Cruel Vengeance

Avengers Tower

June 2011

Tony was the first one to speak. “We have a decis-”

“Are we doing the formal meeting thing again?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did the middle of my sentence interrupt the beginning of yours?”

“Ouch, it bites,” Darcy said apathetically. “Are we? Because I seem to remember some arguments last time, so if we’re having a repeat performance, I need coffee first.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, get coffee, we need you more hyperactive than you already are.”

“I can make coffee,” Loki announced.

Almost as one, the Avengers turned to stare at him. Darcy was the exception; she liked watching her teammates’ expressions. Most of them appeared to have not noticed that Loki was in the room.

So far, he had remained unobtrusive as promised, hiding in his room most of every day. Darcy grinned. This meeting just got a lot more interesting.

“Are you going to poison it?” Steve asked.

Loki’s smirk grew. “That would be in violation of the rules,” he said.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Darcy countered.

Loki’s eyes flicked to her. “No, I’m not going to poison it.”

“Awesome. I like it black.” Darcy turned back to the team. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

“I can’t get these calculations to work out,” Jane said absently. She had four file folders on the table, and one of them was full of paper scraps, some of which Darcy remembered collecting around Jane’s lab last week so they wouldn’t get lost. “The value should be negative, but it’s coming out positive and way too high besides–”

“Jane, could we maybe wait and do that later? Please?” Darcy asked.

Jane blinked the science fugue from her eyes. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry.” She glanced around the table, at Clint, Steve, Tony, and Bruce. “What were we talking about?”

“Nothing yet because people keep interrupting me,” Tony said irritatedly.

Darcy was reminded forcefully that Tony’s emotional control was tenuous at best. “My bad,” she said, and leaned forward, the picture of the attentive student. It was a behavioral pattern she’d perfected in college. Her professors loved her. “What did you need to say?”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Clint said.

“Says the man who fights aliens with a bow and arrows,” Tony countered.

Steve finally lifted his head and stepped in. “What Tony’s been trying to say is that we have a decision to make.”

Instantly, Tony and Clint settled, and Darcy felt herself automatically shifting into focused mode, reacting to Steve’s unspoken command to get themselves in line. It annoyed her slightly that he could exert that much force over her, but then she decided that it was a mark of leadership. They were a team. It was a good thing.

She’d just have to maintain her autonomy in the process.

“Bruce and Jane, have you been filled in on Fury’s visit yesterday?” Steve asked.

“JARVIS played us the security feed,” Bruce said. “Quite a performance. What was in the box?”

“Well, that’s part of it,” Steve said, and plunked the box on the table. “We need to open this.”

“I can’t believe Fury kept it from us this whole time,” Clint said. “It’s been, what, a month?”

“I don’t find it difficult to believe at all,” Bruce said.

Clint tapped compulsively at the table.

Steve pulled a four-inch fixed-blade knife out of his pocket and drew it down the taped top of the box. When the packing tape gave, the flaps popped open, revealing an odd jumble of objects, each marked with a Post-It or tag of some kind.

Steve pulled out the top one: a baseball cap. He looked at the front, snorted, and turned it so the rest of the group could see.

WWII Veteran , it read.

Clint, Tony, and Darcy laughed a bit. “So she’s been hiding a sense of humor in there,” Tony remarked.

“Tasha has a great sense of humor,” Clint said, and pulled something oddly-shaped out of the box. It took Darcy a second to process the fact that she was seeing it correctly and he was, in fact, holding a rubber pigeon.

“Why did she send you a rubber pigeon?” Tony asked.

“Inside joke,” Clint said.

“You’ll be telling that story sometime,” Darcy threatened.

Clint raised an eyebrow at her.

Steve pulled out a brown expandable paper folder with a closing flap, the same kind you could buy for five bucks at any grocery store. It was stained with what looked suspiciously like blood. “This is labeled… for Jane,” he said, puzzled, and slid it down the table.

Jane unwrapped the string tying it shut. Darcy recognized hesitation in her friend and made sure to smile when Jane glanced at her. It was part of their unconscious language.

