Utter Darkness

She turned off her alarm and rolled to her side. It was six a.m., her day had yet to begin, and she already felt exhausted. There was no headache to contend with at least. She put on her glasses and woodenly got up and went into the kitchen to start her coffee maker first. Then she wandered into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. She looked like the walking dead. Her complexion was off and she had terrible bags under her eyes. With a resigned sigh she went through her normal routines; she brushed her teeth and her hair. She put on a little make-up hoping to hide the lack of sleep obvious on her face.

She changed clothes, went into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down heavily. What the hell was she supposed to do now? He had said he loved her, but he had pushed her way. She wasn’t afraid of him, but his actions had been so crazy. Something happened after they had made out. He said he figured it out, that he hadn’t been there but nine months but that didn’t seem like enough to drive him to act the way he had. From the first time she saw him blue, she understood that wasn’t how he normally looked. He had ranted about having his magic taken from him and about being blue, but she’d never even thought about what he would have looked like normally. There were so many things she could guess after watching him last night. His magic was back, which was probably why his appearance changed. He had a lot a lot of daddy issues. He was painfully insecure, though what she still didn’t understand was why he pushed her away, why he went all villainous. It was like he wanted her to hate him. With a sigh she looked up and noticed the time, it was almost seven. So she grabbed a granola bar, her iPod, her cell phone, and headed up to the lab.

The day dragged by so slowly. Jane had been excited that morning; they were doing some more test runs. Tony was in the lab bright and early helping to set up for the day. She and Jane had talked for almost an hour as they got some of the equipment ready for the test runs. Darcy was mostly silent, which of course was highly unusual, but the only one to take any notice was Stark.

By two in the afternoon she was feeling pretty wasted and was thinking about brewing up another pot coffee. There were a lot more people in the lab that day, techs and other science people, because of the tests, so there was bound to be someone to help her drink it. She had been thinking all day long about Loki, he had so many problems. He had been punished for so long. To cram three thousand years of punishment into nine months’ time was bat-shit crazy. He seemed so sad and alone because she hadn’t returned; he’d even said that he loved her. Tears clouded her vision as she tried to type. He fought so hard against the torture, was Odin responsible for the that? It seemed like something the twisted son of bitch might do.

She shook her head and sniffed. Poor Loki, just when he seemed to be getting better, all this crap happened and he lost most of the ground he had gained. His road to redemption was rough, it seemed for every single step he took forward, he stumbled two back. Her heart broke for him, because despite all the craziness from Monday night she still loved him. With a start, she realized how badly her own reaction must have hurt him. She was so shocked by his transformation, by the fact that her sad lonely blue alien was Loki, that she had recoiled from him. As insecure as he was, pulling away from him was probably the worst thing she could have done.

She sniffed again and swiped her hand under her eyes. She really did need some coffee. She saved the page she was working on and was about to get up to make some, when a cup of heaven was thrust under her nose. She looked up to see the wonderfulness being held by a smirking Tony Stark.

“Aww, thank you Tony, you’re my new BFF! Did you hear that Jane? Tony comes with caffeinated offerings, you’ve been replaced!” She announced loudly across the lab. She gave him a big smile and asked, “So what made you bring me this happy cup of joy?” She sipped at the latte (made just the way she liked it, from her favorite little coffee shop) and sighed in contentment.

He dragged a chair over and sat beside her as she enjoyed her latte. “I can be nice, when I want to. Besides I couldn’t hardly think with you sitting over here looking like someone just kicked your puppy. So, what’s up with the mopey face, you and the ex-con on the outs?”

She nearly did a hot latte spit take. She coughed and sputtered, “Dude! Shut up!” she hissed.

He merely grinned as Jane called across the lab, “You okay Darcy?”

She coughed a bit more and answered, “Yeah yeah, I’m fine, just tried to inhale the latte.” Jane nodded and went back to her work.

Darcy turned on Tony and narrowed her eyes, “You better watch it mister, crazy shit like that will sooo get you banned from the Darcy Lewis BFF club.”

He leaned back in the chair and smirked. “Happy or pissed, at least you’re not doing the whole gloomy thing anymore.” He sat forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, I know Jane’s been real busy and Steve’s offered to talk but since you’ve not taken his offer I just wanted to check up on you. Everyone seems to think that I’m petty and self-centered,” Darcy gave him a look that clearly said she agreed with that thought.

“Well okay I am, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about you. No creepy stalker stuff, I’m just worried about you kiddo. I see the make-up sorta covering the bags under your eyes and that makes me think you’ve not been sleeping well. So either you and the ex-con broke up or you’re going through some pretty heavy shit. So do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head and he looked relieved. “Naw, you don’t really want to hear my girl problems, but thanks for the offer.” ‘Besides,’ she thought. ‘How can I tell him I totally made out with and fell in love with the guy who threw him out a window?’ Her eyes grew wide at the thought.

