Part II: In the Dark
Chapter 4: Troubled Waters
"I shall go with you," Loki shouts across the lab as Eleanor dons her jacket. "If you had more patience than that of a poodle, five minutes more would not seem so dire, Eleanor!"
"You know what a poodle is?" asks Darcy Lewis, obviously impressed. "Dude!"
Loki growls at her.
"You are being completely ridiculous!" Eleanor yells back, stomping her foot and clenching her fists. "We are going to the cafeteria, not the fucking moon!"
"Language!"
"You are driving me crazy," she continues, ignoring his interruption. "I am walking two-hundred yards to the cafeteria where I will wait in the absurdly long line for fancy coffee with Darcy. We will be out there among Stark researchers and SHIELD agents. There will be no mysterious darkness for me to unleash on the universe between here and the cafeteria. I will get you tea and you will stop freaking out!"
Eleanor wraps a scarf – his scarf – around her neck with a bit too much force before storming out of the lab.
"I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight," mutters the insufferable Darcy Lewis as she too leaves.
Loki moves to follow, but Jane blocks his path.
"I will end you," he hisses at the puny mortal. She has the audacity to roll her eyes.
"Don't you think she's pissed enough at you already?" says the Madame of Science. "What could really happen in the ten minutes she's gone? And if something does happen could you really not get to her in a heartbeat?"
As vexing as it may be, Jane offers a fair point with her endless logic.
In the weeks since Bragi shattered the fragile peace of the life Loki created here with Eleanor, they've fought incessantly.
Loki knows his near-constant hovering grates on Eleanor's nerves, but her absolute dismissal of the possible validity of Bragi's warning amplifies Loki's stress in turn. And she refuses to discuss her dream that followed, even if she has not had another nightmare since.
They are short with one another; peevish and easily annoyed.
Loki loathes this new development in their otherwise stable relationship, but until Eleanor acknowledges that the warning in her father's words could very easily be a legitimate one, Loki cannot manage the typical kindness with which he usually treats her.
Long ago, after very nearly losing her, Loki resolved to manipulate her fleeting affections into something deep and binding. To make her love him, Loki decided to treat her with the utmost cordiality and doing so now feels so innate that fighting with her is unpalatable and unnatural.
"So, you still have no idea what Bragi was warning you about, huh?" Jane asks, stepping back from the board containing variations of equations they've spent the morning reworking
"He didn't exactly give me much to go on," Loki mutters, sitting on the edge of Jane's desk. "Feelings and colors are not searchable in The Google."
"Google," Jane absently corrects. "And I doubt you'll get anywhere with the internet. This sounds like some ancient shit and even if some mortal in our history knew something, I doubt they got it right. I mean, look at Snorri Sturluson and all those botched Norse myths. Unless you have a whole barnyard full of kids somewhere?"
Loki rolls his eyes. "It is desperate to look to Midgardian resources. If your oafish paramour would once more grace us with his presence perhaps I could access applicable, intelligent information."
"Ex-paramour," Jane corrects, turning away in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the sorrow on her face. "It's been almost eight months since he left. And our fight was pretty major. You are totally right about controlling the Bifrost, Loki, but it made him so angry, like I was 'disrespecting the might of Asgard.'"
Loki snorts.
"It's done," Jane continues. "It was a big fight. A break-up kinda fight."
Loki is woefully inexperienced with relationships and he fears that this growing animosity with Eleanor will escalate into a "break-up kinda fight."
"Perhaps not," Loki says. "In all likelihood Thor has been busy restoring peace throughout the nine realms rather than simply neglecting you."
"Huh? Peace? There is not peace?"
"Many took advantage of the destroyed Bifrost," Loki says, shrugging. "With the might of the Aesir stranded on Asgard I am sure many realms slipped into chaos." The thought makes him grin momentarily. "Now that they've repaired the bridge from their end, I would think that the Crowned Oaf has been occupied restoring peace."