Inside was a three-inch-thick sheaf of paper, battered and stained with watermarks and creases.

Jane’s brow furrowed when she read the top page. Confusion slowly turned to amazement as she read.

“This is… This is a copy of the Bauer-Leyman hypothesis,” she said. “But that’s… not possible. They lost everything in the hurricane four years ago–oh my god, there’s data . They did experiments! This is–where did she get this?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” Clint said, grinning. “But she took the time to get it for you.”

“No thanks,” Jane said absently. She turned to the second page. Darcy could tell she’d be lost for the next several hours in her world of physics and calculus and who-knew-what-else.

“I–oh, this is for Maria,” Steve said, and showed them a clutch, larger than usual but still classy and beautiful. Darcy’s fingers itched. She wanted one.

Steve fumbled around with the clasp, trying to get it open.

“Let me,” Tony said irritatedly, and grabbed the accessory. He got it open on the first try and tossed it back.

“Pepper has–had–one like it,” he said, looking down, when Steve and Clint both squinted at him.

Steve nodded slowly and angled the clutch, then snorted.

“What?” Darcy asked.

In response, he turned it so the rest of them could see inside. Darcy laughed when she realized why it was larger than many fashion accessories of its kind: there was a small gun of some kind built into a custom holster on the inside.

“We can send it to her later,” Steve said. The mood at the table soured slightly at the reminder that Maria was gone.

He set it aside and pulled out a book and two items of clothing.

“Tony, Bruce, and... Lewis,” he read, and passed them out.

Bruce shook out a massive pair of stretchy, bright red pants, and started laughing helplessly.

“You’d look like a really buff Christmas tree,” Darcy said.

A cup of coffee landed on the table in front of her.

She blinked and glanced up. She’d almost forgotten that Loki was in the corner, battling the coffeemaker.

“Uh. Thanks,” she said, and wrapped her hands hesitantly around the mug.

“You are most welcome,” Loki said, and folded himself into a seat near the foot of the table.

“Ignore him,” Darcy said, and turned back to the rest of the team. She deliberately ignored her ‘gift’. In her experience, gifts weren’t pleasant things unless they came from Jane. “Tony, what’s yours?”

Tony shook out a shirt, read the front, and grinned.

Darcy suddenly realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile since Pepper died.

“Show us?” Bruce asked.

Tony spun the shirt around. On the front, in white letters, it said, I flew through a portal into outer space and all I got was this T-shirt . In smaller letters below, it finished (and a few broken bones) .

“Darce, what’s yours?” Clint asked.

Darcy readied herself to control her reaction. If it was a gag gift, if something popped out at her–

“No way,” she said, and flipped the book open.

“Spill,” Tony said.

“You are possibly the least patient person I’ve ever met,” Darcy muttered.

He kicked at her chair beneath the table. “And you’re just noticing that now?”

“No, I knew that ages ago, but I thought it was worth saying,” Darcy retorted. “It’s a translation of a first manuscript of Machiavelli’s The Prince , with his own notations and research sources and context. This is… I didn’t even know this existed .”

“It’s probably stolen,” Clint said.

Steve shifted in his seat. “If it’s stolen, then-”

“No, I’m keeping it,” Darcy said. “I don’t wanna know where this come from, but it’s mine now.”

“You’re all horrible,” Steve said.

“What, nothing for me?” Loki mused.

Darcy counted one, two, three seconds of awkward silence. “She doesn’t know you’re here,” she pointed out. “Don’t get your pride in a twist.”

Loki’s brows furrowed.

Darcy really wished he weren’t so hot. “Uh–Steve, what were you saying about a decision?”

“Well, it has to do with Natasha, kind of,” Steve said quietly. “I’m speaking in regards to Fury.”

“I’m done taking his orders,” Tony said.

“I thought we already decided that?” Bruce asked.

Tony shook his head. “No. I’m done working with him, done with SHIELD. He’s lied to us enough, and now this with Romanoff?”

“I agree,” Steve said.

That caught Darcy’s attention. “The golden boy wants to go rogue?”

