Notes: Since there aren't enough characters in this series already, have some more! And a change of scenery, just for fun.
Also- in previous stories, I assumed (but I don't believe I ever said) that Jane would have told her friends about the Bristol vampire adventure. It's occurred to me that, for Mitchell and George's safety, she probably didn't. This would have implications.
Warnings: None needed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Midgardian alcohol had little effect on the housemates, what with Annie unable to consume it, Loki and George possessed of inhumanly high metabolisms, and Mitchell dead. This was a mercy, since three of them, after all, had to go to work in the morning.
A circumstance the housemates roundly ignored for the evening: when Loki arrived at the pub, he discovered Annie and Catherine had joined George and Mitchell at a table in the corner. The surface before them was already littered with empty beer glasses. When Loki arrived there was enough cross-talk that none of the human customers appeared to notice the remarks being directed toward an apparently-empty chair. He seated himself to the right of this chair, pushing his own close enough for physical- or possibly metaphysical- contact with Annie, who promptly leaned into him in a way that suggested she found the contact as welcome as he did.
Indeed, when he turned his head- pretending to speak to Mitchell, on her other side- their noses were practically touching. This made it a little difficult to focus on Annie's face, and presumably vice-versa, but there were other compensations and besides, each of them knew what the other looked like.
"Do you wish to speak about it?" Loki asked, as soon as he was settled with a glass of his own before him. Annie dug her chin gently into his left shoulder and murmured,
"Yes, but… not right away. I still feel a little raw."
"Very well," Loki agreed. "So long as you know I want to listen."
"You're sweet," Annie told him, in a sentimental voice that sounded rather as though she was intoxicated. Since she obviously could not have been drinking, Loki found himself diagnosing extreme emotional exhaustion. And while it was folly to claim to be able to truly understand what anyone else was feeling- the condition, at least, was one Loki could appreciate.
He had just started to say words to that effect when Annie suddenly stiffened and exclaimed, "Oh no- dammit!"
"What?" Loki asked, pulling his head back in an effort to be able to focus on her face.
"I forgot to ask my sister if they've had a baby yet," Annie explained, sitting up and looking distressed. "My only chance and I wasted it- "
"I asked her," Loki said quickly.
"You did?" Annie asked, startled.
"Yes. I thought… you had so many other things to think of, perhaps you would forget. I told her that you had spoken of your desire to become an aunt. They have not, yet." Loki chewed his lower lip. "Your sister seemed very touched, to know you were so interested."
For a moment it appeared to be a very near thing, whether Annie would cry. Emotional exhaustion appeared to triumph, however, and instead she just hugged his left arm and leaned into his shoulder again. Loki parked his elbows on the table before him and rested his chin in his right hand, a posture in which he looked quite natural while still providing a suitable leaning post for Annie. Fortunately, he used his right hand to lift his drink.
Catherine, who was drinking ginger ale in deference to the fact she still had to drive herself home, glanced at Annie and asked,
"Now that you've spoken to your parents, have you given any thought to whether you need to confront Owen again?"
Loki could feel Annie shudder against him, turned his head just enough to let his cheek rest against her hair.
"Yes," Annie mumbled, "because it went so well the first time I tried it."
"He'll be here this weekend," Mitchell reminded her, and explained to Catherine, "He's supposed to fix the boiler."
"Yes," George snarled into the depths of his latest beverage, "and later he'll go repair communications satellites."
"Do you suppose he'll actually turn up?" Annie wondered. "After all, he's let this run on a pretty long time already."
"If his tenants were women, I feel quite sure he would not," Loki replied with asperity. Annie crimped her mouth in a gesture of agreement.
"The point is," Mitchell said patiently, "he's still the landlord, and we put this whole boiler thing in motion before we figured out what he is, so we're going to have to deal with him at least this once more. After he does nothing useful this time, we can tell him we'll call an expert and send the bill through the house agents' or something- "
"Which we apparently should have done in the first place, rather than let them muck us about all this time," George muttered. "If it wasn't for Loki we'd all have died of hypothermia weeks ago."
"What's Loki been doing?" Catherine asked.
"Heating the tubs of water," George explained.
"Which is greatly appreciated, but a bit tiring for him," Mitchell said. "Especially considering he could just transform himself into something that likes cold water and tell us to go hang."
