"We're very glad you called, Mrs. Laufeyson."

"It's just Darcy," she said. "You said you might know things about Ellie."

"We have a theory," Coulson confirmed, "but it remains untested."

Darcy bit her lip. "When you say 'testing', what does that mean?"

"A series of simple, noninvasive tests, I assure you. Mostly assessing her physical responses and reactions to unharmful stimuli, but some cognitive tests as well. And a blood sample, if you're willing."

Well. That didn't sound horrible.

"I would need to be there at all times," Darcy clarified, "And I would be able to say no to any of it for any reason and walk away. This has to be no-strings attached."

"We could accommodate that."

"And if Ellie doesn't like it then we stop."

There was a slight pause. "Agreed."

"Okay," Darcy said slowly. "Okay. We'll give it a try."

"That is excellent new. May I ask what made you change your mind?"

"She...hurt someone. Accidentally!- of course."

"Ah."

"She can't control it, and I can't help her."

"Well, I believe you're making the right decision, Mrs. Laufey-"

"Darcy."

"-Darcy, then. What day can you come by for an appointment?"

Darcy gave it some consideration. "Tomorrow would be good," she said. "At around three-thirty?" The sooner the better. Nathan had a soccer practice after school anyways- she could just drop him off and take Ellie over.

"That sounds good," he said. "We'll see you then. It's just the same building you went to before."

Right. Before. She shuddered. That had gone really well.

After hanging up, Darcy went to tell Ellie, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing. Crayons littered the table.

"Sweetie," Darcy said, sitting down next to her. "You've got a special meeting tomorrow after school."

"What do you mean?" Ellie asked, choosing a blue crayon for her picture. She was very focused on the drawing and didn't look up once.

"Well, I'm bringing you back to Jane's work. There are some people there that were hoping you would play some games with them. How does that sound?"

"What kind of games?" she asked curiously. "Hide and seek?"

Darcy smiled. "No, not hide and seek. New games. Ones you haven't played before."

Ellie thought about this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay," she said.

Darcy bussed her cheek loudly, making her giggle. "Good girl. What are you drawing?" she asked, getting some juice out of the fridge.

"I'm drawing us!" Ellie said happily.

"Nice," Darcy said, looking at the picture as she sat down at the table again, juice in hand. "But who's that?"

Ellie had drawn the three of them as stick figures- with a puppy, Darcy noticed with a smile (Ellie and Nate had been begging for one for the past few weeks)- but then off in the corner she'd drawn another stick figure.

She took her blue crayon now and made the one in the corner have a sad face with a tear on his cheek. "That's daddy," she said. "See how I put him over here? That's cuz he's far away right now."

They had been following the Frost Giants' trail for the past twenty minutes. They had made no effort to conceal their tracks. It was a simple matter.

Loki had outfitted his men with bows, in addition to their swords. Using the scepter, he'd enchanted their arrows so that when fired they would burst into flame- susceptibility to heat being the biggest disadvantage a Frost Giant had.

There had been conversation among the men when they had first ridden out, but now as they got closer to their enemy and the fight to come, all talk ceased. Excitement was in the air, and even Baldr was swept up in it. There was an honor to fighting for the land and people you loved, and he saw it as a penance of sorts.

It happened all at once: hearing the enemy, already engaged in swordplay against Odin's troops, the aiming of arrows, the flames as they soared through the air, and then the fray had swept them up and bows were useless in the close quarters.

In a way it was like coming home as Loki threw himself into the fray. The swords flying, the sharp crying of steel against deadly ice. Shouts of rage, and of exhilaration, of pain, and of success all came together as one in a tragic song. The tang of blood filled his head.

All was chaos. Beautiful, magnificent chaos.

Oh yes, something within him purred. This is what we've needed. And he was lost to it, lost to the immediacy of the moment and lost to the fight. He and the scepter were as one now. Instinct led him. He was merely a reaction to his surroundings.

He sent great fireballs at the Frost Giants with pinpoint accuracy, Sif and Baldr covering him and keeping others from getting too close and distracting him.

