Chapter Sixty-Eight: Imagine

Darla found a dress she was satisfied with in the very first store they went to, but Darcy didn't let her buy it. She insisted on making a day of this, saying they'd go to every boutique in New York if they had to. As was the recurring theme of their budding friendship, Darla went along with this. At the end of the day, though, they went back to the first store to get that first dress.

Darcy tried on something everywhere they went and had complaints about all of it. Too girly, too tight, too much cleavage, not enough cleavage. If she was feeling particularly disgruntled, she'd pitch a fit until the pair of them were asked to leave. On more than one occasion, she was physically thrown out while Darla winced and followed out the door, apologetic eyes on the staff and fellow shoppers.

At one point she had on a red, white and blue getup. She was twirling around and posing in front of a set of mirrors outside her assigned dressing room. Darla, who was observing from a rigid chair, said, "Don't you think that's a little too on-the-nose?"

"Hm?" Darcy replied, shaking out her curls.

"Aren't you going with Captain America?"

Darcy bit her bottom lip and straightened up, suddenly self-conscious. "Uh, no. He didn't want to be distracted since this is technically a mission."

"Okay, well, that-" Darla gestured to Darcy's outfit, "-is more than a distraction."

"It doesn't matter what I wear," Darcy said. "My body is just too loud."

"What does-" Darla paused as Darcy took to undressing in front of her (and other patrons wandering into the shared area). "What does that even mean?"

"Look at me." Darcy spun on her heels, now in her underwear. "I'm a distraction factory!"

"Maybe you wouldn't be if you didn't take your clothes off in public?"

"Public? I'll show you public!" Darcy stomped out of the changing rooms and back into the store itself. "Hey! Fashionistas! This is my body and I love it!"

Darla went into the changing room Darcy had come out of to get her street clothes. She took them out to her and met a livid store manager a yard away from Darcy's scene. "We're leaving," Darla said, calmer than ever. She thrust Darcy's clothes into her arms. She pulled her jeans back on and followed Darla out the front door, still shouting all the while. She was dressed by the time they got to the street.

Later on, she'd find a stunning purple number that hit all her requirements. It was a subtler color than she'd usually choose, but Darla had talked her into dialing it back for Steve's sake. They took their bags back to the car, where Darcy bullied Darla into taking the rest of the day off so they could try out makeup styles and gossip.

"Your place or mine?" Darcy said, putting her feet up on the dash and laughing.

"Uh…"

"Well, doesn't matter, does it? Don't you live at HQ?"

"No," Darla said. "Do most agents?"

Darcy puffed out her cheeks. "Huh. I thought they did, but-I mean, I do. I think maybe I know too much for them to just let me out into the world willy nilly. I don't have much responsibility but it's better than working at a diner for the rest of my life. Right? Though I'd probably live a lot longer with a normal job."

"Here? Who knows. Alien attacks and all that."

"Good point, Cooper."

Darla was alarmed by the use of her last name and shot a surprised look toward the passenger seat. Darcy laughed and tapped her own shirt where Darla's last name was stitched onto her uniform.

"Your place it is," she said, and that was where they went.

Darcy was utterly perturbed by the absense of flair in Darla's apartment. Not only did it lack style or substance, it lacked basic necessities. "You don't have a microwave," she shrieked, horrified.

"I don't need it."

"How do you eat your leftovers?" Darcy flung open the fridge. "My god, where are your leftovers?"

"Haven't got any."

Darcy was already on the phone ordering enough chinese food for the city block. Once she was done, she took up wandering again. "Seriously, where is all your stuff?"

"You're looking at it."

Darcy threw open the closet, prepared for the worst. "Oh, god, you're going to break my heart. Hang your new dress up in here at least."

Darla did, but it was a minor improvement at best.

"Shit!" Darcy bopped herself on the forehead. "Oh, shit, shit, shit!"

"What? What is it?"

