Hello, old friends and new! Welcome back to my weird mind-palace. Just to go over a few things: if you haven't read ''Good Neighbors'' yet, then you should probably do that first, or this story really won't make a lot of sense, sorry. This one starts off approximately 8 months after GN ended. Ok, here we go again...

What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning

The end is where we start from

-T.S. Eliot

Stark Tower

Tony Stark collected artwork, among other things. He enjoyed the feeling of owning something that another person had spent so much time pouring energy and emotion into. Some of the paintings and sculptures that he owned were fonder to him than others, though, and it was always nice to add a new piece to his collection. Today, he was about to show off a painting that had recently been shipped to him from Paris, and he had invited his colleagues from SHIELD—with the exception of Nick Fury, who could sometimes be a bit of a buzzkill about things, in Tony's opinion.

The billionaire pulled off the curtain to reveal his newest acquisition. There was dead silence in the room for a moment, then the sound of Jane Foster's wine glass shattering on the floor. Tony smiled proudly, ignoring this. ''Isn't it fantastic?''

Thor nodded. ''It's very good,'' he admitted.

''The translation of the title is 'Naked Woman With Dagger.' ''

''That's definitely accurate,'' said Natasha with a nod. The large oil painting was indeed of a beautiful, naked woman lying sideways on a bed. In her hand she held a long knife with an intricate handle.

''Her...face is familiar,'' noted Steve Rogers. ''Very good,'' said Stark, trying to contain his earsplitting grin.

Jane groaned. ''Mr. Stark, this is just...inappropriate.'' Tony heaved a sigh. ''Does nobody appreciate good art anymore?''

''I like art,'' the scientist insisted. ''Just not when the subject is a close friend of mine.''

''Hey, she's a friend of mine too. So is the artist.''

''God, I hope there's not like a dozen nude paintings of her floating around Europe...'' the astrophysicist gratefully accepted the new glass of wine that had been brought to her by a server in black tie. Stark shook his head. ''No, apparently most of them have already been sold to private collectors.''

''That doesn't make me feel any better,'' mumbled Jane.

''It should, now both the artist and the subject are as rich as Croesus, not that they needed to be. I'm almost jealous. Rich and bohemian and fabulous, hanging out all day in their Parisian sex dungeon...'' The billionaire sighed.

''Please,'' said Jane, taking a very large sip of wine, ''please stop talking.''

''I think it's a metaphor,'' spoke up Bruce Banner, still staring thoughtfully at the painting. ''It's about vulnerability and strength. The sharp violence of the dagger juxtaposed against bare skin...''

''Nah,'' Clint Barton shook his head, ''I think they're just the kind of people that like to have knives in bed.''

Thor stifled a laugh, Jane shot him an evil glare. ''Hey, don't knock it til you've tried it,'' mumbled Natasha. Steve looked utterly scandalized. Tony just kept smiling.

Cimetière Montparnasse, Paris

The graveyard stung her nose with the over-sweet smell of flowers. The miles of headstones and statues made her sad—though not mournful, exactly. Nobody in this cemetery belonged to her, she was unfamiliar with the names—except for the famous ones-or the remains now given back to the earth. It was that same deep, tugging sadness that everyone feels, even just a little, when walking where the dead lay. But for her, it was so very different now, death seemed farther and farther away, like a dream that shrugged itself off easily in the light of a new day. Everything in the world was different now.

Unconsciously, Darcy pressed a hand against her heart, feeling the ever-steady pounding beneath her fingertips. Loki had once told her that her heartbeat sounded to him like rain falling onto water. That was before. Now it was stronger, it seemed, stronger than rain, fortified through many deaths and rebirths. Outwardly, she hadn't changed much. Maybe her eyes were a deeper, brighter blue; perhaps her skin was softer, maybe it even seemed to glow just a little in the right light. She felt different, though, like her spirit was also stronger now. As were her abilities. Loki continued to teach her everything that he knew—they'd often stay awake late into the night, sitting on the bed reading page after yellowed page of runic text, making things move, bend, disappear and reappear. Music and laughter would sometimes drift into the room from down on the street below if the windows were open, maybe the smell of food from the cafe, the sound of people living their own brief lives. Darcy liked it when she could hear them laughing.

