Chapter 4: What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate

Summary:

*Changed Rating*

So, here's Iteration 3, where things take a turn for the adult. There is totally going to be smut ahead. Sorry/not sorry. If you'd rather not read it, feel free to stop reading when they get to the bedroom.
And I included a smidge about the nuke stuff, because that's cool, too.


Midgard

Iteration 3, June 3rd, 2012, 2:35pm, Stark Tower, New York

There had been little opportunity or much ability since he'd fallen in with Thanos for contemplation of the kind where one examined ones motives deeply and objectively. Even before that point, he had no desire to do anything resembling that, if he was being completely honest with himself. And that was precisely the point. Being honest with himself, even if he wasn't with anyone else.

The truth of all his actions was lost in a morass; a tangle not entirely of his own making, but that was his responsibility nonetheless. The truth was he was chock-full of regret, apparently. At least he was fairly certain that was what he was feeling.

Feeling anything other than dread and mania hadn't been much of an issue when his mind had been nearly full of someone else's knowledge and desire. That problem seemed to have been temporarily solved now- though the means, ergo being beaten into a fine pulp by a green monster, left something to be said. And in the spirit of all this honestly, he would also admit that not being exactly capable of questioning his actions had been really wonderful compared to this- this almost obsessive recollecting.

A day or two in this mortal stink-hole had certainly made his thoughts full of all he wished to leave alone. It wasn't something he'd ever considered before he'd been tossed from Asgard that first time- regret.

He brought to mind the people he'd considered his family. He deliberately thought of them by name, though he knew as well as any that names held their own power. That belief might have fallen out of fashion from truth into superstition, but it was still true enough. Names could draw someones attention without them ever knowing why. Outside family, he tended to use them sparingly. Were they even still family?

Frigga, the only mother he knew, who wasn't related to him at all. She had practically radiated disappointment and guilt, the last time he'd seen her, and he vacillated between wondering why he even cared what she thought and caring far too much.

Thor, his big, strong brother, who could have caught him when he'd fallen from the bridge had he been just a little faster, and changed the way of things.

Odin, who never intended to give Loki the throne at all, no matter what feats he accomplished, or what knowledge he could have brought to bear.

Loki had known well what Odin's aim had been when he'd bound his and Thor's powers to their weapons and chucked them all to Midgard. It might have seemed, to a casual observer, that Odin had done it in a fit of rage, but anything the All-Father did, he did with a purpose. In this case, it had been a lesson to his erstwhile sons in humility and both self-sufficiency and cooperation.

The real question was, had Odin guessed that Loki knew his true race when he had banished them?

Either way, Loki had known that he should have played along, but he had been so off-kilter, so consumed by his father's betrayal, that he hadn't been able to think clearly.

He'd also been less than pleased to find that he'd landed right next to Thor, who, at the time, didn't know how to tuck himself into the wake of the spell, not dissimilar to when one used the bi-frost, and had burned most of his clothes clean off as a result. It had seemed impossibly cruel that Loki had been stuck dealing with a mostly naked Thor on top of everything else. It had seemed imperative that he get his powers back so that he return at once to Asgard; Loki had known how upset the frost-giants would be when they discovered that they were unable to breach Asgard, as he had promised he would aid them in doing.

It hadn't taken more than a few seconds after they had landed before he'd realized that they would likely come for him on Midgard instead. He'd started to plan, to plot for the best outcomes, but Thor had been typically obstinate and spectacularly unhelpful, bellowing alternately for Odin to bring them back and for his hammer.

Everything that had happened thereafter was nothing even he could have planned for.

For instance: How could he have predicted that he would push Thor into the path of a mortal conveyance? How could he have guessed that what should have amounted to a momentary chance encounter would change everything? How could he have known that he would have met her? She'd proved how very unlike others she was the very moment she had shown up.

Darcy Lewis.

Strange little mortal who had used her electrical device to fell Thor upon their first meeting, and pulled Loki neatly from the path of an ice boulder that had been hurled towards his head during their last.

There was nothing particularly alluring about her, nothing that would have normally drawn his eye. She was more perceptive than truly brilliant, though she'd proven to be smart in her own right. She was stubborn and crude, ready with obscenities and sarcasm at even the most inappropriate times, and even Sif was more lady-like.