Jane blinks. "Well, noble as that might be, I doubt he's too busy to write me a letter. We've gotten letters through the bridge before and he could do it now, if he really wanted."
There is no defending Thor on this count and Loki's instinct to do so is somewhat unfathomable.
The glass doors slide open and Eleanor steps in, two steaming cups in hand, and Loki can once more breathe. The frown marring her delicate features indicates that she is angry with him still, and Loki will not allow a "break-up kinda fight" to occur between them.
"Your tea," Eleanor says, slamming the paper cup down on Jane's desk with an excess of force.
"Thank you, Eleanor," he murmurs, giving her a small smile.
She regards him with dubiety, but relaxes somewhat when he cradles her face between his cool palms. He kisses her gently, with a tenderness that is in direct contrast to the angry, aggressive desperation that has characterized their physical contact since breakfast with Bragi.
When he pulls back Eleanor is dazed, smiling a slight, shy smile that is very rare for his self-assured songbird.
"Gross," says Darcy from somewhere behind them. "Get a room."
"We are in a room," mutters Loki, never looking away from Eleanor.
"Shut your face, Darcy! And what are you thanking me for?" she asks Loki.
"The tea," he replies, grinning. "I do enjoy it so."
"I noticed."
"Would you like to dine out tonight?" he asks, dropping his hand from her face as she gapes up at him.
"Like, in town? You hate town."
"I am useless in the kitchen." This is not wholly true, but better than admitting he'll brave the company of mortals for her. "And you deserve a respite from playing the kitchen wench."
Eleanor rolls her eye but then the shy smile returns. "Okay," she says. "It's a date."
Loki wears a dark grey Midgardian suit. Eleanor selects a short skirted, long sleeved dress that she's apparently kept since the bunker all those long years ago. She attempts to tame her hair and insists Loki drive. Eleanor holds his hand and sings along with the stereo.
As they speed towards Puente Antigo, Loki magically reduces the volume of the music playing over the speakers in small, nearly unnoticeable increments until Eleanor's voice is unpolluted. She rolls her eyes, but makes no move to stop singing or increase the volume once more.
The most resplendent of public dining houses in this infinitesimal speck of humanity is more suited for peasants than gods, but Eleanor enjoys the potatoes beat into an unrecognizable pulp and accompanied by garlic.
Loki insists on a relatively private booth, tucked in a corner. It provides him with a view of both exits, and with their backs to the wall none could possibly sneak up on them from behind.
Eleanor thinks this seating selection to be merely romantic.
"This is like a legit date," Eleanor says as she settles against his side. "Have we ever been on a date before? This is probably the most normal thing we've ever done."
"Normal is excruciatingly dull and highly overrated." Loki drapes an arm over the back of the booth and murmurs in her ear.
"Yeah," Eleanor replies, grinning. "You taught me that kinda a while ago."
"And we've been on dates before. We've dined in this establishment many times."
"Only in a group when Thor or Tony or Steve are in town."
"And this makes dinner not a date? Being with more than one other individual?" he asks, once more struggling to understand bizarre Midgardian courtship practices.
"Loki, my dear God of Romance," Eleanor says with a giggle. "Have you never been on a date?"
"I honestly do not know." Despite his numerous Asgardian lovers, he never formally courted any. This Midgardian dating seems more serious than the clandestine meetings of loves on Asgard, and eons less intense than the punctilious courtship arranged by Asgardian elders.
This relationship with Eleanor is obviously something unique.
"Aw," croons Eleanor. "I'm your first."
"So it would seem."
The arrival of the waitress ends the moment.
"Wow, you guys look great," she says after introducing herself. "Special occasion?"
"Just dinner with the boyfriend," Eleanor replies, absently patting his knee.
"Betrothed," Loki says, snagging Eleanor's wrist and showing off the ring on Eleanor's left hand. The waitress fawns over it and Loki quite enjoys Eleanor's discomfort. Eleanor orders a bottle of wine, sending the simpering Midgardian on her way.
"So, what's with the whole betrothed thing?" she asks. "You keep telling people that."
