A/N: Thanks to all those who read and reviewed :) You people are awesome. And thanks times a billion-ty to mskaityw who agreed to beta this for me :3 (And has beta'd this chapter :D) Much love to you all~

Sorry for the delay between chapters - I was ill, and couldn't find the will to get out of bed and write :c But updates should be (god willing) much more regular and timely from now on :D

Reviews are love ^^

Chapter Three: in which there is cowardice

It was morning. Sunlight came streaming in through the open curtains, filling the small bedroom with bright morning light. Birds were singing, and, in the distance, there was the faint buzz of car motors.

Darcy swore violently and pulled her covers up over her head.

Hopefully, if she ignored it for long enough, morning would go away and leave her alone.

It hadn't worked in the face of Norse gods, but hope springs eternal.

Though, when she thought about it, both gods and morning were equally detrimental to her sleep. And general well-being.

Loki had eventually sat down, sprawling in their ratty armchair like it was a throne. Evil he might have been, but she had to admit that the guy had some serious presence - it took a special kind of poise to be able to sit like (for lack of a better word) a whore, and still look preternaturally elegant. Damn him.

"Lady Darcy?"

"Sorry?" she said, momentarily distracted by his splayed legs and general air of nonchalance.

He rolled his eyes. "You were telling me about... poker?" He said it as if it was a dirty word or some sort of unpleasant virus that caused projectile vomiting.

"Oh, right. Well. You see, the thing is, Jane is really, really bad at it," Darcy sighed. "It's those big, cute brown eyes."

Loki's brow creased, and he narrowed his eyes. "And you find this relevant, because...?"

"Well, poker's all about being able to bluff," she had explained. This whole situation was getting more and more surreal. The dude was supposed to be the God of Lies and he didn't even know about poker? "Y'know, being able to lie convincingly, so people think you have better cards than you do."

"I see," he said. "So, in essence, Lady Jane is terrible at lying."

"Exactly," Darcy said, with a smile. He was getting it!

"...Then why did you not just mention that in the first place and be done with it?"

She grimaced at the memory, burying her head underneath her pillow. Darcy really hadn't been at her best last night. And, truth be told, her best wasn't all that great, but why did she always have to make herself sound like such a fucking ditz? Was there a sign above her head with a giant arrow pointing down spelling out the word 'idiot' in giant neon letters?

Still, Loki had been oddly polite for an evil (or amoral) alien sorcerer, especially considering the fact that he was dealing with a crazy half-naked mortal, who'd poked him and tried to taser him (not her finest moment), dressed only in her PJs. Her old, skimpy PJs.

Heh. Maybe that's why he was so polite? she thought, but dismissed it with a snort. No, with hair like that, she was pretty sure he was gay.

He'd left an hour or so before daybreak, for which she was extremely thankful. No matter what he'd promised her, he was terrifying, intense and predatory in equal measure. She didn't want to trust him, and she'd told him nothing that he wouldn't have been able to find out from Thor or a couple of minutes in Jane's presence, but... But, if he was telling the truth, and Odin was up there in Asgard making a mess of things, then Loki was right: he was the only one who could put things to rights.

And the look on his face when she'd suggested he'd break a promise... He'd looked like he was about to rip her spine out through her throat with nothing but the force of his fury. He'd looked unstable. And, if she hadn't been looking for it and hadn't heard the stories from Jane, from Thor, she never would of seen it, but Loki had looked... insulted. Hurt.

If she was honest, that was even scarier than when she'd woken up from a dead faint to find Loki towering above her wearing at least thirty pounds of leather and metal (maybe it was a fetish; the other Asgardian's she'd met didn't dress like that - couldn't have been comfortable). Darcy knew what to expect from him when he snarled and sniped at her; what she couldn't deal with was when he was... Well, vulnerable.

Sighing, and feeling highly strung, Darcy tossed off the covers, resigned to her sleepless fate.

Really, she needed another few hours, both to recover and to steel herself for the day ahead: for Jane's inevitable phone call, which would lead to Darcy going running to the lab, straight to Jane's side (she was powerless against those pleading puppy eyes and the promise of free coffee - powerless) and then... Then...