But she had saved him, that final day in her horrid little town, right after the frost-giants had shown up. Then she'd waved it off like she did that sort of thing daily, like huge blue things trying to kill everyone was normal. He'd tried to even score, as it were, but instead had incinerated a block of ice that would have squashed the mortal his brother held a tendre for.

When Loki had finished dispatching the squadron of frost-giant assassins with Thor, he'd realized there were no further opportunities to clear the debt. In a rush to get back to Asgard, ready to deal in vengeance, Loki had figured saving her friend was close enough. Logically, he should have forgotten her almost instantly, mortals were nothing in the grand scheme of things, with lives like a flash in the pan. But she lingered, somewhere in the back of his mind, popping up in random thoughts here and there. Loki wasn't sure why or what it meant, but he definitely didn't like it.

Trying to think of something else led his thoughts down another path best left untraveled. He'd tried to freeze Jotunheim into nothing for the way they had tried to kill him. It hadn't been his finest moment, to be sure. And frankly, neither had this whole New York incident, but he had not been able to figure out a better way out.

He supposed that he had been a bit, well, unbalanced, not thinking clearly. Still was, really, though for mostly different reasons. Wallowing in power, and being the plaything of pure evil tended to do that to a person. While in the depth of the Other's thrall, he had not seen how foolish his plan was. That none of his wishes would be fulfilled, no matter what Thanos promised, no matter what he, himself, thought he deserved.

He had wanted things to be as they were before Odin had chosen Thor over him, before he'd known his true parentage. Even if it was impossible, he'd wanted to undo all the choices that led him to allow that madness to overwhelm him.

Was it worse or better that he was in some control of his faculties when he planned the invasion of Midgard? Aesir were empirically better than mortals, but he wasn't even one, and he'd known it. He'd known on some level that what he was doing was wrong, but he liked to think that years of deeply ingrained prejudice against frost-giants and humans had influenced his thinking. Even so, it was a flimsy excuse, and his actions embarrassed him.

Perhaps that was one of the things that had kept Thanos out of that final, stubborn corner in his mind. Regret.

A muted scrape of metal outside the unfortunately sturdy iron cell door interrupted his contemplations.

This time, as a delightful change, the slot in the middle of the door opened, because it wasn't one of Stark's metal servants outside bringing him something disgusting, he could see that it was an actual person. Strange that he hadn't noticed that scraping until it was almost upon him.

What it was he recognized first he couldn't say, but it was definitely her. It was as if just thinking her name had summoned her, and he wasn't sure if he was pleased to have her particular brand of company or not. He remembered what all his tutors had told him at one point or another, that a manipulator of magic is always mindful of his thoughts, and Loki hadn't been, not at all, and not for a long time.

He tried for control of his thoughts and found them more slippery than he ever remembered.

She looked much the same as she had last they had seen each other. Loki found that he was unable to determine with any accuracy what measurement of time that had been. More than a few months, but less than several years, by the look of her. She was still wearing the same spectacles, and possibly the same awful hat. Hair mostly tucked away, so no way of telling if it was longer.

Darcy unfolded something that squealed like metal against metal and apparently sat so she was mostly on level with the slot. Then she stuck her face right up to the hole, "What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck were you thinking?"

He hadn't been thinking, that was the point. Of course, he'd been in the control of a deformed megalomaniac more powerful than she could conceive, but that was neither here nor there, since he couldn't actually talk about it. And it shamed him, just a little, that he'd been taken over, an unpleasant emotion. Moments of silence passed between them as they stared at each other.

Darcy squirmed uncomfortably in her metal seat, and looked away first. It was more gratifying than it should have been. "Listen, Thor kinda told us the thing," she said, voice noticeably softer, face still grim. It was a spectacularly vague thing to say, as it could have been any number ofthings, not many flattering. She looked back at him, gaze steady and faintly pitying, quite obviously expecting a response of some sort.

Loki wasn't inclined to share anything with her, least of all anything personal.

So he tried to ignore her. Loki turned to face the wall, debating whether to stick his fingers in his ears or not. He settled on not, on the basis of experience.

He really should have known it wouldn't work.

