Lovelies... we have a few more chapters to go :) I sincerely hope you'll like this chapter. All I'm going to say is... Their situation is quite complicated, and it will take some time for Loki and Darcy to get back on their feet. I promise there will be a happy ending. Okay, so this one is EXTRA long and I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it. My tests are now DONE, so I have more time to write! I'm sorry if this was too angsty, but we can't expect everything to be peaches and cream immediately after their reunion.
While I wrote this i listened to: Sia - My Love (Piano instrumental)
The song at the beginning is 'Bleeding Out' by Imagine Dragons.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.
I'm bleeding out,
So if the last thing that I do,
Is to bring you down,
I'll bleed out for you.
So I bare my skin,
And I count my sins,
And I close my eyes,
And I take it in.
And I'm bleeding out,
I'm bleeding out for you.
When the day has come,
That I've lost my way around,
And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground,
When the sky turns gray,
And everything is screaming,
I will reach inside,
Just to find my heart is beating.
You tell me to hold on,
Oh you tell me to hold on,
But innocence is gone,
And what was right is wrong.
When the hour is nigh,
And hopelessness is sinking in,
And the wolves all cry,
To fill the night with hollering.
When your eyes are red,
And emptiness is all you know,
With the darkness fed,
I will be your scarecrow.
To Darcy, time lost its meaning, and one night in New York stretched like a lifetime in that silent, abandoned building. Not one of them slept that night, neither him nor her moved from one another. Almost no words were shared as they sat together in the cold corner... not until they looked at each other and Darcy voiced her humble wish.
The small town was sleeping when they arrived. Nestled comfortably in the New Mexico desert, it dreamed, unaware of two people returning to the glass house on the edge of the Puente Antiguo, on their tiptoes, with shushed voices and bowed heads.
Soundlessly, they stepped upon the soft desert sand, walking next to each other, him supporting her with a firm arm around her shoulders.
Months passed since they last stood in front of it. Months of sun, wind and thunder, months spent far away from it, separated, alone.
At first glance, everything appeared the same. But really, it wasn't.
The marks of that fatal last night Loki and Darcy spent together on Earth were still visible upon its fragile surface. The glass on the back entrance was shattered, and grains of sand fell inside, scattered across the marble floors. Shards of glass broken by bullets were half buried in front, dust covered the interior, but other than that, everything was found frozen, just as it was left.
Wind was beating a torn piece of plastic sheet one of the local people fixed upon the broken part of the glass wall, so it was at least shielded from the cruel wasteland behind it. A note for Erik Selvig, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis was written upon a crumpled piece of paper and glued to the side of the undamaged glass wall, a note screaming with inquiries about their sudden disappearance.
No words were shared as Darcy and Loki walked inside.
She went in first; he followed like a shadow.
Beaten, tired and bruised, both of them stood in the cold living room, immersed in tense silence. The darkness that cloaked the once bright, clean rooms was devastating for the mortal woman, and she felt that constant throb of pain returning to her leg.
She felt her throat constrict when her brown gaze fell upon the broken table in the corner of the room, the one Loki broke during their first big fight, and a pile of dust-covered books near the creamy white sofa that still held that large stain of Loki's blood she was unable to wash off.
Sniffing a bit, Darcy moved forward, stepping over debris of the broken bowls for cereals Loki accidentally knocked down with his cape when they were running away, and closer to the forgotten pile of her beloved books.
With one white hand, Darcy took a firm hold on the aging volume on the top and lifted it to her face. Blowing gently onto the firm surface, the dust and sand and dirt flew away, only to reveal a familiar cover.
'Myth and Legends from Around the World' by Anneka Sunden
Once she read the title, a large number of images from the past few months poured into her unprepared mind. The book fell from her trembling fingers, landing with a thud on the floor and Darcy immediately took hold onto the small Bifröst necklace that rested on her breast.
Pain filled her. Together with a certain foreboding.
So much questions… So much unanswered questions.
Darcy wrapped the dark coat tighter around her shuddering body, closing her eyes as she felt him walking across the broken porcelain, reaching her in mere seconds, and eventually wrapping his arms around her, bumping her back to his armored chest.
His breathing was deep. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered 'We can go somewhere else if you-'
With an inhuman surge of need to be comforted, she turned in his arms and embraced him so tightly around his middle, she looked like she was clinging onto him for dear life. His words were cut from his throat when Darcy silenced him with a bone-crushing hug.
He breathed in the scent of her hair, one raven tress falling limp to the side of his handsome face, brushing against her own cheek.