And then she'd have to tell her best friend that Thor was a month and a half away from getting hitched to some smokin' warrior Goddess.

"It will sound better coming from someone she trusts," Loki had said, and Darcy totally agreed with him, except she was almost a hundred percent sure he was getting her to do it because he was douche and didn't want to have to deal with a hysterical, crying woman.

She told him as much, distinctly unimpressed.

He just smirked. The bastard.

"Ugh. Men."

Darcy leaned over and grabbed her glasses off the bedside table, slipping them on and rolling inelegantly off the bed. Grumbling under her breath about gods, work, Jane and life, she padded towards the bathroom.

It was gonna be a loooong day.

"My son," came a voice from behind him, and Loki froze mid-step, unable to move forward, unable to bring himself to turn around.

It had been some time since he had last had dealings with the King, more time still since he had been alone in his company. This was not coincidence, and Odin, for his part, had seemed content with that state of affairs. Mutual avoidance. Why would he seek out the company of the Trickster, after all, unless he had a dirty deed that could only be completed by sullied, crafty hands? (Or to accuse him of things he was seldom involved with?)

"All Father," he acknowledged, the barest of edges in his voice.

"What mischief are you up to this time, Loki?"

Ah. That explained this impromptu meeting. "Nothing that should concern you, my king."

"So you are up to something, then," Odin said. "Have you forgotten the conditions of your freedom so soon?"

"Of course not," Loki did turn then, masks firmly in place. He was the picture of polite indifference. "Nor do I plan on breeching those terms."

Odin's one eye was narrowed, and he searched Loki's face. "I do not believe you."

"Few do."

"Loki," the All Father sighed. "You cloaked yourself from our sight. What tricks do you play? Did you go to Midgard, to plot more revenge against that innocent realm? To seek out the mortal with whom Thor fancies himself in love?"

"No," he said simply. Odin was getting dangerously close to the truth. "Though, I was on Midgard, and I did visit with a mortal, though she was most assuredly not Lady Jane Foster," Loki smirked, sudden and sharp. He let the insinuation hang. "As I said, nothing that should concern you. I cloaked myself for your benefit as much as mine." Though it was more for mine, admittedly, Loki thought.

The All Father's jaw tightened. To think that the other prince would fall sway to a mortal's charms, even if they were not the heir to the throne (or particularly beloved), must have stung. "You lie."

"Sometimes."

"Loki," he intoned. "I do not trust you. And if indeed you are carrying out a," he paused, "dalliance with a mortal, then you will maintain some level of discretion."

Loki's smirk turned into a grin. "I intend to." You utter fool.

Nodding at the All Father, Loki made to continue along the corridor, but Odin held up a hand to stop him. "This is a troubling time, Loki," he said gravely. "And we must all play our parts."

Yes, we must, mustn't we? Loki thought. He raised an eyebrow, as if somehow surprised, or interested, by the All Father's rather overdramatic non-sequitur. After millennia, Loki was rather well versed in this dance they shared: of talking in riddles, where the meaning lay in the gaps between words, crease of Odin's brow and the quirk of Loki's lips. "Of course, All Father."

"You know why I have chosen this union."

It wasn't a question, but Loki knew Odin expected an answer nonetheless. "Yes."

Loki was rapidly growing bored of this already tedious conversation.

"And you will not interfere in this."

"I had not planned to," Loki said, which was entirely true. He hadn't planned to.

(Not until he'd known the details of the marriage, that is.)

"And now?"

Ah, that Odin still thought he could trap Loki with words was hilarious; it would be easier to catch the wind with your bare hands. (Time was supposed to be a teacher, but judging by the regular failings of her Asgardian students, she was a poor one. Which, for a race of near-immortal beings, was just sad.)

"You believe that I would help Thor?" he asked, incredulous, real frustration slipping through the masks. "For no personal gain, no thanks- and to be executed for treason at the end of it? You claim to know me, All Father. Does that sound like Loki to you?"

Odin considered this, but seemed resigned: to admit that Loki was altruistic, in any regard, even if his method were mischief, would cost him too much. Pride and vanity were sins they both shared. "I do not understand all of your ways or motives, Trickster. You have done stranger things in the face of punishment."

