I'm exhausted. Anyone else exhausted? I've been pushing myself really hard with projects, in addition to work and holiday stress, and it's resulting in migraines and a distinct lack of inspiration and all sorts of messery. Hope you guys understand, and so, this one's a wordcount whopper, to hopefully tide you over for now.
Some answers are given, others are raised. And I introduce a canon villain, and promptly throw most canon material to the wind. Sorry.
LOVE the feedback by the way, your guys' theories have me alternately laughing and crying. Keep it coming. Influential songs for this week are "whisper" by Evanescence and "Sirens" by Pearl Jam.
Peace be with you all during this holiday and winter season, enjoy the chapter!
The drilling stares of four pairs of disapproving eyes were not going to get to Darcy Lewis, the woman told herself, shifting the military-grade tablet in her arms and swiping a finger lazily across the screen. Her eyes never strayed from the map she was surveying, but it was no easy task, being eyed like a fat, exotic gorilla being featured for This week only! at the zoo.
She was seated in the cargo hold of a SHIELD-operated vehicle, a heavily-armored SUV used exclusively for the most dangerous missions. The back was laid out much like a plane, with airplane-style seats lining each flank of the SUV, forcing passengers to face each other. This sort of transportation was typically reserved for the Avengers, for obvious reasons of heightened risk and danger, which was why the bulky forms of Steve Rogers and Clint Barton, the nondescript slightness of Natasha Romanoff, and the lanky height of Loki were all crammed into the space like sardines. Darcy felt like a sad excuse for a cracker jack toy, the sort you dug eagerly through the carton of sweets for; but nope, amongst all the muscle and power in the backseat, there was only her, pitiful mortal.
It didn't help that the seat belts were extremely tight, and made of a coarse material, cutting off her circulation at every turn. If she'd been brave enough, she'd have asked Steve, her most likely ally in the car, to help adjust her belt, but she didn't dare. The poor guy was cool as a cucumber in every mission setting she'd ever witnessed him in, on surveillance or in person, but man, stick a five-months pregnant woman next to him in the car, and the guy got jumpy.
"Hey Steve," Darcy began, and he jerked within his own seat restraints, bumping his head on the roof of the SUV while he was it it. "Yikes, sorry dude! This look like a good drop spot?" She continued with a wince for his benefit, proffering her tablet and pointing at a section on the digital map covering the screen. He nodded, and she reached for a walkie strapped to her hip with a little difficulty, finally getting it to her mouth to give coordinates to the leading driver of the SHIELD convoy.
While Darcy couldn't say with sincerity that she enjoyed the fact she'd been bumped down to more menial work, it wasn't like she could clone herself and have one body endure the pregnancy and all it entailed. Ian was over the moon, and his enthusiasm had been contagious, though she hated the coddling and fussing everyone forced on her. Frankly, she was amazed she'd been allowed on this mission at all, given her advanced condition, but Fury had issued an explicit order after conferring with her at length. She had been deemed vital assistance, but was to be kept bundled away and safe during the operation. No small reluctance was tangible in the air around SHIELD in the days leading up to the mission.
It had all started when, two weeks before, Loki had again appeared in the middle of SHIELD's headquarters. More precisely, Fury's office, just as the man had been lifting a mug of coffee to his lips as he spoke to Hawkeye. Housekeeping had bitched about the carpet stains for weeks.
Up until then, cryptic intelligence from Loki had trickled into SHIELD's earshot now and again, always helpful and vital to the specific missions they were planning, and he was hesitantly labeled a credible contact.
This time, Loki had shockingly come in person, about the matter of SHIELD's shadowy enemy, insisting he had found evidence of an abandoned base in northern Canada appearing quite active as of late. That information had corresponded with a shadowy attack on one of SHIELD's outposts in the region, leaving dozens of agents dead or injured. The Asgardian had flung a laminated map and accompanying surveillance printouts onto Fury's desk, disregarding Hawkeye focusing an arrow on his eye-socket as he explained. Fury couldn't grasp the idea of Loki typing on a computer, researching and going to the trouble of printing information for SHIELD, but he had grasped it well enough when Loki had grabbed him by the collar, lifting him three feet in the air and insisting this was no game, that he would find another agency to partner with if need be.
After that, things had moved quickly, Loki's provided leads being followed up on as quickly as possible. Darcy had already been moved to deskwork, but her excellence in those areas had her at the top of the list for consultation, and she'd quickly been brought in to assess the risks of a potential raid on the base. Gathered around a large table Darcy had dubbed "the roundtable of strategy", the Avengers, Fury, she, and a few others had analyzed what Loki had brought.