"I interrupted you and Bruce! Earlier. I completely barged in with my loud alarm and that-that science bitch distracted me! I didn't realize. Were you guys talking things out? Wait-were you kissing? Did I interrupt you before he could kiss you?"

"He wasn't going to try to kiss me."

"Don't you want him to?"

"I-I guess."

"What's the point in downplaying this?"

Darla sat down on the couch, crossing her legs underneath her. "He thought I was sleeping with Tony."

"Did you tell him how ridiculous that is?"

"Yes, but-what does that say about how he sees me?"

Darcy sat down beside her, charging into her personal space. "You know how when you like somebody at first it's like life or death?"

Darla raised one eyebrow.

"I'm being extreme, but, listen. Haven't you assumed anything about him that turned out not to be true? Because you were emotionally invested? Your heart kind of ran away with something and turned it into a big snafu when there was none?"

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe."

"There you go. See, he was just upset. I'm sure seeing you half-naked rattled his brain a bit. And Tony is-well, Tony is something else. Let's just eat and then we'll do makeup so-oh. You probably don't have any makeup, do you? Unless that's where all your money goes."

"Nope. Sorry."

"No worries," Darcy said. "We'll wing it up in my room tomorrow. Can I sleep here? I don't want you to have to drive me back and I hate spending money on Uber."

"I wouldn't mind taking you home."

"I know, but after you eat you're going to be sluggish and you might mind then."

"Alright. You can have my bed."

Darcy scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! We'll share it." A pause. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'm not hitting on you, it's just that your bed is big enough for two. Well, isn't it? Haven't you ever had a sleepover before?" She sighed, then. "Me and Jane used to be so close we would do that sort of thing. Going through an otherworldly crisis bonds people together like that. Except the otherworldly crisis is sort of living with her now."

Darla raised an eyebrow.

"Thor," Darcy clarified. "They've been having a rough time since, uh-" She hesitated, dancing around what she wanted to say next, believing she couldn't say a word about Loki. At least not how she'd been forced to help him escape. But they'd tracked him down after all, right? Hadn't they? "Since his brother got apprehended."

Both girls shifted their glances away, feeling the same blend of guilt and uneasiness. Over the same thing, too. Loki could still be out there-and it would partly be both of their faults. Even so, how could two girls with such good intentions (Darcy's were, at the very least, not evil) take any of the blame for all this? That wasn't the right question. The right question was whether or not it mattered to Fury. He housed and employed both of them, comforts neither would be willing to give up.

"Gossip?" Darla suggested, trying to lighten the mood and distract herself.

Darcy grinned. "Yes, but, Jane is my friend so don't repeat any of this, okay?"

Darla zipped her lips shut.

"She says all he's been doing is brooding. Sulking and moping. Ever since she recovered from that spell Loki put on her, once he was done taking care of her, it was like he lost himself. He's taking it all really hard and he won't share anything with her. So they're in the same room but they feel alone. He sits out on her balcony and watches the sky, doing nothing, saying nothing."

This broke Darla's heart. Thor had been so sweet to her. Miles sweeter than Tony and even Bruce, with all his awkwardness. He didn't deserve to be smack dab in the center of all this, lying for his brother, his relationship suffering. Darla had a passing thought. If she told the truth, he would be relieved of all that, wouldn't he? Yes-but be in worse trouble for lying.

"That's more sad than juicy," Darla commented.

Darcy bit the tip of her tongue, looking eager, like something was ready to spill out of her. "He grunts during sex. Like a wildebeast."

Darla broke into a fit of laughter. "Oh, god, I can imagine that!"

Darcy nodded profusely. "Right. I can't stop imagining it!"

They continued on like this, laughing and bonding over the awkward intricacies they'd heard and noticed about their Avenger co-workers. They ate and watched TV for a while. They made a sort of gameplan for the following day. Darcy's room to do makeup and otherwise get ready, then go help set everything up already looking fine. That night, for the first time since she'd moved in, Darla would sleep in her own bed.