"I would have," Loki assured him, "except I have long since learned that when I attempt to bathe in another form, that is the form that becomes clean. Not mine, sadly. Were it not for that, I would have left you both to cope ages ago."
"Of course you would," Mitchell said kindly, in a tone of utter disbelief. Loki grinned at him and gestured to the waitress to request another round of drinks.
"About Owen," he said, once the fresh beverages had been delivered and the empty glasses cleared away. "Annie, perhaps what you need to do is simply give him a good fright and then have nothing more to do with him."
"He's not afraid of me, Loki," Annie protested, rather fretfully. "He proved that when we tried the dream trick."
"He was not afraid of the dream," Loki argued. Never let it be said that Loki knew when to give up on a lost cause. Catherine raised her eyebrows in a question, and Loki explained, "Last Tuesday, Annie and I paid a visit to Owen and his latest victim, Janey, with whom he lives. With the aid of a few minor charms, we were able to persuade them in turn that Annie was appearing to them in dreams."
"What was the purpose of appearing to Janey?" asked Catherine, who was a great advocate for fair play. She was probably concerned that the poor little mortal had been tormented for sport.
"She has to get away from him," Annie explained. "And if my experience is anything to go by, she'll need a push to do it. It turns out she already suspects he killed me, but she's trying not to admit the same thing could happen to her. Loki and I hoped the dream might help her believe she's right to worry about it."
"Dreams are messages from one's own mind, after all," Loki pointed out. "If Janey believes her mind created the visit from Annie, if she thinks it is her way of coming to terms with these things she knows, she might be inclined to take it seriously."
"That's a good point," Catherine agreed, sipping her ginger ale. Her expression was approving and perhaps impressed. It occurred to Loki that he might have misinterpreted her initial reaction. "Did she?"
"I think so," Annie replied. "Although it's anyone's guess whether she's got the nerve to do anything about it."
"Her coworker is worried enough to attempt to make her see sense," Loki said. "Annie heard such a discussion when she paid a visit to Janey's workplace, is that not so?" Annie nodded. "And after the business of the dreams, I also went there, in disguise, and left the coworker with, perhaps, further reason to be concerned about Janey's circumstances. I do not know whether this will prove to be enough to make her take her own safety seriously, but we think it is making an impression."
Catherine nodded. "And you say you tried the same thing with Owen?"
"Yes," Loki admitted. "His reaction was... not productive." He glanced at Annie and admitted, "He seemed to think his mind had conjured Annie simply so that he might heap further abuse upon her. The effort was worse than useless."
"Ouch," Catherine said calmly, and turned to Annie with a compassionate look. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Loki got me out of there before he could do much harm," Annie said quickly.
"Annie, you were the one who removed yourself," Loki reminded her.
"Yes, but I completely froze up," she pointed out. "I'd have just stayed there and let him say whatever he liked, if you hadn't told me to get away. It was awful." Loki tipped his head toward her again, wondering whether she could hear the difference in her own voice. As she spoke about the incident, instead of fearful and ashamed, she was beginning to sound angry. Loki wholeheartedly approved of the anger.
"I wonder," Catherine said casually, "whether your reactions might be a little different now. Since you've had a chance to confront your family."
Annie sat up a little straighter. "It wasn't really a confrontation," she argued, but her voice was thoughtful.
"Not in the sense of fighting with them," Catherine agreed. "But you spoke for yourself and made sure your family heard you."
"You made sure," Annie protested. Catherine sighed and looked patient. Loki turned his head, once again propping his chin in his right hand, and gazed steadily at her. Mitchell and George also directed their attention toward Annie, and finally she snapped, "All right, then. I- " Her face changed, looked startled and, perhaps, proud. "I did, didn't I?"
"You did," Catherine confirmed. "And it must have been difficult, because- unlike Owen- your family matters. You had good reason to fear that conversation, because the stakes were so high, but you handled it very well. You expressed what you needed to, you listened to their words and responded to them, and you ended with a better understanding among you all. Isn't that right?"
"I... I suppose so," Annie agreed, slowly.
"All right," Catherine said. "And having done that, there's no reason whatsoever for you to be unable to confront Owen and put him in his proper place in your world- which is to say, nowhere." Annie looked anxious but undeniably tempted, and Loki suspected the idea of banishing Owen to the outer darkness was among the most enticing imaginable.
"But what if I- I might get scared and- " Annie faltered, her words trailing off.