The surfacing of an active base so much closer to this headquarters than a remote corner of Russia or somewhere could not be ignored, and indeed, an attack could plausibly be imminent; they would have to act first. Grainy pictures had given them an idea of the apparently-meager force gathered there, but uniform similarities and troop drill movements visible in the images quickly convinced everyone that this could be another cell of the force they had yet to face. How Loki came about the information was a matter of debate, half the team wondering if it were a trick, the other half simply marveling at his hacking magic, but if anyone were to walk into a trap, the Avengers could handle it.
The only small comfort was that the army appeared to be human, but in several images, a tall blonde woman was faintly visible, and she looked to be a figure of power, giving orders and directing. Sometimes her form was nearly see-through, as if she were not really there, and it was difficult to tell if that was merely a matter of photography inconsistency. When asked who he thought she could be, Loki had simply murmured something about employing extreme caution, eyes flicking down the table to Darcy and away again, before he swept from the room. That was helpful.
And here they were, she paired with the cavalry until their scheduled divergence, a few more miles into Canadian wilderness. Darcy was going to be left in charge of the monitoring team, ensconced in the woods, tapping away at surveillance data while safely camouflaged with advanced technology installed on the vehicles.
"Everyone is clear on the plan, right?" Darcy offered cheerfully, craning her aching neck to collect a grim nod from everyone in the vehicle, even Clint, brooding in the passenger seat at the prospect of riding with Loki.
The god in question of course had not acknowledged Darcy the whole trip, except to watch her, or more importantly, her condition. A glacial green stare had been locked on her abdomen for nearly all of the several hours they'd spent in the vehicle, and she wondered if he'd go cross-eyed if he tried to read a book now. Her baby was probably getting the creeps, and as she glanced at him again to see his eyes unmoved, she rubbed a hand across her stomach self-consciously.
Foot tapping nervously, Darcy's eyes sought the roof of the vehicle as she called out to the driver. "How much longer?"
"Two minutes 'til the A's are getting pulled," the man assured her, referring to the Avengers with the more casual name SHIELD had adopted, cutting off a few syllables in the interest of mission-required haste.
True to his word, the car slowed to a stop a little over a minute later, and Darcy could see nothing but thick forest out the front windshield, the only outside visibility from where she sat. On cue, Natasha, Steve, Clint, and Loki were flitting out of seat belts and buckling on various weaponry. It felt like recess, and Darcy was the one kid not allowed to go out and play. She frowned deeply, thumbs drumming anxiously on the tablet she held in sleep-mode.
Steve paused in his ministrations to pat her shoulder warmly, if gingerly, before taking up his shield. She smiled weakly up at him, trying to quench a suddenly-strong feeling of unease. He beamed back before springing out the back of the SUV without hesitation, immediately scanning the area. Natasha moved to follow, and the passenger door was banging shut, signaling Clint's exit as well. Loki was right behind Natasha, but paused abruptly, and Darcy yanked her courage from whatever hiding place it had found.
"Loki, I'd like to go over some last-minute protocol with you. You haven't been on a SHIELD mission before," she started, and he nodded silently, back still facing her. Natasha held up three fingers, indicating Darcy had little time, and then the assassin gave her a strange look, shepherding the other Avengers further into the clearing for a small huddle. Bruce Banner, Tony, and Thor would be meeting them closer to the target facility.
Loki leaped from the vehicle and turned to face Darcy, a hand latching onto each door in preparation to shut them. She fumbled with her seat belt, huffing in annoyance until the thing released her, and she gracelessly shuffled forward, flicking a finger across her tablet as if to show him something. Instead, she knelt in place, leaning forward to catch his eyes. "I have a bad feeling about this." She coughed lightly, the colder, drier air making it harder to talk, and a glimpse of concern flashed across his expression before he again concealed it masterfully. "You…I've no right to, uh, worry, I'm sure you believe, but…" She was stammering, lacking all Darcy bluntness, and it was annoying. "Just be careful. I'll be personally monitoring your frequency."
It was like talking to a wall, and she looked from side to side awkwardly as Loki remained silent. Finally, he stepped back, moving to shut the doors. "You should not have come. You are responsible for the safety of more than yourself, concentrate on that." With that cold admonishment, Darcy was left blinking in the darkness resulting from the doors shutting. She wasn't sure she'd believe him concerned for the well-being of what he likely considered no more than Ian's spawn, and snorted in derision, shuffling back to her equipment.
Flipping open her laptop, she opened the program that would monitor Loki's vitals, location, and everything in between. It was customary on missions, though he had assured SHIELD that he would magically fry the device when this was over with. No one else had volunteered to watch his tracker, and she'd accepted with muted relish. Everything looked good, his signal moving with predictability towards the planned areas. A light knocking on the back of the SUV introduced the rest of her team, all assigned their own vehicles-turned-tech-stations, and she hopped out to instruct them. Any massive fluctuations in vitals, any lost signals, anything remotely panic-inspiring would be passed on to her immediately. But it was the Avengers, everyone cockily acknowledged, and nothing ever went wrong with so many of them in one place. She dismissed her team with a thumbs-up, stationing herself in front of her laptop with a bottle of iced tea, glumly wishing for a spinning chair and more legroom.