"Why are you even here?" Loki finally shouted, when she had reached 'Reason 24 Loki really sucks ass' in the little ditty she had started singing, poorly. Likely with the express purpose of him doing exactly what he was doing. Acknowledging her.

"I can't pretend to understand what it was like to find something like that out, have your dad kick you out, banish you from sight and your home. I can't even begin to imagine finding out that your people kind of want to kill you. And then to fall. Right? You fell through the universe, man, and just that would have been enough to trip anyone out and send them off the deep end. But you didn't have to do what you did, you didn't have to hurt Erik or Hawkeye or the other SHIELD guys or, I dunno man, try to take over the world. I mean, what the hell were you fucking thinking, Loki?"

"If that lack-wit Thor sent you down here to be a sympathetic ear I will spill my secrets to, I must say, you are quite missing the mark."

"Screw you, dude. I'm just here because your brother, and hello? That's right, he's still your brother, he still cares, still calls you brother. Anyway, your brother wanted to see my boss, the one I still have a borderline unhealthy codependent relationship with, so of course I had to tag along. I mean, it's great to be back in New York, but jet-lag is kicking my ass. So yeah, what has two thumbs and is too tired for an ulterior motive besides disappointed curiosity?"

He heard her take a deep breath.

"I just, I'm not stupid enough to think we were friends, but I thought, you know, since I saved your life, you could maybe give me some small hint as to why you did all this. Because I keep thinking that you must have had a really good reason for all of this, and I don't think I can handle it if you don't. You owe me, Loki. Tell me."

"I'm in no mood for your games, mortal, and I owe you nothing. Leave me in peace."

"I would have been perfectly happy leaving you alone, Loki, but I don't have anything better to do, and since I can't sleep through the very loud, live action porn being made right next to my room, going back upstairs isn't going to happen. You know your brother, I'm sure."

Loki almost snorted, as he knew exactly what she was talking about. Grunting and shouting, walls shuddering under the assault of the headboard, a mattress squeaking for mercy, to say nothing of the inevitable noises his partner brought to the symphony.

She sighed deeply and scrubbed her hands over her face, "Do you know what it's like to feel like something you did caused something terrible, and to feel guilt about it? I don't think I've really doubted that before, that you were capable of feeling. But I do now, Loki, and I need to know why you did all of this."

She didn't say it out loud, but she might as well have: Please tell me there was a good reason. Please tell me that all this isn't really your fault.

What came out of his mouth when he finally opened it to speak, wasn't the placating nonsense he'd meant to say.

"I was supposed to rule. It was supposed to be me."

It sounded petty and hollow, and he regretted it the instant he spoke it.

"Really?" She sounded so sad, so hurt, like she'd expected better. Well, she could get in line behind all the others he'd disappointed. "That's it?"

He winced a little. He'd never be able to tell her of Thanos. Actually, Loki never wanted her to have even the slightest inkling of him. In this case, he judged ignorance to be the closest thing to safety as he could offer. He nodded.

"Nice. Yeah, on that note, uh, bye."

She turned away, "Hey, Jarv, is there any place still open where a girl could get some doughnuts?...", and the slot closed her off from view immediately after, and the sound of voices dissolved into murmurs and then nothing. He was again alone.

Regret.


Iteration 1, May 31st, 2012, 4:26pm, Stark Tower, New York

Loki surveyed the pathetic resistance Earth's mortal "heroes" were putting up. He'd thrown the Man of Iron out of his tower just a few moments ago, and was disappointed to see that he survived, against all expectations, but he supposed that having so little time available made a person scrappy.

He was standing on the top of the Tower overseeing the descent of the Mothership when the bomb hit. One moment upright, organising the chaos of the ground forces and the transport wyrms, the next falling away deaf and blind and burning. Down, down, down, the pain of landing nothing compared to the pain from the blast. There was a need to get up, something inside that wanted him to propel himself upright again.

The spirit willing, but the flesh too weak, Loki lifted his head, and promptly passed out.


Iteration 1, May 31st, 2012, 6pm, Unknown, New York

Loki wasn't dead. He might've wished he was, but the pain in his body heralded his incredible survival regardless. He laid there for a few minutes, eyes closed, trying to pass back into unconsciousness, but that wasn't to be. He reluctantly opened his eyes. He focused on himself first, taking stock of the damage done to his body; which included what felt like a broken shoulder and clavicle and burns along the side of his body. He feared for his face, and wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing what damage had been done to that. He felt around his head, feeling the absence of hair and the hot spots that signaled more burns.

