Chapter Text
Loki jolted awake and stared up at the dim ceiling of his bedroom. Lights played across it, reflected from the ever-changing water surrounding the palace as it caught the early evening starlight. The familiar sight soothed, but did not help his ragged breathing.
He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. His hair tangled around his fingers and Loki yanked his hand free. He needed to bathe; his fingers felt greasy. He rolled out of bed and walked into his study. The bath could wait. The memories crowding his mind needed to settle before he would be able to relax enough to enjoy the hot water.
Fire stirred from the banked coals with a flick of his fingers. He settled before the hearth and wrapped his arms around his legs. He did not know how much longer he could take the whispers behind his back and the pointed looks. The overheard conversations about the ‘Jotun prince’ and the ‘weak-willed sorcerer.’ The elders of the court seemed determined to turn Asgard fully against him. They had learned nothing in the years since the last great war with the Jotuns, but let their hatred fester in their hearts. His idiotic revelation of his true parentage before the entire court and Laufey- his failure to rescue himself- Thanos-
Slowly he fed logs into the fire with shaking hands, watching as the bark caught and crackled as water evaporated. Loki calmed the longer he sat there. He could hold out longer. He was not without allies in the court or the city, no matter that his mischief had driven more than a few against him years ago. He would have to plan, but he had neither the energy nor the strength. He just kept his head down and listened. Listened and said not a word.
“Brother?”
Loki looked over his shoulder. Thor stood in the doorway, a box tucked into the crook of one arm. Firelight turned him all to gold.
“It’s late for a visit, is it not?”
“Loki, the feast is just now finishing,” Thor said. “Father said you declined to sup with the court.”
Loki regarded Thor for a moment and turned back to face the fire. “I thought you were on Midgard.”
“I was,” Thor said as he walked over with clomping steps. “Jane tasked me to deliver this.”
He sat down and set the cardboard box in front of Loki. Two envelopes were taped on top. He tore them off, recognizing Darcy’s neat print on one and Jane’s scribbled cursive on the other. He slid his finger under the unsecured flap of Darcy’s and pulled out a few pieces of some elegant paper. A smile twitched across his face as he skimmed her letter. The pages shook in his hands.
Dear Loki,
So this is the first time I’ve seen Thor since New York and that craziness and I’m fairly certain that the letters I have written to you weren’t passed on aside from that first one I sent. Not that I’d be able to tell, but since you haven’t written since the first one I got back, I’m assuming that instead of thinking that-Yeah, never mind. Just me rambling again. So Thor stopped by the tower (Tony has some pretty nifty renovations going on now. Seriously, me being friends with the Avengers. Completely awesome.)
Life after New York was crazy. Mom and Dad freaked out big time and I really won’t (and can’t) tell them about my new job. Stark Industries offered me full time and I was going to accept it. Seriously, was going to walk into work and say yes. But this tall, serious-looking guy called me up out of the blue - I thought he was someone from one the jobs I applied to in case SI wasn’t going to keep me. We met in a small coffee shop (bleh, Starbucks) and he turns out to be from Asgard. Brought with him a familiar face so I would know he was the real deal. You know her. Sif.
Does your government not trust me or something? Because I might be a polisci graduate, but people with only an internship with a crazy brilliant astrophysicist and one in a PR office don’t get chosen to work for soon-to-be-opened embassies. The only thing I can think of is my connection to Thor and/or my relationship with you. Because I might be inexperienced but I am not naive.
Anyway, I start in two weeks. Normal hours, great pay (A decent wage in New York City? Awesome. It means I can actually afford to stay in my apartment without having to live paycheck to paycheck. Even if all I have to myself is what I swear used to be an overlarge walk-in closet. And I won’t leave my friends in the lurch like that no matter how tiny my living space, even if the pay gets better. The lease isn’t over until next May and I rather like living in Brooklyn. Even if the commute sucks.). I’m kinda dreading meeting my coworkers, though. They’ve got to be people from high up in the Asgardian court or something. And then there’s me who just happens to know the right people.
