and fags.
Managing to get one hand free she reaches for his face, slapping him and clawing at his eyes. His spittle dripping on her face from the force of her retaliation, he tries to keep her still, trying to bring a chloroform soaked rag to her face.
The sky erupts and the rain comes pouring down, thunder booms through the sky and lightning flashes illuminating the entire street. "Enough! Let her go!" Darcy feels the pressure leave her chest as the drunkard is thrown in to the wall across the way, the God of thunder standing at her feet looking enraged. Hair flying, Mjolnir raised to the sky summoning the blinding light that Darcy finds so comforting. Coughing and spluttering the crazed drunk grabs one of the loose iron bars from the broken railings next to him and runs straight at Thor, screaming and cursing, he manages to land one blow on him that would cripple an ordinary man, but barely made the raging god stumble. Grabbing the front of the sleazes shirt, Thor throws him once again, this time harder, down the alley towards the pub. "If you have any sense left in you foolish mortal, you will leave now!" The electricity flowing freely around the God, glowing a faint yellow and blue, terrifying the stranger as he starts to come to his senses.
Hearing a groan from behind him Thor turns and scoops Darcy up in his arms, embracing her carefully checking for any major wounds, there is nothing too bad. Seeing her in this state he decides that there is no way he is letting her go home like this alone, even if it is just a few streets away. Darcy peeks out from under her hair, looking up at the man who has just saved her life, silently thanking him in her head, a basic form of prayer, hoping that he won't too mad at her for long, before she passes out again.