“I’m not the poster child they dressed me up as,” Steve snapped back. “Natasha’s our–teammate. She’s saved my life, and I’ve saved hers, and that’s not a bond I break as easily as Fury seems to.”

“To be fair, we’re already going behind Fury’s back in a big way,” Bruce pointed out, and tilted his head towards Loki.

Loki looked up from his hands. “Hmm?”

“Never mind,” Darcy said, and flapped her fingers at him. “Good point, Bruce. But we shouldn’t tell Fury this, or make it clear just yet that we’re our own–what, vigilante squad? That sounds weird–”

“Why wouldn’t we have a conversation with him about it?” Steve asked.

“Dear lord, you don’t have a deceitful bone in your body, do you?” Darcy said. “Because we have the advantage if he doesn’t know. If we keep pretending to cooperate with him on the science part–Jane and Bruce and Tony still have the scepter, and Bruce just got a request to weigh in on examinations of Chitauri tissue–then we can request SHIELD intel when we have missions and we’re validated by SHIELD in the eyes of the news. We’re heroes for now, but give it time and they’ll find a way to spin us in a negative light. Always happens. It’s already started, a bit, but the movement hasn’t gained a whole lot of traction yet. When it does, we’ll need the validation of a government agency, but we also can’t look too closely related to SHIELD, or people won’t trust us. Plus this way we don’t lose contact with Maria.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Tony said at last. “I’m with Darcy.”

Bruce looked at the head of the table. “Steve…”

“I suppose… you make a strong case,” Steve said. He frowned at the table, doodling on a napkin. Darcy craned her head to see what he was drawing. A dancing monkey? He looked at the pencil sketch for several seconds, then lifted his chin decisively. “Yes. We do as Darcy says.”

“I’m willing,” Bruce said. “But I should get back to the lab.”

“I’m coming,” Tony said. “And let’s bring Jane.”

“Nuh uh, you’re coming with me,” Steve said, and latched onto Tony’s arm. “Remember?”

Tony stared at Steve and then a light came on in his eyes. “Right. Uh–” Uncertainty clouded his face, to Darcy’s surprise. “Should I change?”

Steve scanned Tony’s dark blue button-down and khaki slacks. “No, you’re fine. Let’s go.”

“Me, too,” Clint said.

Tony gave him a Look.

“Hey, I’m your bodyguard now, remember?” Clint said, grinning.

“I’m regretting that decision,” Tony muttered, but he didn’t say no.

Darcy watched them crowd into the elevator with Bruce and Jane, whose nose was still buried in the scientific papers.

Then she realized they were leaving her alone with Loki. She was abruptly aware of the keen way he was watching her but pretending not to.

She lifted the coffee mug and took a slow sip. Her taste buds revolted at the first touch of liquid: he’d dumped at least a tablespoon of salt in there.

Darcy turned around and met Loki’s eyes.

He smirked.

She drank the entire mug of coffee in one go and set the mug down without breaking eye contact or letting her expression change in the slightest.

His smirk slipped.

Darcy grinned. “Thanks for the coffee,” she said, a bit of a purr in her voice, and took the mug over to the kitchen.

The noise of the sink as she rinsed out the cup drowned out Darcy’s awareness of Loki, but she refused to turn around and watch him. Not only was that creepy, but it felt too much like a concession.

She set the mug on the dish rack to dry, started the coffee maker, and palmed a small plastic bottle off the counter. Darcy turned around–

And stopped short. Loki was standing right there, inches away. And damn, he was tall.

Darcy leaned back against the edge of the sink to maximize the space between them. She tried to pass it off as casual but suspected that she failed.

“Clearly there is no concept of personal space on Asgard,” she remarked.

Loki cocked his head in a way that was distinctly not human. “You are quite something, Darcy Lewis.”

“I’m definitely not nothing,” she countered.  

He smiled like a knife’s edge. “There are few people of any realm who would be so willing as you have been to forgive my role in an invasion of one’s homeworld.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Darcy said. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“That attitude is precisely my point,” he said.

Darcy was hyperaware of the space between them. She was torn between the urge to step forward until it was gone, or shove him away until he was out of the way.

