Um yes, this is a new update, after such a long pause, and it's actually quite a lengthy chapter, but in my defense, I have so many other stories to work on as well that it gets hard. Not that I don't think this story is worth the extra work, but I have other projects as well. Anyways, I finally managed to finish the chapter I had been working on for a couple of days. I hope you enjoy it.

I can only say I was surprised and touched by all the lovely reviews, thank you so much for being so kind :)

TwigTalent: thank you, I feel humbled :)

TheInvincibleKay: thanks a lot :)

Jewel Song: thank you, so glad I managed to capture Loki, he's one tough cookie and it only gets tougher, I'm updating now so there :)

chatnoir1: aww thanks for recapping their banter, happy you liked it :)

Shawnemelissa: thank you, I'm flattered you like the style, I try:) And yes, I hope I get to finish this story too, I have pretty big plans for it, though it will be a bit difficult accomplishing them.

Chick With Brains: thanks, I love it too :)

Teres: happy you found yourself giggling, that was one of the intended effects and also glad you find them in character, I agree it's hard to achieve that mostly because we have little to go on, but not little enough to go off on your own :)

Maeven Greystone: thanks so much, writing about them is fascinating indeed, and it draws me in as much as it draws the readers :)

CrosslitHeavens: thank you, I know description is lacking but I am focusing more on them as characters, so I have mostly 'character description' if that makes any sense.:)

Okay time for some warnings: this chapter is a bit on the overly thought-out side, which means you might find yourself wondering where this is all going. I hope it doesn't get too head is still spinning, though.

Please tell me what you think!


-3-

"Well? Isn't this so much better?" Darcy asked, glowing with pride, as she waved her hands about the room.

Her heart was in her throat. He must have noticed, he must have.

And she had never been more curious to see his reaction. She did not expect much, but she did expect something worthwhile. Darcy didn't want any gratitude, because she was sure he could not give it, but she wanted to witness an emotion; she took a perverse pleasure in knowing he was struggling with an overbearing humanity that was threatening to encompass him fully with each passing second and despite her better feelings, she relished in observing the slow process, as horrible as that might sound, because, sympathies aside, she had never been part of anything quite so exhilarating and profoundly disturbing.

Loki didn't even bother to reply, he only stared at her as if this was one of her usual fits. He hadn't grown accustomed to her yet, but he had somehow come to the conclusion that she was unstable (judging from their two previous meetings), and that he should know what to expect, even after so little time.

"Come on, don't tell me you didn't even notice!" she exclaimed astonished, dreading for a moment that he might actually be oblivious after all.

He shrugged his shoulders in boredom. He had no intention of playing along only to discover she was once again in the middle of making some absurd joke.

"Jeez, I thought you would, since you've been living here for a while," she said, dumping her messenger bag on the table in obvious disappointment. Her proud bubble had deflated in mere seconds.

"Either tell me what it is you are talking about or keep quiet," he said, wrinkling his brow in irritation. Needless to say, he had not slept well, or if he had, he had barely rested. His senses were both expanding and shrinking at an alarming speed, making him feel human in the most dehumanizing way possible. He felt cold, but the kind of normal, startlingly warm cold that people felt standing in the middle of rain, not the usual comforting, glacial cocoon of impenetrability he was used to.

"I'm still waiting for you to figure it out, since it's actually visible," she drawled annoyed, unzipping her laptop bag.

"Then keep waiting, I don't feel the need to oblige your nonsense," he commented.

"Well, someone's a bit grouchier than usual. Don't worry, you'll feel so bad when you realize I actually helped you," she said, chuckling.

"What could you have possibly done to aid me?" he scoffed.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders and sat down, folding her jacket next to her laptop in a small square.

"Something you should be able to tell."

Loki rolled his eyes in distaste. "Kindly get on with what you call 'work' and stop bothering people.'

'I can't believe you referred to yourself as 'people'. And if my work is such a joke to you, then you should try doing it. I bet all your godly skills and intelligence couldn't prepare you for a piece on Frederick Douglass," she retaliated.