"I detest the title boyfriend."
Eleanor sighs and asks him to detail Asgardian courtship procedures.
The evening is pleasant. Loki does not lecture Eleanor on her safety and the gravity of Bragi's dreams.
He is not comfortable out here among the less informed mortals. Flimsy as it may be, the Stark Complex provides a level of security that is absent here in what Eleanor refers to as "the real world."
Still, for once Loki is able to ignore his simmering panic and focus on Eleanor, the way she smiles at him, the flush in her cheeks from a combination of wine and genuine joy.
Eleanor orders a giant slab of meat. Giant slabs of meat remind Loki of centuries eating to the point of stomach pain in a failed attempt to alter his frame, to add muscle and width, to look like Thor.
He orders fish.
Eleanor forces a bite of garlic mashed-potatoes in his mouth and he begrudgingly admits that they taste far better than they look.
At the end of the evening Eleanor hands over her card of credit to the waitress, who then taunts Loki for letting his lady pay for their meal. The gentle mocking leaves him confused.
"Did I commit some sort of Midgardian faux pas?" he asks Eleanor when they are once more alone.
"No," she replies. "There's this stupid tradition of dudes paying on dates. Don't worry about it."
"I have no Midgardian currency," Loki grumbles. This dating should not be so complex. "You will not allow Jane to pay me for my assistance."
"You're atoning! You can't get paid for atonement. Plus, I get paid an obscene amount of money to do data entry part time."
Loki scowls.
"My money is your money, babe," she says, patting his knee once more.
"Do not call me babe!"
"Loki, don't worry about it."
In the millennia spent as a prince, coinage was never once a concern, yet now he worries that he's gone all these years as a financial burden to Eleanor without noticing.
"You're worrying about it," she accuses. "Stop that."
He cannot stop that until she kisses him.
"Where is that damnably meddlesome mortal?" Loki growls when she pulls away. "I wish to be inside you. Immediately."
"Check!" shouts Eleanor to no one in particular.
Eleanor is up and moving, jostling the covers and offending Loki thoroughly.
After the physical exertions of these last hours it is an ego blow to realize that Eleanor is capable of moving at all.
On the journey home Eleanor assured him that it was indeed an immensely successful date and like all immensely successful dates, this one too would culminate in copious amounts of sex. She then proceeded to take him in her mouth, even as he attempted to drive them home safely.
It was a delightful notion that Eleanor gave a disgusting name.
When they did arrive home – stunningly unscathed despite Eleanor's best efforts – he was once more blessed with Eleanor's laughter. He endeavored for hours to change those giggles of glee into moans of ecstasy, and then back again. And again. And again.
But now she somehow still possesses the energy to get out of bed, rousing him in the process. Loki rolls to the edge of the mattress, opening one eye to watch her move in the dark.
"Come back to bed, you absurd woman," he mutters.
Instead, she drifts naked out of their bedroom.
Loki's eyes slip closed and he lingers in purgatory between sleep and wakefulness. He thinks of nothing but the warmth of their bed and the softness of these sheets.
This bed is one of his all-time favorite locations in all the realms. He did not understand the value of lazing the day away here until Eleanor taught him.
Tomorrow they will be at the university, so there will be no chance of convincing Eleanor to sleep in.
Eleanor.
Eleanor.
Eleanor is not touching him and Loki rolls towards the center of the bed, reaching out for his betrothed. It takes him several long seconds of fruitless exploration before Loki remembers that Eleanor exited the bed and then the room.
He stills and relaxes for a moment after solving the mystery before bolting upright, suddenly overcome with fear because Eleanor exited their bed and then the room.
Alone, this behavior is odd, but Loki recalls her unnaturally straight posture and her total lack of concern with her nudity, despite the chilly February air. And Bragi's warning rings in his ears.
Something powerful. It is done biding its time and it will consume the universe. Eleanor starts it.
Loki leaps out of bed and somehow manages to pull on a pair of knit pants while braving the stairs.