Her senses were still heightened almost to a fault—she could hear a dripping faucet two floors down, feel rain in the air long before it ever arrived, while the skies were still clear. Yet she had grown almost used to this—you could get used to anything if you had enough time, she supposed.

SHIELD

''You know exactly who we need for this,'' Natasha Romanov told Nicholas Fury in a firm and decisive tone. A stack of very troubling files lay spread out on the desk in front of him. ''You've read the case details, you know that they'll be able to handle the assignment better than anyone. They can see things that the rest of us can't, let's face it.''

Fury raised an eyebrow at her, considering this a moment before replying. He looked down at the case files again, sighed, and then said, ''Those two are probably the most unpredictable people I have ever met. And while I actually do agree with you about them being right for this, I certainly have my doubts about bringing them back onto active duty. It's been far less chaotic around here with them gone, and you said yourself that they're perfectly happy where they are. So what makes you think that they'll even agree?''

''I don't know,'' admitted Natasha. ''But it's worth asking, don't you think?''

The Director sighed deeply. ''Fine. Ask them. But I would advise you to be careful what you wish for.''

Now it was a breezy, slightly chilly gray Tuesday. It looked like it was going to rain. Darcy was having a lazy day, hanging out in bed surrounded by books and her computer. She glanced at the time and then logged into Skype. After moving to France, Darcy had kept in contact with the Black Widow, much to Loki's dismay. She couldn't help it—it was nice sometimes to talk to someone from home, even if that someone was a Russian super-assassin.

''Hey, girl, hey!'' Darcy chirped as Natasha's face came into view on the laptop screen in front of her.

''Hey yourself,'' the redhead responded with a light smile. ''I have a question for you.''

''I don't like the sound of this...''

''Just hear me out. You don't have to agree to anything, but it would be very much appreciated if you would consider what I'm asking you.''

''Appreciated by...''

''Your former employer. And myself, by extension.''

Darcy groaned. ''And here I thought you just wanted to chat. I should have known better.''

''I told you never to trust that woman,'' came Loki's voice as he walked into the room, stark naked and still dripping wet from a shower. He opened the closet and pulled out a pair of black pants and then disappeared into the adjoining room.

''Tell him I said hello,'' Natasha said with a smirk, overhearing. But thankfully unable to see.

Darcy followed him with her eyes, then turned back to the computer.

''I will. Ok, just for shits and giggles, ask away.'' She made a show of sighing deeply. ''What can we do for the illustrious SHIELD?''

''A certain group, based in New England, has come onto our radar. We're concerned about some of their practices and would like to investigate further.''

''What kind of group?'' asked Darcy, reaching over to the night table and retrieving her mug of coffee.

''Speaking frankly, they're a cult. They own a large portion of land in rural Connecticut. At least 7-13 people live there at any given time, but that number changes periodically. They identify themselves as 'seekers of enlightenment and the restoration of the spirit and body to its full potential.' ''

''That doesn't sound so bad,'' she shrugged, taking a sip. ''A little enlightenment and restoration never hurt anybody.''

''This place isn't exactly an ashram, Darcy. Over eight people have vanished without a trace, last seen on the grounds of their compound. Three bodies were recently uncovered in the surrounding area. We're almost positive that the group was behind it, but we don't have enough proof at this time.''

''How is this a job for SHIELD at all?'' Darcy asked skeptically. ''If they're a cult, doesn't the FBI have a division that handles this sort of thing?''

