A/N~

Hello all!

A few things have been changed just nothing pivotal to the plot. I've been editing a lot with the help of 2 awesome BETA's named BrazenMonkey and TheSopranoinShadow both of whom I was very blessed to get a hold of and who helped my story lose a lot of weight! At least 8 pages... Yaay! Thank you!

*Expect an update around late May. I'm mid-way through writing the next chapter I just need the stress of school to subside and some major BETA-ing done. If no update happens you have my permission to pester me to your hearts content.

The Haunted

Chapter 4

"We're all of us haunted and haunting."

― Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby

The first thing Darcy Lewis noticed as she entered the building was the musty stale air and the clutter of valuables ranging from antique radios to giant manuscripts disgruntled workers shifted by them with.

As Strange escorted them around his family's hall he told them of how his elderly uncle had been managing the Manor only to become eccentric in his old age just before he passed away. Hence, the decrepit in decay state everything was in.

But other than that the inside was really something else.

Sanctum Manor was a medieval mansion that had apparently been under construction for generations. The ceiling frescos where they had entered from were some of the oldest parts of the Manor. Most noticeable the hall's large circular glass window that hung over the foyer. With its criss-cross curved wedges of black swooping lines and intricate stained glass, it was like being surrounded by a thousand tiny symbols.

Strange called the design an ancient algorithm; Darcy thought it beautiful.

Even the floors they stood upon had symbols woven into their tiles. The quarry of stones having come from the rubble of the Sanctum Sanctorum Monastery buried beneath them. The name meaning holiest of holies. Ascending each side of the Manor stood two flights of staircases going up to the second floor where they'd be spending their nights. The place even housed a library leading directly to an attic built specifically for housing the Strange family heirlooms.

Passing family photos and rusting suits of armor they made their way through a corridor to the left wing and all the while Darcy could feel the giddiness rising within her.

To spend all her time with Jane in such an atmospheric building …it'd be like living in a museum. And, as if reading her mind, Matthews moved up behind her. "You want to wander off and explore don't you?" His words sent shivers down Darcy's spine, but she pushed the feeling back as he continued, "face it Darcers you're as obvious as a punch in the face."

"I'll Falcon Punch you in the face for what you did to me back there!" She growled only to receive stares from Jane and the other agents gathering around Strange, "just how many of you are staying with us if there are only eight rooms?" She whispered, "I mean you heard him! The guy just said the servant's quarters is now the sunroom."

Happy to see that she was finally talking to him Jacob sheepishly spoke up, "Most of them are off to London to keep tabs on the Mutant hate rallies. I mean come on not that many of us are needed here. What do we have to worry about? Ghosts?"

Oh, whatever, Darcy thought while pushing past him, the way she figured it the less of them the better. Her interest now seamlessly back on the illusion of length the corridor was causing her to feel. They had entered the living room and the place looked like a cluster fuck of generational gaps, like a Jackson Pollock, it had her eyes moving in all directions.

To the left of her lay a portion of the room with a television set, couch and comforter the so called ailing uncle had most likely spent all his time in. With microwave dinner wrappings scattered along a giant throw rug by the fireplace somber portraits of relatives stared them down through thick layers of dust. The afternoon light streaming through the windows to cast eerie shadows along their somber faces. But what struck Darcy most was the self-portrait at the center of them.

He was tall and slender with a fair, sanguine complexion. His long black hair pulled back into a dignified ponytail as he wore red velvet like one would an artist's gown. He was a very handsome man but his eyes looked haggard, it wrapped the entire room in an air of misery. He clutched what looked like some type of a pendant, a bronzed amulet in the shape of an eye, swirling beads decorating its core. It was the oddest thing she had ever seen. Entranced by him and what he wore Darcy became an encyclopedia of questions.

"What's that around his neck?" she compulsively asked the Doctor.

But, instead of appealing to her inquisitive nature, Strange rudely ignored her, continuing on with his tour. It had been the fourth question of hers to be shot down by him that day and it was leading her to really dislike him. She knew how he viewed her being there and her station but would it kill him to at least be polite to her? He was releasing feelings in her long bottled up...ones of her own inadequacies.