Tony watched her closely. “I know I don’t seem the type but I just wanted to let you know that if you need to talk I’m here.” He grimaced, “Ugh, I sound like a therapist.” He shook his head and stood up. Darcy reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.

“No you don’t, you sound like a friend.” She placed her latte on the table, stood up and gave him a tight hug. Her voice was thick when she finally spoke, whispering into his chest. “I’m a big freaking mess. It’s nobody’s fault but my own and I just want to… um… well... um... thanks.” She sniffed and stepped back as she tried to discreetly swipe at the few tears that had escaped. “Geez, I’m an emotional wreck. Sorry about your shirt.”

Tony looked down at her, and gave her a genuine smile, “No problem kiddo, I do my best to take care of the important stuff.” He ruffled her hair with a wink. “I guess you qualify.”

“You know, it’s too bad your folks didn’t have more kids. You would have made a great big brother,” she grinned.

Tony looked shocked, and then his face turned a little wicked, “So should I go beat the crap out of the ex-con for breaking my little sister’s heart?”

Darcy burst out laughing, and most everybody in the lab turned to gape. She got herself back under control and sassed, “Oh go back to work you nosey busybodies.” Then she turned to Tony with a chuckle, “As much as I really would actually like to see you do that, I think we kinda hurt each other. It wasn’t pretty for either of us. I still want to try and work it out with him, and if you beat the crap out of him that might be hard to do. But thanks all the same.” The equipment behind them made an odd whirring noise and she heard a tech call for Jane. “Thanks Tony, I rea…”

Suddenly there was a high-pitched whine from the machine and a large piece of metal flew off. Darcy turned around just in time to see the flying metal from the corner of her eye.

She blinked, the lights were flickering, and there was something wet in her hair. Tony was kneeling beside her. When did she lie down? Jane was yelling and Tony was saying something but there was weird ringing in her ears and she felt really sleepy. She smiled up at him. “I think I’m gonna take a little nap,” she whispered.

“Stay with me kiddo.” Tony was holding her, when did that happen?

She reached up to pat his cheek, there was blood on her hand, huh, weird, “It’s all good big bro,” she giggled. “Just a few minutes…” she trailed off, as her eyelids grew heavy.

She heard Tony call her name a few times but it seemed so far away…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The madness beckoned. She was never coming back. His magic had returned but it had limits in this place. He could do a great many things, duplicate himself, and even shape-shift, but he could not leave. Through his magic, he had been able to find her and watch her after she left. She did not cry, or seem angry, only numb. He had been watching her for less than an hour when The Other had found him. The return of his magic had given The Other a way to trace him. Even without the scepter, The Other and Thanos could summon his consciousness at will.

There were no guards, or wardens; this void, this empty place was unobserved by any in Asgard. He railed at Odin, but none knew of his torment. He wanted to hate them, her and Odin for it, but truly had she never come, he would never have been released, and his magic would still be bound as well. He would have been bound, gagged, and alone in utter darkness, but safe from those who sought to use him.

He sighed heavily, he healed relatively quickly, and the summonings were not as frequent, nor as long as they had been when his magic had first returned. Between summonings, he watched the one called Ironman trail after her like a nursemaid, but after a few days of it, he stopped watching. She was avoiding sleep. She obviously had no desire to ever see him again.

The isolation, the desolation of coming so close to peace and having it ripped away, the mental and physical torture, was eating at the remains of his battered mind. He thought he heard her voice, imagined the smell of her hair, and his mind manufactured whispered words of comfort during his last encounter with The Other. He thought she had returned, had even used a simple revealing spell in vain. When the spell revealed nothing, he had for the last time used the spell to look at her. She slept soundly on her bed, dreaming. The medication she had stolen from Stark must have worked. She would truly never return.

He hung in silence. The stars around him twinkled merrily, taunting him. His ruined shirt floated nearby, he had not put it back on after his last torture session. It was useless to put the tattered thing back on. The Other enjoyed torturing him, to wear it would only ruin it further, by leaving it off he could use it to bandage his wounds when necessary.

He felt an odd stirring.

