A/N: Thank you for the reviews :) This chapter is a fair bit shorter than the previous (by about half), but I'll probably end up splitting the first chapter into two (perhaps even three) in the final edit. Smaller chapters = faster updates :D

No beta, mistakes are my own, blah blah~ If you see any mistakes/typos, please tell me! Also if you have any questions/criticisms, hit me up ^^

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Chapter Two: in which there is an unholy alliance

Loki peered down at the mortal, brow creased in confusion. Whether she had been rendered unconscious by the shock of recognising him or the shame of being caught in such a compromising situation - and attire - was unclear. Women were wont to be melodramatic (mortal women in particular) and so he had anticipated and made allowances for some degree of... surprise? Fear? Anger? Though, he had also planned on catching Lady Jane before she invariably travelled to her laboratory to test out her sudden, out of the blue, ingenious (if he did say so himself) idea. That he had not realised how quickly she would react to the slightest glimmer of hope was a rather glaring oversight on his part.

Evidently, she was not a woman to wait around. That could prove useful.

With clinical detachment, he examined the injuries on her face. They appeared to be fresh. From what he knew of Lady Jane's 'best friend', she was, as Thor described her, 'a strange, often confusing mortal, though harmless'; she performed a function similar to that of a servant, though refused to be labeled as such. Had she been placed in recent danger in her capacity as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or had an altercation with a civilian?

He thought about the speed with which Jane had fled their shared dwelling, and dismissed that train of thought out of hand; he would have sensed the danger. Wicked intent had a particularly potent signature, black and cloying, acrid like smoke.

Growing tired of staring at the girl, feeling he had gleaned all he could while she remained unconscious, Loki made a flicking gesture with his fingers-

And dumped half a gallon of conjured ice-cold water on her head.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Loki couldn't help it: he laughed.

A pair of very awake blue eyes glared at him from under a mess of soaking wet brown hair. Her expression faltered for a second, perhaps in fear, and Loki's grin widened. "Y-You," she snarled, small hands balling into fists at her sides. "You! You're the reason Thor is gone and Jane is depressed and won't eat and now you're here looking for Jane to, what? Rub her face in it? You bastard!"

He cocked his head to the side. Thor had been correct (and, oh, wasn't that novel): this girl was unintelligible.

"Guess what, you giant douchewaffle? We're going to get Thor back and there's nothing you can do about it!" she started to right herself, bare feet sliding across the wet floorboards as she struggled to find purchase. She pointed an accusing finger at him and swayed slightly. "And then he's going to help the Avengers put you back in your box. Or whatever it was you crawled out of."

"I do believe you are suffering from a concussion."

Lady Darcy took a step forward, and it would have been threatening were she not soaking wet, bruised, and close to a foot shorter than him. And mortal. "I am not concussed! You just attacked me!"

"You fainted," Loki pointed out, politely. "I merely chose the most expedient option of rousing you."

"I 'fainted' because I don't expect to have Gods turning up in my apartment, uninvited, in the middle of the fucking night! What sort of perverted creeper are you, anyway? This is Earth, buddy. We have laws against this shit," daringly, she poked him in the chest with her index finger, apparently drunk on her anger, or severely concussed. (Or genuinely insane.) "Get out of my way," Lady Darcy tried to shove past him, only to be sent stumbling back after colliding with his shoulder. "Ouch. Are you made of like, marble or something? Jeez. Now: get out of my way."

Loki, face the picture of confusion, found himself complying.

The mortal padded past him and into the living room, picking up a large piece of cloth from a metal fixture on the wall and beginning to violently dry herself off with it (really, there were no other words to describe the aggression with which she approached the task).

He caught the tail end of one of her mutterings and leaned against the wall, perplexed. "You are Lady Darcy, are you not?"

"I thought you were supposed to be, like, the smart one," she said, tossing the cloth onto the floor. Loki scowled at her, but she continued, "So, what? You gonna kill me now or just stare at me?"

"I have no plans to kill you," he said prosaically, despite the voice in his head saying, 'but I would very much like to'. Given the terms of his agreement with the All Father (and those infuriating, inconvenient bindings placed upon his magic), slaying a mortal woman because she annoyed him probably wouldn't go down very well. No matter how satisfying it would be.

"Oh, gee, thanks, Mister God of Mischief and Lies," Lady Darcy picked a small black object off of a shelf and palmed it, giving him a calculating glare. Perhaps she thought it intimidating? "So... I'm just supposed to believe that you're not gonna kill me. Or Jane."

"That would be helpful, yes."

She huffed. "Sorry, but no dice," expression hard, she raised the hand holding the strange object, compressing a button on the side and - "Oh. Shit."

Loki pulled the wires and detached the buzzing, stinging thing from his chest plate. Eyebrow raised, he dropped it to the ground, utterly unimpressed by that particular piece of Midgardian technology. "How eloquent," he deadpanned.