''Sorry, Mulder and Scully are busy this week,'' Natasha said with an eye roll. ''It's not just your run of the mill cult. There's something much darker and more insidious at work out there. Most cults center around a charismatic leader and a set of delusional beliefs. In the end, they turn out to be just that—promises given in order to secure loyalty among the members. However, in this case it seems as though their beliefs might not be so delusional at all, and that could be a very dangerous thing. Please just take a look at some of the files I'm sending to you—you guys don't have to agree to anything, but we are asking for your help, if you will give it. If you agree, once you get back I can brief you on your full assignment.''

''Alright,'' Darcy agreed, nodding. ''Send me the files, I'll take a look. But Loki is definitely going to take some convincing,'' she added, glancing over into the other room.

Natasha sighed. ''Use your feminine wiles.''

''Sure, because that always works.''

''You'd be surprised.''

After signing off with Natasha and then retrieving and printing the files from a secure email account that had been created for her, Darcy spread out her yoga mat on the floor and began what had become a daily routine of contorting her body into various poses. She was actually getting quite good. Truth be told, she'd started the practice mainly to become more flexible during sex. Loki seemed to favor rather adventurous positions that required a good deal of balance—like the weird parts of the Kama Sutra that most normal couples never attempt. However, after a few weeks she found that daily yoga gave her a sense of well-being and balance, helped to center her. She shifted up on the mat into downward facing dog as she considered the Black Widow's proposal.

''I like that one,'' came Loki's voice from behind her. Upside down, Darcy could see the appraising smirk on his face as he stared at her. ''Yeah, yeah,'' she mumbled, smiling as she eased herself back down and then sat up.

''What did she want?'' he asked, meaning Natasha. He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the shelf.

''There's some kind of assignment that SHIELD wants our help with. We don't have to do it, she was just asking.''

''There is no 'just asking' with them,'' he sighed darkly, seeming annoyed and yet somehow resigned. ''I knew it was only a matter of time.''

''Yes it was. But we have nothing but time, baby. Can't we at least think about it?''

''What is the assignment?'' Loki demanded warily.

''It's some kind of murderous cult thingy that needs investigating. Natasha sent me some files. I printed them out but haven't gotten a chance to look at them yet.'' Darcy hopped to her feet and walked over to where the printer was, retrieving the small stack of paper lying there facedown. The first thing to assault her vision was the image of a very bloody and strangely mutilated corpse. ''Yikes,'' she muttered. ''Can you pour me a glass of wine?'' she called over to Loki. ''Like, a big one?''

''What is it?'' he asked, looking mildly amused as he poured her drink, then brought it over to her. The amused look quickly devolved into one of utter disgust as he saw the picture in her hands. ''Oh dear, that's vile,'' he noted, taking a large sip.

''Gimmee,'' she said, pulling the glass out of his hands. ''I guess this is what we'd be getting into...'' she flipped to the next photo. ''Aaand, it only gets worse.''

''I'm absolutely not doing this,'' the god stated in a firm tone.

''Don't even pretend that you're grossed out by blood, you've had sex with me on my period.'' She paused a moment, setting the files down. ''Speaking of which, am I going to have one of those for like, three thousand years?'' Darcy made a face at the thought.

He rolled his eyes. ''Yes, you're going to be...fertile for a very long time, I'm afraid.''

''Now that our bodies are like...more compatible, should we be doing anything special to like, prevent conception?'' She blearily wondered why in the hell they hadn't talked about this earlier.

''Our bodies were compatible before, as I recall,'' Loki said, giving her a sideways smile. ''Your risk of pregnancy is much the same as it ever was. However, none of your pills will work now, due to alterations in your hormones and your metabolism. Don't worry, I'm careful. I always have been, obviously. You won't get pregnant.''

''Oh. Ok.'' Darcy laughed a little, inexplicably nervous, suddenly. ''That went off topic really fast, sorry. Um...'' She picked up one of the photographs again. ''I have to admit, this has me a little intrigued, despite the ick factor. And it would be nice to see everyone.''

She looked so prettily hopeful that Loki caved, despite his better judgement. He knew that eventually she would want to go back and visit everyone. Hopefully now this would be a good opportunity to get it out of her system. ''Alright. Tell her we'll do it.''

