My feels after The Dark World, guys. My FEELS. It's made it a little hard to write. This fic is AU after Avengers, since I started it before I saw TDW, and it's...well, it's angsty. There are several extremely admirable authors on here, and it was on a recommendation from one that i looked into the singer Erutan. Her songs "winter moon" and "no one but you" contributed heavily to this piece, towards the end. Thanks for reading. I still own nothing, darn.

Loki could count upon the fingers of one hand the life-altering interactions he'd had with Darcy Lewis.

The first time had been a sort of a fluke. The girl, assistant to the meddling scientist he had been enlisted to aid in research, had come into SHIELD's lab late one night, clearly intoxicated. Nearly unrecognizable in a slinky red dress and wearing contacts instead of her typical spectacles, Darcy had come stumbling into the main foyer, disturbing only Loki. He often read late into the night, using any excuse to avoid his meager quarters deep within the bowels of the headquarters, and had been idling atop a lab table, perusing a thick encyclopedia he'd picked at random from one of Jane's shelves.

This was part of his recent exile from Asgard; sent to Midgard, his magic under a lock and key of ironically-magical origins, forced to help the mortals of SHIELD advance their defenses of earth, forced to amuse himself with scraps of their puny knowledge. The lab he most often worked in had runes inscribed into the floorboards, magic-inhibiting shackles were perpetually on stand-by, and panic buttons were built onto every surface imaginable. They were sparing no expense, he often thought wryly.

Not visibly ruffled by her banging into the room, he mutely lifted a brow in inquiry about her presence, which she missed completely, occupied in talking to herself aloud as she was. Amid the rambles, he discerned that she had been on a date, some mortal outing that was apparently a cultural norm between males and females. However, the inebriation to the extent that one lost the motor skills required to walk was optional, he gathered from her ramblings, reserved for the nights that "didn't go so well."

He returned to his book sometime after the phrase "tasteless prick" had been used three times, only looking up when a thud sounded. Purse tossed to the ground, Darcy had flopped herself onto the couch against the far wall, face-first. She still didn't seem to notice his presence, and he darted a glance around the empty lab, wondering if he ought to leave, and just as quickly deciding against it.

"I was here first." His cool tone cut into her murmurings, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from Darcy, who scrambled up from her face-planted position with speed, and not so much grace. Overbalancing, she toppled to the linoleum floor with a screech, where she sat like a crumpled doll, dress pooling around her as she stared wide-eyed at Loki.

"What the hell're you doing here-" she slurred, shoving a fistful of hair off her face and wrinkling her nose.

"Being interrupted by an even less-coherent-than-usual Miss Lewis at ungodly hours of the day," he replied with a scowl, trying not to appreciate the view her dress' neckline afforded from her crouch on the floor.

"Have you ever heard of tequila, tall dark 'n handsome?" She was trying to lift herself from the ground, stilettos scrabbling for purchase against the polished floor, and Loki abandoned his book to the lab table with a thump and accompanying sigh, wondering at the idiom she'd used. "It doesn't tend to inspire verbally sure-f-footed e-eloquence, your highness-"

Moving to her with noiseless grace, he knelt, gripping either side of her waist and hoisting her to a standing position effortlessly.

She couldn't remain standing on her own, however, and wobbled alarmingly when he began to retract his hands.

"Perhaps you should remove those weapons on your feet," he intoned quietly, staring down at her heels. She hiccuped, and a sniffling noise brought his gaze back to her face. His eyes widened in surprise as he noted she was…crying.

"He d-didn't like them either," she sniveled. "I just wanted to look pretty and taller and…and he was so…mean…"

Before he knew it, she was sobbing uncontrollably, leaning into his chest as the weeping shook her small frame. Loki's eyes sought the ceiling as he gave in and humored her, closing his arms around the crying girl and not understanding her reaction to his simple statement at all. The foot implements looked painful at best…

"If it is any consolation," he began, his voice uncertain in the face of her emotional turbulence, "You look…very pleasing, tonight. And your height is perfectly acceptable." Her sobs renewed themselves for a moment and he panicked, knowing he must have said something else wrong. But Darcy pried herself from his shirt, raising a makeup- and tear-streaked face to his. "I look nice?" At his nod, she threw her arms around him again, murmuring unintelligibly.