Still, it’s a job and my boss at Stark Industries said she’d take me back in a heartbeat if the embassy gig didn’t pan out. It’s only supposedly for a year. I can deal with it and I can always quit if I can’t.
Plus, it might give me the chance to see you. If you ever come back to Earth. (Should I use Midgard? It’s your word and I’ll be working at your embassy.) I hope you do come back. I know you’re healing and all that. You need to be well again and it’s taking time. But I miss seeing you and having you around and listening to you speak. Those few days in May weren’t near long enough.
Hey, Loki. When you’re better and up to visiting, I know a great tea place near my apartment. Wanna check it out sometime?
All my love,
Darcy
Well, that was interesting. His already dark mood fouled further. He could see his father’s hand in Darcy’s new job. He did not need to be interfering in her life. Loki’s relationship with her had nothing to do with the governance of Asgard. Even if Odin could see nothing but the politics.
Thor frowned when Loki carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. “Mother said you’ve felt ill most of the day.”
Loki clenched his jaw and stared down at the box and Jane’s letter. He reached for the box; examining whatever was inside would hide his symptoms better than holding another letter. The flaps came back easily. Eight metal canisters stood nestled in packing paper. He picked one up and turned it around to read the label glued to one side. Organic mint tea.
Jane’s letter read simple and brief. She wished him well and hoped the tea would help. Loki frowned at it, then glared at Thor. “What did you tell her?”
“That you were recovering from your time in the Chitauri’s grasp,” Thor said. “Nothing further.”
A rush of heat pricked at Loki’s eyes. He let his gaze fall back to the tea in the box and the letter he held. “She remembered I like tea.”
“Has Lady Darcy not sent you any?”
Loki flinched and folded the box shut, placing Jane’s letter on top. He clenched his hands in his lap. “She knows of my dietary restrictions. And followed my request to keep them secret.”
The fire crackled as Thor sat quiet. Loki twitched. Had his brother closed the door behind him? He was not going to look. He had to trust him. The fire warmed his front and the empty room behind him cooled. The dichotomy relieved him slightly. He’d never been warm in the Chitauri’s clutches. And he could set a simple spell to warn him of danger. Funny how life was now. For someone born with magic, the past two years conditioned him against using it. He twitched at the thought of the cuffs locked around his wrists and the device the Chitauri had embedded in his neck. Eighteen hours it took Eir to remove and it still seemed to sit buried in his skin and wound around his nerves.
Two years. He stood and strode away from the fire to stare out across Asgard from the small balcony. It gleamed under the starshine and the fires of the nebulae burning in the sky. The sun had set, leaving the city as a built construct resembling its sky. Lights shone in the dark.
“Brother, what is wrong?”
Thor’s soft tone carried even paces away. Loki’s hands clenched on the rail. What could he say to Thor that had not already been said? His brother never listened. Never watched. Never took the time to know that . . . he cared. In his own way, Thor cared. Brothers. Were they really? After the adoption, after that knowledge became public-
“Where should I begin, Thor?” Loki asked, voice starting out mild. “With Laufey’s continuing insistence that I reside on Jotunhiem? Or with Asgard’s continuing unease at their Jotun prince returned so recently from terrible captivity? Or perhaps my guilt that I could not stop- or my inability to heal from what they did to me?!”
His temper always overcame him at his worst. Loki clenched his jaw and fought back the hot tears pricking at his eyes. He had no control, was of no use to anyone in this condition. Even the Ravens let him be after their initial interviews, and Asgard’s intelligence service had no real reason to do so unless so ordered by their commander. And of course Odin would order such a thing for one of his sons, no matter how valuable the information. Loki would never make that mistake when he took it over after the transition process was complete, however far in the future that would be. Whenever Odin decided to stop fighting Thor’s coming changes.
“You are healing,” Thor said from behind. He turned Loki to face him. Loki hadn’t even heard him stand and walk over. Thor clasped his shoulder gently. “Eir assures us all of that.”