Loki suddenly realized there was a role here for Annie's friends.
"You would not have to be alone," he spoke up hastily. "We would not make you- "
"But it's his house, and if he knows you, you know about me," Annie protested, "he might... do something."
Loki shrugged, at exactly the same moment George grunted and Mitchell let out a snort. It was all very inelegant, but adequately expressed the contempt felt by the household toward Owen.
"Really, Annie," Loki spoke for all of them, "if the choice is to stand up to Owen and find a new abode, or bend our heads to him to be allowed to stay- "
"When you put it that way," George said, "a tent in the park sounds pretty good." Mitchell raised a glass in a toasting gesture.
"But he can't even see me!" Annie pointed out. "How can I talk to him when he can't even see me?"
"He can if I hold him by the throat," Loki suggested, longingly. He generally counted on his friends to restrain him when he became carried away like this. Instead, Mitchell nodded, and George looked speculative, as though they were considering sharing the fun of taking Owen by the throat.
Possibly not just with their hands.
Not even Catherine looked inclined to remonstrate with them over the matter, but- and this was possibly the lingering effect of centuries spent with the feeling of someone watching him and judging everything he did- Loki felt uneasy enough to take a mental step back.
"However," he amended, rather reluctantly, "it strikes me that would be a bad idea, if only because it would cheat Annie out of her right to confront Owen for herself."
"Can't see me," Annie sang gently, and then distracted Loki rather badly by letting her hand fall onto his thigh.
When he collected his thoughts, Loki insisted, "I am confident that something can be done in that direction. There must be a spell among my books that could render you at least temporarily visible to humans."
"And Owen," Mitchell murmured into his beer, and George giggled.
"If we were there," Loki continued, as though there had been no interruption, "Owen would be a great deal less arrogant and self-assured, and Annie would be much likelier to be able to speak freely. We will not interfere," he added quickly, turning to her. "We will simply support you."
Annie patted his leg. "Maybe we should go find that spell, then."
~oOo~
Much later, Loki was in bed, balancing a large magical grimoire on his chest. He was trying to neither drop it on Philip and Elizabeth- who had moved from their customary place on his sternum up to his throat when the book displaced them- nor inhale too much of their fur as he paged through the spells.
He was also taking care not to disturb Annie beside him. Among the other interesting things they had learned over the past few days was, Annie's longstanding insomnia seemed mostly to afflict her when she was alone. Perhaps any friendly presence would be enough to provide relief, but since they had only tested the effect of Loki's, he was quite willing to offer it. He was aware of the Midgardian euphemism concerning "sleeping together," which made him smile to himself as he thought of Clint Barton's expression, that day on the lawn of Tony's house.
Tonight, even though she had only shared the barest outline of her encounter with her parents, Loki had been able to see that she was exhausted and in need of comfort. For once she had accepted the offer, and had fallen asleep under the light flowered quilt almost at once.
He carefully shifted the book so as to turn the page, and Elizabeth squeaked and pressed her damp little nose into the underside of his chin. Loki kept his place with his elbow as he reached down to rub her head. Scamp, on Annie's other side, looked up with perked ears.
"Shh," Loki whispered. "Go back to sleep." Scamp wagged her tail sleepily, put her head back down on her forepaws, and did so.
Loki was engrossed in what looked like a very promising spell when, from the bedside table, his mobile uttered its happy "someone has texted you!" chirp. He laid the book face-down across his stomach and reached for the device.
There was no question in his mind who was texting him: Loki had sent Thor a message earlier, as he walked to the pub to greet the others. Having learned from his father that Thor was not in Asgard, Loki concluded his brother was mostly likely here on Midgard, and therefore texting was the most reliable way to get in contact. He had accordingly sent a short communication, indicating there was a matter (of no pressing urgency) which should be discussed between them.
Sure enough, the present message was from Thor:
Sureltn brptherm will ypu comr tp new mexivo and visot?
Loki grinned to himself as he translated the message, occasionally referring to the keypad on his own mobile to help him guess what Thor had intended to type. It was not that his brother could not spell, only that his fingertips were as large as the rest of him, and he tended to press the wrong keys. Trying to correct one mistake generally led to the introduction of others, and auto-correct had only made matters worse. In the end, Loki and Thor's Midgardian friends had decided the best course was to simply learn to translate Thor-text in their minds.
