Two weeks earlier:

They sit around the large table, everyone looking down at the folders Stark had flung towards them. The folders are bright red, the colour of fresh-welling blood. The papers they hold are almost blindingly white beneath the fluorescent lights.

Darcy opened her folder at the same time as everyone else. She's read the first paragraph of the first page a dozen times, and still the words there aren't sinking in. She presses her hands against the side of the table, trying to steady their shaking. Her palms are damp, and she hopes like hell that the moisture won't stain the wood. It's mahogany, she thinks. And then she thinks of the "That is mahogany!" line from the movie adaptation of The Hunger Games, and then she's trying to remember if the line is in the book. And where her copy of the book is, anyway. Hopefully not in one of the boxes that Mike took. If he did, she was going to have to go to him, and she was going to have to-

The conversation has started up again, and she pulls herself away from her train of thought, glad for the distraction from the place her thoughts had meandered to. She quickly presses record on the digital recorder she's been tasked with.

"I, for one, think that it's a stupid idea," Stark says. He is sitting on the opposite side of the oval table to Darcy. He has his feet up on the table, uncaring of the fact that his scuffed soles are practically shoved into the fact of Captain America. "Therefore, as a stupid idea, I vote that we agree. Steve?"

Cap - Darcy cannot think of him as anything but Cap or Captain America, despite the fact that he's out of uniform - looks up from the notes he's been making. His handwriting is neat, the kind of writing Darcy learned way back in school and managed to keep doing for all of two days before her writing devolved into a loopy scrawl. "You cannot be serious. The man is a war criminal."

Stark produced a bag of what looks like pumpkin seeds from a pocket, tosses a pinch into his pocket and chews. Loudly. "The side that wins gets to decide who's a criminal and who's a hero."

Cap sighs, turns to Thor, seated on his other side. Thor is in full armour, and though she can't see it, Darcy knows that Mjolnir is beneath the table near his feet. Thor doesn't let it far from him these days.

"He is my brother," Thor says. "For all that he has done, I believe there is still something good in him."

"So that's a yes from Thor, and a moral judgement from the Cap," Stark says, chewing another mouthful of seeds. "Pretty much as expected, then."

"Are we certain that the spell will keep his magic contained?" Jane asks. She is seated on Thor's other side, her chair pulled up so close to his that she's practically in his lap. "The memory stuff, they're sure they can do it?"

"If my father says it can be done, then it can and it will," Thor says.

Jane looks up at him for a long moment. "If Thor agrees, then so do I."

Stark nods, pulls his feet off the table. "Big guy?"

Banner is seated on Darcy's right. She doesn't miss the fact that Stark passed right over her. There's a moment where something screws up tight inside her, then she reminds herself that she's just here as a secretary, nothing more. She folds her hands in her lap, checks that the recorder is still running.

Banner frowns as he pages through his folder. His papers are dog-eared in several places, and he's scrawled equations on the back of one sheet. He's the only person who's read through the whole folder, Darcy thinks. He's immersed in the papers still, and it takes Stark tossing seeds at him for him to look up.

Banner blinks, pushes his glasses up. Picks up some of the seeds and rubs them absently between his fingers. "I can't say that the offer isn't tempting," he says. "To be able to get hold of some of Asgard's technology. We could change everything."

"Is that a yes I hear there?" Stark asks.

"Isn't one monster enough?" Banner asks, his eyes flicking down to his papers again.

Stark's answer is to flick more seeds at Banner.

"Is it going to be worth it? Even without those memories, the guy is unstable."

"He is also my brother," Thor says, leaning over the table. "Take care to remember that."

"There's no guarantee of safety," Banner says. "No matter what Asgard says, nothing is ever foolproof."

"Last time I checked, none of us came with a guarantee of safety," Stark says. "And they call us heroes."

"We didn't try to destroy a whole town or conquer a planet with an alien army, though," Black Widow says. She and Hawkeye are on the other side of Banner. Both are dressed in solid black, guns at their belts. They sit with their chairs close together, pulled slightly away from the table. "Loki did that. And has probably done worse."

"And can remember none of it," Thor says.

"The question is, why do Asgard need us to do their dirty work?" Cap asks. "Surely they're better equipped to deal with him?"

"There is a disadvantage in being close to someone," Thor says. "We require someone who can be rational, who does not come to this work with their mind already coloured with notions about Loki. We need someone who will give him a fair chance. It is what my parents wish. They gave me a chance to learn by sending me to Midgard, and they wish the same for their younger son."

"About that," Stark says. "Reading these files, it feels as though there's another story written between the lines. Is there more that Odin is keeping from us?"

Thor's hands move beneath the table. "You have been provided with what Odin deems necessary. It is enough."

"Do you honestly think that he deserves another chance?" Hawkeye asks. He has been silent all along, though his eyes have followed the flow of conversation closely. "Especially if there are things that Odin isn't telling us. Why not just blast the bastard out into space, lock him away in the deepest and darkest dungeon you can find?"