Loki stared at his brother and wrenched out his grip. “Then why do my hands still shake? Why, why do I feel like I’m not here, not in my head, that this is not real?”
The metal of the rail dug into his back as Loki pressed himself against it. It was not rough, jagged stone and there was nothing on the back of his neck now. It was gone. Loki shuddered. Asgard was real and he was home. The Chitauri had messed with his head, drugged him, hurt him, and now he didn’t know anymore. Didn’t know anything. He could feel the Other sometimes lurking in the back of his mind, distant but there. Paranoia? Truth?
He slid down to the floor and pressed harder against the metal. Thor loomed over him at first and then crouched when Loki glanced up and flinched. Thor remained quiet until Loki gained control of his ragged breathing.
“Have you eaten?”
“Sparingly since breakfast,” Loki croaked, too tired to push back now. Anything more than simple buttered toast and the like sent him running to the privy. His stomach turned at the thought of actual food.
“Loki.” Thor sighed after his first irritated growl. “Have you had any of your evening medicine yet?”
Only his morning dose. Loki looked away from his brother. He detested the foul-tasting tonics that Eir and Idunn had concocted because he was dependent on something outside his control. Loki’s hands twined around themselves. He needed to take them. So much of what the Chitauri had done to him was not healing on its own. His body was still not his. He hated it.
“Bread, Thor,” Loki said softly, still not looking at him. “Simple foods. I am able to keep those down.”
A rather large stack of toast with accompanying spreads arrived within minutes of Thor summoning the nearest servant. Loki eyed the flavored sugar Thor dusted a few slices with, but stuck with simple butter. When Thor handed him two vials, Loki gave in. He swallowed both with a grimace. Loki nibbled on the toast for the next hour as the medicines kicked in. The shaking in his hands lessened slightly. He glared at them for no good reason. Even for an Asgardian (a Jotun, a tiny corner of his mind supplied), nerve damage inflicted so masterfully did not heal fast.
“It’s been almost three months,” Loki said. “I have barely left the palace in all that time.” His tone was bitter and he did not care. “And you have been on Midgard with your beloved.”
”I have not only been with Jane,” Thor said. His voice didn’t raise. Loki hadn’t needled him enough yet. “I have been reassuring their varied governments that-”
”That I am in my right mind again and no longer desire to conquer the planet?” Loki snapped.
“They think you escaped the Chitauri’s grasp and were rescued, not that you were forced to be the cause of the invasion,” Thor said, now finally getting riled. “What you have done is not yours to own. The responsibility lies with those who controlled you and there is none who will convince me otherwise.”
Loki could not help himself. Mother was no real target and Father, well, Father was not here. Thor was available and there and oh so easy to needle. “And what if I was willing?”
”Heimdall saw,” Thor said simply. “You were not.”
Damn Thanos. If he’d wanted a war, why demonstrate it before the might of As- Oh. Loki tilted his head and looked up at the sky. Thor had come alone to bring him home, seeking to subvert Thanos’ will for war and death.
Yet Midgard still paid the price. Loki squeezed his eyes shut. New York on fire blazed in his mind. And why had he not asked earlier, save for the immense guilt that flooded him every time he thought about it. “How much damage was done?”
“Less than we might have thought,” Thor said. “Many buildings were damaged and thousands lost their lives-” Loki flinched. “-but the Midgardians know how to handle themselves in a crisis and the casualties were much lessened due to the actions their police and military forces took.”
“And the Avengers in direct response to those I harmed.”
Loki could not look at his brother. He’d attacked and likely killed the man who’d made himself responsible for protecting Darcy. He’d taken her away without a thought but what he’d been promised. A queen at his side as he ruled Midgard. And his actions had provided the impetus for that self-named group of heroes to form.
“Coulson lives.”
What? Loki finally looked up. That was near impossible-
“Stark found out last week,” Thor said. “His outrage was mighty and moved, as the Midgardians say, mountains. Coulson has healed from the wounds you gave him.”