A dull impact in her abdominal region made Darcy smile; the baby had recently started kicking, something that had actually barely startled her the first time. She supposed it was because she was so accustomed to the company of a mischief god who blinked in and out of existence like a six-foot-tall lightbulb; that connection had saddened her, as that company was no longer an option.
Rubbing the swollen area comfortingly, she settled in with a book, eyes flicking to the screen every once in a while. An incessant beeping was part of the tracking function, representing distance of the agent, and it was few and far between right now, showing how far away Loki was. It would speed up like a watch alarm sounding, when the team was returning.
Two hours later, Darcy's feeling of apprehension had only grown, despite her attempts to lose herself in a trashy romance novel and stuff herself with saltines.
As if on cue, her walkie suddenly emitted a sharp burst of crackle, scaring her into dropping her book. A thud sounded outside simultaneously, following a brief yell. Her driver was alert, a calming hand flung out even as he drew his sidearm, and she knew that was never good. Diving for her walkie, Darcy's brow furrowed. "Johnson? Birke?" None of her team were responding, and they'd been right outside.
Her blood ran cold as her driver exited the vehicle. "No, don't!-" Several bangs rent the air, accompanied by a guttural scream that quickly dropped off, and Darcy covered her mouth with both hands, freezing. A shattering noise revealed the body of her bodyguard flung into the windshield of the SUV, broken glass and splashes of blood flung everywhere with the movement, and she shrieked into her palms. What the hell could do that? Everything went silent for a moment, and she edged towards the back door, thinking if she could make it into the woods, she could make it. Her laptop was still making far-spaced beeping noises, and she nearly sobbed at what that indicated. No help coming.
Grasping at the door handle with fingers slick with sweat, Darcy moved to open them, when her walkie went off again. "Lewis – krrssshhhh – under attack! Call – krrsshhhh – aargghhkkk!" the transmission cut off eerily, and Darcy bit down on her lower lip, praying for calm. She was five months pregnant, stuck in the back of a vehicle that was likely surrounded by an enemy force that was picking off her team one by one. Was that in the agent handbook anywhere? She'd write that section up herself, if she made it.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the doors upon exhalation, flinging herself into the forest clearing, which was growing darker as evening fell. Thankful they'd let her still carry a firearm, she drew her gun without hesitation, her other hand clamping across her middle protectively. But she saw no one, nothing except…The closest vehicle of their caravan was on its side, a crimson spatter shining on the back door that hung open, and she gasped, whirling on the spot and keeping her gun aimed solidly in front of her.
A feminine cackle suddenly echoed around the clearing, and Darcy had never felt so hedged in, had never felt this level of fear during a mission or Chitauri attack or anything of the sort. Because Loki was right; she had to fear for two.
"Show yourself," she commanded, figuring some false bravado never hurt. Movement in the corner of her eye jerked Darcy's focus to one of the other vans, where screaming sounded. The doors opened, and one of her team, a recently-promoted girl whom Darcy had taken under her wing, emerged, SHIELD-issue windbreaker splattered with blood, even the SHIELD emblem rendered scarlet by the substance. It was a chilling sight.
"Agent Lewis," she sobbed, hands raised in blood-splashed supplication in front of her chest.
"What the hell happened?" Darcy spoke sharply, eyes scanning the surrounding area. "Where is everyone?"
The girl sobbed, continuing. "Please, we need the-" her speech was cut off by the crack of a gunshot, accompanying bullet hole appearing in her chest as she toppled lifeless to the side.
Darcy blinked once, twice, three times, numbing at the situation. A brilliant mind, eager to learn and please, a girl that reminded her of herself, gone, just like that, with a metallic click. Was that how she was going to die?
Soldiers appeared from the surrounding forest, guns levered at Darcy, who was now the only source of movement beyond them. Her gun was still raised, the shock having locked her muscles into the protective position, and she re-issued her command. "Whoever you are, and I know there is someone leading these buffoons, show yourself. I'm not being taken down by a faceless coward."
"Oh, but you are, darling," assured a too-sweet feminine voice, getting closer by the second. "You're human. You are quite literally being "taken down", as you so eloquently put it, by the faceless coward that is mortality, every second of every day. Which is why I am amazed at Loki's fascination. You are born, you live, you die, as does all your kind. How are you different?"
The speaker stepped from the forest, and Darcy was met with the sight of a tall, slender blonde woman, resembling whoever had been visible in their surveillance photos. She wore some sort of emerald green bustier, topping a short matching skirt. A wicked dagger was sheathed in a belt cinching her waist, thigh-high black boots completing the look.
She looked like a leprechaun-inspired hooker, missing only the ginger hair. Maybe Darcy could enlighten her on costume accuracy from the afterlife.