So she had decided to return after all. His kept his back to her. He was afraid to speak to her, and enraged too. She had avoided him; she had feared him and rejected him. More than anything, he had desired her acceptance, but she had seen him and recoiled from him. And even now that she deigned to return she was silent, she did not reach out to him. He hardened his heart and determined to be done with her. He would not be the one to pine, he would frighten her so thoroughly she would retreat and never return. He allowed the madness that lurked in his mind to be seen through his eyes, readied himself to create multiple duplicates, all to be burning great green fire from both palms, and all would wear his full Asgardian armor. Still she was silent, his rage built, and he seethed. She would scream, she would beg for mercy, how dare that pathetic insignificant little mortal, make him feel this pain and loss. He allowed the illusion of his armor to cover himself first. Let her see his power returned and let her wonder at his motives, she would see soon enough. There was still no reaction from her. He could bear her indifference no longer.

In the blink of an eye, he turned with an inarticulate scream of rage and she was surrounded by a dozen copies of him, all screaming armored and burning flame. She did not move, her eyes were shut, and she hung limp and lifeless.

The flames and copies fizzled out slowly as he stared at her. The illusion of his armor faded away as he crept closer to her. She was paler than he had ever seen her and there was blood matted in her hair. She was badly injured. He breathed out a strangled curse. He gathered her limp form in his arms, her breathing was shallow and her pulse weak.

A few simple diagnostic spells determined that she had taken a blow to the head that had rendered her comatose. For once, he was grateful for Thor’s bullying. When they were much younger and it became clear Loki would never be a strong physical fighter, but rather favored using magic in combat, Thor had “encouraged” Loki to learn healing magic so he could aid them better in the aftermath of battles.

He used the viewing spell to see the state of her body. Her body was being attended by several physicians. They moved quickly around her as they assessed her condition. Her blood pressure was low and they checked for cranial fractures. She remained unresponsive; they attached several monitors to her and gave her fluids intravenously. He watched as they ran several tests, cleaned, and dressed her wound. An older gray haired physician spoke to the ones gathered around her bedside. She was comatose, and had some swelling on the brain. The next twenty-four hours would be touch and go. Thor’s woman and the Ironman kept vigil over her body. He ended the spell.

The mortal physician’s efforts were of little concern to him. She was before him. She had previously come to him during her dreams. That her consciousness was here, yet she was unresponsive was worrisome.

Magic was something he had always excelled at, though magic was a simple term for what he did. All Asgardians and apparently Jotuns as well had latent magical ability, though few choose to learn to use it. “Magic” was a basic understanding that everything tangible, living or inanimate, was at its core, made of energy. So then, magic was manipulating that energy and forming it into other things, every bit of that manipulation used energy; energy from the object or person being manipulated, energy from the living beings near the manipulation, and energy from the caster.

Though he had studied healing magic for well over fifty years, he had always been loath to use it. Healing magic was the only form of magic that drew only from the caster alone. To draw energy from the injured or sick party was impossible. In the very act of healing, the healer could drain themselves to dangerous levels. The more emotionally invested the healer was with the injured or sick party the more likely they would drain themselves. This was the reason on Asgard; healers were never permitted to attend to family members.

A more finely tuned diagnostic spell showed a far more dire story than what the physicians had shared with the others. There was a hemorrhage in her brain, and internal bleeding. The mortal physicians had done their best and it wasn’t good enough, without further intervention, she would remain comatose indefinitely.

His internal debate lasted less than a minute.

He gently cupped her cheek and threaded his other hand through her thick dark hair to rest over where the injury was. He summoned his magic to the fore of his mind and began to “see” the problem. He gently pressed his magic into and through her consciousness and into her delicate mortal mind. He carefully manipulated the fragile tissue, relieving the swelling, and healing every small abrasion. His careful work took time and he soon began to feel his own energy depleting. He worked with the utmost caution, moving slowly as to not damage the tiny nerve endings. Her breathing grew shallower and her heartbeat slowed minutely as he came to the most injured area. He felt himself grow weak and knew he was beginning to wane. There was a hairline fracture of her skull. He healed it slowly and methodically. There was a slightly larger vein with a tear in it; he coaxed the edges together. His hands shook slightly as he finished knitting the vein together. He gently searched through the physical structure of her mind to be certain every damaged part was healed. He carefully removed the excess blood that had pooled in the injured area. He felt his energy falling dangerously low and he carefully pulled back his “sight” from her body and her consciousness.

When he could see clearly, he looked down at her and whispered, “Min elskede.” He held her close cradling her unconscious form against his body. He prayed, though he doubted any listened, prayed that the work he had done would hold, that he had caught every weakened vessel, every bruised nerve ending. He shook his head, his vision was blurred, and his mouth felt so dry. He pushed his magic once more, through the viewing spell he saw the color of her physical body returning, her breathing deepen and her heartbeat even out. The monitors ceased their worrisome noises. He canceled the spell with a slight smile, curled around her, holding her gently, and slipped into unconsciousness himself.

Notes