One evil deed reversed. “Next time you return to-” He glanced over at the box of tea abandoned in front of the fire and the two letters beside it. “When I return to Midgard with you-” Loki could not find the words.
He would seek to repay that man the debt Loki owed him. He did not know how he would repay Banner. That debt was almost without price.
”I leave tomorrow evening,” Thor said after a moment of silence. But there was no disagreement in his voice, only a little bit of pride. Pride for what, Loki did not understand. Traveling to Midgard was nothing to be proud of.
Midgard.
Loki breathed in. He was leaving Asgard. No longer would he have to pretend to be above the petty machinations of the court as he slowly recovered. Yet he would leave behind his parents and his library and the knowledge he had not yet discovered. He would be leaving Asgard and any chance of easy acceptance back. Yet the thought appealed. He could assist in the final stages of the treaty negotiations so Thor could return to Asgard and take his rightful place on the throne. He could recover ... with Darcy. He could learn to be Loki again, instead of this sad, pathetic creature the Chitauri had turned him into.
“Tomorrow evening,” Loki repeated. “Be prepared, brother. I plan on a lengthy visit.”
The Bifrost touched down with a wave of heat and blown sand. Loki staggered as the sun beat down and glared up into the blue-white sky.
“The sun’ll set in a few hours and it’ll cool down then,” Jane said.
Loki nodded and trudged towards the large van parked a short distance away. Thor could carry his trunk. He pulled himself into the front seat and stretched, glorying in the air conditioning. How the humans could stand this heat he did not know. The van heaved as Thor pulled himself and Loki’s trunk inside. Jane didn’t say a word, just climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled away as soon as everyone was settled. Her driving had improved, Loki idly noted.
She’d ushered them inside her lab before saying a word. Her mind had obviously been on other matters. “Does Darcy know you’re coming?”
”No,” Loki said, looking around. The place hadn’t changed much. A few new machines, an unfamiliar bald man working at one of them, and the usual trail of empty coffee mugs across the desks.
“When will we depart for New York?” Loki asked as he walked over to the kitchen table and sank into one of the chairs.
“Stark’s sending a jet tomorrow morning,” Jane said. “I’m attending a conference at the Goddard Institute in the city, so it’s easier just to go up together.” She scowled. “And gets SHIELD off my back.”
SHIELD? Loki tilted his head. He briefly recalled Thor mentioning an organizational transfer. Did she no longer work for the intelligence organization? The surreal memory of NASA banners in a giant room floated through his head. Considering the now-public state of other worlds, perhaps it was for the best. But he did not press the issue; Jane had her stubborn face on. He let her change the subject.
She and Thor continued talking after Loki dropped out of the conversation a while later. Loki pulled over the day’s newspaper and scanned a few articles. Nothing intrigued him. Normally he followed Midgardian politics for Darcy’s sake, but his eyes glazed over the article about some congressional hearings concerning the battle in New York. He sighed and stared outside at the few people who dared brave the heat.
Jane seemed content to stay up and talk all night to Thor. Selvig had come in, taken one look at Loki, and went straight to his office. Loki clenched his hands and stared down at the scratched surface of the table. He did not know what to say to the man.
Loki eventually followed some of the other people occupying the lab to the small building constructed across the street from the lab. He eyed it with distaste, recognizing the cheap hotel-style design. But the rooms were individual, even if they were on the small side. He sank onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sleep did not come easy that night, but he remembered none of his dreams. It was a small blessing.
And somehow he was not surprised to see Agent Romanoff when he walked into the lab the following morning. She lifted her head from her contemplation of a steaming mug, red hair shining in the early morning light coming in through the windows. She looked unaffected by the already awful heat. She didn’t smile. “Loki.”
“Agent Romanoff,” he said quietly, feeling woefully unprepared to face her. She wore normal Midgardian clothes, but still felt like she was wearing her armor. The expression on her face gave nothing away.
“A few people want words with you,” she said.