It was so pure. He started laughing right there in the middle of the battlefield, as Frost Giants and Asgardians alike fell to the ground all around him, their blood soaking into what had once been a wheat field. He caught Sif's eye. She smiled, a feral, joyous baring of teeth, and he felt a little closer to her: she understood, how freeing war was. How equaling.

Baldr was nowhere close to smiling. His face was grim and set as he fought, but he was like a master as he performed his deadly dance. His form was perfect, his instinct true. For one who had not grown up with the sword, he had certainly taken to it as naturally as breathing.

They fought on.

Darcy's fingers tapped against her leg nervously as she walked into SHIELD. Ellie, on the other hand, was practically jumping up and down. She loved meeting new people because people typically adored her, which she adored.

"Welcome back," the receptionist said warmly.

Darcy returned her smile, despite her reservations. "Thank you."

Mr. Coulson met them at the front desk, wearing the same suit he had worn before, only now Darcy was paying enough attention to notice that he wore a badge on his breast pocket that read: Agent Phil Coulson.

Agent. Again, it struck Darcy- the lunacy of all of this. It sounded so sinister. An agent.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Laufeyson," he said with a smile. He nodded warmly to Ellie. "And you, Ms. Laufeyson."

Ellie smiled back shyly and leaned her head against Darcy's leg.

"Darcy," Darcy reminded him, tweaking one of Ellie's braids.

"Of course. I'm so sorry."

"Right," Darcy said. How was she supposed to go about doing this? "Well, good afternoon to you too, ah...Agent Coulson." She made a face. That sounded so strange.

He laughed congenially. "I know," he said, seeing where her thoughts went. "It takes some getting used to." He nodded down the hallway. "If you'll follow me?"

Darcy nodded, and they followed him down the long, brightly lit hall. This time however, it was strangely empty. No one shared the hall with them. It was quiet but for the clacking of their shoes.

"Doctor Whitman is very much looking forward to meeting you, Ellie," Coulson said with a smile at her. "You're quite the special girl."

Darcy relaxed a little at his obvious friendliness. It helped to dull the lingering suspicion from after the last time.

Ellie beamed up at him. "I know all my alphabet," she bragged. "And I can even read some words."

"Well," Coulson said, looking impressed. "Pretty and smart. That's the whole package, isn't it?" He said this while looking at Darcy, who frowned. Was he coming on to her? She shook her head. No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.

The room Coulson led them to had obviously been redecorated with this meeting in mind, driving home for Darcy just how much the people at SHIELD really wanted this. It was a bright, cheerful yellow room with two windows on the sunny side of the building, the curtains pulled back so that the afternoon light streamed in. It was summer though, and brutally hot, so the windows weren't open. Instead, an air-conditioner hummed from a corner of the room, bringing the temperature to a nice, cool, comfortable one. The walls were lined with bookshelves at a child's height. The rug was a pretty, pale blue that lay like a robin's egg in the middle of the room, accenting the hardwood floors and yellow walls. (And Darcy had noted that the rest of the building that she could see had tiled floors.) It even smelled pleasantly floral.

At the front of the room, behind the door, there was a wooden desk, and behind it, a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman with dark hair and tortoise-shell glasses. A pretty blue and white vase of flowers sat on the desk.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said with a welcoming smile, standing up from her desk to shake hands with Darcy. "The infamous Darcy! I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure."

"Oh," Darcy said. She glanced at Coulson, who just smiled tacitly. "Well, thank you. Ah, I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage," she apologized.

"Oh of course!" The woman's smile widened, and she waved the apology away. "Forgive me- I'm Doctor Whitman. I'll be working with Ellie. And speaking of which," she crouched down so she was more near Ellie's size. "It's very nice to meet you, too, miss Ellie."

Ellie smiled shyly up at her, clutching Darcy's hand for security.

"Sweetie?" Darcy said encouragingly, nudging her. "Do you have something you want to say?"

Ellie blinked her big green eyes up at Doctor Whitman and mumbled, "Hi."

Darcy smiled. Ellie could be a little bit shy meeting new people, until she new for certain they liked her, and then her shyness evaporated. "Good job."