"But it is no matter. I am here only to speed along the course of nature, to free Loki from his obsession that blinds him to everything that truly matters."
Darcy had to keep her talking, had to do something. Thumbing off the safety of her gun, ashamed at the lapse of judgment that had kept it on, she raised the arm resting across her stomach to brace the hand training the weapon on the woman.
"You're masking a grudge against a puny mortal with a plot to destroy SHIELD and humankind?" Darcy's mocking tone echoed around the quiet clearing, her eyebrows raised as high as they'd go. "Why?"
"My motivations, if I cared to list them, could range from a shallow desire to have Loki by my side, to a quite-earnest wish to see Earth grovel at my feet," the villainess admitted, gesturing a graceful hand at her men, who lowered their weapons. Darcy then noticed all their eyes were glazed over, dulled by a faint red sheen. "And that goal is hardly a mask. You're merely a pinprick in my side along the way."
She seemed to notice Darcy eyeing the soldiers. "Yes, your kind make for great puppets, I will give you that. But enough talking; time for you to go, human girl, and make my wait worthwhile." With a clenching of the blonde's raised fist, Darcy's throat seemed to close in on itself, and her gun dropped to the dirt, hands moving to claw at her neck. A gurgling sounded from her, but nothing else, and the woman in front of her moved to stand but a pace away, a malignant gleam in her gray eyes.
Darcy moved one hand from her besieged windpipe to grapple at the woman, whose other hand caught hold of hers with no trouble. Her grip tightened, and Darcy's darkening vision watched her wrist snap in the blink of an eye. A faint beeping sounded from behind the mortal woman, but her oxygen-deprived thoughts couldn't make the connection.
A gleeful cackle sounded from the blonde, and her fist abruptly opened, sending a barely-conscious Darcy collapsing to the ground. She cried out at a sharp pain in her abdomen, her pregnancy protesting the bodily abuse, and clutched the broken wrist close to her body as she curled into a fetal position.
A searing pain shot into her right calf at a kick from the woman, who prowled in a circle around the downed agent. "Not even a challenge. I did not realize I would be literally killing two birds with one stone, either…" She crouched, an interested look on her face as she examined Darcy's swollen stomach. "Is it his? A half-breed on the way to sully his majestic bloodlines, hm? Lay claim to his legacy?" The woman's tone was starting to sound seriously unbalanced, but Darcy was no judge at the moment, trying to focus just on breathing.
She barely caught sight of the woman's fist raising before it struck across Darcy's face. A ring on the hand snagged on Darcy's skin, tearing flesh from cheek to temple, the force of the blow sending her entire body skittering a foot across the dirt. She swore she felt something tear inside her, and choked back a scream. "I asked you a question, mortal." A beeping in the distance was no louder, but repeating with quickening succession.
Darcy could scarcely see now, the head injury leaking blood down her brow and into one eye. Closed casket, her mind observed in a clinical tone, that's what it would be. The thought enraged her, and she lashed out with the last of her strength, right leg kicking at the otherworldly bitch. She got her square in the sternum, and Darcy choked out a laugh that was saturated with blood, as the woman recoiled with a shrill cry, backing away several paces.
Flopping back onto the ground, the protests of her wrecked wrist now just faint whimpers of her nerve system, Darcy prepared to let go, coughing weakly at the crimson fluid spilling from the corner of her lips. Her abdomen gave another series of painful throbs, a tear leaking from her eye at the implication, clearing some of the blood from her sight. A blast surrounded from nearby, several different voices rising in a single yell.
Her eyes cracked open but not seeing much through the bloody haze, Darcy watched the scene before her like a zombie. The woman's forces were bowled over temporarily by a wave of green energy, their gun's tat-tatting futilely straight into the sky with the momentum of being flung backwards.
The bright cerulean of Captain America's uniform swung into sight, the man himself a comforting sight to her dying eyes as he threw his shield with smashing precision at another pack of soldiers. She wanted to protest, wanted to explain they were under some sort of hypnosis, but she couldn't, could only listen as the Black Widow sprinted into sight, yelling that Bruce, Tony and Thor were in pursuit of the other forces.
The blonde woman, meanwhile, had risen to her feet with a bright grin on her face, arms opened in a welcoming gesture to Loki, who stalked towards the carnage with subdued movements. His hair was untamed, tousled by the heat of battle, and his eyes…They looked…menacing. It was too mild a word for the expression on his face, but it was all Darcy had, her thoughts growing cloudier by the second.
He faced the woman across the space of the battle-filled clearing, eyes narrowing in revulsion. "I should have killed you when I had the chance, Enchantress." He spat the title like he wanted it out and away from him.