He dared not mention how accompanying her height seemed to his; her face tucked just perfectly in under his chin, and…He halted that train of thought, knowing it would lead nowhere wise.

In another minute, Darcy was nearly passed out on her feet, leaning heavily against Loki's chest, still hiccuping drunkenly. He huffed a sigh into her mane of hair, scooping her straight off her feet and crossing back to the couch, laying the now-dozing girl on it carefully. He made sure to remove her weapon-like footwear cautiously, and looked around for a blanket. Finding none, he retrieved his trench coat and laid it across her with a gentleness that surprised even himself.

Shaking his head, he headed back to his book, not relishing the thought of her hangover-induced tantrum that would undoubtedly occur the next morning.

Several weeks later, the attention of every occupant of the basement-level SHIELD lab was glued to the screen of a large television mounted on the wall.

An attack had been launched against New York City by a well-armed group of Russian mercenaries, equipped with alien weaponry whose origins were unknown, as well as several iron man replica suits. Every Avenger had been summoned, along with virtually anyone whom SHIELD believed could assist with the attackers, who had planned well.

Manhattan was again the victim, the hostiles converging on many of the same buildings and hapless victims as the Chitauri invasion.

As Darcy watched, with a white-knuckled grip on the remote, Loki appeared on the screen, the camera's movements unsteady as it panned in, trying to keep his fluid form in sight, leather overcoat flapping with his movements. It had escaped no one's notice that he was the perpetrator of the earlier attack on the city, but Darcy thought the reporter's snide remarks uncalled-for at such a time.

SHIELD had requested the help of the mischief god, and even lifted the limits placed on his magic, temporarily, assuming the return of his powers would make him a little more amiable.

Now he looked to be on a rooftop, fighting back to back with the Black Widow, of all people. Darcy's breath hitched as three of the enemy suits appeared over the edge of the building, coming at him head-on. He met their weapon's blasts with magical shielding and apparently no difficulty, returning fire with a barrage of daggers, flung with deadly precision.

Visible only to the news chopper's camera at first was another assassin, creeping behind the Black Widow, whose crimson mane was a beacon on the screen as she ducked and fire at several other combatants. Just as Darcy started to choke out a futile warning at the television, the camera caught sight of Loki leaping in front of Natasha, a blast of magic emitting from his hands. The man was hit directly, the knockoff iron suit sent careening to the ground some twenty stories below.

The cameraman had just a split second to catch a nod from Loki sent at the red-haired woman, who returned it in mute thanks before the newscasters cut away to Thor, waving his hammer as always. He was fresh from saving a burning building full of people, the newscasters recounted; they seemed much more eager to focus on the golden-haired savior, and Darcy frowned, turning the volume back down.

Several hours later, the "troops" were returning to headquarters in twos and threes, trudging wearily and uncharacteristically subdued.

Darcy was watching the SHIELD lobby intently from an overlooking balcony one floor up, not sure what exactly she was waiting for. At last, Loki appeared, re-fitted with magic-binding cuffs and escorted by Thor, and she released a sigh of relief she'd been unaware was held in.

When the shackles had been removed and Loki allowed to return to the warded lab, Darcy flung herself at him, clinging tightly to his waist as Jane and her team looked on in slack-jawed shock. After five seconds, Darcy pulled back, shoving Loki hard in the chest. His eyebrows rose in comical confusion as she then pulled him in for another hug, which he cautiously returned after a furtive glance around the room. All occupants except Jane had looked away, as they were all resigned to Darcy's unpredictable actions, and finally, Jane even returned to her work.

Darcy was unaware of the scrutiny, not that it would have bothered her anyways, as she murmured unintelligibly into his leather overcoat. He smelled of smoke, leather, and something earthier, unique to himself, and she inhaled deeply, trying to calm the panic that had bubbled inside her all day. She couldn't and would not explain it, just muttered something about being glad Loki was okay before pulling away abruptly, moving back to her computer and grabbing a printout of data to interpret.

It was an unfortunate and very unlucky SHIELD agent who was picked to break the news to the lab that Darcy and Jane's research convoy had been attacked. A second after he broke the news, he was pinned to a wall, Loki's hand around his throat as the god demanded to know what had happened. An alarm sounded, and in ten more seconds, as many guards were pulling Loki away from the agent who would sport a hand-print necklace for the next week, and likely not talk for as long.