Thor's eyes burn as they fix on Hawkeye. "I have already lost my brother to the abyss once. I do not care to repeat the experience."

"And he came back again, and look what he did," Black Widow says, her eyes sliding to Hawkeye. "I don't even know why we're considering this."

"Because Stark wants his weapons," Hawkeye says. "He wants the Asgardian toys so he can take them apart, figure out how their magic works. Magic is just tech that we don't understand yet, right, Stark? And you'll take it apart, build something bigger and better. And then what?"

"Of all the people to ask that, I didn't think it would be you." Stark stands, begins pacing back and forth across the room. "We've seen the Tesseract, the sceptre that Loki used on you. From what I hear, Odin has a whole hall of seized weapons. Who knows what else is out there? I know that I'd like to know. So we can be prepared for the next time someone tries to invade."

"And upgrading your suit with magic has nothing to do with it," Hawkeye says. "Or making new weapons."

Stark shrugs. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't want to get my hands on some of their tech. I know that Banner is with me on that one. Jane, too."

Banner and Jane both shrug, look away from Hawkeye's hard stare.

"So." Stark claps his hands together. "We have yes from me, from Thor and Jane. Banner?"

"I guess it would be pretty hypocritical of me to argue against anyone getting a second chance," Banner says. "I vote yes, but with reservations."

"Reservations duly noted." Stark turns to Hawkeye and Black Widow, who both shake their heads. "And two nos." He claps his hands together again. "Well, I guess we have a deal with Asgard."

"Shouldn't it-" Darcy's voice breaks as everyone turns to look at her. "Shouldn't it be a unanimous decision?"

Black Widow nods, a movement so tiny that Darcy would have missed it if she hadn't been looking directly at her.

Stark fixes Darcy with an unreadable gaze. "Do you think it should be, Ms Lewis?"

Darcy looks down at the recorder. "It seems like it's something pretty important. What's the point in asking everyone unless you're actually going to listen to what they have to say? And it seems to me that Black Widow and Hawkeye make pretty good arguments."

Stark says nothing for a long time. "And what do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm just here to sort out the recorder, right?"

Stark grins that patented smile of his. "Right." He claps his hands together again. "So, we have a deal with Asgard, then. You can all go back to…whatever it was that you were doing. Ms Lewis, would you mind staying back for a few minutes?"

Darcy flashes Jane what she hopes is a look of veiled panic. Jane takes her hand, squeezes. Darcy supposes it's meant to be reassuring. It probably would be, if Jane's hand wasn't trembling more than Darcy's.

One by one, everyone files out of the room. Thor lays a hand briefly on Darcy's shoulder as he passes, his fingers warm even through her blouse and jacket. Finally, only Darcy and Stark remain.

Stark turns to the sideboard. A range of refreshments are set up there, though no one had touched them during the meeting. Darcy had allowed herself one longing look at the carafe of coffee, but that was all.

Stark pours himself a shot of something green - wheatgrass juice, she presumes - and knocks it back. Grabs a bottle of water, pauses, then pours a cup of coffee, bringing it, along with sugar and creamer, over to the table for Darcy.

She takes the opportunity to busy herself doctoring the coffee with generous amounts of both cream and sugar, delaying the moment she has to look up and meet Stark's eyes again. When she finally does, he's back in his seat again, feet up on table.

"I'm sorry," Darcy says. "I shouldn't have said anything. I don't have to add that to the written record if you don't want me to."

"Screw the written record," Stark says. "I don't care if that meeting ever gets transcribed, though I suppose legal will." He unscrews his water bottle, takes a swig. His eyes haven't left Darcy the whole time. "Jane tells me that you have yourself a situation where you're in need of an apartment. And a job with some security. Things aren't that stable economically these days. Temp work just isn't what it used to be."

Darcy takes a swallow of her coffee. Too sweet. "I'm getting by. And the apartment…I have friends I can stay with while I look for some place."

"And what about that ex of yours? Mike, was it?"

Darcy looks up at him sharply. "How do you know about Mike? What's Jane been telling you?"

"Jane has actually been fairly reluctant to divulge much about you. And you've done a pretty good job of keeping yourself out of sight. Apart from the part where you tased a God."

"Jane hit him with the car first."

Stark smiles. "Of course she did." He swings his feet back down off the table again. "But I didn't ask you to stay here to talk about that. I want to know what you really think. About Loki. Ignore everything else about the deal with Asgard. Do you think he deserves a second chance?"

Darcy's throat is dry. She wants another swallow of coffee, but she knows that the sweetness would be too cloying, would just make her sick. She swallows hard, wishes that the action could wash away the tide of memories rising in her. "I think everyone deserves a second chance. And a third, and a fourth, if they need it."

Stark nods. "So, about this job…"