"Loki, darling," the blonde witch crooned, strutting towards him, stepping over bodies like they were blades of grass. "I've gathered you forces, we can finally be together, can finally take this world and show what we are made of-"
"We are nothing." His voice was cold, but his breath seemed to catch as the words left his mouth, eyes landing on something. Darcy blinked in a futile attempt to clear her vision, realizing it was her he had caught sight of.
"What have you done, Amora?" His voice had shut down to barely a whisper, still somehow audible among the metallic clangs and yells of battle. He started skating around the battlefield, making his way towards Darcy, and the blonde tsked, shaking her head. "Don't you see, darling, I'm helping to clear your head! She is a distraction; I'm ever so glad I became aware of her presence, because now you can focus. She is done for, and her line, you do not need to worry."
Amora moved towards Loki, but he whipped towards her with an enraged snarl, grabbing her by the throat. "What have you done?!" The sorceress scrabbled at her own throat as helplessly as Darcy had, and Loki flung her with deadly force at the clearing's edge, where she smashed into a thick oak tree.
Rising hesitantly, the blonde pouted, blood dribbling from her mouth. "But…" She was cut off as another blast of green hit her soundly, smashing her through the oak's trunk, and several others, before she hit the ground further into the forest. Loki started to follow, but a bright yellow light flashed across the area, a noise like water bubbling filling the air. The woman's voice sounded loudly, indignant. "I see you do not understand, but in moments, when she has breathed her last, you will, and I will return for you!"
The remaining hypnotized forces of the woman were still fighting the captain and Black Widow; apparently her departure didn't release them, Darcy sadly noted. They would go down fighting for a cause forced upon them.
Agony had her shrieking a second later, with strength she didn't think she had remaining, as someone jarred her body. She heard her name uttered like an oath, hoarsely, the speaker sounding like their voice was clogged by tears. She figured she was as safe as she'd be before the end, succumbing to the wave of pain and letting everything go black.
It was not to be a sweet, quick release from life, her mind noted hazily, when she half-awoke what felt like only moments later. Blood spattered on the dirt ground beside her face as she lurched, croaking hoarsely in anguish. Someone was crouched over her, securing her face between their cold palms, pleading for her to look at them.
Her eyes rolled upward more involuntarily than by her command, but her gaze managed to catch Loki's eyes, burning with a frantic light that she'd never seen before. It was desperation, she realized, as his hands shakily smeared blood away from her eyes and smoothed back her hair from her face. He was emanating anxiety, murmuring her name over and over again like it would invoke a miracle.
At the sight of her eyes open, he leaned his forehead in to hers, murmuring a thanks to some other divine force, which she found humorous, in some corner of her mind. He pressed a kiss to her bloodied forehead, leaning back and carefully shifting his weight backwards, mindful of her mangled arm and swollen stomach. When his eyes moved further down her body, his brow furrowed, a fresh anguish rising in his eyes. She didn't want to know what he saw, a hand struggling to cover her abdomen protectively, but it didn't quite make it, flopping to her side again.
She wasn't sure how she was even conscious right now, but it didn't matter, nothing did. She'd failed Ian, failed SHIELD, failed her unborn child. She should've been an accountant for a glue company or something.
A croaky sob ripped from her lips just as another streak of agony tore through her stomach, sending her lurching to a near-sitting position with the momentum of her flinch. Loki caught her before she could topple back to the ground, murmuring something and placing his palm to her forehead. She felt something warm, comforting, and calmed marginally, before she caught sight of herself. Her torso itself seemed relatively unhurt, her shirt smeared with dirt where it stretched taut over her stomach; but her right forearm was swollen, ominous shades of red and purple painting her skin. It only got worse, as her eyes traveled downward. Her jeans were soaked with blood between the legs, the crimson splotches tainting the material all the way to her feet. She blinked several times, reality hitting, and she inched her eyes towards Loki's. "Just let me die," she whispered hoarsely. "I couldn't…my baby…"
One of his hands held her upright, the other moving from her forehead to grasp her chin firmly, keeping her eyes on him. "With or without your permission, you are going to live, Darcy Lewis."
Her face crumpled, a fresh bout of tears falling, and again she wondered how she was even still alive, much less conscious and talking. Then she noticed the warmth emanating from Loki's hand upon her back, and her tear-streaked face rose again, his face blurry as she scrutinized him. "What are you doing?"
"Forgive me," he murmured, before laying her flat on the ground again. She noticed the battle was still going, more of the Enchantress' forces having arrived, although Amora herself was still missing.
Before she knew it, Loki's shoulders were on hers with bruising force, though it would make no difference on her beaten body, and he was straddling her with the utmost caution. A green smoke started at his fingertips, rising to encompass her body, a burning sensation topping any other pain she felt at the moment. Gasping, she tried to fight Loki off, but he held on, eyes closing in concentration. She tried to summon a shriek of protest, failed, as the green smoke started to shimmer, seeming to sink into her skin. The burning overwhelmed her again, and her head fell back to the ground as she passed out.