"I do not want to die," Loki pointed out, an obvious truth. It was a weakness: an admission of fear.

While his expression did not change, something in Odin's eye softened. "Then do not put me into a position where I would have to kill you, my son."

"I shall endeavour to keep myself out of trouble." Whether or not I will be successful remains to be seen.

After travelling the hidden pathways with very little sleep and less food, Loki was starting to feel exhaustion creep up on him; he did not have the will to stand in the corridor and be lectured by the old man, for all he believed he was doing the right thing. The Midgardians had another saying, didn't they? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Remarkably astute for such an unremarkable race.

Loki could feel the beginnings of a headache forming as Odin dismissed him (finally - the All Father's parting speech had been needlessly verbose and rather heavy on the threats, as if threatening Loki had ever done any good). Hopefully he would be able to get a few hours of sleep, perhaps some food, before he would be called upon again; using even comparatively paltry amounts of magic left him feeling run down and ill. Until the bindings were lifted... Well, there was nothing Loki could do but seethe in silence, and rest.

Darcy's phone started to ring just as she was working her way through her second cup of coffee of the day. (The first coffee turned her from a coma patient into a drooling undead; the second made her start to resemble a member of the human race, if only in body shape. She'd probably be completely sentient after her third. Or fourth.) She put the coffee mug down on the table lovingly, stroking the still-warm handle idly as she flipped open her mobile.

"Hi, Jane," Darcy mumbled, because Jane was the only person insane enough to call Darcy in the morning. (Except Tony Stark that one time, and he hasn't dared do it since. Smart man.) "How's things?"

"I really think I've got it this time, Darce!" Jane's voice sounded so damn happy despite the poor quality and the constant buzz of background static. Darcy felt buoyed in response. "If the next batch of tests give the same results, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s giving us the all clear for some real test runs."

"Wow! Space, here we come!"

Jane giggled. "I know. It's amazing," she sighed. "They said Tony Stark might even come down to take a look at this. It would make sense, considering how much tech he's given to us."

"Awesome," Darcy grinned, even if no one was there to see it. Tony Stark may have been an asshole, but he was a funny asshole, and, hey, Darcy liked a man with snark. And his own billion-dollar empire. Though it was mostly the snark. (Only not really.)

"I know!"

"What time do you need me down there?"

"As soon as possible, really," Jane replied. There was a shuffling noise in the background that sounded suspiciously like a stack of paper being knocked over. "Oh no..."

Scientists, Darcy thought, rolling her eyes fondly. "I'll be down there in half an hour, tops."

"Thanks, Darcy," Jane said, and Darcy could picture the relieved look on her friend's face, even as she heard her struggling with what could only be a colossal stack of notes.

The call ended, and Darcy was left staring at her empty coffee mug, realising that she was about to rain all over Jane's parade. Oh, welcome back, nerves. I haven't missed you.

Despite the fact that Jane hadn't brushed her hair or showered, she still looked beautiful as she tapped away at her keyboard, face illuminated by the glow of her monitor screen. As Darcy had expected, there was a pile of notes to the left of her on the desk, disorganised and rumpled, and she wondered again why the astrophysicist resisted fully computerising all of her research so vehemently. It would've made Darcy's job a helluva lot easier (though, that wasn't why she was working here, was it?).

"Hey," she called out, dropping her bag on one of the available surfaces. "Have you eaten yet?"

Jane smiled at her sheepishly and brushed some hair from her face. "Er, not exactly."

"Jane."

"This is too important!"

Darcy huffed and reached into her handbag, pulling out a cellophane wrapped cheese sandwich. "Here," she said, putting it down on the desk next to Jane. "Now you have no excuse."

The scientist shot her a grateful look, and Darcy hovered nearby, wringing her hands. She willed herself not to chicken out, because- Because Jane deserved to know. After all she'd done for Darcy, she deserved honesty, and she deserved to have a best friend who wasn't a complete and utter coward.

"Loki came to visit last night," she blurted, and, crap, she really, really needed to learn how to self-censor.

There was a pregnant pause.

"...What?"

That seemed to be the standard response when confronted with Darcy.

