She was painfully sure that it was that it was him at the door. Darcy almost had to wonder if maybe her mind was still a little bit his. Perhaps some lingering remnant of the control he had once held over her was still there. Some echo from two years ago when he had come so close to bringing the world into chaos, with her as an unwilling accomplice. Three therapists and five different prescriptions still could not erase the horror that still would wake her in a sweat in the middle of the night.

Work. Eat. Sleep.

Work. Eat. Sleep.

Ritual had been her only comfort. SHIELD had cleared her as a threat when Loki's war was over and she had finally been released from his thrall. She had been allowed to leave her position with SHIELD for a modest salary in a small company in Minnesota: far, far away from the nightmare she so desperately wanted to escape. She had no doubt that Fury kept his tabs on her, no matter how low-profile she tried to remain, trying to forget.

And yet, as she stood in her kitchen chopping up carrots for her small, lonely meal, the knock at the door brought up floodgates of fear she had not felt since the attack on New York. She could feel the cold sweat pooling on her back, and she knew it was him. Perhaps it was because she knew no one in the city, and she had no friends to visit her. That still hardly pointed to Loki, but her mind could not be convinced it would be someone else, even though Thor had visited her briefly to tell her he was dead. Whatever his reason for coming to see her, any attempts to hide from it would be futile.

Darcy turned off the stove, placing the kitchen knife in the sink. The bottle of Xanax on her kitchen windowsill caught her eye, and she wondered if she should take one, as she could already feel the room closing in on her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened them, just in time for another polite knock on the door. As she padded over to the door, she wondered awkwardly if she should change. As intimidating as Loki was, she doubted she would feel any braver in plaid flannel pajama pants and a gray tanktop with fuzzy socks to keep her feet warm in the Minnesota winter. She didn't bother to check the peephole when she opened the door. Some part of her had wished that she had been wrong. That it was the merely the paranoia that had defined her existence for two years that made her think that it would be Loki on the other side of the door when she opened it.

Sadly, this time, it had been instinct guiding her.

"Good evening, Miss Lewis," Loki greeted politely. Darcy stared at him. The last time she had seen him in a Midgardian suit, he had been ripping the eye out of a man while she had been trying to crack codes for his vault. She blinked the memory away, wishing for the fog of one of her medications.

"Hello," she said quietly, pushing her glasses on her nose before crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to say more. He hadn't forced his way in. It was strange that he was just standing out in her hallway. As she stared at him, she dared to think he almost looked uncomfortable; but that would be ridiculous. Loki was never uncomfortable. "What's up?" she finally asked casually. A smile formed on his lips and she wanted to run.

"May I come in?" he asked. Darcy couldn't stop the eyebrow from raising.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, her tone still managing to remain civil. Loki looked at the floor a moment.

"I will leave, if you wish," he replied, before looking back up at her. He seemed so deceptively unassuming. She could not stop from rubbing her arms absently, looking him up and down is if trying to read him. Hugging herself tightly, she slowly back away, staying close to her door, and allowed him entrance. Regret, she was quite certain, would be on the horizon soon. All the same, he walked in, his tall frame dominating her small living room. She shut the door behind them, locking it out of habit, even though the person which she always sought to lock out was now in her home and she was doing nothing about it. She almost shrugged to herself. Typical.

Whatever game he was playing aside, he was still as nosy as ever. Just as when she had been under his thrall. Always asking her little questions that she could not avoid or lie about. She watched as he ran his green eyes over her small living room, not caring to know what arrogant things he was probably thinking about her odd decorations or modest furniture. It was hers: she had built a life for herself from the broken pieces in which he had so carelessly left her. She wasn't going to be bothered if he turned his offended little nose up at it.

"I have caught you at dinner," he said. "I apologize. I did not mean to interrupt-" Darcy frowned immediately.

"What are you doing?" she questioned. Loki paused, watching her closely. "Why are you here?"

"I-" he paused again, and Darcy's frown deepened in confusion at his hesitance. "I wished to see you." Her eyes remained fixed on him, uncertainty etched in her features as she stood motionless.

"Thor told us you died on Svar-whatever-heim," she said. A sly smile formed across his thin lips and Darcy grew even more disconcerted at the ease of the Asgardian.

"Almost," was his reply.

"Almost," she echoed softly, inclining her head to the side. "Does he know you are here?"

"Here in Midgard? Yes. Here to see you?" He did not finish. He didn't need to.

"Well, you've seen me. If that's what you came for, you'd best be on your way."

"Frigga spoke to me quite a bit concerning my crimes during my imprisonment," he said, assuming a casual pace around her living room, ignoring her attempt to evict him. She pressed her lips together impatiently as she watched him examine her life in the trinkets around her apartment. "She spoke often of the people I had hurt. Of course, she usually meant Thor and perhaps even Odin. But for some reason, you always came to mind when she said that." A photo of her, Erik, and Jane on her bookshelf caught his eye. It made her uncomfortable when he picked it up to stare at it. The three of them looked so happy in that picture. She wished she could snatch the picture from his long fingers and put it back where it was supposed to be. "You have changed much, since I last saw you." She clenched her jaw.