Loki raised his eyebrow, looking very unconvinced.

"Well, scratch that, your intelligence would help – "

"Not to mention my omniscient powers which can easily select the necessary information from the universal conscience that is also integrated in my conscience," he finished for her nonchalantly.

Darcy took in a deep breath. It was always easier to deny the fact the he was from a different world, of different, altogether terrifying origins. It was much better to think of him as an alien, in the light and appealing sense of the word. Reality only fed her comforting illusion, as the Loki sitting in front of her was hardly the shadow of the god of mischief he had been and, therefore, rendering him in a more accessible angle came almost naturally. This was a double-edged sword, however. It was getting harder now to consider him the common enemy since he couldn't exactly act in that position, much less pose as a threat. The accessibility thus made sure to heighten the feeling of panic that she had nothing to latch onto to subdue the blow.

And she thought her first shock had been hard.

Her first contact with a god, Thor himself, had been a revelation of power and force, of the unmitigated impulses driving a harmonious creature inside and a ferocious beast on the outside, the two finding a connection between each other in the nobility of his spirit, a nobility which stripped any bestiality or ferocity, into mere destructive and creative forces acting like one. In other words, he had fulfilled and perfected the image of a god in her mind, the kind of god that still bowed down to the "real" creator of the universe.

But this was a lot more incongruous. This was hardly believable, despite everything she had witnessed before. The gods of her imagination were ingrained with an instinctive wisdom, the kind that guided them through the larger spaces, inconceivable by man, but this wisdom was more like a sweeping current, a titanic wave that stirred more than influenced, that was aware more than self-aware.

Loki possessed no such thing and was nothing like this. He was self-aware without the actual awareness. He had a self-sufficiency that was both pathetic and powerful, because his statements were not just blind megalomania; he was born and bred into this thinking, with the necessary courage (very different from Thor's) to rise to the challenge and sometimes even succeed. He mastered magic not because he could, but because it was his undeniable right. He created chaos because he had never been touched by its moral or emotional consequences, but knew that men were, and this was his only battle against the enigma of the human being.

He was a different species altogether and the paradox was that, despite the fact that she could hardly perceive him as a god, he was the most detached and superfluous being she had met, as if his place in the general order was an accident, but at the same time, he seemed vital and supreme to any other of his kind because he was becoming human himself, bridging the gap of understanding.

"Yes, did I mention that's mighty impressive? But I have that too, it's called the internet," she quipped dismissively, trying to hold his gaze.

"Does the internet also interpret the information and translate it into a manipulated code of choice?" he spat.

Darcy was not quite sure what he meant by manipulated code but it was probably something confusing. Or just fancy words for 'I can use knowledge any way I want'.

"Not exactly, but..." she started, staring at the screen.

"I thought so."

"... that's my job, not the computer's," she continued.

"All I am saying is I could most likely have both the machine's and your human capacity."

"Don't feel too satisfied with yourself, I bet you'd still find college tedious," she bit back.

"A place for learning and understanding? Hardly, that was my home after all."

Darcy paused suddenly, smirking to herself.

"What?"

"I just pictured you living in a dorm. With dorm mates. Priceless," she grinned to herself. "Someone needs to make a movie or a sitcom about that."

"You take excessive pleasure in denigrating me and the art form itself," he replied.

"You know about movies?" she asked surprised.

Loki seemed offended. "I may not have a clear comprehension of your most recent technology but I have a habit of observing the evolution of your culture."

"You mean you see the general picture. So gods really are useful for something. Good to know. What kind of movies do you like anyway?"

Loki shrugged his shoulders.

"My observations are purely theoretical and on a more abstract level, it is not about what I like and dislike. My mind is above those two notions."

Darcy made a face. "Right. But now that you are here with me you can drop the act. We both know gods aren't immune to art."

"I do not see it that way. Our aesthetic senses are objective, despite the fact that aesthetics in general requires an individual notion of sublime. It is a paradox I can't be bothered to explain right now because it would take too long."

