Chapter Three:
Loki had intended to be gone before the mortal woke up in the morning. What he truly wanted was to get as far away as possible so that he could plot in peace. He had the distinct feeling that he would get absolutely no peace around this woman who seemed to prattle on as if she actually couldn't control what came from her mouth. However, when he first felt the stirrings of consciousness on the sofa, he could hear her voice as she sang to herself as she moved around the small kitchen that her home had. Damn...he supposed he could put up with her long enough for a meal. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten anything.
He sat up and opened his eyes, immediately wincing in pain as he slowly moved. He had thought that he would be more healed today, but it seemed that having Thor's hammer laid on his chest was going to take longer to fix itself than he might have suspected. It must have something to do with its magical nature. He shouldn't still have this large bruise on his chest, much less still be feeling the pain from it.
"Oh, you're awake!" Darcy's cheerful voice chirped from the kitchen. He turned toward her, looking her over. "I'm making waffles, so I hope you have an appetite." She turned back toward the stove, and he took the opportunity of not having her looking at him to study her. She was fully dressed in what he assumed were adequate clothing, but the baggy layers that she wore did absolutely nothing to enhance any beauty that she might have. She was attractive, he supposed, but it was hard to tell what she really looked like with her face hidden by her glasses and any hair that happened to fall in her face. He wondered if she ever wore anything a little more form fitting. He remembered what she looked like through the red haze of the Destroyer and that she had worn similar clothing then. He thought that she might look much more interesting if she wore something like the women in the Asgardian court wore. It would certainly give her a different look.
"Hey! When you're done staring, waffles are done," Darcy said to him, shocking him out of his musings.
He made no apologies for staring, simply slowly pushing himself off the sofa with a bitten back groan, walking toward her small dining table and sitting down in one of the chairs. She made up a plate of the 'waffles' squirting some sort of white topping on them after dropping several types of berries on them, setting them down in front of him. "If you don't eat them, I'll totally be sad and pout at you," she told him, giving him an example of the 'pout,' which looked like the most exaggerated facial expression ever, which made him smile ever so slightly despite not really wanting to.
He took a bite of the breakfast that she had made, and actually found it to be quite delicious. However, he did not want to give away how much he had liked it (or how hungry he was), instead calmly taking bites between sips of drink that she had also provided. After eating in silence for a few minutes, he finally asked her, "Do you usually make things like this for yourself?" he asked her.
"Well, I don't usually make as much," she admitted with a shrug. He watched her as she broke off a piece of one of her own waffles and handed it to her dog, who was begging at her feet. "But yeah, breakfast is an essential meal. I'm usually in the lab with Jane for like, twelve hours a day. I've gotta have tons of energy to manage to keep up with her."
"It would seem like the focus of Thor's affections keeps you very busy," Loki remarked. "What sort of work do all of you do?" Even with the bit of watching that he had done, he had to admit that he had no clue.
"Now? Actually, looking for a way for Jane to reunite with her paramour," Darcy said, looking away as she said it. "Not that we're doing any good with it. Just because Jane was the first on Earth to really realize that it was possible doesn't mean that anyone knows how to actually do it."
Loki could explain it to them easy how to do it, but he certainly had no want for Thor to be around here. He was already going through much effort to continue to hide himself from Heimdall's gaze. As long as he stayed away from this Jane too much, it shouldn't be too noticeable. They likely thought him dead, anyway. It was pure luck that the abyss went to Midgard rather than some god forsaken realm.
"Well, I should go," Darcy said as she finished her meal, standing up. "I really feel like I should just call in sick so I can watch you. If you try to flee, you'll likely just hurt yourself more." He hated that the mortal had a point, but she did. She walked with her dish over to the sink, rinsing it before setting it aside. "Try not to do anything too...mischief-y while I'm gone." He could only laugh at that suggestion. "God that does not make me feel better."
Soon she was out the door, and he actually did briefly think of running, but where would he even go? He had no base of operations here on this realm. Why not let the little mortal take care of him while he licked his wounds and planned. He could possibly even use this Jane to get back to Asgard and take his rightful place on the throne when he was ready. He had done nothing wrong while ruling, after all. They were at war. He was just being preemptive. He should have been congratulated, not discouraged. He thought ahead, unlike some blond headed idiots who shall remain nameless.
So, instead of fleeing, he instead borrowed Darcy's shower, rinsing away the blood and grime that she didn't get to wipe away last night (he had only let her touch him as much as absolutely necessary). It didn't take him long to figure out, although he still preferred the hot springs of ho...of Asgard rather than these Midgardian contraptions. They were claustrophobic.
He didn't do too much to her home while Darcy was away. He might have changed where a few of her things were, more to keep him from dying of the boredom than for any real need for mischief. This might drive him mad more than anything else he had been through.
When Darcy did finally arrive back at her dwelling, Loki was still wearing the ruined clothing that he had come to Midgard with, even his tunic was torn and stained. Darcy was carrying several bags when she arrived, and he arched an eyebrow at her, curious to see what she might have. She just grinned at him and dumped the bags at his feet. "I bring you clothing that is not ripped to ass," she explained. "Not that leather isn't wonderful on you and all, but it doesn't exactly breathe, you know? You're going to die in the desert if you don't start wearing other stuff."
He peeked into one of the bags, seeing the shirts and jeans that the males of this realm (when he had done some spying) seemed to prefer. He was pleased to note that she had stuck to choosing him greens and blacks for covering, even some white that made him think of his mother's robes, although he doubted she would have known that. "Sorry that they aren't exactly top quality, but I'm working on an intern's budget here, this is like, next to nothing."
He arched an eyebrow, turning his attention back to her. "Then why would you go out of your way for me, since it inconveniences you so?" he asked, curious.
