Sooooo… the trailer for Avengers just came out, and I basically watched it seven times just to hear Tom Hiddleston speak and be generally the definition of gorgeous. (Also, just me, or was he totally making eyes at Natasha?)

Sorry for the delay…fight choreography is a bit of a bear to write, even with music to help me time it in my head. ("Duel of the Fates" from Revenge of the Sith and "Finale" from Prisoner of Azkaban. Everything instantly takes a level in badass with John Williams.) Without further ado…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rogers squinted at Stark in disbelief.

"You're saying that people just press a few buttons and they can send messages and images and moving pictures halfway around the world in a matter of seconds?" he shouted over the roar of the jet engine.

"Not just halfway," Stark yelled. "All the way. Although occasionally it takes more than a few seconds, depending on how good your wireless connection is."

"Your wha—"

Rogers was cut off by a sudden, invisible blow to the chest that knocked all the air from his lungs. Time seemed to suspend itself for several seconds. Thor and Stark staggered slightly as a shockwave ripped through the air, followed immediately by a flash of bright light and a burst of blistering heat. And then came the sound wave.

It shook the air with its rumbling tones, a single percussive thunderbolt of sound that resonated through the skeleton.

Thor regained his balance first, bracing his hand on the side of the plane for support as he frantically cast his gaze about for the source of the explosion. As the others struggled to find their equilibrium, Thor lurched forward and raced towards the flaming epicenter of the shockwave: the entrance to SHIELD.

"Jane!" he bellowed. "Jane!"

Rogers hurried after him and caught him by the shoulder. "Thor, there's nothing you can do." He shouted something incoherent and jerked his shoulder forward as if to break free from Rogers' grip.

Nothing happened. Thor noticed distantly that something was chirping shrilly, but he didn't particularly care what it was.

He glared at Rogers. "Let me go," he said. "I have to help her. I have to save her. She could be trapped in there under the rubble."

"Nobody could have survived that blast," Rogers said firmly. "You felt the shockwave, and we're a few hundred feet from the entrance of the building at least. Anyone inside the building would have been killed almost instantly, if not by the shockwave, then by the temperature." He lowered his voice slightly. "It would have been too quick for pain."

Thor shook his head. "No, she can't be dead. She's…she's like me. She's strong. She's practically immortal. Maybe she survived something that a mortal, a human couldn't…"

Stark cleared his throat quietly. The other two turned to look at him with a glare. "I don't think her strength really has anything to do with it." He held up his cell phone.

Thor seized it from him instinctively and peered at the screen.

Thanks for the tip. I'll inform my men to stay off the internet. SHIELD Facility just destroyed. No agents present at time of explosion. Civilian Intelligence Unit was already en route to City Hall to negotiate a hostage situation. Tell Thor that FOSTER IS SAFE and to get his ass to California. Your priority must be to find the root of the problem and remove it. Protecting civilians is my job right now. –NF

He let out a shaky laugh. "She's safe." He tried to hand the phone back to Stark; Rogers intercepted it to read for himself. "Thank the All-Father, she's safe."

Rogers frowned. "Civilian Intelligence Unit," he muttered to himself.

"Analysts," Stark said, taking his phone back abruptly. "Scientists, diplomats. Essentially, anyone without a military rank or a gun. It sounds as though they noticed Foster's ability to negotiate when she was trying to get her research back so they're bringing her along to their little trade-off with the hostage taker." He glanced around and pushed a button on his wrist casually. A small compartment opened up on his leg like a pocket. He stashed his phone. "Gentlemen, I believe we have a flight to catch."

Thor boarded the plane last. He glanced over his shoulder at the door of the cabin to look over the smoldering wreckage of the street.

Be safe, Jane.

Loki slid automatically to shield Darcy from the door. She rested her hands on his shoulders, using him as leverage to get a better view of the entryway.

"I'm not immortal yet," she whispered frantically. "We only got through the vows. What's Sigyn going to do when she finds out that our time is up and we haven't—"

"Our time isn't up," he said grimly. Darcy stared at him. He met her gaze evenly, his brow set in a tense line. "It's only been a quarter hour. I don't think that this was part of the plan."