"Do you smell that? Someone just turned on the pretentious fumes. You can barely breathe in here," she mocked, mimicking suffocation.

"I rest my case," he replied calmly, although he was doing his best to keep himself from outright glaring.

Darcy was not pleased with his answer.

"Am I to presume you have no favourite movies? Too bad, we might have had a topic."

"Even if I were to discuss cinematography with you, I don't suppose you would be anything but mediocre at it and while I cannot hold that against you, I cannot exactly simulate your brand of ignorance either."

"Well, I don't suppose you would be anything but mediocre at it too since you've been cut off from those high grounds that were so enlightening," she replied acidly.

Loki was taken aback by the sheer malice of her statement. He hadn't noticed he had insulted her before since he didn't make any efforts to ease the blows, unless he had a certain goal or interest in mind and she was one of the few people he had nothing to gain from.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You know, I cannot fathom how you even exist, Darcy. Here you are, speaking with a god that is accustomed and has even created some of the axioms of your rational world, and, banished as he may be, he still holds a level of superiority that should not be mocked or taken into disdain because it could be valuable to you and your kind, but in your childish pride, you continue to ignore me and treat me like some helpless creature you cannot possibly endure to consider above you. And I know you may take this as an affront, but it is beyond me how you can function normally."

Darcy seemed to be rooted to her spot, unable to move or have a proper reaction to his extensive monologue. She knew that whichever way she took it, he would only have more incentive to criticize her attitude.

For a while now she had thought well of herself and the way she was handling the situation. Well, she had given herself credit on reacting much better than others, of being able to see things clearer, but it had just been her desire to feel no reaction, to see nothing and feel nothing.

He didn't know about her doubts, her own self-ministrations, her anxiety whenever she was around him, the talks she used to have with herself each morning in the mirror, telling herself that she was not dreaming, that she was not creating a parallel universe, that she was not breaching a line between what was so well established and...whatever this was.

He couldn't know about her random mental accidents, how she once had a shouting fit in the middle of a family dinner because the thought of him and others like him existing in such perfect logic with the universal laws of nature overpowered her nerves, how she sometimes stopped in the middle of a street and just stared at the people running past her into oblivion in disgust and shame, knowing everything was changed and they barely mattered anymore. She had had five nervous breakdowns, safely hidden in her tiny apartment, away from Jane or Erik's curious glances, from any of her friends and family, just lying in her bed alone, shaking in fear and horror that at one point she would stop seeing the world as it is and just stop caring about existence altogether, disintegrating into a shapeless, weak conscience that can find no sense in herself or anyone else. Losing faith in humanity would become something like a necessity in order to survive the broken balance of a world she had once called unique and singular.

No, he couldn't know about all that and how could she even begin to explain what would probably resemble adolescent tantrums to him?

There was nothing worse than not being able to express how you felt and what you thought and she had always known this was one of those luxuries she would never afford. She seemed direct only in the way she attacked people. Everything else was simple illogical banter she couldn't escape for fear of never being able to express anything.

"Well, I'm gonna be honest here, I'm not very fond of Italian cinematography. Sure, some might say it's the only one worth watching, but it just seems so overly-wrought and stylized, trying so hard to simulate both the tragic and the beautiful in its heroes' fates that it just falls flat to me. The effort is much more visible than the effect. The people, the buildings, the cars, even the lampposts, everything and everyone falls apart and we're supposed to admire the decay, because we're just supposed to. It's a coping mechanism, a way to live with ourselves, how else would we stand it if we did not praise it? No other explanation needed, no argument. Sometimes I can't bring myself to see it, though, much less admire it. Well... I know others think very differently. And I can even understand why I should grow to like it, but I just don't want to."

She stopped and exhaled as she leant against her chair in consternation with herself. Had she really said all that? She had always wanted to say something like that about something she didn't like, she had always wanted to have the chance to be heard on a topic that no one allowed you to discredit. But this was Loki and his mind was above like and dislike, right?