This one was easy:
Surely, brother. Will you come to New Mexico and visit?
Well, deciphering it was easy.
Loki studied the screen, deep in thought. He could certainly go to this New Mexico, could find his way there through the branches of Yggdrasil. He had been there once before, though only to the temporary SHIELD installation far from general human habitation. The town itself, he had not visited. Not in person. But he had sent the Destroyer, had watched through the eyes of his magical second as destruction was wrought, and his brother...
He put the mobile down next to his hip before he crushed it in his hand, and made himself breathe.
Returned the grimoire to its shelf with a gesture, and picked up the mobile again to type a reply.
Will Jane not object?
There was almost no delay at all before Thor's response came. Translated, it read:
- It was Jane's suggestion. Please come.
There was a time- and it was a fairly recent time- when Loki would have entertained grave suspicions about Jane's reasons for tendering such an invitation. Surely she only wished to have him on her own ground in order to punish him for his crimes against her. Or- and this was the likelier idea, knowing Jane even slightly- she thought him to have heart enough to be ashamed at the evidence of what he had done to her little town. It was true he had not killed anyone- permanently- but the children of the town were probably still plagued by nightmares of his making. His activities with the Avengers last summer, in New York, had served to SHIELD and the American government as amends for what he had done in New Mexico, but surely that made little difference to Jane's neighbours in the dark of night, and there was nothing he could do about that.
Not long ago, he would have assumed these were Jane's motives for inviting him to come, and reasonable ones they would have been. But since then, they had developed a tentative friendship, one Jane had confirmed in their recent time together. If she still thought, which in fairness she might, that he should be punished or simply made to face the reality of what he had done, she would tell him so. She would not lure him to New Mexico with false promises of hospitality and then... pounce.
There was, of course, the slight possibility that she had explained these intentions to Thor, and Thor had condensed everything into a single statement because it was too troublesome to type out the whole thing. That theory, however, assumed Thor was either stupid or naïve, and unable to comprehend the difference between what Jane had said and what he had texted. Loki knew his brother now, far too well to contemplate either of those as possibilities. It therefore followed the invitation was genuine.
He was considering his reply when there was another muted chirp from the device in his hands.
- It's Jane. I've met your friends, please come meet mine.
Loki chewed his lip. There was, as the humans said, no time like the present.
Tomorrow, when I finish work? A short visit only. I need to speak to Thor, and would be glad to meet your friends.
Again, almost at once, came the reply:
- How are you planning to travel?
Loki felt a smile tug at his lips.
Magic.
-Cool! Explain when you get here?
Will try. I leave England early evening, when will I arrive?
- Early afternoon. Will email you directions to find us when you get to town. T, Erik and I need to meet shield reps but Darcy will be there. Ok?
OK. See you soon
There was a pause, then:
- Gppdnighy, brothrr
Loki grinned to himself, and then deliberately typed:
Gppdnighy Thpr
And a moment later, the reply came:
- ;P
~oOo~
Loki emerged from Yggdrasil onto a dry, sere plain, which stretched almost as far as he could see before rising into rugged mountains. There was only a little brown vegetation, and almost no evidence of water. The contrast between this place and England was stunning. One would hardly believe they were on the same realm.
The contrast with Asgard was even greater, and Loki found himself imagining the sense of desolation and loneliness Thor must have felt, when first he found himself banished here.
Well, fortunately for Thor, assistance had quickly arrived.
And run him over in a car.
Loki in his right mind had never found that story anything like as funny as Thor claimed to, and he forced it from his mind as he began to trudge toward the only collection of buildings within view. Jane had advised him to dress warmly, advice for which he was grateful as he huddled himself more tightly in the heavy olive-green winter coat he had purchased last year at the military surplus store. He was wearing a knitted hat, but still had to pause to raise the hood, which was trimmed in false fur that restricted his vision but gave an impression of coziness. Even so, the wind was sharp, and only a wish not to draw undue attention to himself prevented him from transporting himself by magic into the centre of the town.
Well, perhaps not only.
This was, of course, the route walked by the Destroyer. He had landed in the same place the Destroyer had been set down by the Bifrost. That was deliberate: it was easier to find a place he had been before, even if by proxy, and besides, he wanted- he needed- to see.