Elsewhere

Sleeping at all hours had Eve wide awake well into the night. It was coming up on midnight and she felt like she could run a marathon. In her mind, at least. Her body was still recovering. Loki took to sleeping when she slept, as much as he could. Staying in bed as long as she had these past two days would make him sluggish and useless, so he filled his time with books and such. He taught Sasha a few easy tricks without needing to use the reinforcement of treats.

Though Eve was awake, she was being dull now. Curled into a cocoon of blankets, watching television, not much interested in conversation. It didn't bother him as he thought it might. He'd go out near the outskirts of town and use his powers to trick passersby, delighting in their shocked expressions. That simplest thing gave him life, the will to go on. It always had. Feeling superior by way of something as simple as a visual or tactile illusion. He would let her know if he left, though, and boost protection on the house while he was gone. He checked in when he got back, too. She seemed to think nothing at all of it.

He'd thought maybe she would thank him endlessly for how considerate he was being. He owed her no explanation, no play-by-play of his activities. Yet she'd respond with a bemused 'Thank you' or 'Have fun' as though it didn't matter to her either way. He thought on how worried he'd been the day he came home and she wasn't there. There was nothing extraordinary about the way he was acting now. No, it was the way she deserved and expected to be treated. So there was no standing ovation waiting for him. He found, interestingly enough, he was sort of fine with that.

He brought her meals at random intervals. She was always ready to eat, to gain back all the energy she'd used. He didn't complain. He didn't tease her or chide her. He was getting a simpler pleasure out of caring for her, knowing she'd pushed herself to her limits in order to please him-and herself, as well.

He wandered by her room and the TV was turned off at last. He peeked in at her, so used to the dull hum of pre-written conversation erupting from the far wall.

Eve was sitting up, now, sipping a glass of juice from a straw. "Whatever I was watching ended. I mean, they switched to something else. I'd gotten so invested in what was going to happen at the New Year's Eve party and then they just-ugh, it's disrespectful. I understand there's no good place to stop a soap opera marathon. Every episode ends with a cliffhanger. Either way, I wasn't ready to get used to new faces. I tried to care, I really did."

Loki leaned against the doorframe. "Are you bored?"

She set her glass down and unraveled herself from the blankets. "Yeah."

"What would you like to do?"

She fidgeted, staying on the bed. She turned around and laid so her head hung a bit off the edge. She gazed up at the dark TV. "Call them and make them put my show back on."

"What was it called?"

Eve laughed. "I have no idea."

"Do you want to go out? Get dessert somewhere? Take Sasha for a walk?"

"Oh, god, no." She shuffled so her head was flat and comfortable against the bedspread. "No, I'm not ready for anything so strenuous."

"I'll carry you," he said.

Eve rolled over onto her side so she could get a better look at him. "What's going on?"

Loki's lips curled up at the edges. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You are just Admiral Sweetheart today."

"Is this a complaint?"

"No, I-no, you're right. I ought to just accept it. Shouldn't have said anything."

"Right you are."

She smiled at him, content and lazy. "Come lay with me."

"Alright," he agreed, crawling onto the other side of the bed. His feet went up on the pillows and he propped his head up with his hand. She was laying the wrong way.

"Tell me a story," she said, eyes wide in jest.

"I doubt I could think of anything quite as good as your soap opera."

"Nonsense, I'm sure you could come up with something much better. I mean, stories are just elongated lies, aren't they?" She rolled onto her back, then, a pleasant smile on her face still. "That wasn't meant to be cruel, of course. Put that talent of yours to good use."

"I've never been much for spinning yarns, unfortunately. Talking my way out of things, yes. This is not that."

"Isn't it?" She pinched him. Though it didn't hurt, she did it over and over, poking and prodding and giggling. "I could keep this up for hours! Come on, talk your way out of this."

