A/N: Well, August is drawing to a close, I still don't have a grown-up job, and the most recent news on that front was a recruiter who SCREWED ME OVER. I want to blast that story across the net, along with his name, company, and everything else I've got on him, but I think he could sue me for liable, because I don't have documentation to prove that he said what he said. Grrr. Reason number 406 why I hate phone conversations and prefer email or other text-based communication: all parties have a record of everything everyone said. (And it was a job that I'm ridiculously overqualified for, but I probably won't get it because somebody gave me bad information and I sounded like an idiot until that got sorted out near the end of the interview…) Frustrating. Anyhow.
I'd like to thank xbecbebex, AeslinnArt (x2!) PaperBoat and A.D. Teilen for your reviews during my absence; you guys rock!
Changes
"Why do you continue to resist?" the gravely snarl seemed to vibrate his whole brain, shaking him to the root of his soul. His vision blurred, his stomach rebelled, and for a long moment he felt like he was floating away from his body.
'No!' He wasn't sure if he screamed it aloud or just inside his mind, but the whisperer heard, and his retribution was swift, agonizing, and dragged on for what felt like months. When he was finally released from it, he sagged in his bonds, panting raggedly. How long had he been here? He couldn't remember. Time was strange when one was falling through space; and stranger still when one was in constant, excruciating pain.
"You have nothing left," the voice taunted, ripping into him painfully. "Your 'family' were using you, they never loved you... you killed your real father... probably your real mother too, when you unleashed the Bifrost… your only real talent is turning instruments of peace into instruments of war…" it mused. Then fresh torment washed over him again, pulling him under...
Loki sat bolt upright, hair plastered to his face with sweat, desperately gulping down lungfuls of air as he shoved the covers off of him. On his left, Jack stirred, squirming around and trying to get comfortable, but not quite awake. Loki tried desperately to slow his frantic breaths, not wanting to wake him, but realized after a few seconds that he wasn't going to be able to get quiet any time soon. Just as the thought entered his head to slip out of bed and take a cold shower until he calmed down, Jack rolled over to face him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Luke?" he muttered. "Everything all right?"
"Just a nightmare," Loki whispered, trying for a romantic, nonchalant running of his fingers through Jack's fuzzy hair. His hand was shaking violently; he hadn't realized it until he touched Jack's immobile skin. The shorter man levered himself upright, gently wrapping Loki's hand in his warmer one.
"Must'a been pretty intense," he murmured. Loki swallowed, still trying to get ahold of himself.
"Yes," he whispered back roughly. "Yes, it was." To his horror, his voice cracked, and the pain in his throat and burning in his eyes suggested his humiliation was about to get worse. Jack leaned forward, wrapping him in his arms, and smoothing his hair.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. Loki shook his head, not trusting his voice. He was falling apart at the seams. He knew what was causing it, of course; as Halloween had drawn closer—culminating in the night itself, a few days ago—he'd seen more and more people in masks. The humans had devised every variation on the gruesome with which they could possible decorate themselves, and he was sure that some of them had actually based their designs on their attackers. The more he saw the twisted faces, the more he thought about his time… away.
His heart was stuttering in his chest, hurting his ribs. Jack's palm pressed against it through his back. Loki wished he could find that comforting, but actually, the embrace reminded him of the fact that this human could probably snap his neck with little effort from this position.
"No," he whispered. If he started to talk about it, if he thought too hard about it, there was no telling what horrors that might unleash on his exhausted brain.
'You have nothing left…' an echo of a whisper flitted sickeningly through his mind.
'You're wrong,' he told it defiantly, as he and Jack laid back down. He rested his head against his lover's chest, listening to his heart beat. 'I've got Jack, right here, I've got Darcy across the hall, I've got Phil in the SHIELD base, and I've got Thor whether I want him or not, the oaf.
Come up with something more original; I grow bored with your lack of imagination.'
As he drifted back into a fitful sleep, his last thought was to wonder if that quip was something he'd thought up now, or said then…
-0-
The morning dawned gray and soggy. As Jack left, he pulled his coat collar up to block the fitful wind and sprays of rain, and dashed for the bus stop after giving Loki a quick last kiss. Loki, for his part, was unbothered by the cold, but found the rain and clouds as mood-dampening as they were environment-dampening, and shivered a bit as he locked the door and headed to the bathroom to grab a shower before work.
Work had been a bit of a nightmare itself, following Halloween. Suddenly people started to be in a hurry, demanding, snippy and generally out of sorts. Darcy had warned him about "The Holidays," and he'd been prepared for the rush, but not the darkening moods. And honestly, there was no point in being rude to him when they were the ones who wanted to purchase something the store had not yet received. What did they think would happen if they shouted at him? That he'd magically make the computer system alter the store's sales policy? That he'd summon the items they wanted from the future, and drop them into their sweaty human hands? Summon a golem out of paper and ink to open another register? It was already beginning to pull at his fraying nerves, and the official beginning of "hell season" was still weeks away.
