A/N: Welp, I turn 24 in 2 hours, and as is my habit for my birthday, I went to see the latest Marvel November movie in theaters. Thor Ragnarok is amazing and hysterically funny, but (and this isn't really a spoiler because it was in the trailer) poor myeh-myu! That was very sad. I have a lot of feelings about myeh-myu. If Darcy nicknamed it, it's a character.
Thank you xbecbebex, Guest, AeslinnArt and JPElles for reviewing the last chapter! With regards to my life *issues,* a different (and AWEOME) recruiter got me two temp positions in two weeks, and then my first real office job immediately after. I now work in legal insurance (and can I just say, Darcy in the movies is WAY more sensible than quite a few lawyers) and it seems to be going pretty well. My office has a lot of amazing folks, and a high enough level of nerdy-ness that I can make fandom references and have at least a 75% chance that people will understand me, so that's pretty awesome!
Paranoia
"Group projects prepare students for successful afterlife careers as the guardians of hell," Darcy snapped, shoving her textbook across the messy table, and sending a stack of papers fluttering across the tiny kitchen. Loki looked up calmly, not really taking his attention off the bacon he was frying.
"Who's holding you up?" he asked as he gently shook the pan from side to side, then turned slightly to catch the little digital timer seconds before it went off. With a few deft motions, he opened the waffle iron on the counter, levered the waffle out of it and onto the cooling rack, and poured more batter in, closing the top and resetting the timer.
"Freaking Kayla!" Darcy groused, then peered around Loki to the waffles taking up most of the counter space, and the batter bowl which was still half-full. "How many of those are you making?" she asked.
"Two dozen," he responded. "We're only going to get busier, and I get bored of cereal in the mornings pretty quickly. I figured we could freeze them, then heat them up in the toaster."
"Brilliant!" Darcy responded approvingly. "Are they all spoken for, then?" she asked. In answer, Loki grabbed a clean plate out of the dish drainer, stuck a waffle on top of it, and slid it across the paper-covered table towards her.
"Thank you," she sang out, reaching into the cabinet behind her for the syrup.
"Bacon'll be ready in a few minutes, and I'm going to scramble a few eggs, want some?" he checked. He knew he never needed to ask if she wanted the bacon. She nodded, mouth already full of waffle.
"Kayla's been looking a bit harried lately," Loki commented as he dished up the bacon and started cracking eggs directly into the pan—a practice from which Darcy had originally tried to dissuade him, prompting him to continue it just to show off his flawless technique. "She's probably having trouble prioritizing. Ask her for something tiny—a picture of a page in the textbook or the date of the next presentation."
"Tiny won't really do it for one fourth of a group project," Darcy commented slowly, but without sarcasm or irritation; if Loki was suggesting it, there was more going on. The demigod grinned as he scrambled the eggs.
"Doing a tiny favor for you will endear you to her," he explained. "Her subconscious will tell her that she wouldn't have done it if she didn't like you, so therefore, she must like you. Then when it comes time for her to choose between homework items, she'll remember that you're on the hook as well for that one, and prioritize it. Manipulation 101*," he finished, gesturing triumphantly with the spatula.
"I'm writing that down… that is super helpful," Darcy muttered, scribbling it in the closest notebook.
"Well, glad my skills are coming in handy for something down here," Loki chuckled humorlessly, sliding the cooked bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate and beginning to crack eggs directly into the greasy pan—a habit he'd picked up largely to annoy Darcy who had insisted that he'd drop shell bits into the food. To date, he hadn't lost a single white fleck, and she'd stopped glaring in disapproval whenever he did it.
"That, and getting you off for Christmas," Darcy reminded him. He nodded in her direction, allowing that. It had been a bit of a challenge, but he'd got there in the end—the trick was showing up on Thanksgiving/early-Black-Friday overnight when he hadn't been scheduled to work, and clocking in when it turned out (to no one's surprise) that three people had called out and two others were still drunk from their families' parties. As the crowds slowed and the sun peaked over the horizon, the harried manager had been in such a state that Loki could probably have asked for a $10 pay raise and gotten it.
"Oh, I have that thing tonight," Darcy added, remembering suddenly. "I better get gas before school."
"And remember that your brown coat has a hole in the pocket," Loki added, maneuvering the eggs onto two plates and adding bacon to each. Three separate occasions she'd managed to lose her keys in the lining of that coat.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, "fear not, Jane had solved my problem." She leaned over and reached into her backpack, retrieving the ring which held two keys—car and apartment—three miniature membership cards, and…
"Is that… meant to be Thor?" Loki demanded, squinting at the round, fluffy keychain which was, indeed, a "tsum-tsum" style caricature of the blond oaf.
"Yep!" she responded with a grin. "Jane bought the whole Avenger set, but this one made Thor kinda' uncomfortable—something about it not looking manly enough, I'm guessing—so she sent him to me."
"And he's much too large to fit through the hole," Loki finished for her, a smirk widening across his face as he imagined Thor's probable reaction to his squishable doppelganger. He pinched the soft material experimentally between his fingers.