Doctor Whitman smiled and got up, getting a clipboard and pen from her desk. "Now then," she said, "let's just start off slow, and get to know each other a little bit before we get into everything else. "

There was a small, round table by one of the windows, and Doctor Whitman sat down at it, motioning for Ellie to join her.

Ellie looked at Darcy, who smiled reassurance. "Look, honey, there's crayons. Maybe you can draw while Doctor Whitman talks to you." She raised her brows at the older woman in question.

"Exactly!" Doctor Whitman exclaimed delightedly. "I was just about to suggest it."

"Okay," Ellie said, blowing a strand of black hair away from her eyes and sitting down. She picked up crayons and paper instantly.

Darcy looked at Coulson, who had stayed next to her in the doorway. "Are you staying?" she asked.

Coulson nodded. "I'll be watching, just like you."

"Huh." Darcy frowned.

He smiled, and sat in a chair in a far corner, with his own clipboard and pen on his lap. Darcy sat down at the table with Ellie and the doctor.

"So," Doctor Whitman said. "I hear you're quite the artist, Ellie. You like to draw?"

Ellie nodded. "Look," she said, holding up the paper. "I'm making a picnic. See how I did the wolf? He's got big teeth, cuz he's a wolf."

"I see that. My goodness, but he does have big teeth. And what's a wolf doing at this picnic?"

Darcy smiled. "I've been reading Ellie a lot of those Norse Myths lately," she explained. "And she's become quite enraptured by the really big wolf that they talk about in them." She frowned. "Ellie, what's that one's name? The big one who broke all the chains?"

"That's Fenrir," Ellie said authoritatively, not looking up from her work as she picked up a red crayon.

"Fenrir! Yep, that's the name."

Doctor Whitman smiled. "I think it's great that you've been teaching them," she said. "It can never hurt to know too much." Her mouth twisted wryly.

Darcy frowned. "'Teaching'? I guess you could call it that, though I'm sure the books aren't entirely accurate."

The doctor gave a short, surprised laugh. "No. No, you're right. They're really not."

Darcy frowned again. "Yeah, I'm sure a lot is lost in translation. Cuz they were written in Norse originally, right?"

"Oh. I see." She made a little note on her clipboard. Was she making notes about Darcy? "So," she continued, "you like the wolf, Ellie? What do you like about him?" Darcy wondered what these questions had to do with helping her daughter, but allowed that the first session might be more one of building a bond of sorts than being immediately helpful.

"I like his teeth. He can bite through anything," she said importantly. "And I like," she paused, caught up in her drawing, "um, I like that he got free."

"What do you mean by that?" the doctor asked.

"Well, cuz all the gods thought he was too, um, strong- so they got him all wrapped up in chains and stuff but he got free again. And I like that." She put her crayon down and gave the picture to the doctor. "Here, you can have this. Maybe you want to put it on your fridge," she said. "That's what my mommy does."

"Well, thank you very much," Whitman said, taking the picture. She seemed quite touched. Darcy smiled. It appeared that Ellie had made yet another conquest.

The battle went on, and Loki lost track of the hours. It was a brutal slaughtering, with no quarter given on either side. Frost Giant and Asgardian corpses alike littered the field.

But the climate was beginning to have an effect on the would-be invaders: they were waning. Their movements were more labored. Their reactions slower. Of the several thousand there had been, by the time it started getting dark only a third of that remained.

The battle-high that had overtaken Loki had dulled now, so that he could look at the field with the horror that he knew to be more appropriate. It sunk in once more that each body had been a person, who had loved, and been loved.

Most of the fighting had moved off the the side of the field by now, where the least number of bodies lay to impede movement.

Odin and Laufey were locked in fierce combat. Loki watched from the corner of his eye as he fought his own opponent. With growing nervousness he saw Odin take a blow to the arm that had him staggering backwards, an expression of deep pain on his face. It had been to his already infected arm, Loki noted.

He dispatched his opponent with a combination of a quick parry and bolt of flame.

