Title: Tied for Last
Pairing: Who knows? Darcy, Loki; taking the scenic route
Summary: "It's all a matter of perspective, Loki," she says. "Race you to the end of the world?" He thanks other gods that he said yes.

AUTHOR'S FOUR NOTES:
1. Follows movie-verse, since I know squat about the comics.
2. Chapter title comes from the song "Hallelujah," written by Lenard Cohen.

Chapter outline: Loki doesn't care, Tony is frustrated that everyone seems totally fine, and Darcy should be taking the new circumstances more seriously.

EDIT 11/30/2012: Took out the middle sections—readers who've read the old chapter one will know what I'm talking about, readers who haven't, disregard this edit note. The story direction is changing from the one I had in mind while writing chapter one.

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ONE

I've heard there was a secret chord

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They're all down at the cell where Loki's kept and Darcy's there because her boss is there because Thor's there because his brother's there, and on and on, until you somehow include all of them.

Loki raises a brow at the crowd.

"The chamber you're in is a modified version of the one in the helicarrier. Thank you for breaking out of that one, you'll find that we've improved on the flaws you've pointed out," Nick Fury says in that blithe tone of his that is somehow simultaneously threatening. He pauses, waiting for a remark but Loki is silent. "Moving on to the details of your incarceration, you'll be kept in this chamber twenty-four-seven, monitored at all times. I'll also be assigning an unfortunate SHIELD operative to keep you company round the clock, or whatever reason you don't want to hear."

"I wonder who that poor guy's going to be," Darcy whispers to Jane in a voice so quiet he might have missed it without his heightened hearing. Loki's eyes dart to her and anything else she might have said stops in her throat as she stares back, eyes wide.

"Unless," Fury continues sarcastically, "you have a special request in mind?"

In a few seconds, Loki sees the possibilities: her casual appearance didn't strike him as a SHIELD operative, and she will be a better, easier alternative than one, she will be docile - - or at least quiet, judging by the wary look she's giving him (fear tends to dissuade conversation) - - and the peace to think is what he most wants at present. Fury will most certainly use her as a kind of surveillance ploy in addition to the visual feed to keep tabs on anything he might say, will count on her being untrained so that Loki might lower his guard. And Loki will count on that; Nick Fury will agree to his proposition. The scale tips in their favor.

"Actually, yes," Loki says. He smiles inwardly when Fury's eyes narrow and the rest of the Avengers seem to shift; he still takes a measure of pride at having that affect.

"That girl will do."

In another universe, the scene would be comical. Everyone follows the imaginary line of his finger to one numb and slightly panicking Darcy Lewis. The silence stretches uncomfortably, and Darcy doesn't like it when that happens because she feels compelled to fill it up with - -

"I guess no one told you that it's rude to point on this planet, in this country, in this city, at me, huh?"

- - stupid remarks that made her want to dig a hole in the ground, jump in, and only come out of it for the requisite Vitamin D.

"Brother," Thor began, the protest radiating from his tone, his confused look, his entire being but Loki could see Fury quickly reviewing the same scenarios, knew he would reach the same conclusion. "Why do you - -"

"Alright."

Loki knew he would interrupt, too. He schools his expression as Agent Coulson says, "Sir?"

"Alright," Fury repeats. Tony Stark looks like he's about to chime in so Fury says curtly, "Save it for upstairs, this discussion is over." He turns on his heels and makes for the elevator, not looking back once because they'll all follow him out.

Only Thor remains.

"Loki," Thor addresses in the language of old, his voice quiet, for once. "I disagree with Father's ruling. You have proven yourself and this confinement makes a mockery of your earlier actions. And—" He looks pained. "You are still my brother."

"Thank you for your support," Loki says evenly. "But it is because of my earlier actions that I am now punished."

The coolness of his tone only frustrates Thor further. "Is there a purpose behind your lack of concern? What of this change?"

"I only wish to be left alone, brother," Loki says, voice dipping softly at the word.

With great effort, Thor holds back whatever else he wishes to say. Loki speaks slowly, coolly, when he's serious; Thor treads lightly.

"Then at least allow me to secure a better…" Thor's face is pinched. "You need not remain in this cage."