And that was it, the reason for her coolness. She knew that he’d been under control of the Chitauri, had known it wasn’t him making the call to take Barton, but it hurt knowing that she might have had to eliminate the person she trusted most in this world. She’d said love was for children. Loki still had no response for that.
Through the back windows a Quinjet stood out stark against the pale landscape. The engines weren’t running and the back door-ramp was down, but Loki knew just how fast it could launch even from that position. He eyed Natasha for a moment longer, then walked out of the lab towards the jet.
He hadn’t even reached the edge of the building’s shadow before Barton was in step with him. Loki stopped and glanced around for any observers.
“You wouldn’t mean it if you apologized, would you?”
Loki said nothing.
The archer looked disturbingly relaxed. He was even smiling. “I wouldn’t mean it either,” he continued speaking. “See, it took Nat to convince me that it wasn’t my fault. I’d had my head twisted ‘round by something that was beyond my power to understand-”
”It was beyond mine as well,” Loki said. “I received it unwillingly.”
”They tortured you.”
Loki shrugged a shoulder and didn’t answer. But he couldn’t hide the sudden wariness that crept through him. Was it that obvious? Or had his brother-
Barton nodded, Loki’s silence a confirmation. “Thought so. I’ve been there. So has Nat. It sucks.”
“Your commiserations won’t stop the nightmares.” Loki slammed his mouth shut. He glared at Barton. “Forget I said that.”
The smile had faded from Barton’s face. “Consider it done.”
The man nodded his head and walked back to the jet. And as he did so, a tall, dark-skinned man with an eye patch walked down the ramp.
Director Fury stopped just off the ramp, coat still in the hot desert air. Loki hung back. He could not forget the last time he’d seen the man, the night after the attack when he’d been taken into custody at SHIELD’s hospital. Fury watched dispassionately as two soldiers cuffed Loki’s hands in the magic-blocking chains Thor had been forced to bring to Midgard as an eventuality and had not used, as well as that damnable gag. He had not even been trusted with pen and paper, as they were convinced that he could write as well as he could speak. It was hours of yes-and-no questions with burning ribs and tethered magic and the hope that the truth would be believed while that man sat watching silently at the foot of the hospital bed Loki lay in before a night of inadequate rest as his body slowly began to heal.
“The Council does not like that you’ve returned,” Fury said to Loki when he finally walked over. “In fact, they’re damn near convinced you’re fooling everyone. But the world governments want to maintain good relations with Asgard, so the Council has to sit back on their asses.”
Loki flinched, hard. The staff had controlled him, but he remembered everything so clearly. Threatening Stark and Thor, reveling in the destruction the living ships had caused. His attacks against SHIELD mattered little against what he knew the civilian casualty rate was. And damn Fury for reminding him immediately of his actions, as unwilling as they were. It would be hard enough stepping foot into the city he’d wanted to destroy without desiring to run away to another world amidst Yggdrasil’s branches.
Loki glared. He shoved the memories away to the yawning pit in his mind. He barely noticed his nails digging into his palms.
“Behave, Odinson,” Fury said softly. “We’re keeping your involvement in the battle secret. Don’t give us reason to suspect you now.”
Loki stared straight at the man. “Do you expect me to suddenly decide I like being a villain?”
Fury didn’t answer. Loki could live with suspicion; it was fun to subvert people’s expectations. They stared at each other for a long minute, neither willing to cede the battle. Tension crept along Loki’s shoulders. He could not take the scrutiny for much longer and his tongue was all too sharp these days. He needed the goodwill of these people.
The sound of an approaching airplane broke the stalemate. Loki and Fury looked to the dust-covered runway reaching towards the low hills behind Jane’s lab. A small white plane with the Stark Industries logo on its side touched down on the hard ground with practiced ease. Loki breathed softly as the plane slowed to a stop. Within fifteen minutes the engines had cycled off and a staircase unfolded from the side of the plane.