Laufey sneered at him coldly, his eyes glinting maniacally as Loki approached the duo.

"So the pup comes to defend the hound," he spat with hatred, his sword raised. "I should have killed you at birth. I should have torn your throat from your runty little body, and never mind what she said."

"I can take care of him myself, Loki," Odin said roughly from beside him, limping from the pain but still scowling at Loki.

Loki couldn't stop the jolt of hurt that came with Odin's words, though he gave no outward sign of it. "You're wounded," he said briskly. He eyed Laufey up , searching for weaknesses. Laufey eyed him back, giving a slight smile at his words to Odin.

"It seems the pup is unwanted even here," he said with a smirk.

Loki ignored him. Laufey was favoring his right side slightly, and he could not hide the beginnings of Heat Fever that were making themselves known: the beading of sweat at his blue forehead, the tired droop to his eyes. He was a formidable opponent, but he was out of his element. Loki was confident that he could take him.

Without warning, he shot a fireball at him. There had been enough talk.

Laufey proved faster than he'd thought, and he spun to the side, dodging it. The fireball fizzled out before it hit the ground (Loki had been careful about this with all his flamework: he had no desire to send the whole field up in a blaze with their own army).

"You'll have to do better than that, boy," Laufey jeered. "I am no stranger to your witchcraft." His eyes glinted with condescension.

But Laufey was only trying to distract him, and would go for his throat should he let his guard down. Loki felt a thrill of anticipation: two could play at that game.

"And yet you fell prey to it," he said, shooting Laufey a sneer of his own. "I've bested you before, father. All your knowledge, all your power. And yet I stole your treasure right from under your nose."

"Frigga," he snarled, eyes narrowed with fury.

"That's right," Loki said, unable to keep the gloat out of his voice. The memory of it still gave him satisfaction. "She's free now. You cannot touch her."

Laufey gave him a cruel smile. "Oh but why would I want to," he asked in a soft, cruel voice, "after I've had my fill of her for months?"

Odin gave a roar of rage at this, and leaped at him, swinging his sword with a mighty force. Laufey blocked it, but the sword slid down his own and nicked his fingers, making him hiss and stretch them before gripping his sword tightly again. Blood oozed up from them, dripping between his palm and the sword's hilt.

Loki noted it with satisfaction. His grip would be less accurate then.

His own fury had erupted at Laufey's words, but he had tamped it down. Time enough for that later.

Their fight had attracted the notice of a few other Frost Giants, who rallied to their king's defense. Sif and Baldr followed the new foes, parrying them as they came. Loki took the opportunity when it presented itself. Laufey had sent a quick glance at his backup, and in that split-second Loki struck, feeling vicious satisfaction as his sword found it's mark in Laufey's stomach. He jerked it down through Laufey's torso.

"No!" came a roar from behind him, and Loki barely had time to process Baldr's cry as he spun back from Laufey, who had fallen to his knees from Loki's blow, blood trickling out of the long gash that was his torso. Loki could barely take his eyes from the fascinatingly sickening way blood was forming at Laufey's mouth, too, bubbling there with each breath.

But he did look away, his mind finally processing Baldr's cry, and he turned just in time to watch with helpless horror as a Frost Giant took Baldr's head. It fell to the field with a thud and his body swayed for a second before crumpling in a pile to join it.

"NO!" This time it was Odin's roar, and it held in it pain, anger, sorrow, guilt- so many things that were useless now, in the face of death. He fell to his knees by Baldr's body, and clutched it to him, tears starting to stream down his cheeks.

Loki was frozen with shock. He knew what had happened, and yet his mind refused to accept it. Baldr was dead.

Baldr was dead.

Baldr couldn't be dead.

All around them fighting had come to a stop. With their leader dead, the Frost Giants seemed at a loss as to what they were supposed to do. Odin's men watched their king helplessly.

"This is your fault!" Odin shouted, and Loki stumbled back as if he had been hit. His nostrils flared and he snarled, "You did this. I was fine! But you couldn't just leave Laufey to me, could you? You had to be the hero. You had to come rescue me. Do I look like a maid in a tower!? I am the king of Asgard."