She just shrugged at him. "You can't walk around in just that stuff all the time. I got you what you needed. Simple as that."
He blinked at her, still not entirely sure what to make of this mortal. He had went through his life assuming that so many people were only nice to him because he was a prince, because he was Thor's brother, or they wanted him to do something for them. He kept expecting Darcy eventually to show that she had some ulterior motive. Finally, he stood, taking the bags of clothing with him. It would be nice to wear something clean, even if it was clothing from this realm. "Thank you for your generosity," he said stiffly before heading away to her bathroom to change. He missed the slight smile on her face as he walked away.
When he returned (now wearing a pair of black jeans and a green shirt), Darcy had settled onto the sofa, her dog in her lap. The small animal had followed Loki around all day, as if it had no reason to believe that Loki might not want its constant attention, but eventually he had gotten used to the creature known as Baker, and the dog had spent much of its time in Loki's lap when he sat on the sofa. Darcy grinned up at him when he entered the room. "Looks good on you. I'm glad that I guessed your size right. I had to go for the longest jeans that they had in the place."
He nodded. "You did well. This clothing will suffice." He knew that letting servants know that they did a job well meant that they would repeat it.
He couldn't help but notice that she looked especially nice when she gave a full smile instead of the slight smirk that seemed to stay on her face. Shaking his head, he sat down on the other end of the sofa from her. He would have picked a different seat, but it seemed that this was her only seating in the living room. The dog Baker rose up from his place on Darcy's lap, trotting over on the sofa and then plopping down into Loki's lap. He forced himself to bite back a smile when she giggled. "I think he likes you," Darcy remarked. Now completely unable to help it, Loki smiled slightly, reaching down and stroking Baker behind his ears.
"It seems that he recognizes regality when he sees it," Loki remarked, letting himself smile wider as the dog huffed, rolling onto his back and exposing his stomach to be scratched, which Loki obliged him with.
"So, exactly why did you fall from the sky, anyway?" Darcy asked, and the smile fell from Loki's face. He wasn't entirely sure that he ever wanted to talk about that with someone else, much less a lowly mortal like Darcy. "Did you get exiled, too?"
The only reason that he was able to stay calm at all was because he continued to stroke the dog. He found that it was relaxing. He took a deep breath, trying to cool his temper. "Not exactly," he finally said. "I fell from the bifrost." He let go of Gungnir, just absolutely determined to not live anymore and drop into the abyss. "I didn't even realize where it had opened a hole to. I am lucky that it was here and not some...less hospitable world."
Darcy chuckled. "You didn't seem that happy last night," she pointed out to him, rising up from the sofa and moving closer to him. When he flinched, she rolled her eyes. "Come on, now. I just want to check and make sure that you're healing OK. I know, you got that super healing alien body and all, but let's keep up the pretense as to why you're staying with me, right?"
Her words caught him so off guard that he didn't have a chance to move away before she was pushing up his shirt to check where the majority of his injuries was, his chest. "Wow, you're all yellow and purple," she mused, her fingers reaching out and gingerly touching his ribs. He winced, keeping in a grunt of pain. "Looks like these are doing better, though. They were broken last night." Her fingers hit the edge of the massive bruise that was left from Thor's hammer. "What the hell exactly caused that? Did Thor head butt you or something?"
"Thor's hammer. He laid it upon my chest to keep me from moving," Loki said stiffly.
"Oh mew-mew? Tough luck there, dude," Darcy mused, pushing his shirt back down. "Then again, totally tried to kill us, so you kind of deserve it. Why were you trying to kill us again?"
"I can only presume you mean Mjölnir," he corrected dryly. "I wasn't trying to kill you, but simply keep Thor from returning to Asgard," he insisted again. He realized that it still rang as a hollow excuse, but it was one that he would stick with. "I was disposing of an enemy of the kingdom that had been a thorn in Asgard's side for a long time. I knew that Thor would stop me. He's a bit soft hearted at times. His time on Midgard made him even more so."
Darcy snorted, rocking back on her heels and squatting on the floor for a moment. "If that's really the case, you can blame Jane for that. They fell for each other pretty quickly. Like, three days really quickly. Do all of you in Asgard work so fast, or is he just a playboy?"
"I have no idea what you mean by playboy, but Thor has always had a way with women he desired," Loki remarked. "It seems to be one of his...talents."
"So not shocked to hear that," Darcy said to him. "That Asgardian healing really is something. Wouldn't think that a person could fall millions of billions of miles without, you know, cracked open like a raw egg. You got away with like, minor damage."
He blinked when she changed the subject again. It was actually hard to keep up with everything that she was saying. "It does not feel like minor damage," he said to her. He decided to ask something that had been bothering him all day. "I am well enough to make my way out of here, and yet you have not encouraged me to leave. You even do nice things and bring me clothes so that I need not wear my tattered armor. Why do you still help me?"
She stared at him silently for a moment, studying him to the point where he almost begged her to say something to end it, when she ended it before he started. "No one should feel like they have absolutely no one that they can turn to, even when they make mistakes." She stood up, patting him on the shoulder gently. "Even big ones like trying to completely wipe out an enemy in a way that suggests something along the lines of genocide, if I'm reading between the lines correctly."
He frowned, realized that she was smarter than he had given her credit for. He had not said exactly what he had done, using vague language, but it seemed like she had figured it out anyway. "Do you feel any remorse, for what you did?" she asked him.
He did not even think on it, shaking his head. "I did what I did in times of war. There are different rules then."
She sighed. "Those rules don't get to apply when you create the way yourself," she told him, moving away. She headed toward the kitchen. "So, I'm not the greatest cook in the world, but I can put us something together. What do you want for dinner?"