His earnest pleas are enough to disgust Loki, although a tiny, half-dead part of him stirs with brotherly affection. Loki marvels at their differences; Thor's face is an open book, while his is one that's bound and shut. Suddenly Loki wishes he would go away.

"Privacy is non-negotiable, I assume?"

Thor appears stunned at his acquiescence. "I… I will suggest it nonetheless." He expected a fight. Fire, brimstone, this is Loki after all. But Thor's not one to look at a gifthorse in the mouth so he makes to leave and casts one more look behind him before boarding the elevator.

Loki closes his eyes.

He is alone.

Quiet at last.

But the humming of his thoughts grows louder and he feels a pain in his chest that no flesh wound could create. He remembers his father's voice like a slow burning: how, even after he had explained his last-second alliance with his brother's friends against the Chitauri, Odin remained unmoved.

"You doubt me, All-Father?" Loki asked. A small part of him didn't blame him.

"It is not so simple," Odin said. He seemed so much older than the last time Loki saw him. "As the King I must doubt you, but as your father I must trust you. So, Loki: what will you do now?"

Loki had no plans. He had nothing and he was baffled by it. He was just… He looked at Odin sagging against the throne. Just weary. Of everything, and he didn't know what everything entailed. Solitude - - that's what he needed now. To think, because…because…

"What would you have me do?" His voice sounded far away to his own ears. It was like watching one of his incorporeal forms from up high, only this was different; this time he was observing with the detachment of those who had no stake, no ambition to see a plot through.

"You have spent so long running away from me, from Asgard; if that is what you truly wish, then go. You are no longer burdened by the name of 'Odinson.' This is your punishment. You will let Thor take you to his human allies," Odin finally said. "Let them determine your fate."

The usual hot fury that would course through Loki's veins was a dim sensation. He did not feel anything because he did not know what to feel.

"Will you be taking my powers?" Like he did to Thor's. How ironic.

"You will keep them because you will not be able to use them." At Odin's words, Loki felt a ripple over his body. His magic still thrummed at his fingertips, but they remained just out of reach. He supposed he would view it as more than a frustrating inconvenience later.

Something unexplainable flickered across Odin's face before he turned away from his son for the last time, with the cryptic words:

"May you have the strength to regain them."

Loki opens his eyes. He's sitting on the bed suspended against the wall, which is thicker than cardboard, to his dull surprise. At least his incarceration will be tolerable in that respect, however long it is to be and if Thor fails. He has much time during which to think. The insignificant girl he chose as watchdog would exist at the edge of his consciousness, like a bit of dust in the periphery of the universe.

Yes, it was wise to choose her.

. . .

"What's Loki's motive?" Fury asks.

The question bounces off the walls of the conference room until all eyes turn to Thor, who hesitates. His inner conflict is painted on his face in broad strokes. These are his allies, his friends, but Loki is his brother (he would not call him a half-brother, not even in his mind). His conversation with Loki is private, he will not reveal details.

But it isn't really lying when he's just as perplexed as they are, is it?

"I believe my brother has no motive," he finally admits.

"No angle?" Tony shakes his head. "Scheming Loki, the God of Mischief, as he's enjoyed reminding us in the past, is here because daddy says so?" At Thor's deepening frown, Tony has the decency to look apologetic, if only slightly. "Sorry, I know he's your brother and he's helped us with the Chitauri invasion - - unnecessary to remind you but I'll do it anyway - - the guys he brought over in the first place - - but I find it a little hard to trust him."

"I know not what he is thinking any more than you all," Thor says, frustrated.

"I just don't believe in reformed villains. Not a one-eighty-degree turn like that."

Steve tap-tap-taps a finger on the table's surface. "Don't believe in second chances, Stark?"

"The guy tried to enslave humanity. You do it once or twice and maybe I'll be more inclined to forgive and forget. But more than once? Nope."

"'Once or twice'?" Natasha folds her arms over her chest, meaning that she disapproves. "Good to know you have a limit."

"He did vaporize the one that was about to decapitate me," Bruce points out casually.