''Yaaay!'' Darcy happily captured his lips in a kiss. ''This is going to be good, I have a feeling.''

That night, it rained. It was a gloomy, pretty, silvery rain. ''It would be a perfect night for some violin music,'' remarked Helen from where she floated near the window. Their resident discarnate spirit was a young woman, perhaps around thirty. She appeared as a vague, near-translucent gray outline, like an old and fraying black and white film on a projector. Always wearing the very same dress that she'd worn the day she'd killed herself, over eighty years before.

''You would think that,'' Darcy mumbled. She was curled up in the squashy armchair by the fireplace, a blanket around her shoulders, perusing the files again.

''I don't much like the look of those pictures,'' the ghost added, inclining her head slightly towards Darcy. ''I really don't think that you should leave.''

''Helen, we're coming back. We're not going to be gone that long.'' She turned the page to read about the alleged leader of the group, a man named Lugh Retnick. As soon as she saw a picture of him, a familiar feeling climbed along her spine, and then something happened that hadn't in awhile: a shifting flare of double vision assaulted Darcy's eyes, accompanied by a very cold, very uncomfortable tremor. Whoever this man was, there was definitely something otherworldly about him—he wasn't from here. He was from someplace much darker.

The spirit didn't say anything for a moment. Then her wispy voice came. ''There's a strange tree, far out in the field.''

Darcy looked up. Unconsciously, she drew the blanket more firmly around her shoulders. ''What?''

''Blood on the branches, blood in the soil, the roots drink it up.''

Darcy couldn't help but shiver a little. She was used to this, though: Helen tended to be a little melodramatic and maudlin.

''What tree are you talking about? What field?''

Helen fell silent. Darcy was the only one that she actually spoke to or appeared to, really. Loki could sense her, but she become more of a poltergeist when he was around, choosing to communicate with him through a series of knocks and bangs and taps on walls and other various surfaces, or by simply tossing things across the room. It wasn't really personal, Helen simply didn't trust men all that much, which made sense, given the circumstances surrounding her demise.

The rain continued on into the night. Helen only seemed to grow more and more restless the longer Darcy looked at the files, and so she tucked them away safely in a folder on the shelf. Which was just fine, their contents seemed to be growing more and more unseemly by the minute. Loki was sitting in the corner by a tall lamp, sketching quietly. He usually drew in the evenings and painted during the day. Darcy crept over behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking at the paper.

''Is that me?'' she asked, even though she could tell that it was as she stared at the image in light charcoal, a woman with long hair walking in a cemetery, a thougthful and far-away expression on her face. He nodded.

''You've never been there with me, though,'' she noted.

''Yes, I have,'' he replied quietly.

''Why didn't you say anything?''

''I just wanted to watch you. You look very sad and beautiful when you're alone. Something hidden comes out in your eyes. It's intriguing.'' Loki paused a moment, then asked, ''Why do you go there so often?''

Darcy shrugged. ''I like walking in cemeteries. I always have. It's not like a creepy thing, they're just...peaceful.''

''We don't have anything like it on Asgard. That's not what we do with the dead.''

''Yeah, you guys cremate...a lot of people do that here, too.'' She thought about it. ''There's also like...mummification, or cryogenics, maybe.''

The pencil stilled on the paper. ''What are cryogenics?''

''It's a way of preserving someone after they 'die'—except they're not absolutely and completely dead. It's usually rich or important people that do it, they think that maybe someday in the future, whatever they died of will have a cure and then they can be brought back and live again.''

''Like the soldier?'' he asked.

''Who? Oh, Steve. Yeah, that's sort of what happened to him. Except that he didn't intend on being frozen and then brought back.''

''Wouldn't it be rather dreadful, though?'' Loki wondered aloud. ''Suppose that you were woken up, and cured, but the world would have changed so—all of the people that you knew in life would either be very old or dead—what would be the point in waking up at all? And then what about when you die the second time?''