Magic wasn't coming easily to him, so he crawled from under the debris that had fallen on top of him after shoving it off. It took much of his strength, and he was breathing heavily by the time he was free.

The city was by no means quiet, but everything had a curiously muffled quality. Sirens and screams seemed to come from a great distance, but the flashing lights were coming from just down the street.

Loki propped himself against a broken concrete column and closed his eyes to better concentrate on the healing spell he'd taught himself as a youngster. It dulled the worst of the pain, but didn't do much for the broken bones. His hearing finally cleared and, that was when he heard it- the screeching, guttural sound that was the Chitauri language. Loki sighed before levering himself to his feet, ready (sort of) to take stock of the losses of his forces and whether the gateway was still open.

There was dust and ash in the air that made breathing somewhat difficult, and likewise seeing. Visibility was down to virtually nothing, and Loki honestly had no idea where he was. The scent of burning buildings and other things he hesitated to identify, was disconcerting. A gust of wind from the ocean temporarily solved that issue and what he saw shocked him; the city was in ruins. The few building that had withstood the blast, were listing alarmingly and aflame. There were more people than he thought possible everywhere, moaning and reaching and trying to do what he'd done, crawl to freedom, but with much less success.

He'd thought he was the ruthless one. He'd thought that he was the inhumane one, but the mortals had just shown him exactly what they were willing to do. And it was frightening.


Iteration 3, June 5th, 2012, 1:32pm, Stark Tower, New York

She wouldn't meet his eye.

Loki knew that she was likely at least partially responsible for having him moved from the cell to a room that connected to Thor's. He was relatively certain that he was somewhat grateful she had intervened on his behalf. It felt like another favor owed, but she refused to allow him even the smallest opportunity to find out why she had done it.

Actually, for the most part, she refused to acknowledge he existed beyond clipped greetings and even shorter farewells. Even the ever-annoying Man of Iron had noticed the almost palpable awkwardness between him and Darcy. It had led to several increasingly hostile encounters that usually ended in explicit threats to various parts of his anatomy.

Loki had been trying to make some sort of contribution, extend his time on Midgard, because for all that he had previously desired to go home, he'd found that he almost preferred where he was, to a certain extent. It was arguably better than whatever punishment that waited in Asgard, and with Thanos most of the way across the heavens, without a way to get from there to here anytime soon, Midgard offered better opportunities for the time being.

It would be a simple matter to allow the mortals and Thor to begin to trust him. Just a little bit. They would grow lax sooner or later. But she was a different matter.

He heard the sound of her door to the veranda opening and with Thor audibly busy with Jane, Loki took the opportunity to get some fresh air.

Storms were Thor's purview, and he'd not found them enjoyable in centuries. Darcy glanced over when she heard the door open, and rolled her eyes when she saw it was him. She, for once, wasn't wearing a hat, and the humidity made her hair more frizzy than curly.

She turned away, looking again at the heavy clouds closing in on the city. He heard the music she piped into her ears get louder.

It would be a simple matter of shorting out the little music box, but he was wearing magic dampeners until they could figure out how to safely transport the Tesseract. Odin's little box wasn't doing such a good job of it, and had failed utterly in getting them home the first and only time they had attempted to use it for travel.

He tried to think about that, what an interesting little pickle the Tesseract was, tried to enjoy the novelty of the semblance of freedom, but Loki couldn't seem to follow a thought through to it's conclusion.

He wasn't sure why her lips fascinated him so much. She looked back over at him, and pursed her lips ever so slightly, before removing one of the music pills from her ear. He should be paying better attention to what she was saying, but the curve of her lower lip and the way the top on stretched over her teeth was what he focused on instead.

"... It's like, so psyched for you guys, but can't you give a rest for a night? Just one? Well, you know, you're pretty much right there, too. I think I wouldn't mind so much if I was getting some too, but wouldn't you know it? Being Jane's intern doesn't leave much time for dating. And I'm fine being single. I totally am. But goddamn if listening to those two fuck-bunnies doesn't make me just... frustrated. Why am I even talking to you about any of this?"