She deliberately uncrossed her arms, a gesture of trust, and let her arms fall to her sides. She was Darcy Lewis, not some awkward college freshman.

“It doesn’t mean I like you,” she said. “It means I’m logical. It means I reserve judgment about people until I know them.”

“And what have you decided about me?” Loki pressed closer.

Darcy lifted her chin. “Jury’s out.”

“I look forward to the ruling,” Loki said, and stepped away.

Tension Darcy hadn’t acknowledged bled out of her muscles.

She expected Loki to leave, but he simply backed away and leaned against the fridge.

“You want something,” Darcy said at last.

“What makes you think that?”

“Why else would you stay?” she countered.

“Perhaps I am enjoying the view.”

“You’re looking at me, not the window.”

His lips curled. “Precisely.”

“I look like a hobo right now,” Darcy said flatly. She was wearing yoga pants and a hoodie but no makeup, and her hair was up in a messy bun. “View’s not that spectacular.”

“And you’re curious,” Loki said. “Else you’d be gone as well.”

He’s clever. Darcy smirked. “Maybe I’m waiting to make another mug of coffee,” she said.  

“The coffeepot is not active.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t trust me near your coffee,” Loki concluded.

“Why would I?”

“Why would you not?”

Question game. Darcy straightened at the distinct challenge in his voice. She was good at this. She and Lizzie had played it for hours to entertain themselves.

“Why do you have to ask?” she said.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Why do you assume that I want to know anything?”

“What makes you think I assume at all?”

No non sequiturs, Darce. “What are you driving at?”

Loki’s eyes were blazing green, elated, alive. Darcy wanted–

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Why haven’t you left?”

“What’s holding you here?” he pressed. Darcy’s skin prickled. There was something more going on here than a simple game of wits.

“What’s holding you here?”

“Where else would I go?” Loki asked bleakly.

Darcy knew she had an answer.

She filled two mugs with black coffee and a dash of sweetener, aware of Loki’s eyes on her as she did so, and handed him one of them when she finished.

“Do you think I want you to leave?” she asked.

Loki smiled and accepted the coffee.

Two seconds later, he sputtered. “What-”

Darcy doubled over laughing.

Loki examined the mug closely. “What did you put in here?”

“What are you talking about?” Darcy said with an innocent smile, and sipped her own (perfect) coffee. All that sleight of hand at college parties had paid off. Even with Loki watching, she’d been able to pour soy sauce from last night’s sushi into his drink. She felt the empty plastic bottle against her arm, inside her sleeve.

“Would you care to taste my coffee?” he said with a grin.

Darcy returned it. “Would you care to tell me what you did to mine earlier?”

Loki raised the mug of tainted coffee in a toast and drank the whole thing down while Darcy snickered.

“How well versed are you in Midgardian literature?”

Darcy blinked and thought about it, even though she didn’t intend to answer. (That would be giving up, and she was way too stubborn to fold so easily.) Well enough, she guessed.

“Wouldn’t that depend on what type of literature you mean?”

“What about Midgardian culture and customs?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Am I not allowed to be curious?”

“Am I not allowed to be skeptical?”

“Will you recommend me a book?”

“Can you tell me what genre?”

“What did Agent Romanoff send you?”

“Have you heard of Niccolo Machiavelli?”

“How long do you think I’ve been on Midgard?”

“How long do you intend to stay?”

Loki paused.

Someone cleared their throat.

Loki and Darcy both turned and saw Jane, looking supremely awkward. Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Uh. Sorry. I–should I go?”

“Nah, what do you need?” Darcy asked, moving away from the counter. The strange spell was broken, but her heart still tripped a faster beat than usual, and she could definitely feel Loki’s lingering attention.

“Just–Advil,” Jane said. “For Bruce. He’s got a headache, but he’s in the middle of something, so I said I’d come. But I don’t know where it is.”

Darcy snorted. “I’m surprised you know where the fridge is, since you never use it. Here.” She dug the Advil out of its place and tossed it to Jane. “Two pills should be enough.”

“Thanks,” Jane said, gave them one more weird look, and left.

Loki started laughing.

“I believe we may have frightened Dr. Foster,” he said.