Neither one of them said anything after that, she just kept her head resting quietly on his shoulder, and stared at the drawing.

It kept raining for days, right up to the night before they left to fly back to New York. Helen simply stood by the window and cried for hours. Darcy was trying to pack some of her things, and so she quickly downloaded some violin music to her iPod and played it loudly in the hopes that the spirit might be appeased or at least distracted for a little while. Or that it might drone out her crying. When ghosts cried, Darcy had unhappily come to discover, they didn't sound like humans. It was more of an otherworldly, pained keening that sounded not-unlike wind screaming through an abandoned house.

Loki entered the room, covered in splotches of paint. Just as he did so, a small green vase that had been sitting on the top of one of the bookshelves suddenly flew at his head. Quick as lightning, his hand shot up and he caught it. ''She's still not thrilled about us leaving, I take it?'' he said dryly.

''Very much not thrilled, yes,'' Darcy muttered.

''I don't like it any more than you do, Helen,'' he called out. ''I promise that we'll be back soon.''

Helen didn't say anything in reply, just sobbed harder. Sometime later she finally stopped and disappeared, slinking away to wherever she went when she wasn't haunting them. Their flight was going to be leaving in a few hours. Darcy had wanted to take another walk through the cemetery, but because of the rain she hadn't gotten a chance. That was fine, she told herself, they'd hopefully be back within the next month and the weather would be nicer then, anyhow. She picked up her suitcase.

''Well, here we are again,'' she muttered tiredly as they walked through the airport after a very long flight. Though Darcy was exhausted, she had to admit that it was nice to be back in New York, that she would soon be seeing her friends. Though it still seemed strange somehow to refer to Tony Stark as her 'friend.' The billionaire stood at the end of the terminal, impeccably dressed and grinning widely.

''You didn't have to come and meet us,'' Darcy said, setting down her bag. ''We could have gotten a cab or something.''

''I literally had nothing else to do this afternoon, kiddo,'' he responded, scooping her up in a tight hug. ''Come on, I've got the car waiting.''

''Everyone is coming over to my place a little later,'' Stark told them, once the three were settled in the back of the large and comfortable vehicle. ''They can't wait to see you.''

''I'm sure,'' Loki muttered.

''But if I were you,'' Stark added, gesturing at the god with his glass of Scotch, ''I'd steer clear of Dr. Foster for awhile. She wasn't exactly thrilled with your latest piece.''

Darcy cringed a little. She should have known that Tony would automatically show everyone the painting that he'd bought from Loki. It was actually supposed to have been a bit of mischief, a kind of tongue-in-cheek thing, reminding everyone of the unnecessary debacle that Loki's drawings of her had caused so many months before.

''What's she going to do, slap me again?'' he asked, amused. ''She'd better be careful, I might start to enjoy it.''

Darcy shook her head at Loki, sighing and clucking her tongue. ''You'd better behave yourself. We just got back, try not to incur anyone's wrath until tomorrow, at least.''

Stark Tower

Nothing seemed to have changed too much upon their return. Everyone looked much the same as they had before, and the city was still busy and indifferent. Darcy was greeted warmly by Bruce and Natasha. Steve was out on an assignment, and Thor wasn't on Earth at the moment, so all in all it was a small group. Spotting a familiar face, Darcy called out ''Jane!'' and ran over to her friend and former boss. Though the astrophysicist smiled and wrapped her in a hug, she seemed a bit stiff and formal, like she was bothered by something. Darcy tried to ignore it, telling herself that Jane was probably just consumed with whatever project she was currently working on. Still, the scientist remained uncharacteristically quiet as the younger woman chattered on about her months away.

Pulling out her iPad, Darcy flipped through the pictures of some of the many trips that she and Loki had taken. ''Here's Tokyo. Oooh, and here's us next to some Mayan ruins.''Then an image slid across the screen of her standing next to a very striking raven-haired woman with bright green eyes and a familiar smirk. ''Who's that?'' Jane asked.