"Exactly," Darcy nodded, tossing her keys back into her bag once he'd released them. He noticed the grip of her trusty Taser poking out of the main compartment, and his jaw tensed. The date was November 27th, and Doug Lewis had been out of prison for seven days. She'd acted normal, for the most part, but he'd noticed that she hadn't left the house once without her Taser since then.
Most of her friends here didn't know anything about the situation, except for Beth, who he'd noticed had also begun to carry a large canister of Mace gel and had gone back to walking Darcy to her car.
"Do you want me to come with you?" he offered quietly, eyes still fixed on the Taser until she zipped the compartment, hiding it from sight. She shook her head.
"Thanks, but the tickets are crazy expensive when the school isn't buying a batch of seats. And I'll be in a big group. And he's not allowed to leave Illinois," she added—something she'd reiterated to herself about seventy times in the past week, and never quite seemed to believe. Although she hadn't talked much about it, Loki could draw on his own negative experiences to imagine what it must be like to go through one's whole childhood believing that one person was somehow all powerful and all present, just waiting to pop out at you and punish you for existing. On the one hand, his own not-father actually had been extremely powerful and capable of appearing at a moment's notice, but on the other, he was beginning to realize the stark difference between what he feared from Odin, and what she'd had cause to fear from Doug Lewis.
In Asgard, a child in her situation would have been immediately placed with relatives or an adoptive couple, and the offending parents—both the abusive father and neglectful mother—would have been punished according to the ancient laws. From what he understood about Earth, however, the groups meant to ensure such protective measures here were woefully understaffed, underfunded, and generally ineffective. It amazed him that so often, when mentioning her history, she did so with a sense of gratitude for the people in her life who'd come to her aid, rather than with an air of justifiable bitterness about those who'd failed her so deeply.
Even though she'd declined his offer of an escort, Loki found himself considering throughout the day whether or not it might be wise to go spend the evening at William Allensfield Public Library—the massive library near the theatre where she'd be that night. He could browse their large collection of Stephen King (his newest literary obsession) and if he decided to go home with an armload, it wouldn't cost him anything. And of course, if anything untoward happened to Darcy, he'd only be four blocks away. But each time the thought started to sound sensible to him, he'd shake himself a little, and tell himself that Darcy's paranoia was getting to him.
Realistically, the chances that the despicable human would be anywhere in the state were slim to none, and if he did turn up, Loki was quite certain that Darcy would have no problem shooting first and asking questions later. He dismissed the notion each time it came up, and after his classes, he returned to the apartment to finish reading The Dead Zone. However, he didn't take his shoes off, and couldn't make himself focus, in spite of the gripping tale on the pages that lay in his lap.
Leaning his head back against the sofa, he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands until he saw stars. It wasn't even five o'clock yet—her play wouldn't even start for another hour. This was going to be a very long night.
It was going to be a very long night at the library, he decided, snapping his book shut, gathering his tablet and sliding them both into a bag. If this had been Asgard, and someone he cared about had been afraid, he'd have had no qualms at all about tailing them, unseen. While many would have called such behavior dishonorable, he felt it was simply prudent. Although here and now he couldn't summon a golem, see long distances with magic or turn invisible (well, not for long periods of time, anyway) he could get on the train (bugger rush hour traffic and downtown parking) and ensure that he was close at hand. If nothing else, it would make him feel better, and then maybe he'd get to enjoy The Dead Zone to its fullest extent.
-0-
"So there's seriously nothing going on with you two?" Anna asked for what Darcy was pretty sure was the fifth time that evening as the curtain finally, finally fell and the lights went back up. That had to have been the longest play Darcy had ever suffered through, and the actors hadn't even been cute.
"No, Anna," she droned for the fifth time, "Luke and I are friends. Just friends. He's not really my type." Well species, technically, but Anna didn't need to know that bit. Once Loki and Nina had broken up, Darcy had found herself on the receiving end of this question along with the "do you think I'm his type" question from quite a few acquaintances. Since Jack wasn't a student, his rumored existence hadn't been enough to drive away interested parties.
Although Darcy was hardly surprised by the attention her single-and-ready-to-mingle roommate was receiving, it had started to peeve her a bit. First because people kept spreading rumors that they were a couple—which successfully drove off her potential suitors, damn gender roles straight to hell where they belonged—and second because she felt like they didn't have a right to say that they liked him when they didn't even really know him. They didn't know about his sarcasm, his wicked cleverness, the way he always contrasted earth with hundreds of other realms and cultures, the way he liked to argue with the television. All they knew was what precious little he showed them—they hadn't even met the good stuff yet.
"Think you got enough to write the paper?" a guy whose name she couldn't remember asked, saving her from having to continue the repetitive conversation by holding up his meagre half-sheet of notes.
"Enough not to fail, I guess," she laughed dryly, holding up her own notebook, which wasn't much better off.