When another bout of consciousness arrived, aided by the steady rainfall that had begun, she roused with a ragged inhalation, aware of a pressure on her legs and stomach, but a strange lack of pain. "Loki," she mumbled, the syllables slurring together and nearly unintelligible.
"Darcy?" A frantic voice sounded from nearby, one she recognized as Steve's. A raindrop fell in her eye annoyingly as she tried to crane her head around to spot him, and she gave up, squinting in the downpour.
"Don't crowd her," Loki's accent ground out, sounding pained, and he appeared above her as the pressure on her stomach decreased. "Darcy. How do you feel?"
Her eyelids flickered, and she tried a shrug, surprised when her injured arm didn't protest. Then the horror from earlier resurfaced. "Baby," she managed, trying to formulate a question. Loki half-smiled, and she noticed how exhausted he suddenly appeared. "The child you carry is fine."
She wanted to protest, wanted to assure him she knew something was wrong, that it had to be gone, that she was too far gone, but he waved a palm across her face gently, hushing her. His magic caressed her, carried with it a comforting sensation that encouraged her to drift off again, and she complied quickly, to her questions' dismay.
The other Avengers had finally approached, Steve's face tight with worry as he regarded the lone survivor of their tech vanguard, and his protege. Natasha was studying Loki intently, a strange sorrow in her features. As the pair stood silently above Loki, who was knelt in the dirt above Darcy, panting with exertion, the rest of the team arrived, halting as soon as they saw the desolation.
"What the hell, who knew northern Canada had this sort of population-" Tony Stark's joke cut off as he spotted them, he and Bruce Banner tentatively making their way over. Thor thudded to the ground mere paces away, calling Loki's name, but he stopped when he saw Darcy, his whole air overtaken by melancholy. The entire Avengers team formed a defensive circle around Loki and Darcy, but kept their distance.
"Brother-" Thor began, cutting off when Loki rose to his feet unsteadily, turning with sharp eyes to face the thunder god. "She will live," he assured everyone in the clearing, but his eyes abruptly lost focus, and he lurched again on his feet before crumpling where he stood, Thor rushing to catch the one he called brother.
It was Natasha who braved the bloody carnage of their vehicles, radioing in for a cleanup and extraction.
Darcy awoke two days later, to find herself in a SHIELD hospital bed, her hand being clutched for dear life by Ian. He hadn't left her bedside since she'd left the intensive care unit, she'd been assured, and that had made her smile. She couldn't remember much of the mission, or so she insisted, but was cheered by the news her pregnancy was progressing just fine. Impeccably, even, the baby appearing to be doing better than any expectations after Darcy's in-the-field antics, though the staff kept that from her. She would also never know the losses they had sustained that day; the deaths of her team and comrades was news no one was prepared to share with her in her condition, and a good time never arrived, the information instead being covered up with phony news of transfers and promotions.
She was to be kept under observation for at least a week, for reasons unknown to her and which the staff would absolutely not reveal. It was strange, but she welcomed the ability to sleep in, at least.
On a day when she'd shooed Ian away to get some lunch and a change of clothes, Darcy caught the sound of footsteps approaching in the corridor. Her baby chose that moment to kick, and she got the oddest hunch that it was Thor coming.
Indeed, the burly blonde man entered the hospital room, the doorway looking like that of a dollhouse as his breadth squeezed in. He looked uncharacteristically somber, though he brightened at Darcy's smile. "Hey, big guy!" She said, arms opening for a hug. His eyes darted side to side for an odd moment, but he complied, squeezing her gently.
"I am glad to see you well, Darcy," He murmured, Mjölnir out of sight as he pulled back and paced the small room. "Jane would visit, but she is detained in London on science matters." It seemed like there was something on his mind, but Darcy couldn't imagine what it could be. She had a request for him, though.
"Thor?" He stopped his limited pacing and turned to her, looking like a golden retriever ready for a treat. She chuckled, lacing her fingers together nervously. "Have you seen Loki?" Thor's face fell momentarily, but he recovered quickly, nodding succinctly. "He finished matters with SHIELD recently, and is preparing to leave the facility."
"Could you…Could he visit me?" Her eyes roamed the room, and she bit her lip, hoping no one was listening. Thor gave a her a knowing smile, and bowed before heading for the door, assuring her he would try.
Jane Foster entered the hospital at a brisk pace, her short stature not hindering her strides in the slightest. She looked as she had all those years ago, still, a fact that probably contributed to the fact Darcy hadn't seen her face to face in years, though the latter swore she wasn't bitter at aging.
There was a thick folder tucked under Jane's arm, and she stopped only for a moment at the reception area to request Darcy's room number, taking the stairs and leaving the elevator for a crowd of wheelchair-ridden patients waiting in line. Reaching the fourth floor's landing, she paused, something prickling at the edge of her consciousness.