"Eleanor?" he calls out into the eerily silent house. Their bond now extends nearly three miles. She could be anywhere in a three mile radius.
A glow from the dining room prevents him from completely losing all composure. He finds her there, seated rigidly, staring blankly at her computer.
Blankness on Eleanor is always terrifying, but this expression is not the mask she dons when her emotions threaten to drown her. This is something else entirely, haunting and foreign.
Also tired. She looks so tired.
"Eleanor?" he asks, approaching her with great caution. The light of the screen illuminates her nudity and in any other circumstance she would be beautiful and ethereal, but everything about her conveys a wrongness, as if something hideous wears her skin.
"Eleanor!" He pulls her chair back from the table, crouching in front of her and taking her face in his hands. "Eleanor, please."
She says nothing.
"What is this?" he demands. "What are you doing?"
"The next transport to London, England is not for six hours. This is an unacceptable delay." Her voice is hollow and cold.
"London?" he asks, hating the way she looks through him rather than at him. "Who are you? What is the import of London?"
"I must get to London."
Loki looks to her computer screen where a confirmation number flashes. After a few mouse clicks it becomes apparent that Eleanor has spent over three thousand dollars on a last minute booking.
He touches her forehead, hoping to determine if there is some dark presence within her, but he learns nothing. He can sense nothing. She is still Eleanor.
It is as if she sleeps but moves and talks simultaneously. Sleep walking, the mortals call it, and the situation is only slightly less dire than when he thought something vile had taken over his songbird.
When he presses for more detail – why London, Eleanor? Answer me! – she gives him nothing but confusion and a firm, repeated conviction that she must be in London immediately.
It goes on for nearly half an hour before Loki's rage boils over. He shakes her, but she does not wake from this brainwashed state. He smacks her face lightly, but is unwilling to hit her hard enough to have any real effect.
In the end he slings her over his shoulder. She offers no protests, but does ask if he is taking her to London.
Instead he dumps her unceremoniously in the pool behind their house.
"What the fucking fuck!" she screams when her head breaks the surface of the water again. Treading water and sputtering, she makes her way to the shallow section of the pool so she can touch the bottom. "Loki! This is not fucking funny!"
She is Eleanor once more and in his relief Loki's legs lose their ability to function. He sinks into a crouch by the pool's edge, fisting his hands in his hair. A sound escapes his lips, similar to that of air being freed from a balloon.
"Motherfucker!" Eleanor continues to rant and splash around. "You are lucky this is a heated fucking pool because it's fucking February! Seriously, Loki? I thought you were better than this. Your mischief is usually much more elegant. Frankly, I'm disappointed."
He blinks at her as she floats just below him, holding onto the side of the pool.
"I mean, what the fuck?" Nonsense continues to flow from her mouth as she scowls up at him. "Was this really the way you wanted to end our really awesome date night? Throwing me in the pool? What the fuck? This is your worst practical joke yet."
"Joke?" he manages. "You… you think I wanted to dump you in the water? In jest? You think this intentional mischief."
"Why the hell else would I be in a pool right now rather than in bed with you, huh? Was my sex coma not enough for you? What, do you want to do it in the pool now? Because this is not the way to go about it. Like, at all."
"You remember nothing?" he whispers, teetering on the edge of the pool.
"I remember falling asleep all blissed out and cozied up next to you in our bed!" she shrieks, splashing him.
He doesn't even feel it.
"You woke me," Loki murmurs. "You got out of bed. You walked downstairs. I was practically asleep and cannot believe it took me so very long to realize that something was amiss. I apologize, Eleanor. I will redouble my efforts in the future. Constant vigilance."
Eleanor stops splashing him and blinks. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You walked downstairs and while I dozed you spent three thousand dollars on a flight to London. It leaves in several hours. I don't think you'll make it."
Eleanor finally seems to understand the gravity of the situation. She is wide-eyed and silent.
"I do not know why. You were in a trance, Eleanor, and something was calling you to London," he says. The fear cripples him and he knows not where to start to ensure her safety.
