A/N: Everytime I start writing, there are loads of ideas, images, plots ghosting around in my head. Some of them need to be left aside, to be cut off because otherwise I would end up in a total mess. So, like a sculptor I chop off the pieces of marble from my sculpture that I don't need and that don't fit. But what happens to those little chunks of idea I cut away from the finished statue of story?
This is the collection of ideas that never made a whole shortcut, simply drabbles, plots that were chopped off but still not thrown away. Feel free to read, favourite, follow and of course to review.

It had been Jane's idea. Jane, who always saw and always knew everything, who probably had known where Darcy's heart had belonged all along.

How did you know?, Darcy had asked. It takes one to know one, Jane had answered.

The encouraging nod Jane gives her is full of knowledge and of understanding. Darcy knows she only has little time. But it will suffice. It has to.

The security doors willingly open to the clearance of Jane's identification and Darcy slips into the high security wing, her hand desperately clutching the little piece of plastic that grants her access.

"Be quick.", Jane whispers and squeezes her hand one last time before retreating, leaving Darcy to pass the last door by herself.

Out of all the things she had expected to see, this isn't the worst. But it is still hard to bear. He is sitting on a bench, no pillow or blanket to make his stay more comfortable – why would they grant a convicted villain any comfort? The room is lit only by a cold neon tube, the bright light washing out every colour. He looks so lost, Darcy thinks. So alone.

The door closes with a little click. Loki's head springs up and a little sound of surprise escapes Darcy's full lips. A metal gag covers almost half of his face, only his high cheek-bones, his sharp nose and his expressive eyes free to be seen. His elegant hands are stuck in what appears to be two cuffs bound together by a long wire. His eyes lock with hers as the sight of him makes her heart stutter.

He doesn't say a thing, just stares. Most people say he is heard to read, giving away so little of his emotions. But Darcy knows better. His eyes are like an open book, revealing every single thing his features might try to hide – if you know how to read them.

With shy steps, she approaches him and takes seat next to the soundless god. She knows he doesn't want her here, hates to have her see him weak and powerless.

"I know you told me not to come.", Darcy says quietly. He only blinks but she takes it as a confirmation. "But I just had to."

She swallows and gathers her courage. Her hand rises and strokes the back of his hand where the skin is still uncovered. He is cold as ice, as usual, his skin cool to her touch. His eyes dart to her fingers, then back on her face. He turns his hand and their fingers intertwine.

She looks at him, awaiting his voice in her head, the mental projection he has used so often. But all there is is silence.

"Why can't I hear you in my head?", she voices her wonder, only to see him rolling his eyes in response. He lifts his chained hands and lets them drop to his lap again.

"They bind your magic.", she mutters, more to herself and even though his mouth is covered, she can practically hear his annoyed sigh.

A sad chuckle tumbles from her lips. "You know, I might come to like this, this tamed you. You are far easier to handle like this.", she teases, trying to lighten the mood. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and indignation practically drips from his features. Darcy wants to make a joke, to banter him about his bad temper. But then her heart clenches. How long will this temper be taken away from her?

"Jane told me they are going to take you away, tomorrow." Her voice is merely a whisper and her hand squeezes his tightly, desperately clinging to the little bit of him she still has. He returns it, giving her her answer.

The words tickle her tongue, waiting for her to ask the one question she wants to ask, to find out what she needs to know. "How long will you be gone?"

Loki just looks at her, his face oddly calm and yet she sees the turmoil mirroring in the depths of his eyes. He doesn't know, she realizes. His confidence is just an act. He is as much at loss as she is, and maybe even as afraid. Who knew what they'd do to him? The thought of his punishment stirs her worries again and suddenly her view is clouded by tears dwelling in the corners of her eyes. From what she has learned so far, Odin is no-one to be trifled with.

Cool fingers wipe away the salty trails on her cheeks and his hand cups her face. Green melts into blue and Darcy knows she doesn't care. She lets go of his hand only to dig her fingers deep into his silky hair, holding him so close their foreheads meet.

"It doesn't matter. I will be here. I have you in my heart until we meet again." Her voice cracks but she could care less. The dark inner circles of his eyes seem to melt and even without his magic she knows what he wants to say.

"Darcy?" Jane whispers through the ajar door.

"I'm coming!", she impatiently responds and turns her attention to the man in front of her. Without a warning, Loki's suave act is washed away and replaced by passion as his arms pull her to his chest, crushing her with ferocity until she finds it hard to breathe. His nose nuzzles into her hair and Darcy wills her head to save the memory of how it feels to lie in his arms, of how the violet veins shine through the delicate skin of his neck, of how he smells – of sage, mint, earth, all mingled into his own personal fragrance – of everything that is him. She places a shaky kiss on his thrumming pulse and Loki's muscles tense in response.

It takes all her power to free herself from his grasp, to get up, to find the door through the haze of tears and to keep herself from looking back as she leaves his cell. Jane slings her arm around her shoulders and drags her out of the building, unseen by the guards back into her van.

As Darcy drops back into the seat, the tears are dried. All she has to do now is wait. And cherish each single memory until she can be in his arms again.