At first he pretended that it didn't bother him. He let her writhe around next to him, jabbing her fingertips into his arm again and again. The sheer act of her fidgeting began to wear on him, though, and before long he grabbed her wrists. "Okay, okay," he said, calmly as though to soothe her. "What sort of story should I tell?"

"If you can't think of anything just tell me something true."

"Maybe if you get out of bed you won't want to be entertained this way anymore. Come, I'll take you to the water. The sea or the pool."

"You've read, what, hundreds of books and you can't think of a single thing? You've had this incredible life in a far off place and you can't find one experience worth sharing?"

His mouth went crooked. "None that you'd understand."

"That's presumptuous."

"And?"

Eve blew air out of her nose. "Okay, take me to the pool. Think of something to tell me on the way."

He gladly lifted her up into his arms. "I will do one of those things-and you'll just have to be satisfied with that."

He took her to the cove and they changed into swimming clothes he provided. He set her down on her feet and she winced, making her way slowly over to the elevated hot tub. The far corner of it spilled into the pool itself, and when she got in a rush of hot water was displaced over that ledge.

Loki got in then, watching as a wave of pleasure and relaxation came over her. She set herself up against one of the pulsing jets, letting it drive into her sore back muscles. A pleased sigh escaped her. "This was a good idea," she said.

He settled in and shut his eyes.

"You're not off the hook, though."

"Come, now, this peace and quiet is so lovely."

Eve snickered. "As opposed to the boisterous noise you've been putting up with all day?" She pushed herself gently off the wall and wafted over to him, sitting neatly in his lap.

He put his hand on the small of her back and they pressed their foreheads together, damp and sticky from the heat and the steam.

"One story," she said. "A really, really good one."

He pulled his head away from hers, exasperated, half serious half not. "What would you like to know?"

"What I want to know most is exactly the sort of thing I know you won't want to tell me. I've asked before. That's why I'm giving you the power here, but you're not taking it."

He held her tight to him. "There are other ways I can entertain you."

Her lips quivered into a smile and she felt her gut pull toward him with the memory of their night in the boutique. The best sex of her life. The best sex of anyone's life, she was convinced. It came at a price, though.

"Tempting," she said. "I couldn't possibly. I'd crumble like an old building."

"You'll get used to it," he said. "Next time recovery won't take this long."

"Good. For now, though, let's find others things to do. While we wait."

He wiped a bead of water from her lips and then kissed them. "I'm in a giving mood. Ask me whatever you'd like."

Eve rocked her head back, knowing no good could come of this. Was he setting her up to ruin this serene mood they'd struck? "It's not that important to me."

"Then it won't matter if I refuse, will it?"

She tipped her head forward again to look at him. She'd never seen him so soft and gentle. Not for this long. The fear she felt of him lay dormant somewhere deep inside. She wouldn't have been able to find it with an expert expedition crew. Yet she knew he could draw it out if she walked down the wrong path. The dark one, the one less traveled for a reason. She took a breath, and then a fateful step.

"I want to know about the animosity between you and your brother."

He looked deep into her eyes, thinking. He didn't scowl or shout or storm off, leaving her alone and upset. She would have almost rather that he had. That would have made sense to her, that was what she was expecting. She'd only rarely witnessed any other pattern of behavior. Now she could see, with his walls down, how truly hurt he was about whatever had happened.

She put her hands on his face. "Loki. If it feels too hard to say-that's all the more reason to say it."

"You could not understand. You're a mortal." He met her eyes before she could be offended. "Now I don't mean that in any derogatory way, not this time. I simply mean that you are a mortal and I am not. You couldn't relate to any of this."

"Try to get me there, okay? Try to put me in your place. I will do my very best and if I can't understand then I'll just hold you and tell you you were right and never ask about it again." She pushed his hair back from his face. There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested cooperation, at the very least that there was a part of him that wanted to.

He spun her so she was facing away from him. Then, he pulled her in and spoke right beside her ear.

"Imagine that you were born a princess. Somewhere fantastic. Here? Does Spain have a princess?"