Loki looked around the empty deck and shrugged, "There's really no other choices?"

"Point. Still think you're an an ass and you're hiding shit, but I'll call a truce for now, since we're both basically trapped out here. Has he always been like this?"

They ended up talking, or rather, she'd ended up talking at him until the apartment behind them was finally quiet, an hour later. She stretched as she rose from her seat, which highlighted the other two attributes he was fascinated by. He wasn't entirely successful in looking away.


Iteration 3, June 15th, 2012, 8:31pm, Stark Tower, New York

He'd been spending time with a mortal. Comparatively loads of time, in fact. Was it an indictment of his mental state that he mostly enjoyed it?

For all that they had such a short time available, mortals took great joy in the pleasure of diversity. Food, drink, music all in wildly different forms, all available at the drop of a hat anytime of day.

They were in the sitting room of her little dwelling, something he enjoyed since she somehow managed to disable the sound trapping devices that allowed JARVIS to listen in. Loki was finishing the last little puddle remaining of an enormous serving of an elaborate soup. It was not something he'd never thought would be enjoyable, but somehow was. It was fragrant and spicy, with a pile of vegetables and a variety of sauces to add to his taste, it was unlike anything else he could compare it to on Asgard.

He slurped the broth, savoring the notes of clove and star anise and some fantastic herbaceous flavour, not the slightest bit embarrassed about how much he enjoyed it. She'd been the one to start with indecorous table manners in the first place.

Darcy looked over her shoulder at him, rolling her eyes a little. She had finished slightly before him, and was stacking her rinsed bowl in the precarious pile of dishes in her sink.

"So, are you ever going to tell me what it was that scared you so bad you had to go running back to Mommy and Daddy?"

She turned around, wiping her hands with a dish towel depicting Stark Tower, as if her question was about something inane like the weather. Darcy leaned against the counter and just looked straight at him with one eyebrow cocked up over her glasses. Her shirt was riding up just a bit, revealing the scantest hint of the pale skin of her belly.

With Darcy Lewis, it was never good to forget that she was perfectly capable of maintaining her own agenda. She might lure one in with food and drink and that almost vapid persona, but her mind was constantly working.

He looked down, stirred the remains of the soup, and debated the merits of running away. Not that he would get very far, considering that his room was literally next door, and he wasn't allowed off this floor after 7pm.

"I'm not stupid, Loki. Don't look at me like that, I'm not," she said, the space between her eyebrows wrinkling when his head whipped up and he gave her an incredulous look.

"You can't seriously tell me that you thought that extraordinarily stupid plan would actually succeed, right? You meant to fail. I know you did, and that was the easy part to figure out. What stumped me was the reason. Like, why? There are easier ways, but you did something that basically means you have to be shipped home for justice after getting your ass beat multiple times. And you would have been. Hauled back to Asgard in a muzzle, on a leash, if the Tesseract hadn't gone all wonky."

"I never, I don't, what I meant to say was... Listen," Loki said, speaking over the rest of her words, "I don't think for a moment that you are stupid, or I'd hardly be found in your company as much as I am. I find myself singularly unsuited to prolonged exposure to stupidity. Just so you are aware. And, frankly, this," he gestured around him, "my punishment, my eventual imprisonment, is none of your business. My reasons for my actions are my own, and just to reiterate, are no concern of yours. I should probably go," he said, rising from his chair.

"You were fucking terrified," she continued, as if he'd said nothing at all, like he hadn't gotten up from his chair and reached for his completely unnecessary coat, "And even though whatever it was is presumably on the other side of the galaxy, or universe or wherever, stuck like Chuck without the Magic Cube of Space Doors, you still don't feel like you're completely safe.

You can tell me I'm wrong, and even though your delivery of the lie would be perfect, because, duh, God of Lies, I would still know I'm right. So tell me what or who it is so I can try to get my planet ready to defend against it. Because one thing about you I will never underestimate is your capacity to piss people off to the point where they cross space and beat insurmountable odds for just a chance to kill your ass."