Darcy shrugged. “She never gets the question game. Questions without answers drive her nuts.”

“So you were merely playing the game?” Loki asked.

Darcy pulled out her phone. “Were you?”

“I have a favor I would ask of you,” Loki said instead of answering.

Darcy looked up from a CNN article. “I totally knew you wanted something.”

“For every sentient being, there is something they want but cannot have,” Loki said. “The trick is to determine what it is.”

“And use that knowledge to your benefit?” Darcy asked.

He spread his hands wide, palms up.

“Okay, what’s the favor?”

“Are you agreeing to grant it?”

“I’m agreeing to hear your favor and decide then,” Darcy said. “Don’t try and trick me into that kind of bargain. I’m not an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he said. Darcy looked at him suspiciously and saw nothing but faint amusement in his face. (Seriously, what did they feed Asgardian babies to give him cheekbones like that?) “I wish to be educated in Midgardian culture, history, customs, and literature.”

“Why?” Darcy asked. “And why me ?”

Not that she didn’t want to.

He shrugged. “It seems I will be a resident of this realm for an indefinable period of time. It would serve me well to gain a greater understanding of humanity. And as for my choice in tutor, Barton still holds a grudge against me, and Rogers…”

“Has a stick up his ass,” Darcy finished.

Loki looked confused.

“Lesson one: any expression along the lines of “stick up his ass” implies that the dude is like super uptight and rigid,” Darcy clarified. “Steve’s a good guy. He likes the rules, but, you know, his rules. He wants there to be a structure and an order to things but if he doesn’t like the existing one, well.” She shrugged. “He’ll ignore it and make his own.”

“An admirable trait, but perhaps not one that meshes well with the God of Chaos,” Loki said.

“Exactly.”

“Aside from Rogers and Barton… Stark is a volatile man caught in his grief, and Banner and Foster have their work in the laboratories. Besides.” Loki’s eyes narrowed lightly. “You interest me, Darcy Lewis.”

Darcy liked the way her name sounded when he said it, and mentally slapped herself. “Of course I do, I’m awesome,” she agreed. “But I should warn you. There’s hundreds if not thousands of subcultures on Earth. Midgard. Whatever. I don’t know all of them, and I only know a lot about a few. I won't pretend to be an expert in those other cultures, but I can tell you about some of them. This country, America, is the most powerful one in the world, and boy do we have some political problems, but it’s basically been a mixing pot for people from all over the globe for the last two hundred years. There’s authentic niches from other cultures all over this city: Chinatown, the Italian places–yeah, you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m afraid not,” Loki said with a faint smile.

“I’m gonna get you set up with an e-reader,” Darcy said.

Her phone dinged.

“Shit. I gotta go. I have to get ready for a meeting,” she said, brain already shifting into planning mode. Eleanor O’Brien on the PR team had been giving her crap lately, and Darcy was about ready to put the girl on probation, except she had some good media connections that the team had come to rely on. It would require a delicate touch. “Meet me back here tomorrow at nine.”

“I could come to your room,” Loki offered.

Darcy straightened as his words sunk in. Her fists clenched. “Was this whole thing like a weird and roundabout way of looking for some Midgardian mistress while you’re here?” she snapped.

Loki looked taken aback. “I do not understand.”

“You don’t just–God. Okay. I take it back. Forget history, we’re gonna cover innuendoes first so you never make that mistake again,” Darcy growled. Her hands were shaking.

“It’s the only way, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bruises on her arm.

Tears in her eyes.

“I have to go, Lizzie.” The whisper tore her throat. “I’ll–I’ll come back for you. But I can’t let him go through with this. ”

“You come back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liz, I promise.”

“Miss Lewis.” Loki’s voice was almost–concerned. “Are you well?”

“Fine and dandy, Reindeer Games,” she said bitingly. It was her quickest and easiest defense mechanism: flippancy and driving people away.

Loki stepped away, face shuttering. “I meant no offense.”

“I know,” she growled, and stomped toward the elevator, good mood officially ruined. “Sometimes people don’t mean the harm they do. That doesn't actually make it any better."