Darcy began to reply. Loki cut her off with a hushing sound. He put a finger to his lips warningly. She fell silent and they both looked to the door, waiting for lighting to strike.

"What are you doing? No…No, stop!"

Loki closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a piercing shriek echoed through the halls of Medea's home. The sound hung in the air for a long moment, shuddering and bouncing off the walls in a keening wail, until it had faded into a shrill whisper. Darcy gasped quietly.

"Was that—"

Loki nodded.

"But why?"

"Because, speaking from experience, world domination is a one-man job. There's no room for co-operation, especially when you're dealing with double agents. Medea must have realized that once she had me, Sigyn had no reason to remain loyal. She was a threat."

"There can be only one."

"Something like that."

His eyes snapped open as a thought crossed his mind. He glanced at Darcy.

"Wait a moment—"

"—if Medea killed Sigyn…the girdle—"

"—is useless," Loki finished, his eyes gleaming. He took Darcy's hands and rose, pulling her to her feet as he stood. "Come on," he said hurriedly.

Hand in hand, Darcy and Loki went straight to the door. Loki reached out to part the wall—only to find that the stone had disappeared beneath his fingers. He looked up from his hand abruptly, and found himself staring straight into a pair of bright, gold eyes.

He took a step back instinctively, his gaze never wavering from Medea's stare.

"Darcy, run," he said in a low voice.

"I'm not leaving until you do."

He glanced at her in his peripheral vision. "Darcy," he hissed furiously, "run."

"No," she snapped in a whisper.

Medea laughed quietly and raised her arm. Loki's hand shot up reflexively to deflect her spell. Darcy jumped as a beam of gold shot from Medea's hand and bounced off of Loki's palm to hit the ceiling. The roof shuddered from the blow, sending gravel and dust raining down upon the trio.

"Yes, run, little girl," Medea said in a mocking lilt. "Let your big, strong husband protect you. He certainly did a fine job of rescuing you, didn't he?" She laughed with genuine mirth, gesturing wildly. "A veritable knight in shining armor, come to rescue the damsel in distress."

She yelped quietly and jumped to the side as a bolt of green raced towards her. It hit the wall harmlessly over her head with a loud cracking sound. Medea recovered herself and smirked at Loki—only to find that he was as confused as she was, staring at Darcy with a strange mixture of pride and horror.

Darcy lowered her arm slowly, her glare never wavering from Medea's sneering face. "I don't damsel," she snarled.

Medea gave a low chuckle. "The little mortal knows magic," she simpered. "Good. I love a challenge." She stepped forward slowly, each footfall deliberate and precise. Loki and Darcy backed away, glancing at each other intermittently.

Loki stared at Darcy out of the corner of his eye. "You are being incredibly stubborn," he pointed out.

"What, you expected different?"

He smiled faintly.

"What's the plan?" she said, so softly that he could barely hear her. His eyes darted pointedly towards the corners of the room, one on his side and the other in Darcy's end of the chamber. She nodded.

Before Medea could say a word about their silent exchange, Darcy sprinted to her end of the room. At the wall, she turned on her heel and sent fire shooting out of her fingertips. Medea spun about to face her. Her hands turned strangely bright like silver, as though her fingers were made of mirrors, sending the fire skittering harmlessly across the floor as it deflected away from her.

Loki stepped lightly around Medea's other side to strike her from the back. He drew his dagger silently, prepared to strike.

She twirled around so quickly that Loki scarcely saw her move before the blade was tumbling from his fingers. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Darcy was slouching slightly and rubbing her hands together, no longer shooting fire from her fingers. Her eyes widened suddenly. She dropped to her knees and flattened herself against the ground.

Loki's stomach knotted for a moment before he realized—Darcy hadn't collapsed. She had ducked. He dropped to his knees and tumbled into a somersault as a force that whipped through the room like a gale whistled over his head. He heard a loud crumbling sound as the force hit the wall: a shock wave.

He came to a stop, crouched down on the ground with his hands planted on the floor. He looked up at Medea slowly, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. He panted softly and slumped in a gesture of surrender. Then he lunged forward on his knees, bringing his hand forward as if to punch the air. His fingers crackled as he sent a bolt of lightning flying from his fingertips.