She'd turned to face him standing there, with his hand on the doorknob, practically daring him to leave. She crossed her arms under her chest, and he was torn. The right choice was obvious. Leave her to stew in her little theories, finish the Tesseract container as soon as he could, instead of dawdling like he had, and return to Asgard so he'd be in a better, safer position when his luck finally ran out. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He had been pretty much terrified, and sort of still was.

He faced her head on, ready to convince her how very wrong she was, but he couldn't make the words come out. She was standing there, utterly fearless, going up against him on her own terms, without the slightest care for who he was or who his parents were. It was refreshing. It was annoying.

"Coward," she said, tilting her chin up, looking down her nose at him, despite the considerable advantage he had on her in height. It was a gesture he'd seen Frigga make a thousand times, and that, perhaps, made her impudence less offensive and more intriguing. Truthfully, he'd had people maimed for less, and he wondered that he hadn't the slightest urge to do so.

Loki had every intention of leaving, of slamming the door in her smug, know-it-all face, but he didn't. Three steps and he was inches from her, staring down into her eyes, knowing he was about to make a huge mistake, but powerless to change the course he was on.

Darcy had really soft skin, and though she smelled like the soup they'd shared, it wasn't unpleasant. They'd been in closer proximity before, watching TV squashed on a sofa with Jane and Thor a few times. It was still odd, though. Still made her take a step back, and then another one when he followed her. They ended up shuffling until her back hit the wall. Her hair was tied messily away from her face, and he tugged one of the loose bits absently, trying to memorize this moment.

She flailed an arm to get him to stop touching her. He just put his hand on the wall behind her and leaned in, instead. He'd left an opening for her to flee if she so desired, but she didn't seem to notice it, eyes wide behind her glasses as he ever so slowly moved in closer. She could get away, but she didn't so he kissed her.

Lightning didn't strike, the world didn't tilt and while neither seemed to tremble noticeably, it was nice. He pulled away and let his hand trail over her neck for a moment before straightening and taking a step or two back. She was completely silent for once, which was also nice. She lifted a hand to her mouth, the one he'd maybe been a bit too focused on in the last few weeks, and rubbed her fingers over her lips.

Darcy made a noise, a sort of growl, he'd never heard from her before and launched herself at him. She pulled his head down by tugging his hair rather ruthlessly and basically attached herself to his face.

He'd been with innumerable partners. Most of them he'd generally only known for a few hours before he bedded them. Most of them he could barely recall, much less feel anything for. If nothing else, this was fairly unique. Sure, she wanted something from him, but this, wasn't about that. She was kissing him with an enthusiasm that was entirely shameless. She made that growl-y sound again, tinged with impatience this time, and he kissed her back. Really kissed her, and this time it wasn't nice at all.

There was a knock at the door, because of course there was. Loki groaned and backed away from Darcy, who was already patting her hair and then straightening her shirt. She took a deep breath and pasted on a smile before opening the door. She hadn't looked at him once.

Thor bounded in with all the enthusiasm of a puppy. He bellowed "Hello, Lady Darcy! Good! You're already leaving, brother. That's excellent. Jane needs you for something Loki, something about the Tesseract. Are those shrimp chips? May I?" He had already picked up the bag and started shoving hand fulls into his mouth.

Loki looked at Darcy, who was watching the amount of food Thor managed to put away with something like awe. "Thor, sweetie, Jane was supposed to be eating, not science-ing."

When Thor shrugged like that, he just looked adorably boy-ish and completely innocent. It was a skill Loki rather admired. "Something about the rice set her off, I couldn't deter her once she'd become enthralled," and he sounded sincerely apologetic.

Darcy waved them out, telling Thor to just take the bag, when he mumbled around a mouthful of chips and gestured to it. Loki was going to say something witty in farewell, but she closed the door softly in his face before he could.

Loki was still staring at her door when Thor called from an open lift, "Coming, brother?"

It was a statement to how distracted he was that Loki didn't even bother to correct him.


Iteration 3, June 30th, 2012, 1:48am, Stark Tower, New York

Loki knocked on her door. He was fairly certain that she was awake, but he wasn't so sure that she would open the door for him. It wasn't that Darcy had behaved in a manner that was noticeably different towards him, but maybe he had expected that she would. That there would be some outward sign that something between them had changed.

"Just a minute," she said from behind the door.