Thor had explained all those years ago that while she wouldn't age or become sick, neither would she gain magical powers or the like from becoming Aesir. Still, she got weird feelings now and again, and maybe it was just superstition talking, but…She peered in the window of the door leading to the fourth floor and saw nothing odd, shrugging and continuing up to the fifth, where Darcy was. It was a long-term care unit, depressing as hell, as Darcy would likely describe it, and she was saddened anew at the fact that her lively friend was essentially confined to these halls. Nearly everyone whose room she passed was elderly, and she sighed, keeping her eyes downcast for the last few paces to Darcy's room.
Rapping on the door, she heard familiar tones tiredly call out to enter, and slipped inside, folder pressed to her chest and a smile spreading across her face at the sight of her friend. Darcy looked better than she had imagined, her full mahogany mane still looking much the same except for a few gray streaks. She did seem drastically thinner, though, as she held her arms out for a hug from Jane, who stepped forward and set the folder aside, embracing her friend for the length of several hugs. She had a lot to catch up on.
Pulling back, Darcy scooted to the side, patting the space beside her for Jane to hop up. She did so while pulling the folder towards her, and took a deep breath, angling a brow upwards in Darcy's direction. "You sure about this?"
Her friend was fiddling with a hank of hair, a sure sign of uncertainty, but she nodded, jaw set. "Show me."
Jane opened the full folder, thumbing through a combination of papers and pictures. "I'm not sure what you're suddenly looking for, but he fell off the grid a few years back. Was last seen in Romania, helping SHIELD with a mission. Um…He's, uh, actually thought to be…" She flashed a report at Darcy, the summary detailing a mission to clear out a cell of Romanian thugs said to be pro-neo-HYDRA. The bottom line described a massive explosion that had blown up their absinthe factory and all inside at the time, including several fledgling agents, and Loki. Thor had pursued a lead outside, leaving him clear of the blast.
Darcy was quiet for a moment, blue eyes undimmed by age or sickness, Jane noted as her friend skimmed the paperwork. Then Darcy's hand, IV intact, reached past Jane to retrieve a shiny stock photo hidden behind the report, staring at the shot intently. It was Loki, in all his traditional trenchcoated glory, striding alongside Thor on a mission. "It was a ruse," she declared with utter certainty, "An illusion. He faked his death, again, for some reason."
The "again" was comical to Jane, but she didn't otherwise question her friend's statement. Darcy had come to…know things, through the years. The bedridden woman set the image aside after a moment, eyes moving to look towards the window. "I think he's been in contact with Alice."
Jane, who had been filled in on everything Loki at the time of Alice's birth, bit her lip in consternation. It had been vital to keep the child's minor...embellishments, for lack of a better word, secret, and so only she and a few of the Avengers had been told. Given the god of mischief's penchant for dramatic effect and flair, it couldn't be good if Alice were being dragged into whatever he was up to now, if he was indeed back from the dead.
"I also think he's been here. In my room. Or someone has, and in that case, we have a bigger problem." Darcy was all business, her tone crisp and strong, the agent of years ago shining through. Jane allowed herself a moment of pride at the old Darcy resurfacing, before gathering all the paperwork together again. "What do you want to do?"
"Get me out of this bed," was her friend's determined reply, and Jane's brows rose. "If I'm going to go, I'm going to go making sure my family is safe. Something's up, Jane." Darcy cut off, tensing as something rumbled within the building, below them. An alarm sounded through the room, a small red light flashing above the doorway. An automated voice cut through the intercom system, explaining the hospital was currently in lockdown, and for patients and staff to find a safe place and await further instruction. The two women's eyes met for a long moment, the alarm continuing to blare persistently.
"Can't get a day's peace, even dying and bedridden," Darcy joked blandly, taking a casual sip of water from a glass at her bedside. She looked remarkably unruffled for being in a locked down hospital with sirens screaming.
Jane rose, heading to the door to lock it, but someone skidded down the hallway and stopped with it pulled half-closed. Anna dashed inside, stopping short at the sight of Jane for a moment, before continuing undeterred to Darcy's side. "Mom! Thank God you're okay!" she cried, latching onto Darcy.
Darcy exhaled loudly in relief that at least one daughter wasn't running loose in the compromised halls, and Jane's expression clouded as the former spoke. "What is it, Anna?"
"They're saying that Amund, Birger's assistant, attacked a nurse, and then Alice, before he like, escaped," Anna explained, moving to the blinds and twitching them aside to scan the parking lot. "He's crazy or something, and to think that he was treating you!"
Jane looked to Darcy for explanation, whose gaze was calculating as she fisted the bedclothes in her hands. "Assistant to my Norwegian specialist," she muttered, distracted. "Got hurt in a hit and run last week, I heard, that Alice helped out with."