Later, Loki was unsure exactly what he had expected to see. He had been living in England for two years, had been lost in the void for more than a year before that. It was three Midgardian years and more since the Destroyer came, and the humans had certainly not spent all that time staring blankly at their wreckage. Repairs had long since been made, and such were the actions of wind and dust that Loki truly could not tell what was new. He had little memory of the Destroyer's actions: he remembered blasting things and breaking things, but he could not really remember what.
He had no memory at all of any little figures fleeing before him, only of Thor's friends making their hopeless stand, and his own utterly irrational feelings of rage and betrayal as he looked at them.
The shiver that seized him had nothing whatever to do with the temperature.
The town was tiny, self-contained. Loki found a road that came from out of the town, where it undoubtedly connected to the motorway that must enable the inhabitants to travel to other towns and cities. It could not be pleasant, to make use of such a road when the winds blew across the flat plains, but there was no other way he could see for the humans to travel.
Preoccupied by these thoughts as the road entered the town, Loki reached a crossing. He turned his hooded head to check for traffic, stepped out into the street-
And was promptly hit by a car.
It was, he immediately realized, his own fault: he had momentarily forgotten that Americans drove on what he considered to be the wrong side of the road, and so he had looked in the opposite direction to the one he should have. Fortunately, the car had been pulling away from a stop sign, and was traveling very slowly, so the driver was able to engage the brakes in time to avoid more than bumping him. The car's engine stalled out as Loki stumbled sideways. He then tipped toward the car as he attempted to regain his balance, coming to a stop with his gloved hands on the bonnet.
He looked up at the sound of a car door opening and closing, and a young female voice calling out,
"Oh my God, are you okay?"
Loki straightened, did a mental inventory of his body parts, paying particular attention to his legs, and found no damage. He pushed back his hood to offer a conciliatory smile.
"I really am terribly sorry. That was entirely my fault." This was not, strictly speaking, the truth, since ordinary prudence seemed to indicate one wait for the pedestrian to declare his intentions before driving through an intersection marked by stop signs. However, Loki had no desire whatsoever to make trouble for anyone in this town, least of all himself.
"You bet it was," declared the young woman, who was bespectacled and under a black knit cap had long dark hair flying about her face in the wind. Suddenly, her eyes widened and her red-lipsticked mouth dropped open. "Are you- you have got to be kidding me. You're Thor's little brother, aren't you?"
"The same," Loki admitted. He supposed he should really not be surprised: in a town of this size, one would expect everyone to be familiar with the business of everyone else, and besides, it was not in Thor to be reticent. He could only assume his accent was the giveaway.
The young woman grinned at him. "Awesome. Jane showed me some pictures she took over Thanksgiving. How often does anyone get to run over two members of the same family? You really need to get some road-safety courses on Asgard, dude." She extended a red-mittened hand. "I'm Darcy Lewis. Jane Foster's assistant."
"Loki Odinson," Loki replied unnecessarily, put out a gloved hand and shook Darcy's. And then he felt the need to explain, "Ordinarily I do not make a practice of flinging myself into traffic, but in England- "
"Oh, yeah. Other side of the road, right?" Loki nodded. Darcy also nodded. "Well, if you'll take a piece of advice, it might be a good idea to look both ways before you step off any curbs. Or- you're the magic guy, right?" Loki nodded again. "Maybe you could put a don't-get-run-over spell on yourself while you're here." She smirked. "Your brother could have used one of those, when he showed up."
"He has told me of his adventures," Loki agreed.
"Well, we can't stand here in the street all day," Darcy announced. "I was just going to pick up some groceries. You want to come with?"
Loki finally looked properly at the car. It occurred to him that, even if it had struck him at full speed, it was difficult to imagine such a car causing serious injury: it was small and bulbous, with not a single straight line anywhere. Add to this the fact it was as yellow as the famous submarine, and it looked like a toy.
"What sort of car is this?" he asked, looking down at the vehicle, which appeared to be smiling, its round headlights gazing innocently up at him.
"Don't make fun," Darcy reprimanded him. "It's a Volkswagen Bug. A classic. Brand new-to-me, although it's older than my dad."
"I would not dream of making fun," Loki assured her, walking around to the passenger side and folding himself into the tiny vehicle before she could change her mind about letting him ride in it. He ended up peering at the dashboard between his own folded-up knees, which appealed considerably to his sense of humour.