Eve blinked. "This is pathetic, but I'm actually not sure. I'll just pretend I'm a Romanov or something."

"Romanov? Like the Widow?"

"The-what? Who?"

"Natasha, the Avenger."

"Oh. She's...a princess?"

Loki blinked. "Is she?"

Eve turned her head to look back at him incredulously and laugh. "Loki, I don't know."

He moved her chin so she faced forward. "Imagine you were born a princess of the most fantastic place you could have imagined in your young mind. Everything around you, straight from a story book. You are revered and respected and adored. Alright?"

Eve smiled and settled into him. "Alright."

"You and your sister are both princesses. Adored by your mother and father, given access to the best schooling, the best training, the best everything. The best literature. The most talented teachers-and you may study whatever you please. There is structure and also freedom and combat and magic. All together in a perfect, well-rounded web."

"Sounds wonderful," Eve said.

"Yes. It is. You are strong but your sister is stronger. Physically. You are much better with magic. Illusions."

"So I'm you in this story?"

"I thought that was the point."

"Yes. Sorry, yes. Go on."

He took a pause before continuing. The sound of the water lulled them into a tranquil place. "You and your sister are both in line to be queen. Your mother will choose which of you ought to replace her one day. You each prove your worth by fighting for your homeland. You fight your people's greatest enemies. Greatest of them all, well, what do you think they would be?"

"Great, big spider monsters."

"Fine. You fight spider monsters alongside your sister. Your tactics are very different but both effective. Your sister has lightning powers and a giant axe or something. You can lure the monsters away with projected illusions, drive them mad with hallucinations, cut them down hand to hand if need be."

"More like hand to legs, right?"

"Are you-is this funny for you?"

Eve hunched forward, her shoulder blades digging into him. "No, of course not. I'm trying to keep things light, that's all. I won't interrupt anymore."

"You and your sister grow up together. You argue and fight as siblings should. You make up, make friends, feast together-as siblings should. Then, one day out of nowhere, you are both fully grown and vying for this throne like never before. You both want it so badly, even though it seems your mother will live another millennia or two. You want her to choose you, teach you, show you. You want that as soon as possible, but neither one of you can ask or force it. On some level, it's understood that one will win and the other will lose. On some level, that's okay. Competition is good. You'd know you did all you could, when it was over."

He took a breath and rested his chin on her shoulder so that when he spoke she could feel his jaw press into her skin.

"Then, it's all different."

His voice fell, almost indicating he could not go on. Before long, he lifted his head again.

"You find out that the throne could never be yours."

Eve inhaled in a light gasp. "Why not?"

"Because your father is not your father. Your queen mother is not your mother. Your sister? Not so. Not only are you not royalty, you are the furthest thing from it. You are a spider monster, rescued as a baby by your good-hearted mother. Masquerading as a princess all those years, none the wiser. They raised you thinking you could keep every last thing in your sight if you worked hard enough. Then it comes to pass that it would have never been allowed. Your sister did not know this, but she will take the throne now. She will not fight for what you believe you have earned. For your family bond is not so. It's a farce. Built on lies, deception. Lies and deception, tricks and illusions? That's all you have left. That's what you are, what your life was built on."

She could feel his torso trembling and spun around to embrace him. "Loki, I'm sorry. That's terrible, I'm sorry." She tried to comfort him, but in the back of her mind all she could think was that she truly didn't understand. She couldn't think of a single constructive thing to say. If he'd told her what terrible monster he really was, would it all have more more sense or less?

"I resent my brother," Loki said. "He didn't know the truth, so in many ways it feels like he ought to be outraged with me. He is not. He will accept the throne from my fa-from his father. All the more easily now that I see no point in competing for it."

"Maybe you could still try?"

Loki laughed bitterly. "After all I've done in rebellion? If I return home, I will be locked up. Possibly killed."

Eve blinked. "Loki, I think there's something you're not seeing."