They were in the air an hour later, leaving Fury behind. Thor and Jane sat talking (did they ever stop?) near the front of the cabin. Loki sat in the seat closest to the rear of the craft and stared off into space. For some unknown reason, Barton and Romanoff had joined them on the flight. Both ignored everyone else and sat poring over some files spread out on the table before them. Loki contemplated wandering over, but the urge vanished as the plane sped towards New York.
He never liked facing the consequences of his ill actions and this was so much worse than any mischief he pulled in his younger years. He took deep breaths to calm his racing heart, resisting the urge to curl around himself. Romanoff’s sharp eyes glanced over at him occasionally, but she kept silent.
A limousine met them at the airport. There were no reporters that Loki could see lurking around. He puzzled over the lack as the driver easily pulled into the traffic leading into the city. It had been a Stark Industries plane, yes. Surely that should have drawn attention. Unless - unless the company’s headquarters had moved to New York City in the two years he’d been absent from Midgard, it could just have been another company plane. The board of directors never merited the attention Stark did. Loki breathed a little easier at the deception, glad Stark had some measure of common sense not to attract attention to his guests.
The driver kept the partition up the entire drive to Stark Tower, granting the passengers privacy. Thor and Jane remained enthralled in their conversation and Barton sat silent. From the careful looks Romanoff gave him, she was evaluating something. Loki turned to look out of the window at the slowly passing city. The traffic was horrendous. It could have been the rebuilding from the battle he’d seen occurring through the window of the plane or perhaps the city was returning to normal. Loki sighed. Midgard was at present both passing familiar and strange. The ease of his existence in Willowdale and Puente Antiguo had vanished into the recesses of his mind.
Then Romanoff tossed a cell phone onto the seat beside him, startling Loki from his thoughts. “Call Darcy.”
She looked fierce in the sunlight shining through the car windows. How he had ever mistaken her for a helpless woman even knowing everything Barton had told him, how her strengths played games with his head because under the influence of the staff he could not think- Loki’s hand tightened around the phone.
“She doesn’t know you’re coming,” Romanoff said.
”Darcy kept faith with you,” Barton said. “She was one of the few who did.”
Loki bit back the scathing words on the tip of his tongue as Thor idly glanced over. Faith? It was not faith. It was a fool’s hope. He’d shown the worst of himself that day, the part he’d buried so deep that only the staff could bring it out.
The words came anyway. “Faith is for those too foolish to trust in themselves.”
“Friendship, then,” Romanoff said.
“Not love?” Loki said with a sneer.
Romanoff just looked at him as the limo pulled into the parking garage next to Stark Tower and drove to the area blocked off by security. The vehicle passed through it with no hassle. “You already know what I think about love.”
It was for children. And Darcy was still a child, all caught up in things she could not understand. Loki closed his eyes and handed Romanoff the phone. They had already arrived. There was no point in calling now. He didn’t even know what he would say.
Loki sighed as Thor opened the door, waited for Jane to disembark, and the two of them strode to the private entrance into the tower and then up to the elevator. Barton quirked a grin and hit the button for the eightieth floor after they were all inside. Romanoff crossed her arms and relaxed against the wall. Loki twitched. He didn’t know her like this. Where was the professional, the woman who’d defied his every expectation- He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. He refused to allow his uncertainty to rule him.
The door pinged open. Stark stood in a small foyer. A rather large abstract picture hung from the back wall and there were two doors opposite each other. Stark gestured at one as Loki stepped out of the elevator at Thor’s urging.
“I set this one up for you,” he said. “Figured you’d want it if you ever came to visit.”
Loki’s breath caught. Such generosity for someone who had harmed him, threatened him. Thrown him to his death.
“Thor wouldn’t hear of anything less if he’d had a place and you didn’t.” Stark handed Loki a metal key, voice still light and unconcerned. “Um, JARVIS can open the door, but I figured you’d prefer something more tangible.”
Loki blinked. Well, yes. The ability to have a door to lock, to keep people out on a whim- Stark’s eyes were too dark with memories. And Loki had been hiding on Midgard when Tony Stark disappeared in Afghanistan.