It wasn't until Jane had asked him the same thing that Darcy learned the picture had apparently been of the first owner of the house. Following the 'Dissolution of the Monasteries' the Crown had taken possession of the estate, rebuilt it, and granted ownership to Sir Stephen Strange a court physician of Queen Elizabeth I. And then, that was that, Stephen Strange's descendant didn't want to be asked anymore questions about the man, looking as though he was just itching to get out of the room.

"I truly am sorry but I really must get going. If you need anything, anything at all, just call this number at the address," with an apologetic look on his face, Strange handed Jane a paper pad, "I reside in Greenwich Village it's only a two hour drive away. We will, of course, allow you to settle in for a few days… I mean we really weren't expecting you so soon." And with a nervous laugh he was gone leaving them to their own devices.

Once Strange had departed Jane's mood shifted from ridiculously perky to deliberately anti-social. And, rather than mingling with the rest of them, she instead invested all her time to unpacking. Handing Darcy the usb drive with her and Selvig's work to be reformatted she ignored her friend's questions on how Erik fared. With a quick "maybe later Darcy" the scientist had shut the door to her room on her intern's face.

The day had now turned from exciting to complete downer for Darcy as she made her way to the bedroom Strange had placed her face instantly falling at what she saw.

She'd been placed in a children's nursery room! Possibly the smallest room in the entire house!

Its walls a discolored yellow with ugly hues of olive the room looked Victorian in stature but with a failed modern twist. The place itself a stale reminder of where children had once slept, washed, and played and Darcy figured it hadn't really been in use since Strange was a child. The musty beds causing her to go into a sneezing fit.

Hands turned to fists Darcy used all her anger to lift the notches of her window open, getting some air circulating in the room. Strange's actions burned her, left her to feel small and self-conscious, like a bad taste in the mouth. Something she really didn't need to feel right now with her imminent return to school in a few months. Leaving her right back to square one: wondering what she was going to be doing with the rest of her life.

And, if placing her in a nursery wasn't enough, the room was littered with creepy china dolls; some lying along the table, behind the mirror, lined up against the desk. Darcy hated realistic looking dolls with a passion, and instead of fully unpacking, she took her time turning their heads around so they wouldn't look at her.

She was just about to insert her laptop cord into an electrical outlet and start work when she stopped. Hadn't she seen Jacob and Wilson playing Galaga on Jacob's cell? That meant they had hacked into some type of secret S.H.I.E.L.D. Internet hot-spot downstairs, right?

Locating Matthews with the other agents partaking in a sword fight Darcy interrogated him for his password only to come up empty handed(the man had downloaded Galaga while at the airport).

It was then that Darcy discovered something else about her agent that day something she wished she really hadn't. Matthews, it seemed, still kept lingering feelings for an ex, her presence cluttering up his cell phone. A girl he had no problem showing off as they bickered over passwords. Darcy felt sick inside. She should have known all the attention he lathered on her was too good to be true.

Now sitting alone in the one room with the most light, her workload by her side and a heavy sense of self-pity, Darcy Lewis tried to at least enjoy the sunroom's curved glass corners while working in silence. The rest of the agents having scattered after the lecture their superior, Agent Sitwell, had given them for fooling around on S.H.I.E.L.D. time.

"All work and no pay makes Darcy a dull girl," the intern muttered as she typed while staring outside.

As much as she hated to admit it Matthews had been right about her earlier. The entire place was going to be like one giant distraction and already she had a case of the wanderlust just looking out at the vast expanse of weeds and overgrown gardens before her.

Well, she thought, it's not like anyone would notice if I were gone for a little while, and with that somber thought in mind Darcy Lewis took off to get a better view of the estate.

Although it wasn't the most prestigious of country houses from a far Sanctum Manor still managed to retain an air of opulence. And now, after having wandered quite the distance, she didn't really want to turn back just yet. This vacant lot was a rather refreshing place to be in after being stuck in a moving vehicle all day.

Now feeling the need to do more than just stretch her limbs Darcy hummed a simple melody, and with no one around to watch her or tell her what to do, she half-heartedly moved along to the music in her head, running her hands along long blades of weedy grass. Darcy mostly ignored the flow of thoughts that troubled her. Matthews and his Ex, Strange and his slights, Jane and her aloofness. There was something freeing about not being bothered by her thoughts. To just relax and allow herself to feel lost in the moment.