"There was no hit and run. It was an illusion." A new voice joined the conversation with grim determination, and three pairs of eyes looked to the doorway to see Alice, clad in a thin t-shirt and jeans, her forearm bandaged. "And it wasn't Amund who attacked me."
He'd finally come, in the middle of night, probably wishing to use her being asleep as an excuse to not have faced her. But Darcy had been sleeping fitfully that night, the baby kicking almost frantically and making it difficult to sleep. She'd already called in a nurse, who assured her everything was fine. Sighing as she turned over for the fifth time in as many minutes, Darcy's breath caught at the sight of Loki, who had appeared in a corner of the room.
He looked sick and drained, hollows under his eyes and a stiffness to his movements rendering him a shadow of his usual impressive presence. Something flickered at the edge of her memory, an image of green light feeding from him into her.
She breathed out his name, wondering if he was imaginary, because things couldn't really get any more bizarre lately, but if he was imaginary, he was sentient, because he bowed his head at the sound of her voice. Imaginary Loki wouldn't be broody and quiet, real Loki was that enough for several people.
She said his name once more, louder, and he seemed to rouse, head raising to look her over.
"Darcy." When he said her name, it was tinged with amazement, and he moved closer tentatively, a hand reached up as if he wanted to touch her.
"I won't break," she assured him, her own hand stretched out towards him. It was dressed in a light cast, the doctors saying it had only been lightly sprained, but that couldn't have been right. Still, the meager dressing appeared to be enough for whatever the current status of her appendage was, and she felt no pain.
Loki's cool fingers met hers with a feather-light touch before he drew away, as if he were convincing himself she was real.
"I need you to explain," she said into the silence, trying to get straight to the point. "Who was she? And what did you do to us?"
"An old enemy, who thinks herself a friend," Loki muttered distractedly, the admission coming so easily that she knew he wasn't focused on it. The façade of indifference now made sense, as well, if what the woman had claimed was true, that she'd been watching.
"Your child does equally well?" He had switched tracks so fast she blinked for a second. "Yes, the baby's fine. They told me it's a girl."
He smiled widely at that and turned back to her, black hair gleaming in the dim nighttime light of the room. "That pleases you?"
"Well, it's someone to pass fashion sense on to," she mused, shifting to get more comfortable, "if nothing else."
"I'm sure she will have several attractive qualities, as does her mother," Loki assured her, moving closer to ghost a hand along the railing of her bed. "Her father will be proud." He said the last bit to the wall, head turned as if he wanted to get the assurance out, but found no pleasure in it.
"You didn't answer me." Darcy's tone was sharp again, combative. "On that mission. I thought I'd lost her."
His emerald gaze finally focused on hers, intently. "I do not wish to distress you anew." Her mute response was a raised eyebrow.
"I…Can you not rest assured that both of you are well?" He seemed to flail verbally, a hand clenching at his side as he frowned.
"I feel like a car that was not only fixed, but souped up," Darcy said, folding her arms across her chest.
"I have never had a firm grasp of healing magic, and it took an extreme amount of energy and ability to save you," he admitted, looking ready to flee. "And her." The last was added as a hushed whisper.
"And?" Darcy prompted, knowing she wouldn't see him again and wanting answers while they were within reach.
"Healing of that extent, it starts to tap into the magic user's life force," he muttered uncomfortably, and she had to try not to laugh, he looked so damn awkward. "Some other, ah, traits may find their way to the recipient."
"You gave me and my baby superpowers?" Darcy's tone was incredulous, and Loki flinched, moving backward as if anticipating a blow. "Cool." Her uninjured hand rubbed at her stomach as she absorbed the implications.
The trickster straightened again to his full height, managing a half-smile. "Trust Darcy Lewis to have the most unexpected of reactions."
"That's me," she agreed, tapping a finger to her chin. "But we'll be fine, right? No unhealthy side effects, am I going to go to open my car door and rip it off, or?"
"You'll hardly notice anything," Loki assured her. "Your senses may be slightly enhanced, nothing more. It was a brief exchange, no need to worry." His eyes shifted away from hers as he finished speaking, and she wrinkled her nose, evaluating the credibility of his statement. There was nothing she could do until something on the level of boiling water by looking at it occurred, and by then, he would be long gone. "Okay."
His head whipped towards her at the simple utterance of acceptance of the situation, but she only shrugged complacently. She started to shuffle further into her covers, hoping sleep would come more easily with her curiosity satisfied.
"Thank you, Loki," she whispered, the words as heartfelt as anything she'd ever said. A shift of air announced him, leaning over her and pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, an inch from her lips. How chivalrous of him to not overstep his boundaries.
"Take care of yourself, and her, Darcy Lewis." Another breath of air signaled his exit, and she sighed, rubbing at her stomach unconsciously as she dozed off.
Thanks for reading! ~Bon