He wordlessly urged her to continue, calm, doubtful eyes prying into her. He did not, however, invade her mind in some form of magical impatience. He waited for her to speak. Whatever idea she had, though he was certain it would be irrelevant, he wanted to hear it.

"Your brother didn't want you to be taken home. Not really. He didn't want you to be locked up or killed. Why else would he have let you escape?"

Loki wanted to believe this. "I left him no choice but to let me escape. You were there as he and I discussed it-you know this. He did want to bring me home."

"Maybe at first, in the heat of the moment, in that anger. If no one has come looking for us yet-"

"We are well hidden, Eve. I made certain of that."

"Maybe he did lie for you. That would be so telling of a family bond, wouldn't it?"

Loki exhaled, distressed. "I would love to believe that. There's parts of me that want to dwell in anger, lock their doors and never give way to a new concept. I have been let down by my people-who are not really, after all, my people, again and again. To get my hopes up, to maybe expect a change, that is naivete at this point. I must be guarded. I must."

"Maybe after enough time has passed-"

Loki shook his head. His tone after reflected some finality. "I told you what happened. In altered terms, of course, but I did. You asked. I was not looking for advice or a solution. It's bigger than you. We are demigods. My father is the strongest among them, and he is not famously forgiving. In fact, I've seen him hold a grudge over less. Those who tell tales of him would say that he's fair and good and righteous. If all that is true, and in my time with him, time when I thought I was his kin, I would say it is, then I deserve to be locked up or killed for the things I've done."

Eve held onto him tightly, knowing there was nothing she could say to soothe him or help. He was right. In the midst of his kindness the past few days, she'd allowed herself to forget the evil that brewed in his gut. What it was born of, whether rage or angst or exclusion, none of that mattered. Intentions and catalysts could not change outcomes. Understanding why he did some of the things he did would never excuse them. Yet here she was, held onto him like he was a life raft. She saw more in him than other humans did. More than they were able to, especially now with this latest story. Understanding did not soothe her, as she thought it might. It made her more anxious, made her question her own sanity. Here in her arms was a murderer, a psychopath, a devious lunatic. All that born of a family squabble? Oversimplification made it all the more disturbing. Had he been good once? There was no way for her to know, but he was not good now. Yet she held him, still, and felt no guilt.

"Thank you for telling me," she said. "It can't have been easy."

He felt relieved, in all honesty. He'd been holding back this information under the assumption she couldn't understand. Maybe she couldn't, in fact he was sure that she had no idea of the severity, the implication of it all. Yet she listened, she comforted, she tried to provide aide.

They got out and dried themselves off, the ambient lights and sounds bringing peace to them despite the seriousness of their talk.

"We could go for another late night walk," Eve said. "Along the beach out back, maybe? And not too far, I'm worried my legs will give up at any moment."

Sasha scampered into the room, crumbs dusting her mouth as she'd just finished snacking.

"Oh," Loki said. "Look." He held up his hand and Sasha watched carefully. "Sit," he said, moving his hand down. The little dog sat politely, wagging her tail.

Eve covered her mouth to muffle her squeal. "Ah! We have to give her a treat or something!"

"No," Loki said. "Save those for the really hard tricks. Roll over." He spun his finger in a twist.

Sasha gladly rolled onto her back then over onto her belly, tongue out, overjoyed.

"I could cry," Eve said. "She's just the cutest thing in the whole world."

A sound came, then, from the front end of the house. It was faint but sounded like a knock. Eve and Loki looked at each other, both assuring themselves it was a knock on their neighbor's door instead. Still, they walked to the main entrance of the pool room and looked down the long hallway that led directly to the front door. All other rooms and the staircase branched off from this middle route.

The sound came again, louder, and it was harder to excuse as a knock meant for another house. When the third knock sounded, they could see the door reacting to the heavy fist on the other side.

Loki looked at Sasha first, who was worried at their feet. Then, he looked at Eve and spoke to both of his girls before he went to investigate. He said, "Stay."