To Be Made Of Glass
The monitors are blaring news reports like lightning flashing across the sky, the cameras are jerky and the screams are penetrating every ear and every heart. The diner's customers are crowded together, huddled close for protection and security, but Darcy stands alone behind the counter, a forgotten coffee cup in her hand as she watches the screens with intent determination.
It is but a flash, a mere second in the image that she sees him. Dark hair pushed back, gold horns and a cape of emerald green flowing in the wind as he rides. The camera catches him in a horrifying glory that she cannot escape from as it burns itself into her mind's eye, playing over and over. The malice in his expression, the desire for blood and war in his eyes. He had flown by the camera, close to see the detail in his armor. And her heart had stopped.
Trembling, Darcy nearly drops the mug as she hurries from around the counter, rushing to grab her coat and her purse. Her manager is yelling at her, telling her to stay inside but she barely acknowledges him as she shoves out of the door of the diner. The attack is happening in Manhattan, just across the bridge and the water.
"Who are you?" her voice is soft yet crisp in her youth, her hand clutched around a dripping mint ice cream cone. The boy before her is pretty—she's not afraid to think so, or even say so—and he holds an identical cone.
"I'm Loki!" he chirps happily, green eyes wide and playful, black hair brushed back against his head. He stands an inch or two above her, green shirt and black pants hanging from his slender frame. She smiles slyly at him.
"That's a cool name," she begins, licking up a drop of ice cream as it slides along her thumb, "I'm Darcy."
Loki grins, his boyish cheeks flaring lightly, "Darcy," he repeats, and even in her twelve year old body, a tremor runs down her spine.
Darcy kicks off her heels, uncaring for them as she races down the sidewalk. In the farthest distance when she finds an opening, she can see the skyscrapers and buildings, smoke and fire billowing, and a massive blue tornado swirling in the sky, a black cloud ripping in the atmosphere, tiny black dots spilling out. She pauses for a moment to stare, her heart racing before she takes off again.
She knows she won't be able to find a cab, a car, or even a policeman willing to take her over, yet she fears that on foot she will never make it. But she has to try. She has to give it her everything because if he remembers her even in the slightest, she might have a chance at making him stop. Making Loki end his tirade before he destroys everything…
Loki… she is fearful for him. Hell, she's fearful of him. This is not the same person, the same little boy she met when she was just old enough to start venturing out without her mother supervising her every motion. This is not the same growing young man who picked her up when she fell off the swing like a child and lightly skinned her knee in the rubber padding. Not the same face she stared upon before…
Blushing, Darcy shoves that thought away as she stops, breathless. There is an ache in her side and she keels over to catch what breath she may. She turns her head, staring as she sees an abandoned motorcycle, keys lying some three or four feet away, discarded in a flurry of fear, no doubt.
"Loki!" She calls, swinging higher and higher, feeling more like she's six than twelve and becoming a young woman. "Push me higher!"
Loki cannot be more than a year or two older than her, but that matters not. His strength is undeniable and his laughter is young, though deep, as his hands press into the back of her shirt again, pushing her higher still into the glow of the sun. The chains are cool in her hands and she giggles, kicking her feet.
The fabric of her shorts slide and Darcy flies from the seat, crying out in shock and fear, arms flailing as she falls to the rubber edging of the sand pit, crashing knees first before tumbling into the grass. She hears Loki call after her, hears his footsteps kicking up sand before he kneels beside her. Amidst her tears, Darcy laughs, ignoring the swelling pain in her knee.
"That was fun," she says weakly, smiling as tears roll. Loki is staring hard at her, disbelieving, before laughing with her.
She starts the engine, thankful that her father did one thing right in teaching her how to ride his Harley. She kicks the stand back and takes off, her work dress billowing, her coat tight and bare legs vibrating against the engine's purr. She rides, first on the sidewalk, before tearing off into the street towards the bridge. She is covering ten times the amount of distance in one minute that she had on foot before.
The bike warms under her and she feels a sort of exhilarating pleasure as her hair blows behind her, her eyes focused on the tunnel of energy and dark matter that swirls in the sky. Abandoned cars line the streets in zig-zags and poor parking, but she swerves in and out of them riding down the bridge. The dots in the distance keep flying, keeping firing and attacking. She's riding into a warzone to attempt to stop the man responsible for the carnage.
She must be crazy.
"Darcy," he says, holding her hand. His skin is cool, "Darcy, I have to go home now."