Loki placed one spidery hand across the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he urged her to look at him 'Darcy-'
She buried her face deeper into his chest, refusing to look up.
'Darcy.' He shook her gently.
'Don't talk.' She whispered into his chest, her hot cheek on his freezing armor 'Please, don't talk.'
Heaviness returned to the center of his chest. The unparalleled happiness of their reunion was slowly falling into premature doubt.
What did they expect? That after narrowly escaping that deep fall, they will meet again and everything will be like it was before? That they will hug and kiss and make love and everything will be alright?
No, the war was not over.
Not for Darcy, not for Loki.
'You know they will come looking for me, sooner or later.'
A broken cry was all he heard as she sharply broke their embrace, supporting her own devastated face in her palms as she walked from him and to the nearest wall.
There, she slid down to the dirty floor.
Her own pain was silent.
Darcy Lewis had a feeling. A terrible, terrible feeling something went wrong while she was gone. After waking up in the hospital, after finding herself on the other end of the planet, wrapped in white sheets, tubes sticking out of her arms, next to a window that presented her sleepy eyes with snow-covered mountains; after learning she nearly bled to death in his arms, and was now separated from him, kept inside a cold clinic, surrounded by people she did not know, who spoke language she did not understand.
Where is Loki? She asked herself for weeks, remembering everything.
Am I dreaming?
Was he just a dream of mine?
No one answered her broken pleas. No one said anything. Until, one day, she overheard a conversation between her doctor and the person on the other end of the telephone line. This time, her doctor, Matthias Béringer, spoke English, and addressed the man he was speaking to with a familiar name.
It didn't take long for Darcy to put the loose ends together and realize SHIELD was the one who was keeping her there. A plethora of emotions filled her, its shades varying from icy anger to wrenching anxiousness.
Since that day, the escape plan was all she could think of. Until one night, Darcy stole some clothes, food and money and sneaked out of the modern hospital. Since the moment she stepped on the snow-covered ground, she was on the run, and it took them until next morning to realize she was gone. By then, she has already reached the center of Zürich, and paid a taxi to take her to the airport. Upon her arrival on the Zürich airport, she bought the tickets for the first available flight to America.
It was in those three hours of waiting for her plane that she began to feel someone was following her. Constantly behind her, listening to her every breath.
The long flight from Switzerland to America seemed never-ending, as she gazed down at the darkening clouds beneath her, caught between daylight and eternal night above her.
Darcy simply bundled herself in the clothes she stole from the clinic, silently gazing up through a small airplane window into the universe above her. On this height it seemed the edge of the ozone kissed the tail of the speeding aircraft, while in reality – desolate miles separated the plane from the darkness of the space, and stars, and distant planets.
The moment she landed, there was no need to look behind. She ran. Her own picture shining from one of the flat TV screens on her terminal was a clear enough warning for her wounded body to just escape from there.
Whether it was by skill or sheer luck smiling down upon her, Darcy managed to escape the men who chased her, men dressed like SHIELD agents, men who worked for SHIELD; men Darcy knew she refused to make any sort of contact with. As far as she was concerned, they were her own demons.
She ran, hid, and eventually slept in one of the crowded terminals in the airport, escaping from them by simply hiding in the last place they could think of – the very airport they desired to chase her from.
New York was not a foreign place to Darcy.
On the contrary, it was on its bustling, rushing streets that she grew up, went to school, made friendships, broken them, fell in love for the first time … It was New York. A place where she thought she lived until she met Jane Foster.
When she woke up, the terminal was nearly completely empty, and to the unknowing mind, she looked like any other person waiting in between flights.
The same afternoon, news reached everyone quickly, hushing down rivers of people on the large terminal as every flat screen in every corner rolled the blood-curdling film. The footage from the streets of New York, of her own city, was as shaky and dark as a scene from any apocalyptic film. This excitement, fear, this indescribable longing she felt bottling inside her chest for so many months threatened to explode when the camera abruptly turned to a dark, cloaked form Darcy recognized as the man she… loved?
Not for one second were her thoughts away from him. So many questions and doubts wished to overthrow Loki from her head, doubt wished to settle itself around the image of the god of mischief Darcy treasured. But she would never let it happen.
Never, not even now, when they were together in the very spot where they began.
Where they, two souls, lost and forgotten, found each other. In those vast, gloomy forests of the Nine realms. Their souls - joined by accident, their bodies - bonded by need… their minds - changed by love.
Her glasses were missing, all her possessions were gone, her books lay ruined and her fears awakened.
She was naked before him, in every sense. The crack in the wall was still present, fresh and falling apart, like the second Loki's fist collided with it that night when their lips first met, in this spot where Darcy sat, on to this very wall Darcy was leaning on.