Taken to his quarters to "cool the hell down" as Director Fury put it, Loki was left to pace erratically, having received no more information than the single sentence that agent had gotten out. He supposed it was his own fault, letting his panicked impatience take over. Nevertheless, he was inwardly relived beyond belief when another SHIELD lackey had knocked on the door an hour later, cautiously creeping in with an offer to give him the rundown. Loki surmised the man was doing so against orders for some reason, and listened gratefully.

Darcy, the man said, had been rather forceful for a hospital bed detainee, insisting at high volumes that the man tell Loki what had happened. She had seemed to think he would take the news badly but she wanted him aware, the man said, before swallowing nervously at how right she had been.

Called upon to research an anomaly in the sky above New Jersey, Jane had quickly headed out, accompanied of course by Darcy. Loki had been loath to let the assistant go, not that he could have stopped her, given his complete lack of authority and her feisty will. Still, he'd strained not to reach out at her coat-clad form, retreating past the clear automatic doors to the lab.

The situation in question had turned out to be some sort of decoy, a satellite's course having been digitally altered to change its path and cause a scare to anyone watching, of which there were many.

Loki sensed a trap even as the agent gave him the lowdown, reading notes from what looked like a pilfered debriefing file. Darcy must have threatened to tase the man or something.

Once the computer error had been righted and pass codes changed, the ladies had headed out, the middle vehicle in a convoy of three, SHIELD's minimum. Ten minutes into their drive back, without warning, something appeared to detonate in the road ahead, sending the first SUV flipping in the lane, and the one Darcy was in lost control, swerving straight into a ditch at sixty miles an hour. An enemy of SHIELD's was suspected, though they were unsure who as of yet, but it was speculated that, as the Avengers were essentially untouchable, an example would be made of the more breakable members of the organization.

They'd lost the two men in the first SUV, but Darcy and Jane been airlifted in a rush straight back to SHIELD headquarters, where there were full medical facilities, several floors up. Jane had only bumps and bruises, but Darcy appeared to have a concussion, and the seat belt had dislocated her shoulder.

Before the man had fully finished, Loki was out the ajar door to his quarters, dashing for the medical level and ignoring any stares or commands to halt.

Thor was just leaving the medical wing, Jane tucked under one arm, when Loki arrived, pausing uncertainly before the doors. Jane smiled, a bandage taped across one temple, and extracted herself from Thor's arm long enough to key in an access code, to which a cheerful beep responded, and the doors slid open. Loki closed his eyes, bowing his head deeply in thanks, before heading inside swiftly.

He needed only to follow an outburst of noise at the other end of the ward, a hoarse yell he would still recognize anywhere sounding above the din. Darcy was hooked up to a more elaborate setup than any of the few patients he passed, her arm in a sling, several drips feeding into her arm, heavy bandaging around her hairline. An irate nurse was snapping that the girl needed to lie back and cushion her head, but Darcy was having none of it.

"I want pudding like that guy got," she insisted loudly, pointing at a man across the way with a broken leg suspended, who paused with a spoonful of the chocolate substance halfway to his mouth. "And…Oh, Lokiiiii!"

The god noted belatedly that her eyes were glassy, no doubt from heavy doses of medication, and he hung back, swiping a hand through his hair nervously. Darcy, however, beckoned him forward with both hands, exuberantly enough to tug at her IV drips and prompt a warning beep from the machine nearest her. The large nurse flung her hands in the air, muttering something about pudding, and huffed past Loki, warning him to keep the girl calm.

He stared after the nurse for a moment, suddenly unsure of himself. He'd had to know she was okay, and she appeared to be, but… Darcy waved furiously at him again, screeching "Come here," and he was lost, moving forward dazedly.

The intern wiggled her hands expectedly, and he stared, until it clicked that she wanted a hug. Frowning, he eyed the tubes and bandages all over her, but at her adorable pout, leaned in, gingerly folding her into a hug. "I'm very glad you're alright," he whispered. She squeezed him one-armed with more strength than he'd thought her capable of, even pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he froze at the sensation.