Medea sidestepped the bolt easily. It glanced harmlessly off the wall with a dying shriek. He jolted forward onto his other knee and threw his other hand towards her. He felt the hair at the base of his neck stand on end as the air sizzled with electricity. His aim was true, directly on target—but the target had vanished.

Medea rematerialized almost a foot away, in the center of the room.

Loki found her instantly, his gaze reflexively tracking every miniscule movement she made, recalculating his next move with ever second.

Center. Pros, attack from all angles, flexibility of movement. Cons, unable to corner, easier to miss.

He met Darcy's eyes in his peripheral vision and dipped his chin almost imperceptibly. Medea caught his gesture and turned to look for Darcy's reply—a quick nod.

Bait taken.

The instant she looked away, Loki leapt to his feet. He threw his hands down to his sides, feeling the familiar chill take to his bones and spread like a cold fire down his arms to his hands as they turned to glowing spheres of blue.

Medea felt the cold snap and spun about to look at him. Darcy stood up behind Medea's back. Loki let his gaze linger upon her hands a moment longer than he normally might as a synapse of panic shot through his mind. There's no plants. How can she fight without plants to manipulate?

Loki jumped as Darcy's hands burst again into flames. He licked his lips anxiously, eyes dancing across her face to analyze her expression. What's she playing at? She can't keep this up for long. Fire is an energy drain. He was about to shake his head at her in warning when he noticed Medea's face turn ever so slightly towards Darcy's side of the room.

Loki struck first, stabbing at Medea's torso precisely, methodically working around the densest sections of her armor, the arrangement of her arms. But every punch that he took seemed to miss its mark as Medea blocked his blows with the palms of her hands. Loki narrowed his eyes. Her hands looked very strange…he could scarcely make them out, but from what he could see of them, they seemed to be transparent—not invisible, he could still see where the light bent around them, distorting his vision, but colorless and without a defined shape.

Darcy threw her hands about in wild swings as though every strike was her last, her arms a dancing inferno of tangerine lights flashing and dimming in erratic cycles.

Medea brushed off Darcy's attack almost effortlessly; she waved her hand as though brushing away a fly. Darcy stumbled backwards as her own momentum was deflected into her body. She threw her arms out to the sides for balance and staggered back, struggling to stand. Medea drew her arm back for a lethal blow.

Loki's mind went blank. There was no conscious decision to move forward, to lurch towards Medea; he was a puppet on a string, pure reflex and muscle memory wiping away all hints of cohesive thought. He swung at Medea's back.

Medea turned on her heel. Her hand found the center of Loki's chest, in the middle of his ribcage. He gasped automatically and doubled over in pain. Medea lifted her leg to kick his knees out. He stumbled and fell to the floor with a soft grunt. Grinning like a fox, she leaned over Loki to go in for the kill.

A yell tore through the air. Medea and Loki looked up in stunned unison. Medea scarcely had time to react before Darcy descended upon her with fiery hands, her eyes blazing with fury.

The older woman went on the defensive, driven back by Darcy's unrelenting ferocity. The flames bounced harmlessly off of Medea's armor, but every time she tried to raise her arm for a counterstrike, Darcy's violent attacks forced her to take cover.

After several seconds of back and forth, Medea snapped. She bellowed angrily and deflected Darcy's blow straight into the ground with a shock wave.

The room shuddered. Darcy swayed slightly on her feet, and she struggled to keep her balance. Loki peered up at her in a panic, still doubled in pain as he watched her knees shake and threaten to give out, her face pale. She was running out of energy…but apparently not fast enough for Medea.

Medea let loose another shockwave, this one so strong that Loki could see it ripple through space, distorting everything it touched like a rounded lens, before it hit Darcy squarely in the chest. He yelped incoherently as Darcy's eyes widened and she flew across the room into the wall opposite. She hit the wall without a sound before slumping to the floor like a rag doll.

Medea grinned. Her footsteps echoed throughout the room as she strode deliberately towards Darcy, each footfall seeming like a drum beat in Loki's ears. His face contorted in fury and he pushed himself slowly to his feet, holding back the roar of fury that threatened to spill forth, even as every fiber of his being wanted to scream out in anger.

With a tiny slicking sound, Medea drew a stiletto knife from her sheath.