Loki moved silently to her, his emerald cape dragging behind him as he fell on his knees before her for the second time that day. Leaning forward, he took her face gently to his palms, and like a dark guardian, towered over her, a vision of a protective mountain watching over the forest at the foot of its powerful form. His green eyes caught her own, pouring everything into them with a heavy heart. Darcy took a deep breath, and listened.
'I have…Gods, I have sinned.' He whispered to her, making Darcy inhale sharply as a sea of emotion shifted on his face 'You died. I-I held you, I felt you fading away. I did. And I…' He bowed his head down.
Darcy looked at him like she saw him for the first time, her pale face cradled gently inside his large hands.
'When you were injured that night, I-' His fists shook as he removed them from her face, and curled them tightly to stop himself from doing something he might regret.
The words simply tumbled, as he spat them out to the floor, his head bowed down in a sick mixture of shame and lingering anger.
'I went blind with rage and hatred and desire for vengeance. I captured numerous SHIELD agents, threw them under my control. I physically attacked one of them, I beat him until he could not stand, together with that b-bastard that touched you.' The anger was returning, making his voice shake 'I manipulated Selvig, I captured Jane, I-I killed-'
Tears were streaming down Darcy's cheeks as she listened to him, not blinking, biting her bottom lip until it bled heavily into her silent mouth.
'I killed Fury.' He gritted through his teeth, still staring at the floor 'Killed. I wanted blood, Darcy. I wiped him from this world. And I do not regret it.'
Darcy sat, trembling, unblinking eyes filling with more tears that leaked out unstoppably, now staring past Loki's shoulder, into nothingness.
'You were gone, and I…' Loki lifted his white face, trying to catch her gaze, murmuring 'I lost myself.'
Bile was visibly speeding on his elegant neck, anticipation and fear now running through his body when he saw her shift. Her gentle palms dragged across the wall behind her as she slowly stood up.
Without a word, she walked in the direction of her forgotten bedroom. She removed the black coat as she retreated from his kneeling form, dropping it soundlessly on the creamy sofa. Shadows played on her body as she walked into the dark hallway. She halted. Her small hand reached for the light switch next to the entrance to the bathroom. She clicked it, and the light went on.
Her movements were soft and controlled, but beneath that cold, silent calmness, a storm brewed. Like a ghost, Darcy walked into the bathroom and pushed the door softly behind her, so it was left ajar.
Loki was left alone, kneeling, facing the broken wall, his face expressionless. After a few moments, he too stood up, trying to control his ever-shaking fists.
He walked to the pile of books next to the sofa. Emerald cape rustled behind him as it dragged across the floor. Leaning down, he took a firm hold onto the book Darcy dropped minutes ago. He gazed upon the rugged surface, tracing the golden lettering on the spine with his pale fingertips.
She hates me.
Sadness that was etched upon the god's face slowly faded as fury took over once more. Tears sprung to his green eyes as he glared at the space around himself and in a surge of violent anger, he threw the book aggressively to the other end of the room. Soon, his fingers found his hair as he pulled at it, wishing to rip it out in utter despair.
Loki stomped forcefully to the bookshelf that still stood in the corner of the room. He yelled out in rage, nearly screaming as he tore the entire bookshelf down. Books flew all over the dirty floor, wood cracked as Loki pushed it in rage.
Numerous books on Norse mythology looked back at him, scattered around the floor in the shadows.
Pages upon pages of lies. Lies about him.
Breathing hard, he walked to the corner of the room where he threw Darcy's book and snatched it once again in his arms. Sinking his nails in the soft surface, he glared at it, bringing it closer to his face.
Magic started to seep from his shaking body, sadness and injustice of his situation making it pulse stronger than ever. Slowly, the book started to freeze, ice enveloped its pages, creeping underneath the ink and the parchment as Loki gritted his teeth, wishing to delete everything that was ever written about him, wishing to erase the cruel being that brought this pain upon him.
As the ice covered the book, Loki sensed it spreading all over him. Blue. The Jötun origin, that coldest part of him welled up, starting from his fingers. Even in the darkness of the room, his scarlet eyes saw it.
In utter wrath, he took the frozen book that was now heavy as a piece of large boulder and threw it in the direction of what was left of the glass wall on the back entrance of the house.
It shattered like a drop of rain hitting a window's ledge.
With a last desperate look at his black fingernails and dark blue skin drawn with lines and circles, Loki fell down on the sofa Darcy laid him down all those months ago.