She didn't seem to notice, pulling back and wrinkling her nose as she plucked at the material of the hospital gown she was wearing. "Medical couture is in my future. I must improve the lives of helpless hospital detainees everywhere." Dropping the fabric, she clasped her good arm across the one strapped to her chest. "Thanks for coming to see me! It's so dull in here, all moaning and medicine jargon and reprimands and I'm so bored, don't suppose you could break me out…" Her brow furrowed. "Can you?"

Loki moved to perch on the very edge of the bed after a quick look around. "I don't think that's wise. You could have died, you've got to recover under the care of medical professionals."

She started to protest, instead cutting herself off as she yawned widely, pulling off her glasses to scrub at her eyes with her good hand. "I am kinda sleepy…" Reaching over, she tapped a button that must control her painkillers, several times. "Oughta tide me over."

Darcy started to shuffle downward in the bed, and Loki turned, waving off the nurse who was approaching. Surprisingly, she smiled, and listened to him, altering her course across the ward to give some other lucky soul the pudding. A tiny gasp of pain sent his gaze flicking back to the injured girl, who couldn't get enough leverage with one arm to position herself comfortably.

"Allow me?" At his gentle words, she nodded, a smile spreading across her face, and he carefully lifted her underneath her covers, moving her into a more sleep-friendly position. Bringing the blanket up to her shoulders, Loki grabbed her glasses from the hand they were falling from, putting them on the beside table and turning off the lamp.

When he turned to leave, a slender hand gripped his forearm tightly. "Don't go?" He blinked in the dim light, wondering what he had just heard. "What was that?"

"Please don't leave? It's cold and…I'd like company…" Darcy's voice was thick with fatigue, and Loki didn't wish to distress her, so he inched back onto the bed. After another furtive glance around, he saw the lights along the whole ward were being dimmed, and allowed himself to stretch out fully on his side, propping an arm up on her pillow.

Darcy was the one who closed the distance, awkwardly shuffling closer and snuggling herself right into Loki's chest, nearly purring with content. He let himself reach out his other arm, curving it around her back and rubbing gentle circles, both to warm and comfort her. She'd likely regret her choice in the morning, he thought bitterly, as she appeared so heavily medicated, but this was nice. So nice, after so long.

"Ever heard of a bucket list?"

"Pardon?"

"You know, a list of stuff you wanna do before you kick the bucket. Er, topple over dead, you know, all that."

"Never had cause for one, living as long as we do…"

"Weelllppp, that's lame. I've got one, and there's definitely one part down the list where it says have dinner with a demigod, so…Wanna go to dinner?"

A thud echoed through the lab, empty except for the two of them as it was late evening, and Loki scrambled quickly to retrieve his fallen book. "I'm not certain what you-"

"Oh come on, I'm asking you out to dinner Loki, is that such a foreign concept? You guys eat dinner up in the floofy golden land, right?"

"…What?"

"Oh my gosh just come on." She promptly dropped everything for the night, shedding the lab coat she didn't need to wear but insisted upon anyways because it made her appear more important, grabbing her bag and tugging Loki to his feet.

By now, the runes had been deactivated, the shackles locked away to await another prisoner, though Loki still preferred to function without much magic. They left without incident, Darcy dragging him to the lobby in record time.

"Sushi? Kebabs? Italian? You look like you'd appreciate a fine carbonara…" Darcy flagged down a cab, still raking an appraising gaze across Loki, though it seemed to no longer be about cuisine choice.

She shoved him into the back of the cab, giving directions to the driver, and the silvertongue finally found itself again. "What exactly is the meaning of this outing...?"

"Thought I explained dates to you," Darcy said, scrolling through her phone. "Girl likes boy, boy likes girl, they go somewhere and eat and talk and figure out mutual interests and if they'd get along for more than five minutes and they decide if they could trust each other in a zombie apocalypse, and if they can they have more dates, and if they don't, the girl downs several shots of tequila contributed by sympathetic fellow diners, and staggers home to have a demigod clean up her mess."

"You…remember that evening?"

"Sure do, big fellah. I owe you one. Or two, I'm not sure, you made a really good electric blanket too."

He was glad of the night, concealing the emotions that were rippling across his expression in the dark cab.

They arrived at an upper-scale Italian restaurant that Darcy swore by, and Loki recovered his wits enough to leap from the car fast enough to circle it and open her door for her, offering his arm. She complied with a delighted squeal, steering him inside and requesting a window table whose view of the city she adored.