"Sorry about the clown-car effect," Darcy apologized. "The research truck isn't real practical for short trips into town, and anyway I wanted something of my own. This was what I could afford. And besides- "
"Any person with sense would have chosen it," Loki announced, looking around the interior, which bore a more-than-passing resemblance to Mitchell's old Volvo. He patted the dash as though it was a pet.
"Cute is its own excuse for being," Darcy said cheerfully, started the engine, and drove away.
The grocery store was small but well-stocked, and Loki recognized many of the products as items they also had in England. He was quite confused by the currency, however, as the denominations were unfamiliar and all the bills appeared to be the same colour. He had not thought to exchange any money before he came here, and it occurred to him that it was as well he would not be here for very long. American merchants might not be willing to accept pound notes when they expected dollar bills.
He was thinking about that as he helped Darcy carry her shopping to the car, but the matter was chased from his mind when she stepped in front of the little yellow vehicle and unlocked the bonnet, which she opened to reveal it was actually the boot.
"Wait, wait, where is the engine?" Loki demanded, for a moment almost expecting her to confide that her little car ran on magic.
"In the back," Darcy replied, amused. "And don't ask me why, I guess some German dude thought it was a good idea, back in the day. Come on, we have to get a move on, it's my turn to make dinner. Thor was all for ordering pizza, but Jane figured we could do you better than that. Sorry about the squishing," she added, as Loki crawled back into the passenger seat.
"I do not mind," Loki assured her. Certainly the amusement would pall on a longer trip, when he might resort to shapeshifting into something small enough to ride more comfortably, but in the short term Loki found the tiny car most endearing.
"Well, at least you're skinny," Darcy remarked. "I tried to drive Thor over to SHIELD headquarters the day after I bought this, and he ended up practically sitting in my lap the whole way. I was pretty sure Jane was going to challenge me to a duel when we got home. And here we are." She pulled up next to a building composed of metal, concrete, and glass. At Loki's startled look, she explained, "It was originally a gas station. Petrol, I guess you'd say. It was abandoned when the company that ran it went out of business, and changed hands a few times before Jane got hold of it as a research base. Come on, help me with the groceries and I'll show you around."
"Showing around" did not take very long. The research base consisted of a large room with glass on all sides, which made Loki feel rather as though he was in an aquarium, with closed rooms at the back which had once been offices. Now they appeared to be used for storage. A considerable amount of dust had blown or been tracked into the main room, and Loki had to fight the professional desire to look for a broom and do something about it.
Behind the research building was a small residence, fronted with large windows. Darcy referred to it as "the cottage," and seemed to take considerable satisfaction in it. Apparently, the researchers had all lived in tiny metal "trailers" before SHIELD offered partnerships and funding.
"At first we thought they were, you know, Mr. Evil Secret Ops Agency," Darcy said cheerfully. "But they're a lot more generous about living quarters and stuff than the university was. I admit, the cottage looks like it should be on a lake somewhere, but it's got bedrooms for all of us and a kitchen and everything. You want to help me start dinner?" Before Loki could reply, she added, "Oh geez, are you hungry? I totally forgot, it's probably already suppertime where you're from. Did you eat before you came?"
"I made a sandwich," Loki said quickly. "After work."
"Oh, well, good. Do you like meat loaf? I make a mean meat loaf, my mom gave me her recipe and I do her proud. Ordinarily Jane lives on, like, cereal, but when Thor's here we cook for him and she'll usually actually eat something." Darcy glanced sideways at Loki and remarked, "You probably know about getting all involved with something and forgetting to eat, do you?"
"Not really," Loki admitted. "I am told I simply have something called a high metabolism. Also, I run."
"Cool," Darcy said. "I wouldn't recommend you try it out there today, unless you weigh a lot more than you look like you do, because Mary Poppins is a distinct possibility when the wind blows. Do you- ?"
"I know about Mary Poppins," Loki assured her.
He followed Darcy out the back door of the glass building, helped retrieve the shopping from the Bug, and carried it into the "cottage."
Darcy busied herself with ground meat, rolled oats, and the other components of the "meat loaf," while Loki scrubbed some potatoes, cut them into wedges, and shook them in pepper and other seasonings preparatory to putting them in a dish to be roasted. He was investigating their vegetable options when Darcy spoke again.
"You're pretty handy in the kitchen, for a prince from a foreign planet," she said. The light, teasing note had left her voice. Loki came alert, unsure whether he was right to sense danger, but instinctively suspicious.