Loki couldn't hold still any longer. He sprang to his feet and dived at Medea, not sure what he intended to do once he had tackled her, only that he had to stop her from finishing off Darcy. Her eyes widened in shock; she had no time to react before Loki was colliding with her. They tumbled clumsily to the ground, both of them letting out a grunt of pain as they slammed against the stone floor. The momentum was too much to combat. Loki found himself rolling off and away from Medea the second they hit the ground. He heard the shiver-inducing sound of metal shrieking against stone; Medea's dagger spun off across the room like a top.

Without so much as a pause or a breath, Medea got to her feet. She waved a hand through space and murmured something in a foreign tongue. The air between her fingers rippled and shone for a moment before turning into a long rod of silver liquid that solidified in her hand: a sword. Loki imitated her; within seconds, he was holding a sword of his own.

He slid his feet into a combat stance without thinking, his heart pounding somewhat unevenly. Swordplay never had been his strength. But he couldn't bring magic to a swordfight and live; not without destroying the entire room and Darcy in the process. He stared intently at Medea, studying her every move.

She glared back at him, a challenge gleaming in her golden eyes.

Without warning, she sprang into action, raising the blade over her head and swinging down.

Their swords met in mid-air with an ear-splitting clash that vibrated through Loki's arms; he gritted his teeth against the shaking as he raised his sword again. He parried Medea's upward stab, his arms tensing as their blades locked, each fighting to break past the other.

Medea yanked away first, snarling. She drew her arms back to swing; Loki saw the motion coming before it happened. He jumped as she swung low, her blade whistling through the air scarcely an inch beneath his knees. His feet landed back on the ground with a satisfying thump as Medea struggled to maintain her balance. He saw his opportunity and swung downwards at her defenseless head.

She parried easily, his strike glancing off of her blade as though it were nothing more than a faint tap. Loki backed away slightly, staggering. His mind raced through strategies and came up blank.

Medea licked her lips. "Silver tongue can't win this battle for you, can it?" she taunted breathlessly. Loki growled under his breath and lunged forward to attack once more. Their swords locked again, steel stalemating against steel. Loki loosened his grip on the handle and spun about, using the blade as an axis. He broke free from the gridlock, momentum sending his sword swinging about in a wide circle.

He lost his balance; his arms flew out instinctively to steady himself.

He felt the tip of a blade at the base of his throat. Loki stared down the bridge of his nose, panicked, as he realized what was happening. He looked up to find himself staring directly into Medea's sadistic smirk. His heart thudded unevenly.

"It's over," she laughed.

And then she froze. Her face went slightly slack, her eyes widening unconsciously. Loki stared at her, not daring to move, as her bright gold eyes turned glassy. She gazed over his shoulder as if looking at something from a great distance. Her lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile, no longer mocking and cold, but joyful and somewhat sad at the same time. She let out a quiet, broken whisper.

"Jason?" she murmured faintly.

Her eyes never wavered as she crumpled to the ground, the armor on her back growing more drenched with scarlet every second. She collapsed onto the floor with her arm outstretched, reaching for something that nobody else could see. When she stopped moving, her lips were frozen in a smile.

Loki looked up in speechless astonishment only to see Darcy limp forward to prod Medea's body with her toe. Her nose wrinkled as she wiped the blade of Medea's dagger on her nightdress. She looked as though she might throw up.

She chuckled quietly. "Remember when I said that attacking an army of frost giants with plants was the coolest thing I've ever done?"

Loki nodded, smiling slightly.

"I've changed my mind." She staggered two steps forward, her legs wobbling and threatening to give out. Loki stepped into her as she fell. She stumbled into his chest. She pressed her face into his collarbone, shaking violently. Loki wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her even closer than she held herself to him. He felt her lips move against his throat.

"It's over," she said breathlessly. "We're alive."

His eyes stung with tears. "Yes." He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, we are."

AN: I guess it's time to wrap up this story. This is probably the penultimate chapter, although there could be two more, I suppose. Suffice it to say, this story is almost done.

But fear not: there is more to come. Once I finish "Discord," I will begin work on my third and final story in this saga—"Kismet." It may sadden some of you to know that the third story will be the last, but as a writer, I feel it would be overkill to continue beyond the end of "Kismet." The story ends itself in a way that stands on its own.