As for him, he was half-glaring, half-staring at her, his eyes constantly shifting between anger and amusement. His amusement was bitter, however. He felt heavy, he felt the decay inside of him and he couldn't fully enjoy her attempt at sounding off her imaginary depth, because that was what she was doing. He could see right through her, right through her petty tries of critical thought and he could see how much it meant for her to express these things in such a way as to bemuse or surprise. She wanted to affect and be affected, wanted people to know she was not quite daft, but not quite spiritual either, that she could spit on something sacred, but not sacred enough so she would feel guilty about it later.

She was so human and reaching so high without even knowing she was lowering herself in his eyes.

But something in her tone, in her voice, made him feel inadequate. No matter how naive she was, there was a small modicum of truth in her desire to be different, to escape his opinion and free herself of superior judgement, to give her statements validity and beauty. And that was another thing; she wanted to show him she could play with words and strike beauty into her sentences without using all her vulgarities. The true intention lay somewhere between shock value and artistic validation. And he suspected she craved the latter more than the first.

It wasn't enough though, it wasn't enough for him to consider her an individual. It wasn't enough to give her any credit. How many others out there struggled senselessly against the tide to make their thoughts not only heard, but also different and somehow original from the rest, even from their own.

She wasn't the first or the last. Another layer of bitterness, because despite the potential of something separate, she was still part of a medley of grotesque figures.

He was about to comment on the ridicule of her insight, when something caught his eye.

She looked different. She appeared softer somehow, her angles blurred into large circles, half-filled by pleasant shadows.

She was just as bland and painfully common as before, but there was a certain warmth around her, not within her, as if she had changed the room, as if the bright lights no longer stung his eyes and the white corners no longer attacked his retinas with their bleak openness. Instead, the walls had become yellow and grey, worn out, compassionate even.

"The lights. The lights are different," he said.

Darcy's eyes shimmered. She couldn't help the small, victorious smile forming on her lips.

"Finally! I was beginning to think you are hopeless," she said, trying hard to sound more cheerful than she actually felt. Inside she was regretting every word.

"I didn't – how didn't I? I cannot understand. How did I not notice the glaring difference?" he chided himself.

"I guess you got so used to this place the way it is that only an outsider would make you see it," she offered patiently.

Loki stared at her with an undecipherable intent in his eyes. He wanted an explanation, but he was dreading her answer. He suspected she still pitied him.

"An outsider you say. Only an outsider would do this. Did you do this then? Is this the great big thing you were bragging about?"

"Hey, you wouldn't be so cynical about it if you knew all the trouble I've gone through to get them to dim the lights. They didn't see the point of doing such a small and insignificant gesture since you're not entirely...well not really human if you know what I mean and they seemed to think you wouldn't need accommodating just yet. They are sick and twisted, I know. But I kept talking and talking and complaining and making demands and you know first-hand how incredibly pleasant that is...and they finally conceded. So yeah, I kind of feel good about myself," she concluded.

"Why did you think I...wanted this?" he asked, his voice unsure for the first time since she had come into the room.

"Well of course you didn't spell it out because you are way too proud to admit discomfort, especially since you're hell bent on staying a god for as long as you can," she joked, "but I kind of noticed your eyes, how they were red all the time, tired and bloodshot and I saw how you flinched sometimes, involuntarily, when you had to look at me, cuz of the lights. And it was hard for you to rest or sleep when the whiteness just seeped into your eyelids and you felt you were being watched all the time. It was probably worse in full darkness. Well, I checked your sleeping activity in the lab reports and I got confirmation on the levels of stress, plus your doctors mentioned something about heightened sensitivity of the optic nerve and...okay, I need a break, I'm babbling."

Loki clenched his fists on the bed. He couldn't stand her eyes right now. The same eyes that had noticed everything. He couldn't see it, couldn't understand it fully.

He could hazard a guess.

Mortal women got attached quickly and pity and sympathy came so easily to them, even immediate affection, that he couldn't completely rule out this possibility. They craved recognition and admiration from the opposite sex and the only way they could acquire it is if they purposely put the men's needs over their own.