"...There goes my Plan A," Lady Darcy said in a weak voice. She looked like a young colt ready to bolt.

"And Plan B?" by the look on her face, she hadn't thought that far ahead. Ridiculous chit. Through the frustration and the anger, Loki had to admit that he was... entertained. He had to remind himself that he had come here with a purpose: time spent watching this girl cower in fear was time wasted (albeit well wasted; the way her still-wet clothes clung to her rather... generous curves was delightful). "Come now, don't look so frightened," the Trickster walked towards her slowly, arms raised with palms facing outward in a show of peaceful intent. "I came here for information. Very little mischief involved, I assure you."

Lady Darcy took a step back, hitting the wall with a thud. "Nice one, God of Lies," she spat.

Rolling his eyes, Loki cast a simple drying charm on the girl, ridding himself of that particular distraction. She squeaked, arms coming up to cover herself automatically. "Do stop using that epithet against me. It's dull," nodding towards her now dry frame, he smirked. "And it's customary to give thanks when one receives a favour, mortal."

"You're the reason I was wet in the first place, dude."

"You fainted," he said scathingly.

Lady Darcy seemed to rally, and Loki wondered if it was the comfort she took from him playing to the role of villain. "So. Information. You're in the wrong place if you're looking for, like, dirt on S.H.I.E.L.D.. Seriously. I just make the coffee. The only thing you'll get out of torturing me is how to make a rocking cappuccino."

"No, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the brewing of Midgardian beverages are of no particular interest to me. This is regarding a far more... personal matter. One that I believe you will take an interest in," tone of voice deliberately bland, he began: "due to recent circumstance, Thor is unable to leave Asgard. The All Father has forbidden it. I have come to bring news of this to Jane and," Loki paused, dramatically, his grin sharp like the crack of a whip, "to help reunite her with Thor."

"...Say what now?"

Loki blinked, but complied to her strange request. "What?"

Surprisingly, Lady Darcy began to laugh; not the soft, tittering giggles he was used to hearing from maidens, but a warm, full belly-laugh. To his dismay, he found that he rather... liked it. "No, wow. Uhm. I forget that you guys are," she made a strange gesture of waving her hand over her head, which clarified nothing. "No, but. You're like, the Evil Sorcerer. Why would you help Thor? You hate him."

"I find the term 'evil' somewhat limiting," he said. "And without my aid, I am afraid that their marriage is doomed to failure."

"Why? Think Thor's gonna mess it up, or some mortal girl ain't gonna be able to handle all that godliness, because let me tell you, they're doing great."

Loki smirked. "No, not at all. I was merely referring to Thor's impending marriage to Lady Sif."

"Say what now?"

"What?" Loki growled, annoyed, but Lady Darcy didn't laugh.

"What are you doing?" He frowned, watching as she waded through the discarded blankets strewn across the floor and into an adjoining room.

"I'm getting an icepack," came the disembodied voice. "If you hadn't noticed, my face is... Eh. Yeah." She reappeared carrying a strange plastic bag filled with a bright blue liquid; Loki vaguely wondered what strange sort of highly toxic chemical their science had concocted for this purpose. "Well, you said you weren't gonna kill me, so," she shrugged, sitting down on the sofa, apparently unbothered by the chaos surrounding her. And the still-rather-villainous ex-villain in her living room.

Loki had surreptitiously checked her pupils, and she didn't appear to be suffering from a concussion. That Thor's beloved was best friends with an insane woman was either a testament to her strength of character or an inditement of her own mental stability.

Watching Lady Darcy fuss with the coverlets, he felt a pang of annoyance. "Do I not frighten you?"

"Of course you do," she answered simply, as if he were a fool. She wasn't lying. "You tried to take over the Earth, bitchslapped the Avengers, attempted genocide and killed a whole bunch of people. I'd have to be pretty stupid to not be scared."

True, all of it (apart from 'bitchslap'; he was unfamiliar with that turn of phrase). Perhaps she wasn't so foolish, or insane. He attempted to catch her gaze, but she was staring at a spot on the floor with an interest so intense it couldn't possibly be genuine.

"So... Thor's getting married? To a woman who isn't Jane?" she asked, teeth worrying her full lower lip. "And you had nothing to do with this?"

"Yes, I habitually force people into marriages they want no part of," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Odin thought it a suitable union."

For some reason, this enraged her. "Wait-" Lady Darcy pushed her hair back out of her face, expression incredulous. "Thor agreed to this?"

Loki nodded. "He cannot go against Odin in this," he crossed his arms behind his back. "Which is where I come in."

"So you're playing cupid?" she snorted.

"Sorry?"