"He just showed up, right after you left," Darcy winced. That sounded bad. Jane stared at her like she'd just grown another head, and she felt like she probably wasn't explaining herself very well, so she clarified: "He said- I mean. He didn't hurt me. And he promised he won't, like, hurt me in future. Or kill me. Or you. Or either of us, really, which I thought was pretty awesome, because, hey, vengeful gods aren't well-known for, uh, not hurting people."

"Wait- Vengeful? You mean Loki's here? On Earth? Oh my god!"

Darcy frowned. "Well, no. He said he was going back to Asgard after, ah-"

"You talked to him?"

"He was being-" Nice? Hardly. Loki was all too-sharp smiles and haughty derision, swanning about their tiny apartment like someone who'd escaped a Lord of the Rings convention (and still, somehow, managing to look badass while doing it). He was... Polite? At times. Though her first impression of him (laughing at her freezing, soaking wet misery) were right up there in the Worst Moments of Darcy's Life; right behind the time she'd been dared to eat a glow-stick at a club and ended up vomiting all over her boyfriend right in the middle of the dance floor (he never did get the fluorescent green out of that shirt).

Darcy wasn't the kind of girl that embarrassed easily, but swooning like a Victorian heroine in her PJs? Bad. Doing so in front of a guy who could literally magic her into an ant and step on her? Very bad. Mucho badness. Not the kind of message she wanted to send out. She was a strong, independent woman who held her own and didn't take shit from anyone - not even sexy super-villains with bitching cheekbones.

God, what must he think of her?

Well, he was a god. He probably didn't think of her as anything beyond pathetic mortal with a propensity to hurt herself in ridiculous (and possibly amusing) ways.

"...Darcy? Are you okay?"

She blinked, not realising that she'd zoned out. "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking about how awesome I'd look in period costume. Y'know, full Jane Austen - don't make a Mr. Darcy joke or I'll have to hurt you Jane, and I love you, so I don't want to have to do that."

Jane looked caught somewhere between confusion and worry (and laughing). It wasn't a good look, even on her. "Are you sure he didn't do anything to you, Darcy?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation. Darcy was pretty sure she would know if someone had been tinkering around in her head. "This is all me."

"Doesn't surprise me," the petite brunette muttered, running a hand over her face and managing, somehow, to look even more exhausted. "What did he have to say for himself, then?"

"You're... you're not mad?"

"No!" Jane squeaked, surprised. "Why would I be? Should I be? You said he didn't do anything, Darcy-"

"Nononono! I just. I mean. It's Loki."

"Oh," Jane said. "Well, yes, there's that. But, I trust Thor, and Thor trusts his brother. And Thor's told me... A lot. So while I'm still not sure what I think of Loki..."

"You don't think he's got anything to do with Thor, uhm, not being here."

"I don't know what I think, Darcy," she said, and Darcy wrapped her arms around her friend, resting her head on Jane's shoulder. "Did he say anything?"

"Uhm."

"Did Loki say anything, Darcy? About Thor? The Bifrost?" Jane looked so hopeful, her eyes wide and open and beautiful, because she was always beautiful in that innocent, childlike way and Darcy- Darcy-

Darcy opened her mouth to tell her that, yes, he'd said something really fucking important, but the words stuck in her throat, and she felt like she was choking on nerves and sympathy and fear and- And she couldn't. "No, Jane, he- he didn't."

"Then why- oh god, we should call S.H.I.E.L.D., Darcy, if he wasn't here about- about that-"

"No Jane, don't worry, he just wanted to know how to, uhm, use a computer. And stuff. I guess Thor told Loki about how pro I am with the internet. Like a ninja. Y'know, 'cause our weak Earthly technology was a little too much for his godliness, what with all of its buttons and traumatising memes. And he couldn't be bothered to read the manual," Darcy smiled, feeling her nerves abate and then redouble out of the sheer wrongness of what she was having to do. Trust her conscience to sneak up on her when it was already too late. Damnit. "Typical guy."

Jane looked incredulous, but it startled a laugh out of her. "Really?"

"Really. Nothing to worry about," Darcy lied, and released the astrophysicist from the hug with a gentle pat on the back.

She was the shittiest friend ever.