"If my brother means to make amends, then I will not stand in his way." Thor turns to Director Fury, whose eyes narrow at the determined set of Thor's shoulders. "I only ask that he is moved to another location, one with limited surveillance - - "

"Last time I checked, Loki is not a celebrity," Tony grumbles.

"This prison is an insult! What have we to fear? His powers are locked away, my father has seen to that. And though I do not understand my father's methods, he would not have sent Loki here if he presented a threat to this world."

"Uh, because we're here to stop him if he tries again."

"My father, Odin, has disowned my brother," Thor says quietly, voice taut like stretched wire about to snap. "He has been cast out of Asgard. Indefinitely."

He stares resolutely at the glossy surface of the table as his words echo in the sudden silence. Not even Tony has a response. Jane squeezes Thor's hand for support.

Steve steps in diplomatically. "I think it's a… reasonable… request. We can keep a close eye on him without the use of SHIELD equipment or personnel." He nods at Fury. "Haven't there been budgetary concerns from higher up?"

"There are always budgetary concerns from higher up," the Director growls. It's a sore topic with him.

"Monsters!" Tony's at the point where he waves his arms wildly. "Falling from a hole in the sky! Brainwashed Hawkeye!"

Natasha's lips thin but Clint maintains his disaffected air with a shrug. He is a disciplined agent and he chooses his battles. "That was a long time ago; this situation requires a different approach." A small smile. "And I may have shot at him a few times while pretending to aim at some Chitauri."

Tony concedes a smile at that.

Fury sighs. "Agent Coulson, your thoughts?"

"This could be a bad idea."

"I agree." Fury nods curtly. "Request granted, Thor."

"What?"

"In our line of work, Mr. Stark, you'll come to realize that all choices have pros and cons. And there'll be one person working around the clock," Fury's lone eye turns to Darcy. "Ms. Lewis."

Darcy's too stunned at the sudden attention to formulate words so she says, "Um." She didn't think they were still abiding by Loki's one condition, what with the new living arrangements and all. And the meeting had largely transpired without mention of it so she had assumed that if she kept quiet…

"If Loki's as harmless as Thor says he is, than this would be an easy task, nothing to be afraid of. A 'panic' setting will be installed into your cell phone, though, and Mr. Rogers will be living close by, as an additional measure."

Steve sends a reassuring nod to Darcy and some of the anxiety drains away. Still, she'll be spending an inordinate amount of time near SHIELD's ex-public-enemy-number-one... god or not, magic with or without, it didn't take much to stab someone with a pencil.

Thor's jaw tightens minutely. Darcy's touched that he's torn between his advocacy for his brother and concern for her safety. Nick Fury is a tricky bastard, and he does not let you forget that. Even so, it isn't out of a callous disregard for Darcy; she was mainly doing grunt work as a reader, scouring magazines, the paper, the internet - - any form of media, really - - for news of abnormal activity, the kind of work that could be easily done elsewhere. Plus she was on the lowest of low grade stipend for her eyeball-peeling efforts…

"She'll be upgraded to combat pay by the hour, right?" Agent Coulson confirms.

Combat pay. That was five times her current salary.

Darcy considers this, carefully.

A little house-arrest surveillance can't be too hard. Just a quick glance up from her work time to time to see if Loki's present… and if he tries anything funny she's got the panic button and Captain-freaking-America…

Jane's eyes widen; she recognizes that contemplative look. "Darcy, are you - - "

"I accept." She ignores Jane's worried stare and chants in her mind, No more dollar meals! Grocery shopping at Whole Foods! Hell, I can treat myself to a nice restaurant whenever I want!

"Your cooperation is much appreciated, Ms. Lewis. Expect to be moved in two weeks." Fury stands, a gesture which typically signifies the ending of a meeting. He sweeps out of the room, Coulson a step behind. The others trickle out.

Tony leans back into the chair. "I still don't like this."

"You will be protected, Darcy, I promise that on my honor," Thor says, clapping a hand on her shoulder which does not send her flying across the room, to her relief, but still makes her worry about potential bruising.

"Let us know if you suspect anything," Natasha says, squeezing her shoulder briefly in support, the other shoulder Thor hasn't clapped, and Darcy's moved by the Black Widow's thoughtfulness.