"But why? Can't you stay? Maybe my mom will let you stay over!" She says excitedly, her tiny heart pounding at the idea that her newfound friend staying with her just a little longer. She is so attached, so needy of Loki because she doesn't really have friends, and to have even one is the greatest gift ever.
"I can't, Darce," he shortens her name, leaving off the y. She pouts, tightening her hold on his palm.
"Please, Loki?" She doesn't like begging, but with Loki she will. His eyes soften and he looks away.
"I can't. Mother says it's time to go.." Darcy fights tears as she stands on her tip toes, having seen enough movies, enough television shows to know how to kiss. And though she, herself, has never kissed before, she is confident that she is doing it right.
Loki doesn't move for a moment, but when he does it's to press his lips back to hers, holding her hand even tighter.
Darcy has to take it slow the closer she gets to the battle. Aliens fly over head, their blasts sometimes way off, sometimes narrowly hitting her. Yet she rides on, her heart racing in her chest. Above, she sees Stark in his Iron Man suit flying around. She can hear the roars of some massive beast, only assuming it's Banner all Hulked out. There is gunfire and shouting and screaming, lighting blasting from the top of the Empire State Building.
Thor, she thinks to herself. She can only imagine what all of this must be like for him. Fighting his brother and the army of other worldly beings. Biting her lip, Darcy maneuvers through burning cars and piles of rubble. Down one street she can see Captain America fighting alongside a woman with short red hair in a leather suit. On the corner of a rooftop, there is a man with a lethal-looking bow and arrow.
She turns her attention away from all of this, all of these people, just in time to look up and see a flash of green and gold before a blast erupts in front of the motorcycle tire. She cries out as she goes flying, crashing against a parked car. She cries out, rolling onto her side as pain flares in her back and shoulder. She coughs once, sliding off of the car, stumbling onto the sidewalk.
Turning, Darcy watches as Loki soars off into the sky before turning in the air, coming back around. The gold of his armor gleams in the light of the sun and she stares, opening her mouth to shout at him until something lodges itself into the craft he rides and it explodes. A gasp sucks itself between her lips as he tumbles from the burning debris, crashing into the street.
"Loki…" his name is but a whisper on her tongue as she tries running forward, pain flaring along her spine and her legs. She can't move fast but at least she can move.
In the center of the street, Loki stands, his helmet discarded elsewhere, part of his cape singed, a cut on his lower lip. She says his name again, soft and broken, but this time he hears her.
Loki turns, staring hard at her for the longest moment before something in his face breaks and his expression softens, disbelieving. Darcy pauses, watching pain and grief twist. Loki raises his hand, seeming to look past her as he shouts "Stop!" when fire and darkness erupts behind her, and she soars as she did in her adolescence from the swing.
She lands on her knees, tumbling over wreckage before rolling to a stop, a cut oozing blood from her forehead, flames in her knees and shins. There is smoke the smell of burning cloth as footsteps come and Loki's strong hands lift her, waving, putting out the fire that sears her dress. She gasps, breathless and broken from the blast, staring up at the sky before meeting his eyes.
"Loki.." she says weakly, smiling faintly, laughing despite her pain. "Well…that was fun…" she remarks of her tumble, recounting her youth when she had fallen the first time before him.
"How dare you laugh at a time like this…" Loki mutters, his green eyes wavering over her form. From his expression, she can only guess that she looks terrible.
"It's easy to laugh… takes more energy to cry…"
"Darce…" her heart flutters, "why… why did you come here?!" He howls, anger and regret clear in his eyes.
"Had to see you," she chokes, feeling weak and pathetic. She's always been strong, always so defiant even in the worst of times. Not now, "had to… know where my childhood friend went…"
Loki chokes on something that sounds like a sob as he draws her closer, holding her to him. She frowns some, fighting to keep her eyes open and focused on him. He smells like mint ice cream. "You should never have come… should never have had to see me… not like this…"
She smiles, pain twitching at her lips. "H-had to ask if—" she coughs, "—if you could stay the night." She jests because there is little else she can do.
Loki looks down at her, studying her face. Her vision blurs and she loses the detail in his expression, closing her eyes when it becomes too exhausting to try. It's like looking through glasses not made for you, and getting a headache when you wear them too long. Except this headache was all over, burning in her body.
"Darcy," Loki says, touching her face. She tries to open her eyes and fails.
"Yup," she murmurs, "that's me…"
Before the world goes black and all is lost, she feels his mouth on hers as he whispers a sorrowful apology.