"You look like an old man," Loki spat, the sharp bite of injustice rising in him. His whole body was thrumming with wild, edgy energy; his heart aching with loss. "You look like a man who's refusal to acknowledge your injuries will get you killed."

Odin's face turned purple. "You should have been looking after him! He had seen no battle before." He clutched the lifeless body to him, his shoulders shuddering with silent sobs. "You should have protected him."

Laufey gave a short, bloody, gurgling laugh as he knelt so close to death himself that his eyes were fading even as he spoke. "Should have left him to die," he croaked stiltedly with amusement. Then he was dead.

The Frost Giants looked to their second in command for guidance. The man who had killed Baldr, Loki noted as if from a great distance. His fury was fading, quickly being replaced by denial, and he seemed to be somewhere outside his body at the moment. He couldn't think very well.

"Enough," the man said tiredly, drawing back. "Enough." The other Frost Giants followed his suit and drew back as well. "There has been enough bloodshed. This was never my battle. We will leave you to tend to your dead, and we will take our own."

Odin laughed harshly, setting Baldr's headless body down gently on the bloody grass. "That's it!?" He roared in disbelief. "You think I will let you just walk away after this? We had reached an agreement, your king and I. He broke it. I have just lost a son that I had barely gotten back. I am not in a mood for mercy-"

"Father!" Loki cut him off sharply, stepping between the new Frost Giant commander and Odin, who had been advancing on him. "Enough. Lay it to rest. The man is right," he said, nodding to the Frost Giant. His own fury at the man churned within him anew, and yet he was sick to his stomach at all the death around him. He could not find it in him to kill more. "There has been enough bloodshed."

"Of course you would take his side," Odin snarled, smacking aside the restraining hand Loki had put on his shoulder. "Of course you would say that. You, who are one of them. You don't even care that Baldr..." he broke off and looked away, unable to finish.

Loki slapped him then, hard enough to leave an angry red imprint of his hand across his king's face.

"We're done here," he said abruptly to the Frost Giant. "Take your dead and leave. We will not stop you." He turned to Odin. "And you," he said icily, his voice velvet even as a poisonous hatred bloomed within his gut, "take care that you never speak those words again."

He turned on his heel. Let Odin listen to him or not. If they started fighting again then so be it. Loki could not bring himself to care anymore either way. He felt gutted. How was it possible to be both numb and still cringe from the throbbing, wrenching pain spreading out from his heart?

Baldr...

Those who remained had started gathering the dead.

Sif scrubbed the tears from her eyes and knelt down by Baldr's body to say goodbye. They had become friends while Loki had been on his quest.

His quest. Would he ever get home? He had never felt so far from them as he did at that moment, staring down at his fallen brother, the field more red than not with the cost of war. He could do nothing right. The thought banged through his mind like a hammer, again, again, again. He could do nothing right.

He noticed with a fresh pang that from Baldr's wrist, on a chain, hung the flower Loki had enchanted for him. From his gardener. His fiance. But no, those were both wrong. His widow, or she may as well have been. It's petals were now mottled with red, but it was still as perfect as it had been when fresh.

Loki knelt by Baldr's body as well, sharing in grief with Sif. Their eyes found each other, though neither spoke. But seeing the echo of loss on Sif's face proved too much for Loki and he had to look away.

He was so tired. So bloody tired.

So much pain. So much suffering. So much loss. Looking back at his life, it was a misery broken up only by brief periods of happiness that simply made the misery all the more sharp and difficult to bear when it returned.

Someone out there hated him very much. They liked to see him suffer. And he was just so tired of it. Everything was hopeless. There was no point in loving things. He had loved Darcy: he had lost her. He had loved Baldr: he had lost him.

And Baldr's death was the final straw. He just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't love things. It was bad for him.

Something was happening around him, but he couldn't think. He couldn't think. He couldn't...

The last thing he saw were Baldr's blank, lifeless eyes staring at him in shock before darkness overtook Loki and all he was aware of in the world was the scent of geraniums, and then even that was gone.