"Wanna get some food and see if we can crowdsource this shit?" a girl in front of them asked, and several people agreed enthusiastically. Darcy was sorely tempted, both by the potential grade improvement and the chance to stay together with a large group for as long as possible, but she knew that the later the hour and the more tired she grew, the more paranoid she'd become.
"Nah, I gotta get home," she responded. "It's my turn to cook tonight."
"He cooks too?" Anna exclaimed as Darcy retrieved her backpack from beneath her seat and carefully slid her notebook and pen into it without either revealing or burying her trusty Taser.
"Yes, Anna," she sighed as she slung her bag across her shoulder and stood to leave. "He cooks. He even mass-produced freezer waffles for finals week," she added over her shoulder with a touch of pride. Moans of envy from all concerned—both over the hot roommate and the stash of homemade waffles—were the last thing Darcy heard from her classmates as the crowd noise enveloped her and she entered the lobby.
After the packed theatre and rising heat from sitting near the back—and consequently the top—the outside was starkly freezing, and she pulled her scarf up immediately to cover her nose and mouth.
'And I'm going to be up at Lake-Freaking-Michigan in December, voluntarily,' she thought ruefully as she tried to control her shivering. She'd found a parking spot two blocks west of the theatre itself, but between the cold and the dark and the slight drizzle and the paranoia she'd been fighting all week, it seemed like an eight mile hike. She strongly considered hopping onto the train—which had a stop right by the theatre exit—but she didn't want to get a ticket for leaving her car in a metered spot overnight without paying for it.
Squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to her full height, she set her jaw and walked purposefully, a technique Beth had tried to teach her for increasing her presence and parting a crowd of people taller than herself. She wasn't entirely sure if it was working, but two intersections came and went and she arrived at her car unmolested.
It was when she went around the front to get into the driver's seat that she noticed something amiss in the flash of passing headlights.
-0-
Ignoring the dirty looks he got when his phone went off in the library with supreme disdain, Loki swiped the green icon and held it to his ear, standing as he did so and sliding his book into his bag.
"Hello," he greeted Darcy levelly, telling himself that she was probably home and simply calling to see if he'd be back for dinner.
"Loki?" she breathed, sounding choked with panic. Instantly his every sense was on high alert and his legs took him towards the nearest exit with long, purposeful strides.
"Someone slashed all four of my tires," she gulped.
"Where are you?" he demanded quickly, breaking into a jog as soon as he reached open air.
"I'm in a McDonald's by the theatre," she responded. "I should've turned back and gotten right on the train, but I freaked out, I thought maybe…" she trailed off, but she didn't really need to finish that sentence. It was obvious what she thought.
"Are there security cameras?" he asked immediately.
"Yeah," she replied. "I'm in full view of one of them, but out of sight from the windows. The closest train station is three blocks away, and I'm too freaked out to leave. Could you come pick me up?"
"I'm four blocks away," he said, keeping up the jogging pace as he tried to remember where the closest McDonald's was to the theatre. "Took a trip to the library. I'll be there in ten minutes. Do you have your Taser?"
"Yeah, in my hand, under the table. Hurry," she whispered. He didn't think he'd ever heard her sound more frightened, and without another word, he disconnected the call so that he could run flat out.
-0-
Darcy's phone battery was dangerously low, and she didn't want to obstruct her senses by putting in headphones, but she found herself alternately humming and mouthing the words to snatches of song. Music had always been her refuge when she was afraid, and to be deprived of it in this situation just added to her rising hysteria.
Of course, anyone could have slashed her tires.
But the timing was just too horrible.
There was only one other group of guests in the fast-food restaurant at that time of night—a mom with her two young children, on the opposite side of the dining room. Two different people came in, ordered takeout, and left, and each time the door opened, Darcy ducked her head, trying to hide her face with heir hair and wishing she'd worn a hat with a brim instead of her beanie.
'You're in public,' she kept repeating to herself. 'There are cameras. He'd be screwing himself by leaving the state, let alone coming after you. This is a coincidence. Loki will be here in nine minutes. Eight. Seven. Six. Seven again.' Time trickled by so slowly it almost seemed to flow backwards, and she shook herself a little. Definitely five minutes. The door opened again and she inhaled a slow, steadying breath through her nose.
The man who'd entered wore a bulky coat with the collar turned up, a baseball cap, and sunglasses.
At night.
And his hand was in his pocket—a pocket which contained something long enough that it poked a rounded barrel out the stomach of his jacket.
Darcy's heart stopped.
The man had a gun.
A/N: *Guess who wrote a term paper on Manipulation for her Interpersonal Communication class Senior Year? Yeah, this one, right here. Glad that's coming in handy out here in the real world.
So, after seeing Ragnarok this morning, we watched the original Thor tonight, and my dad pointed out that if an elevator is able to lift the hammer, a truck should have been able to do it, because no "man" was lifting it. So why couldn't Stan Lee get it to budge? Why is the elevator worthy, but the Chevy isn't? I don't understand! I need answers and I can't get them because myeh-myu's DEAD!
(Also fictional.)