She looked ridiculous when she finally answered the door. Her hair was in some sort of turban, her glasses were askew, to say nothing of the enormous clothes she was wearing.

"Was that ensemble made a for a giant?" he said by way of greeting.

Darcy looked up at him warily, not moving to the side to allow him entrance as she usually did, "Why are you here? Because it's late, and you're leaving in the morning, and we both have to get up early."

A perfectly reasonable question, all things considered, but not one he especially wanted to answer in a hallway, "I wanted the opportunity to clear the air. I don't want to leave with things so unresolved between us."

"There's nothing to resolve. You're a thousand year old space Viking, about to go home to what is probably going to be a life sentence in a dungeon. We're never going to see each other again."

If he hadn't been really listening he never would have heard the slight catch in her throat when she said they'd never see each other again.

She blinked at him from behind the lenses that magnified her eyes and he saw how bloodshot and bright they were. Loki hadn't had the most physically affectionate childhood and the intricacies of when it was permissible to initiate physical contact generally escaped him. Mostly it just wasn't something that interested him.

This was one of those rare instances where he actually cared, and he wrapped her in his arms, fairly certain that it was the right thing to do. She allowed it for a few seconds; actually, he was pretty sure she smelled his chest, but then she pushed him away. She seemed resigned when she stepped back to let him in.

She curled up on the huge chair in the living room, leaving the sofa for him. "Just say what you gotta say, and go, dude. I'm exhausted."

He stood in front of the glass door to the veranda, instead, with his back to her. He'd thought that maybe not looking at her would make it easier for the words to come, but it didn't. They were not often silent around each other; Darcy tended to chatter on no matter what they were doing, even going so far as to talk with her mouth full on occasion.

He'd miss her, strange little mortal with a lifespan like the beat of a butterfly wing. He didn't know why he'd come or what to say. "I think I'll miss you." Strange to think he'd remember her longer than anyone on her planet would.

"Yeah, me too." She'd gotten up, unnoticed by him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Me too."

Her turban was gone, revealing wet, fragrant hair. It hadn't been combed and curls tangled wetly over her shoulder. There was something undeniably vulnerable about someone freshly washed.

He'd only meant to kiss her forehead, had meant to leave directly after, but she looked up and he pressed his mouth to hers. A goodbye kiss, he rationalized, a proper one. When she pushed his coat off, and then started unbuttoning his shirt, he didn't stop kissing her, though the difference in their height was making it a bit awkward.

That was an easy enough problem to solve. He picked her up, which made her gasp into his mouth, and deposited her on the sofa. She looked at him with an expression on her face he'd never seen before. It was only for a moment and then she started to take off her clothes. When she stripped off that awful sweater-thing, he realized he'd seen her in that same type of sleeveless top before. Just not without undergarments.

It had been a long time since a pair of breasts had interested him as much. "Uhm, are we going to talk about this?" she finally asked, after he'd finished the job she'd started on his shirt. "We probably shouldn't, right?" She answered herself immediately.

She got off the couch and kissed him soundly before pulling him into her bedroom. It was almost identical to his in Thor's apartment. The same bed and nightstand/light combo and the same sheets and blankets. She had not made her bed, and seemed oblivious to the piles of clothes, but what he really noticed was how everything smelled like her.

She pushed him on the bed, and started digging through the top drawer in her nightstand. This perplexed him, even after she held up fist full of little foil packets. She must've seen the confusion on his face, because she said "Condoms," and then "Protection," to clarify matters.

Well, if they were really going to do this, he'd better get his trousers off.

When he looked up from his task, she was gloriously naked. She left the light on, much to his satisfaction, and was eyeing him greedily. Very gratifying, that, Loki thought as he stretched out next to her. Darcy was flushed pink, and he wanted her. He had dithered long enough.

He started with her legs, by pulling them apart and settling his torso between them. He'd been told that he was quite good at this, and he was determined to leave her with the best of memories. She gave a half-strangled squeal and tightened her thighs around his head when he pressed his tongue to her labia the first time.

Her gasping was incredibly arousing. He enjoyed wringing sounds and words from her with the tip and flat and drag of his tongue, with his hands roaming her body and his fingers strumming a melody on her skin. Darcy was lovely when she came. He'd remember the way she said his name for the rest of his days.