"I guess a lot has happened," she said cautiously, still wishing she knew why he was there, and why he wouldn't put her damned picture down. It was hers. Perhaps he could still read her mind -though she hoped he couldn't- as he placed the picture back down. He turned back to stare at her as a pregnant silence stretched between them. "I was sorry to hear about your mother," Darcy finally said. "Jane said she was very nice." Loki watched her, as if trying to decide if she was being sincere. Darcy hoped to everything that her small condolence did not make him angry. She barely knew why she had even given it.

"Thank you," he said evenly, "she was." Darcy looked around unsure of what to say next. The silence was long and deafening.

"I don't know what you are looking for, Loki, But it's not here. My life has nothing that could be interesting you. I've made sure of it. You should probably get back to-" she shrugged at her own lack of knowledge. "Whatever it is you're doing now."

"If you wish," he replied, though he made no move to leave. Darcy took a deep breath, her anxiety building by the moment. "You wish me to leave?"

"You should go," she whispered.

"That wasn't what I asked," he replied, his long footsteps bringing him closer and closer to her until she she had to bend her neck back to look up at him. Darcy trembled as he brought a hand up to her face, flinching when the back of his fingers gently touched her cheek. He paused until she opened her eyes to look him in the eyes, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. "We were friends, once, weren't we Darcy?" She blinked slowly, cutting a tear off from her eyelashes.

"It wasn't real," she replied quietly, opening her eyes.

"It could be," Loki said, wiping the tear from her cheek. Darcy froze, feeling as if some sort of cord snapped in her, clarity suddenly illuminating the surreal sort of encounter for what it was.

"Oh my god," she said under her breath, disbelieving. Loki's eyebrows came together in curiosity as she stepped away. The sort of ethereal haze that she surrounded him in her mind's eye faded, and there was only him: tall, handsome, and powerful. But not some sort of vague entity that could not be comprehended. "You're lonely," she said lowly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What?" he questioned, confusion clearly in his eyes. It was satisfying.

"You're lonely," she repeated, "and I am literally the closest thing you have to a friend. Everyone else you have alienated beyond repair." Her eyes grew wide, taking a step back as she continued to look him up and down in disbelief. She could see the tension growing as he gritted his teeth. "That would be embarrassing if it wasn't so sad. Do you honestly just wake up in the morning and try to figure out how to make your life just a little bit worse than it was the day before?" She could see fire set to the green pools of his eyes, but he did not manage to reply. "All this time I've had you in my head like some sort of spirit that was beyond all need or something." Her eyebrows came together as she watched him. "You're just as messed up as the rest of us." Loki's face was on fire with rage, and she knew she should be scared; but the surge of fearlessness in front of the man of her nightmares was intoxicating.

"I did not come here to be mocked by an adolescent Midgardian," he sneered, his hands tightening into frustrated fists and releasing again.

"Then what did you come here for, Loki?" she questioned. "Did you think things could just be as they were when you had my mind enslaved to be your little lackey and you forced me to betray everyone I cared about?"

"I don't know," Loki hissed, resuming a short pace in her living room. "You were," he paused, "strange. But I found it pleasant. I find myself thinking of you more than I wish." He ceased his pace, his eyes scanning her apartment for another object that would be intimidated. "I aided Thor and Jane against Malekith. I am trying." He paused again looking back toward Darcy, whose hands had migrated to her hips. "I am trying to be good, I suppose. I thought it would interesting to see you again."

"Interesting?" Darcy almost squeaked. "I have about a dozen medications to take and a standing appointment with a shrink because of you. Do you know what happens to mortals when they have another person tear into their brain?" Her voice was raised, and Loki could to little more than stare at her. "Bad. Bad. Things. Loki," she bit out, crossing her arms again. "So yeah, I hope that's interesting enough for you. But whatever you were looking for, you are not finding it here. Now leave and move onto the next person whose life you are going to screw up royally. You've done your damage here." Her breath was ragged, and she could feel fury and anger coursing through her veins as she stared at the demi-god in her living room.

Surprisingly, he did not look angry anymore. Darcy partly expect him to reach forward and magic her dead right then and there, and an even smaller part of her almost wanted it. But he was not angry. His dark brows fell at the outer corners. He looked almost hurt. It was unnerving. Loki didn't get hurt. Loki was maybe not as unearthly as she thought, but he didn't get hurt. He didn't have feelings. He didn't look like she had just murdered his puppy. She sure as hell wasn't feeling bad about anything she had said. He deserved worse.

"I see," he said calmly, his face shifting back into a cool veneer, as Darcy tried desperately to calm her breathing. "Well, I, appeared to have worn out my welcome, if I ever had one," was his quiet conclusion. "Good evening, Miss Lewis. I apologize for my intrusion." He tilted his head to her politely, and disappeared before her eyes.

She fell on her couch and wept.