"I don't get paid enough to pretend to give a shit for the twentieth time today," one of his coworkers, Nikki, muttered as she lounged in the breakroom, gobbling up her sandwich in record time so she'd get the rest of her break for a cigarette. Loki could understand where she was coming from.
"Save your strength," he laughed humorlessly. "Three weeks until Black Friday." Nikki leaned backwards and groaned.
"Is it like this in England?" she asked, sitting back upright and taking another bite.
"Well, we've got Christmas," he responded without missing a beat, "but no Thanksgiving, so no Black Friday. Still a bit much, though."
In reality, Asgard's winter solstice festival was far less stressful—although the summer one had driven him completely up the wall quite a few times. At least down here he didn't have to worry about all the political implications (Read: Odin lecturing him endlessly about the political implications) of pulling a few (relatively) harmless pranks to amuse himself during the festivities. He'd known that getting a customer service job would involve a whole lot of people wiping their shoes on him and him smiling about it; this was just going to be the part where he had to square his shoulders, put on his best god-of-lies face, and stock up on enemies to prank for the petty pleasure of it.
School was beginning to pile on the work; after midterms, everyone got serious about the projects they were supposed to have been working on all semester. For his part, Loki had actually gotten a decent start on most of them, so all he had to do now was a bit of tweaking. He ought to have had more time, but once his classmates realized that he was not only brilliant but an over-achiever, they began approaching him after classes, in the hallways and even online, asking for help with their various projects. Still trying to get a handle on the exact persona of Luke Randle, Loki couldn't accurately gauge just what to say yes or no to, so he often erred on the side of saying yes. That gave him an impressive workload of material that wasn't his own, which wasn't unmanageable, but was a bit tedious to slog through.
"Want one?" Darcy offered as she set down an armload of groceries on the table and immediately pulled a bottle out of a six-pack of beer. Loki shook his head, pulling his tablet out of the way of the bags.
"Not really a fan of beer," he responded. "Thanks anyway."
"I noticed," Darcy snorted, still proffering the bottle. "This is cider beer. Totally different animal. Give it a chance—I'll happily finish it if you don't like it." Loki accepted the bottle and knocked the cap off against the edge of the table while Darcy stuffed the groceries into the refrigerator. It did taste better; it actually had a flavor to it, instead of being carbonated, alcoholic tainted piss-water. He took a second gulp, which Darcy took as her cue to open her own, because he'd bonded with his.
"You up to twenty yet?" she asked, sitting down opposite him and opening up her laptop.
"Twenty-two and counting," he responded, turning his tablet around and opening his email so she could see the new threads.
"Look at you, Mr. Popularity," she laughed. "Next semester, charge for your help. But get 'em hooked first."
"I'll certainly take that under advisement," Loki chuckled as he finished the edits he was making and sent the paper back to its frazzled and grammatically challenged author.
"You got time for twenty-three?" she asked, sliding down so she was hidden behind her computer screen, then leaning to the side to peer around it.
"Calculus?" he checked. She nodded.
"I'm avoiding it because I'm not ready for the obligatory cry-fest," she groaned. Loki shook his head, rubbing at his eyes, and scooted his chair around the table so they were sitting next to each other.
"Luckily your problems are usually easy," he commented as Darcy smiled gratefully and retrieved her textbook from her backpack.
"Hey, everything's easy for you," she grumbled without any real malice. He shook his head.
"On the contrary," he responded as his email pinged, "everything's easy when the person I'm meant to be helping understands what I tell them the first time." No doubt that was Nathan again, confused about basically everything. Loki was on the verge of giving up on the fool, telling him to google it or ask the professor.
"Is Jack coming over again tonight?" she asked as she found the right page in her book and angled it so Loki could see better. "I found this mixed drink thing on Pinterest, but it makes way more than either of us should drink before Monday classes." Loki shook his head.
"His company is moving on today, actually," he admitted a little sadly. "He won't be back in town for another year, unless something changes."
"Seriously?" Darcy responded sympathetically. "That sucks… Does he get time off—could he come visit before then?"
"Some, but usually not this far south," Loki shook his head. "I knew it couldn't last. Was lovely while it did, though," he admitted softly. He fell silent for a long moment, and Darcy squeezed his shoulder.
"Suppose I'll have to mark my calendar for when he'll turn up again," he announced with an air of trying to shake off his sadness. "One of the good things about never leaving the state, I suppose; I'll definitely be here when he gets back."