"I don't want to go to London," she whispers.
"I know. But something wants you there, Eleanor. You made that very clear, although I could not get further answers from you. When shaking did nothing to end your entranced state, I submerged you."
"Fuck," she mutters.
"Indeed," Loki concurs.
Eleanor lifts her arms straight in the air, a silent request that he remove her from the pool. He does so, getting his hands under her arms and pulling her from the water. She is dripping and naked and glorious, but Loki is too sick with worry to admire her in the manner she deserves.
"Fuck!" she hisses when the cold air hits her wet skin. She presses into Loki, but he is without a shirt and is unable to provide her much warmth. He did not think to get her a towel before dumping her in the water.
He hustles her inside, marching her up the stairs and directly to their large shower. Her teeth are chattering when the water finally warms and Loki pushes her in, trailing close behind.
"Do you understand now?" he asks when she finally stops shaking. "Are you finally willing to take your father's threat seriously?"
"Loki, come on," she says with a groan. "People sleepwalk. It's a thing. A fluke. A one time deal. Please don't get all crazy over it."
He gapes at her, stunned by her stupidity, arrogance, and her ability to avoid that which scares her.
"There's no connection, Loki. Come on. I can't handle you constantly vigilant. You've been so fucking stressed these last few weeks, and the hovering has got to stop. You've got to take it down a notch, not amp it up!"
There were very few moments over these last years with Eleanor when she truly angered him. She does have annoying habits, such as her tendency to leave clothes both clean and soiled on the floor of their closet, but his rage is very rarely directed at his songbird. He hates the way men – and the occasional woman – watch her too intently. He once hated the power she holds over him and perhaps he does anger when he thinks on it, but that rage is directed at the Allfather.
But now he is blinded by fury, so much so that it scares him, and Eleanor is the target.
Without a word he exits the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He flees to the nearest spare bedroom, not wanting to sully their bed with his violent resentment and infuriation.
He does not sleep for the remainder of the night, focused entirely on listening for any noise to indicate anything is awry in the next room over where Eleanor sleeps without him.
"Good morning!" Jane calls out the window of her strange van as she comes to a stop in their driveway. Loki nods in greeting but Eleanor says nothing as she slides open the door and crawls onto the bench seat in the rear.
Loki takes the front and tries not to slam the door. "Seatbelt, Eleanor," he mutters for she constantly forgets.
"Stop telling me what to fucking do," she mutters even as she awkwardly wraps the buckle around her waist.
"Perhaps I would stop if you showed any regard for your own safety," Loki snaps back.
"Bite me," says Eleanor.
"You okay, Eleanor?" Jane asks, throwing a glare at Loki.
"Yeah. I'm sleeping till we get to campus, okay?"
"Okay," Jane says, still glowering as she pulls out of the driveway.
Loki is left alone to silently sip his tea for the first half of the forty-minute commute to the university. The liquid from the travel mug Eleanor bestowed upon him last Christmas is scalding, but Loki continues to sip steadily until it's gone.
He slams the empty mug into the cup holder.
"So, rough night?" says Jane.
"Indeed."
"Date didn't go well?"
"No, in fact. Quite the opposite. Eleanor assures me that it was immensely successful," Loki mutters. Somehow this fact makes the current divide between them that much worse. He does not understand how she can be so cavalier about her own safety when it is everything to him. Absolutely everything.
"But you guys are worse," Jane says. "It's been bad for weeks. How can a great date make it worse?"
Loki sighs heavily and progresses to explain the chilling episode last night. Jane listens avidly and then reacts as he thought Eleanor would, with the utmost concern and horror.
"And she just dismissed it?" Jane whispers, glancing in the rearview. "She didn't remember buying a three thousand dollar plane ticket? Really, she doesn't think that's weird at all? Especially after everything her dad said?"
"I don't know how to get through to her, Jane," Loki murmurs, staring out the window at the barren landscape. "Eleanor has always masterfully avoided what she finds unpleasant and she dismisses these warnings because of their source. Bragi is a sore subject and although I believe she will come around given the time, she is in danger, Jane. After last night I am all the more convinced that Bragi's prophetic dreams are accurate."