"We'll miss your coffee around here," Clint tells her sadly as he follows Natasha out.

"I'll brew some and bring it sometime," Darcy assures. She thinks, briefly and wildly, Loki has no idea what a blessing he's been given.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Jane asks bluntly, and Darcy loves her for it.

"Nope," she says, grinning. "Story of my life!" She laughs to mask the sad truth and perhaps they'll all think she's slightly off her rocker for finding amusement in the situation.

"Am I the only one taking this seriously?" Tony asks the empty room, looking stricken at the very thought.

He shakes his head.

"This is not a good day."

. . .

The last time Darcy's packed her life in a cardboard box was after finishing college and moving to New York to work for SHIELD. Jane had relayed, with a wince, the ultimatum Director Fury had given her: either work for them or work for no one.

Harsh choices, she'd thought, but it was not rocket science. Once you've seen gods and spandex superheroes and shady government operations that make your Uncle Ted look less insane than everyone had thought, you can't close your eyes and walk through life like that.

(Plus, she didn't want them to erase her memory; she'd seen Men in Black. Agent Coulson assured her - - while smirking, she swore - - that they did no such thing.

"What do you know?" Darcy said. "The government probably keeps secrets from its agents, too."

"I have Level-Seven clearance and I'm Director Fury's second-in-command. If anyone's keeping secrets from its agents, I would know."

Darcy had no idea what 'Level-Seven' clearance meant but it sounded impressive enough.

Still: "Alright, but if I see anyone whipping out a little metal stick, I will look away.")

So she'd said yes. Jane's face had brightened because it meant she wouldn't be without female companionship in the Big Apple and Darcy had marveled, not for the first time, why someone like Jane had so few (read: none, except Darcy) girl friends. Jane has delicate features, all proportion and uniform, just like her scientific and exacting personality, she's like a beautiful doll - - and Darcy thinks that this is, perhaps, part of the reason.

Jane had already moved to her New York apartment with the help of Thor. Darcy had considered asking to borrow the Asgardian but hadn't wanted to separate the couple. Agent Coulson had been assigned to facilitate her transition, to her surprise.

Needless to say, the roadtrip had its ups and downs.

Darcy had thought she could wheedle some information from the agent but that was a plane that didn't fly.

("So, Agent Coulson, Level-Seven clearance, huh? You probably see all sorts of freaky stuff," she trailed off, hoping he'd pick up the thread.

"Yes."

"…Can I get Level-Seven clearance?"

"Absolutely not."

"Darn," Darcy said, folding her arms and sinking into her chair. She got a sneaking suspicion that the Agent didn't like her. Well, the feeling was mutual! He was way too serious and his discipline made her feel downright lazy in comparison. He's probably balding because he keeps too many secrets, she thought.

And then Coulson sighed, "I'm sorry if I come across as a bit testy, but I've had to deal with more superhero divas than most as of late," and he won the internet for calling Thor, Iron Man, and whoever else divas.

Darcy told him so.

"Superhero. Divas. You win the internet. I sense stories!"

After Coulson told Darcy of his shepherding efforts, including one about how long it took him to get Thor to stop addressing him as, "Son of Coul," Darcy decided that the agent was alright in her book.

She'll still call him "Son of Coul" in her head, though.)

For the next year or so it was Freshman Year of College all over again.

She stuck out in rooms filled with black and white.

("Do I have to follow this dress code?" Darcy asked Jane, eyeing a woman in a severe-looking ensemble.

"I don't think it's written down anywhere, it's kind of unofficial, from what I've gathered," Jane said, smoothing down her pencil skirt. It's dark blue.

"Oh, okay," Darcy said. "Good.")

She had a card that pretty much told everyone she was a SHIELD employee, but was mainly just for looks.

("You know what clearance this piece of plastic gives me?" Darcy waved it in the air. "The power to go to the lady's room without being interrogated!"

"Maybe if you dressed like an employee…?"

"Jane, the last time I tried shopping for office-appropriate clothes, I ended up frustrated enough to bark at the poor cash register girl, demanding an explanation as to why not one store carried sizes that didn't make me look like a frumpy cupcake."