When she was writhing under him and scrabbling at his hair, he allowed her to pull him up on top of her to kiss her mouth. She breathed the word "Condom," against his lips. He was relatively sure he remembered how to put a sheath on, but it had been a while. He sat up to pick one up, and looked at it curiously. Darcy snorted softly and took it from him before she pushed him over onto his back.

She ripped open the package and placed the tightly rolled, soft disk on the head of his cock. She rolled the tube down confidently and surveyed her work with a look of unmistakable glee. He chuckled a bit, and she smiled sweetly as she crawled on top of him.

One advantage to advanced age was stamina, or it was supposed to have been. He sped up his strokes when he realized he was about to come. She was riding him, and the view was wonderful and not at all conducive to helping him hold off his impending orgasm. He positioned his left hand so he could swipe at her clit, and she came almost immediately. And so did he, pulling her down so he could press his face into the curve of her neck.

Loki knew he was in trouble when he realized his first conscious thought was that he didn't want to leave.


Iteration 3, June 30th, 2012, 7:30am, Central Park, New York

Loki had iron shackles on his wrists and heavy chains ran between them and to the loop in Thor's hand. He didn't particularly enjoy this but he was too tired to protest much. He'd left Darcy sleeping deeply an hour ago, having lost count of the number of times and the many different ways they'd coupled.

The Widow and Stark in his Man of Iron gear watched from a safe distance as the the Hulk in his mortal guise fiddled with the box containing the Tesseract. Thor looked at Jane steadily and said, "I'll be back."

Banner nodded and Thor shifted Loki's chain to grip the handles of the newly finished Box. Loki took a deep breath and readied himself for the sharp jolt of inter-realm travel.

"Wait!"

Feet pounded closer, and he heard radios crackle to life, and Stark murmur, "It's Ok, let her through. Hang on a sec, Blondie."

Loki barely had time to brace himself as she hurtled through the wall of armed guards and threw her arms around his neck, seemingly oblivious to the stares this action garnered. "I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye," she whispered into his shirt.

"Goodbye, Loki," she said after he stroked her hair awkwardly, his movement hampered by the chains. "Fuck it," she said and jumped up, wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed the breath from his lungs. She stopped when Thor cleared his throat loudly. She let go of him, and turned around. She walked away, pushing her way through the crowd, and didn't look back. Thor twisted the handles and they weren't in Midgard any longer.


Iteration 1, June 30th, 2012, 10:15am, Central Park, New York

Loki had officially and successfully controlled the city and its surroundings for the last two weeks, though it was getting difficult to locate suitable supplies for his troops.

He had, after considerable resource expenditure and detective work finally figured out what had happened to the Tesseract.

From the few eyewitnesses who survived long enough to be found and were still able to speak, he learned that the gateway had shifted with the Tesseract as Stark Tower collapsed in the explosion. A blast from a nearby gassing rupturing had sent the Tesseract tumbling through the air and then through the tumbling gateway. An implosion occurred, from the Tesseract and the gateway meeting, apparently. It took everything within 500 meters, buildings, asphalt and people gone in a rushing, terrifying instantly.

Loki was almost glad he'd been unconscious for it.

Either way, the Tesseract was who knew where, but it was unlikely that it was anywhere near Thanos, since he had been on the mothership and would have likely perished in the implosion of the Tesseract. He knew the mothership still lived because his troops were still alive. As luck would have it, he'd found the staff, and without that he doubted that madman would be able to locate the Tesseract anytime soon, and that pleased Loki immensely.

He looked forward to the future. He looked and saw the potential for almost limitless power.


Notes:

Thanks for being wonderful. The kindness you all have shown is amazing and is truly appreciated. It's just so nice to hear from you guys!

So there I was, writing this chapter. I do have some stuff planned out, but for the most part, I'm winging it. I tried to write this chapter without the somewhat gratuitous smut, because I was working up to it for later, but it kept happening no matter what I tried to do to distract myself from going there. Shrugs, my bad I guess.

I have a thing for re-doing song lyrics, so '99 bottles of beer on the wall' was pressed into service as the song Darcy sings.

Also, the chapter title is possibly my favorite misquote (from Cool Hand Luke) of all time, because it is and isn't. An interesting state to be in, to say the least.