And there in lied Darcy's mistake.

The hot summer weather was shifting, heavy in its humidity, coming in streams of mist to cloak the bleak landscape, clothing it like a heavy garment. The air now turned thick to the point where she could barely see, her glasses so dampened she had to take them off.

A crackle of energy flitted through her, a thickening in the air as she realized she was not alone.

A man had been following her.

He was not too far off from where she stood and thinking him one of the agents, or worse Matthews, Darcy nervously brushed back strands of frizzy hair to give him a sheepish smile; utterly red with her embarrassment.

And yet… the man looked shocked that she had even spotted him at all.

From what Darcy could manage without her glasses on was that he was an incredibly tall man in an incredibly odd getup. With an inky mess of black hair his eyes bore holes straight into her as he just kept staring. She didn't know why but something inside her propelled her towards him.

"Hey!" She yelled out to the stranger as he slinked further away.

Who was this guy if not an agent?

Fear rolled over Darcy as it became harder and harder for her to discern right from left and left from right in the growing mist. She desperately tried to follow her follower with her interest now piqued, but not for long, as clammy hands tightly gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her back.

Darcy screamed, the sound reverberating throughout the fields, causing frightened birds to scatter into flight. The mist now parted paths to reveal, not her mystery man, but the glaring image of Dr. Strange.

"It would be very wise for you to never do that again," The Doctor sternly droned his voice barely above a whisper, "the fog here plays tricks on the eyes." Spinning her round to look at her folly Darcy gasped as she realized what she had only been a few steps away from. They were hovering over a steep cliff, small rocks falling from their movements to drop into a deep whirling pool of water.

The man had saved her life.

"S-sorry it's just I-sometimes get-," she stuttered, trying to catch her bearings; quickly thinking of a lie, "so lost in thought-?"

Strange's intense glare hung with suspicion until finally his crinkled brow softened."That's quite... alright. I often forget what it's like to be young. It took me about half a decade to figure out what I wanted to dedicate my life to-"

Darcy paused, was this his absent-minded way of apologizing to her for being such an ass earlier?

"Once I even flirted with the idea of becoming a surgeon-," he stopped at that sentence only to stare at his hands, "but we all have to valiantly face what life throws at us, don't we? Demons and all."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? And what the hell was he still doing lurking around here if he had told them earlier he needed to get going? But Darcy opted not to ask him that, for he could very well ask her something similar, her dislike for the Doctor rising.

"There's a storm brewing Ms. Lewis… it'd be in your best interest to head inside." Darcy simply nodded, at this point willing to agree to anything the scientist said to get her out of such an awk-weird situation.

Back in the Manor's sunroom safe and sound, Darcy Lewis typed away at her laptop, finding solace in the sunroom's large mullion windows bathed in tiny rain drops.

Once again she was burdened with mediocre work; once again left to her own devices. Only this time they revolved around that possible figment of her imagination, that mystery man. Was it just here or were the similarities between him and Strange's ancestor remarkably uncanny?

While her mind raced with questions Darcy's computer began playing Muse's latest song Survival and thrilled by the news that they'd be featured in the 2012 Olympics Darcy concentrated on the lyrics rather than the loud rat-a-tat of rain drops against the window panes.

"I'll reveal my strength, to the whole human race. Yes I am prepared to stay alive-" for some odd reason the song was skipping on her; jumping back to the beginning, then slowing down, then speeding up, until finally the words no longer made any sense. "I w-t fo-giv—an- I w- gi-ve i-,"and then nothing, leaving Darcy to stare at her screen and wonder...the hell?

"Because I choose to thrive!" Darcy yelped, throwing her head phones to the floor as that last bit of song practically blasted her eardrums out. What the hell was going on here? Her computer had indicated low battery and flipped off… but that wasn't even possible because it had been fully charged only seconds ago!

It was as though something had sucked the energy right out of it.

A loud crash was heard against the window pane to the right of her; startling her out of her stupor. Darcy jumped up from her seat to investigate where it had came from, but there was nothing there, so why-

Darcy's heart stopped as a bird came crashing down the middle of a window pane above her. Near where she'd been sitting only moments ago. The fatal collision of flesh against glass leaving a gaping hole.

Heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird Darcy felt some major chills rippling down her spine. The large magpie was just lying there unmoving. And as seconds turned to minutes, slowly but surely, Darcy tried making her way around the thing to get to her computer, tip-toeing discretely across broken glass.

The bird was no more than an arms-length away from her when it sat up and propelled itself towards her biting her in the leg with all its strength. Darcy cried out, shaking it off her and kicking it as far away from her as she could. Watching in horror as it made its way towards her again to suddenly just-

Drop dead.

Trying to repress the feeling of wanting to curl up into a small bundle and hide, Darcy rolled up her pants up to examine herself for any bruising, goosebumps rushing over her flesh at what she saw lingering in the mist outside. For it wasn't rain that had been hitting the sunroom's windows but crows, crows now dead and littering the ground like a bad omen.

When the Agent calvary had finally arrived with Jane and Sitwell in tow Darcy was a complete mess, not because of what she'd seen, she had already rationalized the birds were the result of the impeding storm...

It was what she had felt afterwards.

It was like she was going in and out of a dazed trance. Feeling wickedly cold even though it was sizzling hot inside, Darcy literally felt drained. Like someone had taken a hold of her head and was shaking it like a pair of maracas, clouding her vision and making everything hurt.

Jane attributed Darcy's flu-like symptoms to the fatigue of not having really eaten anything substantial all day. And as Sitwell began to call someone in to clean the scientist lead her intern to the dining room table. All the while telling Darcy how Strange had dropped groceries off for their supper.

Taking some of Jane's aspirin Darcy felt slightly better at the dinner table, her bad habit of shaking having gone down somewhat as they made light conversation under the flickering light of a chandelier. It was only when Matthews had attributed her sickness to a mild case of hypochondria that Darcy reverted back to her old self again, getting a few laughs out of everyone in the room. Especially when she had told Matthews he deserved the gold medal for biggest ass.

Trying to go about her day like normal was exasperating after all the amount of weird so it was no surprise that after dinner Darcy Lewis excused herself and went off to bed. Her peculiar illness was fading and the only thing she felt now was fatigue.

Her room was freezing and pushing the window down sadly wasn't an option for her anymore. With no anger to fuel her strength, Darcy could only glare in the window's direction. Listening to her iPod was also a no go. The stupid thing, like her computer, was glitchy.

So instead Darcy tried to come up with another way to calm her nerves as she slowly began to nod off. Keeping her mind occupied on other things, things she could enjoy thinking about in the comfort of her own privacy, things that would definitely warm her up. Darcy's lucid thoughts began to run along the lines of the handsome Captain America in nothing but that shirt and tight jeans he'd worn today, all rugged and cut. What would it be like to run her hands along the sinews of those taut muscles? Darcy's cheeks reddened at the thought.

And then she thought of Thor's Princess Bride looking friend… what had his name been?There'd been a dashing thrown in there somewhere when he had gently kissed her hand in New Mexico. Darcy still remembered how ticklish his facial hair had been against her skin.

Oh, well it wasn't like his name mattered as she thought of his broad shoulders, tanned skin, and radiant smile. Was he the type to play the gentleman and take it slow? Or would he play at something more...? Finding the whole idea of being with the God rather stimulating desire coursed through Darcy's body. Her thoughts wickedly suggestive and rotating around where else she'd of liked that Robin Hood to have kissed her.

And as her thoughts turned hot and steamy with her Prince Charming an abrupt and sudden change took place, causing those thoughts to shift like the tide, leading her to suddenly feel a slight breeze, a cool force come over her. It hovered around her abdomen causing the hair on her skin to prickle as if a hand had been lying flat against her stomach. Images now rushed through Darcy's mind in bright glaring detail. It was…the weirdest thing; the pleasure of her thoughts magnified a tenth fold, her breathing coming out in short heavy gasps.

She suddenly thought of someone else, of inky black hair and smooth pale skin like her stranger had, had, but this man in particular she pictured in much more menacing detail. His eyes sparkling, dangerous, and cold; his lips chapped, scarred, and frozen against her bared flesh; his tongue the opposite, warm, soft and wet. It pressed intimately into her own mouth and they both moaned from the close contact. Their kisses were fevered and needy with both of them nipping, biting, and caressing the other, trying to match each other blow for blow.