But then - she was so brash and spiteful sometimes; she insulted and denigrated him in a way that confirmed that she was scared and upset to be without the upperhand and to have to accept him and what he said without anything more than a witty remark. It was humiliating for her, more so because she couldn't do anything about it, because she couldn't face her insignificance. No human could. She was only left with cold indifference which she threw at him with a helpless desire to overpower him. No one in her position would crave recognition if she felt defeated from the start, because that would just make them feel worthless. Overpowering was not the same as impressing. She wanted victory, not admiration.

Was this then her revenge? Maybe her way of standing up to him, of surprising him, of throwing him off? Gaining ground so she could make her move?

But then she wouldn't resort to something like this. She could actually harm him from the outside instead of helping, because she seemed to have some power to create even worse situations for him if she so wished.

So was this sympathy, after all? The kind of sympathy that was detached from her resentment? A separate entity? She had shown signs of commiseration before. But simple sympathy would not drive a person to make real efforts of any kind. Something else needed to be there. The aforementioned drive.

"You took the time to inspect me and do all of that. Why? I want to confirm my thoughts," he demanded in a high-strung voice.

"It's worth it if I can hold it over your head for eternity, or at least keep bragging about it for the next five days," she commented chuckling.

Loki glared.

"All right, that might be only part of my reason. But everyone feels a sense of satisfaction when they've done something for someone. I guess I wanted you to feel better. It would make me feel better if I made you feel better, so, according to most social theories on the matter, I actually acted very selfishly, in a vital need for recognition, but also necessarily, to ensure the survival of our species. Only you're not my species but you're slowly turning into it so I still get credit."

Loki shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't deny the fact that she had a way with words. And she was generally correct in assuming how the general rule applied.

But he was making his first effort to see her individually, away from the medley. And he was certain the instinct of preserving her kind was not strong enough to warrant this gesture.

"And...?" he asked, waiting for her to add something else.

"And nothing. The first thing means I don't want to feel guilty about you, because my conscience is a bitch, and the second means one of my primal human instincts was acting out, because of the first."

Loki smiled to himself. Of course, he had been correct after all. A human being who controlled instinct with her conscience.

She was, predictably enough, a good person.

He wondered why he hadn't seen it right off the bat, since it was one of her more subtle, but obvious weaknesses that gave reason to all her other absurd and undignified reactions.

He always had a harder time seeing the goodness though. He could not blame himself.

How perfectly delectable, he said, smirking to himself. He always enjoyed watching good people give themselves to a cause, without a cause.

"So, are you happy with the change?" Darcy asked, hoping he might relent and reveal a more concrete reaction.

Her voice was so hopeful and curious at the same time that Loki stopped for a moment and his smirk faded.

There was something undeniably beautiful, humble yet beautiful, in such a small gesture that said so much. And her excitement, so visible and vibrant, gave the entire thing a sense of wonder and innocence.

He shook his head in irritation. She was not innocent, but she could emulate it well.

"It is an improvement," he gave in.

"You're welcome," she said, glowering in satisfaction. "Bet you think I am way more intuitive than all those scientists put together."

"I can neither confirm nor deny this statement, but it does say a lot about your kind."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Backhanded insult I see. But I know you are secretly pleased and grateful. Well, the first is a certainty, the latter is probably wish fulfilment on my part."

Loki couldn't help but smile at her giddiness. She was strangely surreal.

"I would love to hear your teary-eyed 'thank you's and how I'm your best friend in the whole wide world, but I've got a paper that won't write itself and an entire Patti Smith album that won't listen to itself so if you don't mind..." she said, turning back to her screen and her scattered books with the feeling that she had done or said something right after all.

"If you need anything just shout really loud," she teased.

He rolled his eyes. She had to stop trying to be funny.

Darcy put on her headphones and everything was silence.

Loki seated himself in a comfortable position and stared around the room in appreciation.

From time to time, his eyes would travel over her wiry frame and he would smirk. Someday, she would grow insane with all those contradictions inside of her, but for now he had to admit she was better than no one. Much better.