"I have done my share of cooking, since I came to live in England," he replied.
"Huh. Yeah." Darcy began working the meat mixture in plastic-gloved hands, her expression thoughtful. Loki had a sense he knew what would come next.
And then it did:
"I've got to tell you, it's beyond weird to have you here. I mean, when Jane came back from that trip to England she said you were okay after all, but... dude. What you did to your brother was, like, the dick move to end all dick moves."
"I know it," Loki replied. He was unfamiliar with the epithet she used, but the sense of it was quite clear. It was also clear that, whatever intelligence had passed between Thor and Jane, Darcy had not been taken into their confidence. He was grateful indeed that Jane had concealed the existence of supernatural creatures, had protected his friends. It was only his bad luck that this concealment had required glossing over the reasons Jane had to forgive him.
"Yeah. When Thor's buddies told us everything you'd been up to, while he was here on Earth, none of us could believe it. Your own brother. And later, I mean, Jane could have totally ratted you out to SHIELD, when she found out you were on Earth. You would have deserved it. They'd have sent the stormtroopers after you, no doubt about it. You'd be in a little room with no windows, in an orange jumpsuit, until like the year 3000."
"I owe her a great deal," Loki said quietly, because there was little else he could say. He kept his eyes on his hands, which were by now scrubbing carrots.
"Yeah, well, she did it for Thor," was Darcy's unsurprising comment. "I'd say it's him you really owe." Loki nodded, still without looking up. He wondered whether Jane had deliberately left him with Darcy, knowing what she would say, or whether anybody gave much thought to what Darcy thought or felt or believed. It was abundantly clear that no one had explained things to her, which perhaps indicated her discretion was not trusted. Or, of course, it could simply mean that nobody recognized the depth of her feelings on this matter. Either way, it seemed to Loki that little he could say would have much impact.
He also wondered whether the other member of the group, the "Erik" of whom Thor sometimes spoke, would have as much to say on the matter of Loki's iniquities.
Well, it was not as if he did not deserve all of it. Perhaps, someday, he would come to the end of those to whom he owed reparations and apologies.
On Earth, at least.
Darcy was quiet for a surprisingly long time, and Loki finally realized she was waiting for him to say something. He had no idea what she might be expecting, but he owed her at least the effort.
"Believe me," Loki said quietly, "I am aware how indebted I am to my brother, and I do not underestimate his kindness, or his forgiveness. I owe a great deal to this whole realm, for the chances I have been given to make some sort of amends. And I am very sorry for the horrors I put you- and your town- through."
Darcy was silent for what felt like a very long time. Loki focused on slicing the carrots into coins. Finally, she said,
"Jane didn't ask you here just so I could pick on you. She'd be pretty mad if she knew I cornered you about this."
Her tone reminded Loki irresistibly of a guilty schoolchild. He stopped cutting the carrots, set down the knife, and looked up with a tired smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "There is no need to worry. I have lied often enough to keep myself out of trouble, I can certainly lie for you." Darcy looked even guiltier, and Loki amended, "Omit certain facts, then. I am good at it. Do not worry."
"Thanks," Darcy muttered.
"Least I can do," Loki told her.
"Thor's really glad you're here," Darcy offered, after a moment.
"I know," Loki replied, his voice tight. "Would you like these carrots mashed once they are cooked?"
"I think just steamed is okay," Darcy mumbled. "Thanks for the help."
"Glad to do it," Loki said evenly. Then he caught himself. I am not the injured party here. He turned to Darcy, made himself face her squarely, and took a deep breath. "You have every right to speak your mind about this, and to be angry at me. I know what I did was wrong, and it is only fair that I hear the words and know the feelings of those I injured." I am not Owen.
He was not Owen, if only because he understood he had done wrong and could take responsibility for it. That was something. It had to be something.
He told himself so, more than once, as he put the potatoes into the oven beside the meat, and waited to turn on the heat under the carrots. By the time the smell of cooking began to fill the little kitchen, he almost believed it.
He was still very grateful to hear the sound of another vehicle pulling up outside the little house, the door opening, and the sound of his brother's voice calling, "Loki? Are you here?"
Loki called on the smile that had once fooled Thor as easily as everyone else, and made his way across the living area to embrace his brother in the doorway.