Refusing to weep, Loki bit the inside of his mouth – but the tears kept falling, down his cheekbones, into his hair, over his skin that was gradually returning to its pale color.
The echo of the truth he voiced to her was still ringing, mingling with the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom.
There was no peace. Not for him, not for her.
The water never stopped. Not even after half an hour.
With great tiredness, Loki removed his cape, and just as he was about to unfasten the many buckles on his leather and metal armor, he halted. His fingers let go of the first large buckle as they fell to his sides and he walked to the nearly closed door of the bathroom, black hair falling over his tired eyes.
His body was aching when he pushed the door, his emerald gaze falling over the familiar space where he rescued Darcy from the biting viper.
He ran as fast as he could through the dark hall, quickly reaching the white door of the bathroom that was slightly open, so a streak of golden light radiated from the inside. The door burst open as Loki pushed them with an outstretched arm, his black long hair falling in his eyes.
'A snake! A freaking snake! Goddamn desert! Freaking Puente Antiguo!'
The steam filled the small bathroom; Loki found it hard to breathe. The second he turned his head to the right, the second his eyes fell upon the fogged glass of the shower bath, a pain he rarely felt filled his lungs.
Darcy was curled in the corner of the wet shower, her bare back pressed against the glass, facing Loki, so everything he saw was a red stain, dripping, seeping down and turning pink. She was shaking, hugging her knees to her chest. Loki watched in shock as Darcy reached with one arm over her shoulder, violently scratching off the stitched the spot where the bullet pierced her just above her heart. The half-healed wound leaked blood, smearing the hot water that tumbled endlessly, drowning her long, dark hair, sticking the silky tresses to her pale skin.
To witness her, like this, stripped down, in her most vulnerable state, bringing harm to herself with her own hands, in a fever… Loki's body moved even before his mind made that decision.
Without a word, he reached at the sliding doors of the shower and pulled it. The moment he did, steam met his distraught face and Darcy turned to look at him.
Her teeth were bared in pain as she curled even tighter, trying to cover herself in her modesty, shying away from his towering, dressed figure.
'It's all my fault.' She whispered over the tumbling water, dragging her clenched fingers through her hair, and across her wounds, tearing them open if she pulled too hard 'It's all my fault.'
The look Loki gave her was beyond anything Darcy ever saw – shock, protectiveness, remorse, love.
Releasing a heavy breath through his nostrils, Loki reached for the large towel hanging close by, and stepped into the large shower.
Embarrassed beyond words, hurt and broken, she looked up at him, trembling with sobs. He turned the water off, draped the towel around her, slipped his arms gently around her body, and in the matter of a few seconds, lifted her into his arms.
A need to protect, heal and hold her clouded his senses.
'It's all my fault.' She cried into his shoulder as he carried her out of the steaming bathroom, through the hallway and into her abandoned bedroom.
Breaking all her barriers, she wept into his shoulders, stopping only to take oxygen as she gave full reign to her fears, doubts and pain,. Everything she felt... he took it, embraced it, comforted her.
When he reached her room, Loki shifted her gently, treating her like a piece of fragile jewelry, and laid her down on the bed.
The sheets were unwashed, the bed unmade.
Then he sat next to her, and whispered to her softly to turn around, shifting the towel so it covered more of her. Crying, she nodded and shifted. Blood was dripping down her back.
'Oh, Darcy.' The strained plea was all he could release as his shaking fingers stroked the undamaged flesh next to the ripped wound 'What have you done to yourself?'
A small cry was all he got for an answer as he summoned his healing powers, pressed his finger to the opened flesh and blew an icy breath directly onto it. She shivered out of sudden coldness, and a strange sensation of her own skin healing back together. After the wound was closed, and all that was left were chilly tingles, Loki leaned down, lay next to her, and keeping her body close to his, pressed his lips over the healed rip in her fair skin.
Her heart raced like always when he was around, his unique smell overpowered everything as her lungs filled with it.
'I-I would never blame you for anything. I could never resent you, Loki.' She took a deep breath, blinking away the remains of her tears 'Because I-'
I love you.
'Shh, don't talk.' He breathed into her neck, wrapping his arms tighter around her still-trembling body.
So, how was it that these blood-stained, deadly hands brought such love, care and tenderness to another? How is it that these guilty hands that inflicted such darkness were able to protect again?
'As long as I am breathing, no one will bring you pain.' He pressed his lips to her scalp, curling around her like a lion 'Nothing will harm you.'
'Remember that…' He whispered, holding her close to his body in a warm embrace.
'My love…' He closed his eyes, 'My lady Darcy.'