"No, I mean- nevermind," Loki raised an eyebrow at her amused expression, but she changed the subject. "Let me get this straight: you're helping a guy you hate get married to the woman he loves, out of what? The kindness of your heart?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "My motives are of no import."

"I love Jane, and I love Thor," she said. Her eyes swept over him, from his thick boots to his slicked back hair. With a strange surge of pleasure, he realised that she was assessing him - appraising him. "So... I guess. If you're telling the truth, then..." she trailed off, staring at her hands in her lap. "I'm in."

Startled, and at a momentary loss for words, Loki cocked his head. Eyes narrowed, he sucked in a breath. "...Beg your pardon?"

"This whole saving Thor thing. I'm in."

Stepping forward so that they were separated by only a small table, Loki smirked. He leaned forwards, using his height to loom over her. "You mean to say that you wish to aid the God of Mischief in his plans?"

Lady Darcy looked up at him, suddenly not so sure of herself. "Yeah. I guess... I guess I do."

"And you realise that this will be binding," his plans were falling together so perfectly, pieces clinking into place with nary a snare despite this girl's mercurial nature; Loki realised with a start that, yes, he could really, really do this. He could get away with this.

Her eyes widened comically. "Binding?"

Loki's answering grin was catlike.

In the lab, Jane ran over the numbers for the eighth time that night. She had been right; this was the last clue, the last, integral part of the formula that they needed - that she needed - to open up the path between the worlds. The path that led directly to him, and whatever it was that dared think that it could keep him from her.

On the other side of the universe, Thor stood, gazing out of his window, out at the sprawling grounds of the palace, the villages, the ocean - out at the stars, wishing he knew which was the one mortals called the Sun.

Of late, Sif had been particularly ruthless in her sparring sessions. The healers complained of the increased workload, though never within earshot. The Lady had a very nasty temper.

Darcy, for her part, was wondering when her life had become like something out of a TV show or a novel but, y'know, without the cool bits. She was talking to a God in her pyjamas - her tank top and short shorts pyjamas that were only supposed to be seen by friends of the female variety - with a mashed up face, a messy apartment and, oh yea, he was a God.

And he kept looking at her like she was a particularly interesting bug under a microscope, and she guessed she was. (The bug part; the interesting part she'd take as a compliment. It soothed her poor bruised ego.)

He was staring at her again, all sharp lines and predatory intent and, damnit, were all Asgardians so painfully good looking? Or was it a royalty thing? Was she going to hell for getting turned on by a quite possibly psychotic wizard?

"You would have my word that I would not harm you, nor your friend," he said. Like that was going to make her feel any better about this.

She said as much. "How's your word supposed to make me feel safe that you won't just turn around and zap me?"

Loki glared at her, poison green eyes flashing. "I have done many things, but I would never break an oath."

Huh, so oaths meant different things on Asgard? She supposed it made sense, in a warrior society that praised honour, valour and bravery before all else. (No wonder Loki had - literally - gone off the deep end. Her inner political scientist was all over this shit.) "So I have your word, then, Mister?" Darcy hated how small her voice sounded.

When she thought she was going to die, well, everything had seemed different. She had held on to the faint hope that she could tase him (like she had done to his mortal'd brother, but that might as well have been a lifetime ago, now). Bravado. Keeping up appearances. It didn't hurt that she was already angry, already upset, depressed, hormonal and ready to choke a bitch; Loki couldn't have popped in at a worse time. Speaking of which...

"You need to learn to knock, dude," she said, temporarily removing the icepack and its blessed chilliness from her face. "We do things differently here, and if this, whatever this is, is going to work... Manners. You'll need them."

He stopped doing what he was doing (which was going through her embarassingly extensive DVD collection) and gave her a funny look. "I will endeavour to do so in future, Lady Darcy."

She smiled, and he gave her a smaller one by way of response before going back to his snooping. Heh. She'd been totally right. Creeper.

"What time will Lady Jane return?"

"...Why?"

He smirked enigmatically. "I wish to speak to her, but her laboratory is under heavy surveillance and I have no desire for a reunion with S.H.I.E.L.D.. Though I'm sure Fury has missed me terribly."

"Ah, so that's why you're still here," he looked at her quizzically. "I was wondering why you hadn't teleported back to your evil lair by now."

"Indeed," he said. When he moved, and the light caught him at an angle that was just so... He almost looked like he'd had his nose broken. Weird. "Tell me about Lady Jane; I've heard of her from Thor, but if this plan is going to work, then I'll need to know if she's capable."

"Capable?"

Loki laughed, and it was more than a touch mocking. "You didn't think this would be easy, did you?"

No, Darcy thought, she didn't. Not considering the way the universe was pretty much out to get her. "I won't tell you anything that you could use to hurt her. I don't trust you."

"I don't expect you to."

"Good," she said, and squared her shoulders. With a prayer to whoever was listening, she started to tell him what he needed to know.