Her thought intruder suddenly stopped his ministrations on her botched reddened lips and moved on to other more delicious ventures. Using that serpentine tongue of his like a weapon he began leaving slick wet trails across her neck and collarbone. Circling the length of her exposed breasts he moved even lower to invade her fluttery stomach, her shaking inner thighs, nudging open her-

Darcy gasped in sharp surprise, now clutching the bed post and panting from how her most inner thoughts had up and turned on her, flooding her with all types of sensations and imagery.

Her uninvited guest had taken the place of where that Prince Charming should have been and things were escalating quickly.

Lying on top of her Darcy pictured his weight tightly pressed against her to the point where she could feel every part of him; every crevice and slope, every sinewy muscle for sinewy muscle. It was as if he made to brand himself on her and she was goading him on! Pulling long strands of inky black hair she demanded him to continue until finally he pushed his length inside her. The warm feeling of him was enough to drive her into a frenzy as she clutched onto his hair even harder and whimpered. His rough hands squeezing and moving her hips in tandem to steady his thrusts, his imagined breaths coming out in the same short heated gasps as her own as they both relentlessly pushed and shoved against each other for a final release.

Hair dampened and body tingling Darcy now stared up in wonder at the man on top of her, his expression echoing exactly how she felt. It was a look of glazed desire, heavy with wanting but also…of complete and utter shock.

The vibrations of what followed from their heated aftermath still coursed through Darcy Lewis as her mind screamed the man's name like a prayer, a chant to finally die down into a soft whisper, a tremor along her lips. A name of a man, no a God she had never meant to picture.

No longer frozen to the spot by her lucid imagination, Darcy shook herself free from her hazy daze. Now sitting up straight as a rod, she shuddered in disbelief at who she had actually fantasized about.

Loki.

She'd heard of lucid dreaming before but the dark God who had crippled Manhattan?

That was just overkill.

Why would her mind turn to...that the thought of such a man could even thrill her made Darcy's face flush red. The tension in her gut rising as she no longer felt like she was the only one in the room. And the loud clatter of noise near the open window confirmed her sick feeling.

Darcy ran to turn the light switch on only to see that the mirror by the window had been shattered. Like someone had taken a fist and punched a hole straight through.

Having heard the racket Jacob came running up the stairs to check in on her, and after learning what had happened, he actually had the audacity to laugh, telling her, of all things, that her dead birds had clearly come back for some revenge.

Matthews really knew how to not make her feel better, and Darcy told him so, with her fists.

"Trust me, Darcers there are no ghosts in here, and even if there were... this entire place is covered with highly trained agents. Have at least a little faith in us!" Darcy simply nodded getting incredibly uncomfortable by his nearness. Especially while in her pajamas, especially after the monster of a lucid dream attack she had just had. There was no way in hell she was going to share that with him!

Even if she was still shaken from it.

"-and maybe next time don't leave your window open for all those wacky birds to come flying in," Jacob muttered, stepping over the shards of broken mirror to slam her window shut and lock it into place, "you know the reflection confuses them right?" Darcy nodded again wishing that he'd just leave her alone so that she could stew in her own embarrassment. And with a foppish smile, Jacob did just that, leaving the shaken intern in peace.

Just as Darcy Lewis was about to go to bed, her fists clutched deeply into the bed's edge, she glared off into the shadows.

"I ain't fraid of no ghosts,"she whispered, uttering the Ghostbuster mantra for comfort, but even to her own ears her voice sounded weak and unsure. It was as if there was something out there that knew otherwise and was having a good laugh at her expense.

Because if that hadn't been a ghost as Matthews had implied...

Then where the hell was that bird that had hit her mirror?

A/N:

Oh, hai there! You still there reader? You deserve a giant pat on the back for making it this far... I know I wrote A LOT! You deserve a cookie!

Next on the docket Loki's p.o.v is he dead? Alive? In purgatory? Did he get a shock at the things that go on in Darcy's pervy mind?

Let me know what you thought!