Loki couldn’t hide the faint tremble in his hands as he opened the door. Stark frowned, but didn’t say anything. Good. Loki knew giving into his current urge to verbally eviscerate someone would be unwise. This was not Asgard and he was lost. Sympathy turned far too easily to pity in his mind and pity was inexcusable.
“Come down to the common floor,” Tony said just before Loki shut the door in his face. “We hang out there a lot. And feel free to change what you want - it’s your place.”
Loki’s footsteps echoed as he explored the apartment. He stayed the longest in the kitchen, looking over the appliances. His hands ached to do something. His hands trembled. Eir had not pronounced him healed enough to do much with fine motor skills. He strode from the kitchen without saying a word.
So Stark had said this apartment was his? Loki looked around and began to smile. There were indeed things he wanted to change. He stood and again wandered through the sparsely-furnished apartment, talking to JARVIS as he went. The tiny office would be space enough for a decent library. He paused in the kitchen and smiled. That would remain as it was, even if the decorations had to change. He was not fond of the inoffensive black-and-white motif. He liked his kitchen to be warm, earth colours and inviting. The kitchens in Asgard were filled with life. His would be the same.
He cast illusions in almost every room, deciding what colours to change and what type of furniture would best fit the spaces. He lost himself for hours in the work, finally finishing in the sitting area before the fire. Miniature illusions of each room hung in the air. He spun them around with a finger. Fine motor control returned each day he took his medication. Only two more weeks and hopefully he would be done with the wretched potions forever.
Someone started knocking on the main door. Loki dashed away his illusions and stood, calling in a knife. He paced to the door and stooped slightly to peer out the peep hole. A dark-haired woman with glasses and wearing a pale blue pantsuit with an Avengers backpack slung over one shoulder.
Darcy.
He yanked the door open as she raised her first to pound on it again. She blinked and lowered her hand.
“Loki!” Her grin lit her face.
The smile caught Loki and his breath fled. He remembered that smile, the long nights of studying and bantering as they sipped tea (or coffee or hot cocoa) in the dark hours of the winter. The laughter as he dragged her along on some simple mischief. The hesitance of them both as they pulled apart after their first kiss. Loki stared at Darcy, at her beautiful exuberance, and suddenly doubted himself. How could he ever live up to what she saw in him, whatever that was? How could he suddenly want to toss that away because he felt sorry for himself? How could he ever deserve her? And yet she still called to his heart against his past weeks of railing against his helplessness. Her friendship had meant everything to him during his time on Midgard. He’d been courting her before he fell from the Bifrost. Could he ever deny that sentiment?
“Darcy.”
They looked at each other, Loki cataloging every change since he’d last seen her. Business suit. Hair braided back in a neat bun. But the same glasses and the same smile. The same light in her eyes. The moment broke when she stepped over the threshold. She wrapped her arms around him. Loki held her tight and kissed the top of her head. Darcy’s embrace banished the dark thoughts from his mind. He did not ever want to let her go.
“No wonder Tony didn’t say what was going when he told me to come up here after I got off work-,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “You came back.”
”Whatever made you think I would not?”
Darcy stepped out of his arms and ushered them both inside his apartment before closing the door. “Because I know you, Loki.”
He shook his head. “You knew Luke.”
And she glared at him with crossed arms. So suddenly defensive. Fire flared in her eyes.
“I spent hours talking to your brother when you were missing. About your love of learning and pranks and your magic. How you would rather spend hours alone reading than improving your war craft with other warriors. How you were the silent counselor and a wise advisor with a prickly temper. Yeah, I might have known you as Luke, but ‘Luke’ reminds me an awful lot of ‘Loki.’” She paused with a tilt of her head. “I don’t think you were doing all that much to hide.”
In all the best ways, Darcy had not changed. And for that, Loki was grateful. He wrapped his arms around her again.
“There are differences,” he said into her hair.
Darcy relaxed against him. “Then I’ll learn them.”
But what differences would she learn? Loki shoved the thought away. It wasn’t important right now. Darcy was. She always would be.