They spoke of nearly everything under the sun, thanks to Darcy's unpredictable attention span, and Loki found himself talking about childhood pranks, punishments, the teasing and bullying, and even of the tesseract. Darcy was a rapt listener, making soothing, sympathetic noises at the right times, assuring him it was "awesome" that he occasionally turned blue, interjecting questions humorous enough to detract from the gravity of some of the tales, and the back of his mind worried that he was truly falling for this mortal. This creative, gorgeous, ever-refreshing intern with the gushing verbosity of a river.

At some point, she abandoned food in pursuit of wine, wetting her lips often as she spun her own tales, going to school, coming to the desert to fulfill a position she was ill-qualified for and fully disinterested in, encountering Thor with the front bumper of Jane's van, and various other "shenanigans", as she called them. He was enraptured, hanging on to her every word despite her insistence that her most exciting tales were utterly mundane compared to even an everyday experience of his own life. She was wrong, and he told her at every turn, inspiring a new, hilarious story each time.

They finally left the restaurant after about four hours, the time escaping them easily, and Darcy flagged a cab, looking contemplative. "Bet those SHIELD-provided living quarters"- here she imitated quote marks with her fingers- "are downright horrible. Lemme guess, white walls, sparse furniture, not a poster, even a wall calendar to be seen?" He nodded, not sure where she was going with this, until she leapt upon him, levering herself up to whisper in his ear. "Come home with me? Change of scenery?"

Worried about where it would lead, he cocked his head to the side, frowning down at her as she lowered herself off her toes. "Are you quite certain it's not the Chianti talking?" Her expression darkened with alarming speed, and he put his hands up in a placating gesture, pulling her closer and lacing his hands at the small of her back as their cab pulled up. "I'd love to." She seemed more than okay with the physical display, anger disappearing from her face, and he had to regretfully pull away to open the cab door for her.

It was only fifteen minutes to her apartment, but Darcy's perpetual impatience began to show through, and she fisted a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling herself to him with the aid of a turn around a sharp corner. Her kisses were forceful, his hesitant, at least until she pulled away, her forehead flush against his as she gasped for air. "I really really really really really like you Loki-" It was all the encouragement needed to erase the slivers of doubt in his mind, and he crushed her lips back to his with a hand cupping the back of her head, lost in the silky curls.

Her hands were in his hair, tugging at it and driving him absolutely mad, his frantic hands running up and down the sides of her top, seeking purchase to pull her even closer. So lost in each other were they that they didn't even notice they'd arrived at their destination. Their driver was amused, but not nearly enough to stop the meter running when the car did, and Darcy pulled her tongue from Loki's long enough to squeal out an apology, handing over a wad of bills and scrambling out of the vehicle.

Even in the elevator up to her floor, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, much to the fascination of a pair of elderly ladies who were headed to the floor below Darcy's. They exited the elevator with a couple weak whistles and winks aimed at the oblivious couple, who had commandeered a corner of the lift, Darcy lifted and pressed against the wall.

The elevator dinged, signaling her floor, and Darcy pushed at Loki, who released her to stand, albeit shakily. She fumbled in her bag for her keys as they traversed the hallway, almost using a credit card to try to open the door in her haste.

Once inside, Loki safely assumed he'd be staying the night, knowing an annoying phone call would be placed to Darcy at some point, because where else would he be, but it didn't matter now. She was tearing at the buttons on his shirt like he was one of those wrapped Christmas gifts she had described to him, and it was amazing, being wanted. Her own coat and scarf were flung to the ground, joining his jacket, and then his shirt joined the pile, and hers.

As benevolent as Odin tried to pretend he was towards Midgard, one area he lacked restraint was in the issue of mortality. He unendingly referred to humans as fragile, sickly, their existences nothing but fleeting flashes of light in the scheme of things. It was in this area alone that Thor strongly disagreed with his father, and, these days, Loki joined him in that dissent, for once.

But defending the humans' worth would never change anything, never elongate their lives and prove Odin wrong.

Threats had been sent, to Jane, to Darcy, to many agents of SHIELD in the past couple months. All menacing, all warning of death if they continued their affiliations with such an abomination of an organization, working with monsters and beings of evil intentions, concealing the truth from the public, all the same "Blah blah blah", as Darcy put it.