"You've got to fake it," Jane says. "Just don't talk to her about it until she's ready. Do your thing. Keep her safe. Try and figure out what the hell is going on in London, but don't tell her about it until she asks."
"Are you suggesting I lie to your very best friend, Miss Foster?" In this moment Loki silently admits his slight affection for the Madame of Science.
Jane shrugs. "If she's going to act like a child, you're going to have to treat her like one. This is some serious shit, Loki. It's her life."
"It's her very life," Loki concurs.
He paces in relative solitude.
The frail mortal children that make up the student body at the university are spoiled by New Mexico's typical heat and they cower indoors if there is even the slightest chill in the air. This winter has been particularly cold, much to Loki's delight, and now he is alone outdoors, pacing in the dead grass outside the performance arts building where Eleanor lectures on the theory of music.
Every time he passes the window he checks to make sure Eleanor still stands in front of her twenty-three undergraduate students.
Her phone is clenched in his hand. He removed it from the back pocket of her jeans when they parted ways without her knowledge. In the thirty minutes since Eleanor entered the music building he has placed three calls, all to the same number.
He tries a fourth time and is finally met with an annoyed grumble. "This better be fucking good, Madonna. I'm in the middle of something."
"Stark, did you mean to curse at my lady?"
There is a beat of silence.
"Loki?" says an obviously shocked Man of Iron. "You learned how to use the phone."
"You are an imbecile, Tony Stark. A primate could operate a cellular device."
"Aw, babe. I missed you too. What are you wearing? Metal and leather?"
"Do not call me babe. I do not allow even Eleanor to call me babe. And I do not see why my attire is of any great import."
"You really did miss me, huh?"
Loki growls into the phone, glancing through the window to see Eleanor gesturing frantically at a projection of a complicated series of musical notes.
"This is serious, Stark! If you continue with this needless homoeroticism I will truly make you suffer. Pepper will never look at you in the same way when I am through with you."
Tony Stark laughs. Loki wonders when he lost the fear. It happened slowly, this begrudging acceptance amongst those he sought to kill, and at most times he is thankful that those such as Tony Stark bear him little to no animosity for Eleanor's sake.
Now, he would rather be feared and listened to than accepted.
"Tony," Loki murmurs, willing this mighty hero of Earth to understand. "It is Eleanor."
"Madonna?"
"I am concerned."
"What happened?"
Loki gives Tony Stark every detail, from Bragi's sudden appearance and wholly uninformative warning to Eleanor's dream and the bizarre trance the night before.
"I confess," Loki continues. "I thought perhaps old enemies of mine had their sights on Eleanor as a means to seek vengeance for my failures, but this seems something different. Something ancient and unknown."
Tony Stark whistles through his teeth. "Ellie's Pops really didn't give you much to go on, huh? That's pretty fucking cryptic. Hello. Nice to meet you. I'm your dad and I'm here to say that you are going to destroy the world in some unknown way. Hey, that rhymed!"
"Stark! Focus!"
"Really, how is any of that helpful?"
"As alarming as Eleanor's trance was, at least we now have somewhere to start. London. Are you in London? I demand you go scour London immediately."
"Dude, I can't just bop off to London. I've got a life. Responsibility," Tony Stark replies.
"Damn your responsibilities! This is Eleanor's very life we are discussing!"
"And also, you know, the end of the universe. I'm in California, but Steve's near London. Call him," Tony suggests.
Loki groans. "The Captain of America was just in town for a prolonged stay. I've had more than enough conversations with the patriot to last lifetimes."
"Tough shit. Call him."
"Eleanor is lucky I care for her so," Loki mutters, running a hand through his hair.
"That's debatable. Hey, what about Fury? You planning on cluing SHIELD in?" asks Tony Stark. His frowning expression is audible in his voice.