''Oh! That's just...''Darcy blushed a little and flipped past the picture, which had been taken one particularly interesting evening when Loki had shifted into his female form. Jane eyed her curiously. ''Just...something different...hey—there's the big heads on Easter Island...I wonder if they were part of the Network...speaking of which, here's us in England by the 'Gosforth Cross', the fake one, I guess. I like it better than the real one. Aaaand there's Prague. And Paris—this is where we've been living. It's really pretty. My French is still terrible though.''

The scientist gave a small, tight smile in response to all of this, and then went over to the other side of the room to talk to Bruce Banner for a minute. Darcy felt her stomach begin to hurt a little bit as she observed her friend's very chilly demeanor, sure now that it did in fact have something to do with her return. She watched as Jane left the room and slid into the women's bathroom, decided to follow her. She stood at the sink, fixing her hair and reapplying a small amount of lip gloss. ''Hi,'' Darcy offered. The astrophysicist turned, a flat and almost angry look on her face.

''So what the hell are you now, actually?'' Jane demanded warily. ''Some kind of goddess or something?'' Darcy was a little taken aback by this, but she blinked and sighed and tried to give an answer as best she could, though there was an unhappy, prickling feeling behind her eyes, the distant threat of tears. ''It's complicated. I'm not sure, exactly. But yeah, I guess...or at least I'm more like Thor or Loki.'' She shrugged. ''Apparently, I'm going to live for like 5,000 plus years...heal faster than a normal person...''

Jane turned away. She was very, very quiet for a moment, just staring into the mirror. ''Does that bother you?'' she finally asked, in a strange voice.

''Why would it bother me?'' Darcy responded, a little too quickly and sharply, not liking something in her friend's tone.

''Oh, I don't know. I thought that maybe the thought of watching all of your friends grow old and die while you stay exactly the same might take some getting used to, but you seem to be handling it fine.'' Jane screwed the cap back onto the tube of gloss, tightly bottled aggression in her movements.

''Why are you being like this? What is this really about?'' Darcy realized with dismay that she had begun to chew her fingernails. She hadn't done that in months, the habit suddenly disappearing on its own after she and Loki first arrived in Paris.

''You just disappeared, Darce,'' Jane snapped.''You and him. You never even said goodbye to me, not a word of where you were for months and months! I hear all these strange stories...you saved the world, you're some kind of reincarnated mythical person that can travel to different dimensions. I didn't know what to think. I missed the whole thing. I...fell asleep and you were just my assistant, my best friend. And then I woke up and the world almost ended again, and you were gone.''

Tears began to build in the corner of Darcy's eyes. ''Jane, I'm sorry. It was...it was just easier that way. I know that maybe it seems selfish to you, and maybe it was—but after everything that we went through...Loki and I just needed to be alone together. We just wanted some peace, some time to decompress and sort through everything. Can you understand that?''

Jane's eyes softened just a little. ''I can. But I was worried about you. I've been worried about you from the beginning, from the first time I ever saw you with him.''

Darcy opened her mouth to say something but Jane rushed on ahead. ''I know what you're going to say, and I don't care. We both have the right to our opinions. And despite whatever may have happened, whatever good things that Loki may have done in the past year, I will never trust him. I will never like him. In fact, he disgusts me. The thought of you with him makes my skin crawl. And it's not just me. Stark and some of the others may have eased up on Loki a little bit, but that's more for your sake than anything else. It's so cliché. 'Beauty and the Beast', that's what they call you guys. But it isn't cute, and it isn't funny, and everyone knows that, deep down. I'm sorry, Darcy, but nobody really likes your boyfriend.''

''It doesn't matter.'' Darcy whispered. A tear slid down her face, and she brushed it away.

''That's right, it doesn't matter,'' replied Jane, a heavy melancholy in her voice. ''The damage has already been done. After the next several decades it really won't matter, because we'll all be dead and you two will have the rest of your five thousand years to be alone together.'' Then she turned and left.