Until she'd come home a week after her night with Loki, to find her door ajar, and a dagger stuck in her kitchen table, pinning down a note that said "regards to you and the trickster". She couldn't tell if it was about her, about Loki, or about SHIELD, and that scared Darcy Lewis, a lack of confidence.

Loki had insisted upon removing her from the situation for a while, getting her far away, and Thor had likewise convinced Jane, and they had set off to request access to the Bifrost from Heimdall. He'd acquiesced, but as soon as they arrived, told them Odin had forbidden the humans to come any further, targets as they were. Loki had exchanged a look with Thor, and the wordless conversation led to a request for a different destination via the Bifrost, somewhere at least one of them knew well now.

And so they had gone to Jotunheim, attempting concealment among the frigid slopes and icy ridges until they had a plan.

And there, they had been ambushed, by a legion of ragtag Chitauri, led by the emissary Loki had dealt with while under the influence of the tesseract, and subsequently pissed off. They had watched, waited, and followed.

Thor and Loki had come in their usual respective armor, both well-armed, but it was still an uneven fight. Loki's magic had flashed vibrant emerald sheens through the snow-strewn air, Thor had summoned lightning at every turn he could, and weapons clashed in the still wasteland.

Darcy and Jane had been pushed back, Loki using a concealment spell on them, but it had waned as the fight went on, both his attention and his power's endurance straying.

At last, only a small group of the beasts were left, and the Asgardian pair made short work of them, turning in relief back to the two women in time to see the emissary leap from a ledge above them. Dagger in hand, he was aiming straight for Jane, but Darcy shrieked a warning, shoving her out of the way. The dagger embedded itself in her chest with all the force of the alien's leap, and several voices screamed in alarm all at once. Within the next second, an immense blast of magic and a dagger in the eye had taken the emissary down for good, and Darcy was crumpling to her knees in the snow.

With an agonized cry, Loki was next to her in a moment, Jane staggering to Thor in horrified shock.

The brunette intern looked surprised to see a dagger up to its hilt in her chest, and started to say so, stopping when blood began to sluggishly drip from her mouth. Loki held her as gently as he'd ever held anything, one hand fluttering frantically above the dagger's handle as he tried to think of a spell, a spell to reverse the damage, to heal her, to turn back time, something. But there was nothing, nothing came to him as she choked on her own blood in a frozen wasteland far from her home.

He had brought her here, he had brought these creatures to her, he'd made her a target with his affections, he'd done it all.

A trembling hand on his face turned him to face her dimming eyes, which he met with his own tear-filled gaze. He never cried, ever, hadn't since he'd found out his true parentage, he thought… But the sight of this fragile mortal girl who'd done so much to heal him, her vibrant personality stripped down to blood-clogged gasps and gurgling swallows, it was too much.

"Darcy…" he crooned, swallowing thickly as he stroked his free hand along her jaw line, grimacing when he saw the blood trail he left on her porcelain features. "You saved Jane." She closed her eyes for a moment and he panicked, shifting her in his arms, but they opened again and she spoke with difficulty, her voice rasping and catching on the fluid in her lungs. "Yeah, I kinda did, huh?" She tried to smirk, her eyelids fluttering, and he knew he didn't have long.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. "Don't leave me."

"I'm sorry," she croaked, straining to push her forehead against his, to brush her nose against his. "Love you too. I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner, we coulda gone to like, Paris or something, been legit lovebirds…all that…"

Her voice was fading, and Loki ran his hand down her face, stroking down her neck and tilting her jaw towards him, placing a kiss on her chilling lips. "I didn't deserve you."

"Non…sense…No moping…'kay?" A tear dripped onto her face, and it seemed to rouse her slightly, enough to press her lips to his cheek, her hand weakly latching onto his leather lapel. "It's cold…keep me…company?"

"Of course." And he held her, his face buried in her hair as he knelt in the snow, an endless blizzard raging around them. He held her long past her last breath, which rattled into his ear alone, long past the point where her limp hand fell to the icy ground beneath them.

Loki could count upon the fingers of his hand the monumental moments he'd had with Darcy Lewis, and knew there would never be more.

Yikes. That got really heavy really fast, and was really emotional to write. Thanks for reading, as always! ~Bon