"Absolutely not!" Loki screams into Eleanor's phone. "And you are not to inform them, Tony Stark! You understand better than most how they operate. The threat Eleanor now represents would not be acceptable to your Director Fury. The danger in these unknowns is far too great and they would in all likelihood lock her away."
"Yeah. Shit. Yeah, you're right. Call Cap. He'll let you know if there are any weird goings on in London."
"I would really rather you do it."
"Tough shit," repeats the Man of Iron. "Call him."
And then there is only silence from the other end of the line, for Tony Stark has hung up.
"What are you doing?"
Loki spins in place to see Eleanor frowning directly behind them, arms crossed over her chest.
"Hello, my dear. How was class?"
"Fine," she says, plucking her phone from his grasp. Loki gives her a hopefully charming grin. "You took my phone."
"I needed to make a call."
"Oh, did you?" she asks, shoving the device back in her pocket.
"I missed the sound of Tony Stark's voice."
Eleanor's laughter is genuine and after the stress of this morning it is such a relief to have her smiling at him once more.
"Come," he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards the science building. "Jane's sofa calls your name. There is more than enough time for you to get a nap in before your next class."
"Okay," she says, cuddling a bit closer in defense to a sudden burst of wind. "You want to lie down with me?"
"I am amenable."
When Eleanor attends her next class, Loki steals her phone once more. This time he dials a number not saved in her address book, but one Loki memorized when the God of Song shouted it across the parking lot of a bar.
Bragi does not answer.
Loki calls a total of five times and leaves a total of three voice messages, each more aggressive, threatening, and desperate than the last.
"Woo, spring break!" Darcy Lewis shouts the moment the clock strikes five o'clock.
"You aren't even in school," Eleanor says, tucking her guitar back in its case. She remains on the Stark payroll and usually continues her menial organization work on days spent in the lab, but today she finished early and took up playing.
"But Jane is! And you are. So I'm taking the week off too. Plus, Steve is coming in tonight and I love spring break," Darcy continues to chatter, powering down her computer and tidying her workstation.
"We're not taking the week off," Jane says. "Darcy, we are so ridiculously close to controlling the bridge. So close!"
"Well, I'm taking the week off. Steve and I are going on a nice romantic getaway to these hot springs. The whole place is real swanky. Hey, do you guys want to come? It could be a couple's getaway. And also Jane. Jane too."
The Madame of Science winces. "Thanks, Darcy. I'm good here."
"Fine. Party pooper. Ellie? Are you in?" Darcy asks, kneeling on a swivel chair and pushing herself towards Eleanor.
His songbird laughs and jerks her head towards Loki. Why she is not simply saying no is confusing. There is no possible way Loki would agree to a trip with the boisterous buxom brunette and the Captain of America. He cannot think of a more painful way to spend several days.
"No," says Loki when Darcy spins to face him. "Absolutely not."
"Come on! It will be fun. Lazing about in the desert in naturally heated mineral water."
"I honestly do not know why you would have me join you when I would like nothing more than to drown you and your cohort in said naturally heated mineral water," Loki replies.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me, Miss Lewis," Loki replies.
"Does this mean you aren't even going to join us for dinner when Steve gets here?" Darcy asks. "I know Ellie would really like to see him."
Loki looks to Eleanor. She shrugs.
"We will attend your dinner," Loki agrees, but only because Steve is flying in from London and Loki would have the patriot's most recent update. In the months since Eleanor's little episode, Steve has explored the city whenever he had free time from his work with SHIELD. There is nothing, no whispers of anything strange or any other warnings from the still-missing Bragi.
Eleanor has been sleeping peacefully and Loki does not mention the lingering threat, but he watches her as relentlessly as he searches for answers.
Thus far, none have been found.
Loki attends dinner with Eleanor and her friends. The moment the girls get distracted in the kitchen, Loki pulls aside the Captain of America. He shakes his head.
Thus far, there are no answers in London either.
Oh man. It's getting real now!
Thank you thank you thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! You all are making this whole thing so very fun and fulfilling for me.
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