"…I can see your point. You could ask Natasha Romanoff? She's more your body type than I am."

"She, unlike me, spends her time doing important things. I can't ask the Black Widow to help with my fashion issues! Besides, she kind of scares me; she could probably kill me with an eraser."

"Darcy, I don't know why you said it in such a blasé way."

"Oh, is my girl crush showing? Seriously, if I had to pick a way to die, death by Natasha, I say.")

And there were some days when all she wanted to do was huddle into some corner and get out of everyone's way because she truly felt useless and very much like a ghost with no right to be there and she hears her mother's voice, crackly on the phone over the distance, What are you doing in New York? and she replies Oh, you know, I keep busy, and thank god her mother doesn't pry because she still doesn't know the answer, even after a year and a half of pretending she's making a difference, that she's wanted, as she passes out steaming cups of coffee or as she teases Steve for his Yes, ma'am'sor as she teaches Thor how to use an iPod or as she trades hard and fast barbed comments with Tony and Clint or as she doodles smiley faces and rainbows on the post-its she pastes all over Dr. Banner's lab until Tony shoos her out - -

(She asked Natasha, once, why Nick Fury allowed her to be there, and Natasha lifted a polished brow and gently shrugged. "I don't try to understand the man, but if you asked me, I like having someone around who I can talk with about stuff that has nothing to do with the fate of the world.")

She tells herself that the grins she gets are enough, these incredible people who do things she can only dream to be a part of, it's enough that they adore her coffee and let her float around in the lab and listen to her jokes and tell her how their day went without breaching protocol.

But that would be lying and Darcy Lewis is a terrible, terrible liar.

Except when it concerns people she cares about. For people who she would tear down mountains, if she could.

Then she hides behind her smile and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

. . .

She knocks at the door before entering (it's her space, now, but she's been brought up with manners, believe it or not) but as she reaches for the doorknob it swings open and there is a god standing in front of her.

"Hello," she says, congratulating herself for remembering to breathe. She reminds herself that he is a depowered god and reigns in her instincts to whip out her taser and flee.

Loki surprises her by speaking.

"You're the handler."

His voice is smooth but flat and robotic, as if he wasn't really all there, more like a body going through the motions after the spirit has left. Loki's eyes are a vivid shade of green and she reminds herself that he is a murdering, depowered god as her thoughts make strange associations with green and leaves and life - -

"Has anyone told you that it is rude to stare on this planet, in this country, in this city, at me?" he says archly.

She freezes. A memory floats in her mind, like a smoke curling up:

"I guess no one told you that it's rude to point on this planet, in this country, in this city, at me, huh?"

She opens and closes her mouth like a fish but before she can reply he has swept away, leaving her to stare at his raven hair and—

"Your clothes," she says, shocked. "Normal, human clothes. Where did you get - -"

Loki stills. He turns around, slowly, and the look in his eyes is so calculating that Darcy immediately clutches at the pocket where her taser is kept.

"You are here because you are clearly not a SHIELD operative. You are here because I do not wish to deal with one," he says, not even batting an eye at her confrontational posture. "This is an arrangement born out of necessity and sustained by tolerance. Tolerance of which I have very little."

Darcy relaxes ever so slightly, but does not remove her hand from her bag.

"To answer your question: Thor. He dropped them off along with a warning not to harm you." There's a heated emotion in there somewhere, if Darcy had the mind to look for it. "I am a man of my word, Ms. Lewis. As long as our interactions are limited and do not try my patience, I will not touch you." His voice drops into threatening waters.

"But do not forget that I am still a god."

He crosses the living room and is almost at his door when she says:

"I don't believe in gods."

Loki whips around but she's already making herself comfortable by the office desk crammed against a wall, pulling out various files and trinkets and making the space her home. He can see the slight tremble of her fingers as she sets up her laptop and waits for it to boot up, facing away. Centuries pass and Darcy thinks she dies twice before, finally, the sky blue screen welcomes her.

She sucks in a steadying breath when his door clicks shut.

Darcy has struck the first match and let it fall.

She wonders if he would catch the flame or let the ground burn.