"Oh, you're leaving the state," Darcy snorted. "I get the feeling I'm gonna have to fight it out with Fury, but you're leaving the state. Christmas," she reminded him. He frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Oh, shit," Darcy snorted, "did I legit not tell you? I made plans for us to go visit my family in Chicago for Christmas and New Year's."
"You did not tell me," Loki assured her, taking another drink and shaking his head. "How are you planning on getting that past Fury, not to mention both our jobs?"
"Same way I got you here," she snorted, "by being awesome and not giving up until I get the answer I want." Loki rolled his eyes and shook his head again.
"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered, not doubting that Darcy Lewis could almost certainly do exactly that. "When's this trip supposed to be happening?" Darcy pulled out her phone, opening her calendar application.
"We fly out a week after finals end," she responded, then froze, staring at the November screen.
"So… in December," Loki checked after she'd sat still as a marble carving for a few long seconds.
"Yeah," she exclaimed sharply, flipping over to December and showing him the highlighted week and a half. "Yeah, we fly out the 19th, at what-the-hell-o'clock in the morning," she added with a grimace. But her eyes looked too bright, and even the average people-reader could guess that something was very wrong. Loki, of course, was leagues beyond average, and of course Darcy knew that, so as he shifter a little to face her, she turned her face slightly away, uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. She swallowed, then sighed, shaking her head a little.
"I'd almost forgotten," she murmured, flipping back to November and tapping on the twentieth. A single event was scheduled for that day—labeled "doomsday." There was no other information.
"My dad," she explained, clearing her throat. "He gets out of jail that day."
"Are you safe?" Loki asked immediately, trying to recall what little he knew of the American justice system. Darcy laughed humorlessly.
"In theory," she responded darkly. "He's not permitted to contact me, or be within fifty feet… I think he can't leave the state, actually."
"Which state?" Loki asked apprehensively.
"Illinois," she nodded. "But when we're there we'll be with my brothers—he's not stupid enough to try anything around a bunch of people who'd all skin him if they got the chance." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as him.
"And you're sure that it's a good idea to have a visit right now?" he checked. Darcy's face hardened.
"I haven't let that man decide where I can or can't go since I put two bullets in him," she snapped. "I'm not about to start now." Loki raised his hands placatingly.
"Just checking," he responded with a shrug. He wondered if this was reminding her of the Jeff scenario, where all of her friends had unofficially started playing bodyguard, or if it was so far beyond that in seriousness that the comparison hadn't even crossed her mind. Darcy blew out a long breath and rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses. Loki decided not to ask her about the two bullets until a better time. He'd known the situation got physical and she'd had to defend herself—he hadn't known she'd actually shot him. Twice, apparently.
In any case, to him, this was no different than the situation with Jeff. Clearly it was more serious, but the principle was the same; Darcy Lewis was one of the few people he called friend, and if these bumbling mortals thought it was a good idea to cross a god by harming her, they would learn their mistake the hard way.
And this time, he was ready. During the night—the ones he didn't spend with his favorite thespian, anyway—he'd been practicing a little, experimenting with what he could do with the tiny remnant of magic he still possessed. Holed up in his room, with Darcy fast asleep across the hall, he'd drop the illusion and see how far he could push himself. He was getting stronger—by the tiniest increments, and it exhausted him, but progress was progress. Technically, he told himself, he wasn't breaking the terms of his asylum here—it was Asgard's job to remove his magic, not his. No one had said anything about him messing around and getting it back, and honestly, what they didn't know wasn't going to hurt them. It wasn't like he was going to try anything drastic.
Unless Doug Lewis crossed him, of course.
"All right then," he carried on after Darcy had straightened her glasses. "Calculus, eh?" she groaned, then nodded.
"Calculus," she repeated sourly, finishing her beer and reaching into the fridge for another one.
A/N: So, yeah, the situation with Darcy's dad! The reason I made her family so messed up was because Loki blames his daddy issues for a lot of his problems, so I wanted to juxtapose that with a really, really broken family, not because one person's experiences outweigh another's, but just to give him some perspective, and to let him see someone—a person he already likes and respects—who built their life back up, y'know? There may be some mild trigger warnings in the next few chapters as I delve into that subject matter, just forewarning you.
Disclaimer: I don't actually know the intricacies of the American legal system; I'm a fanfic author, not a law student. Normally when I don't understand something, I'll research it, but from what I DO know about the intricacies of the American legal system, it's hella complicated, a bit subjective and varies from state to state, sometimes judge to judge and case to case. So after a cursory viewing of some research materials, I have decided to simply *make shit up* on this topic. (Based on what seems logical, anyhow. I'm still going for a basic sense of realism.)