So Loki had gone.

That much, Darcy was sure of, even though she stupidly kept trying to fool herself into believing that they were somehow just missing each other. Passing each other by like ships in the night, as she frantically searched the hotel for him.

But hey, he had only been missing for about twenty minutes now -- which was nothing really -- she hoped.

She had found her purse exactly where she had left it on the table, when she'd gone back into the function room.
Checking to make sure her belongings were all still there, any alleviation she felt upon finding her wallet, glasses and phone, was overridden by tremendous alarm when she discovered the controller for the obedience disk was missing.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A frantic search ensued, which included Greg's room, Loki's room, the hotel lobby, and even the male bathroom in the function room.
All to no avail.

Anyone watching her would've been in no doubt that she had lost her mind, as she rushed around the hallways, and up and down the stairs, muttering a string of expletives under her breath.

In her desperation, she even asked at reception if they'd seen anyone matching Loki's description, but the staff all shook their heads and looked blank. Though in their defence, they were rather preoccupied with the affray that had occurred in the garden, and were waiting on an ambulance to take the badly-shaken (quite literally) Greg, to the hospital.

In despair, she forced herself to pause for a minute to collect her thoughts.
That's what Loki would do, she realised, recalling the way he had told her to be quiet so that he could think, when they'd first arrived in London via the portal.

Taking in a few much-needed deep breaths, she tried to quell her rising hysteria. Which was no easy feat. Her heart was racing and her chest had tightened, making it difficult for her to breath. She also felt sick to her stomach, and her blood seemed to fizz through her veins, causing her head to throb.

Fresh air, that's what she needed. It seemed to be so stiflingly warm in the hotel foyer, and it also hit her then, that maybe Loki had left the building.
Why she hadn't thought of that before, she didn't know. But she wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Stumbling out through the revolving doors, she looked left and then right. It was dark outside, which wasn't at all helpful, and as she hurriedly fumbled for her glasses, a dozen different disastrous scenarios ran through her head.

Would she have to call Jane? Or worse still, Tony?
If she couldn't find Loki -- and with each passing minute, the odds against her were increasing -- then what other choice did she have?
What would their reaction be once they learned that the notorious God of Mischief was roaming around by himself on the streets of Paris?
She didn't dare think about it. Yet she couldn't help think about it, as unwanted visions of Tony suited in his Iron Man getup, blasting Loki with those repulssor thingies in his hands, assaulted her minds eye.

And Thor.
Thor would be furious.
The God of Thunder was renown for thinking with his fists, and his pride would be seriously wounded by Loki's latest betrayal. The burly blonde had spent months trying to convince his fellow Avengers that his adopted brother was trustworthy. It was only natural that he'd be monumentally disappointed, and take the insult personally.

As for Bruce Banner...
Well, as long as he remained the likeable, quirky scientist nerd who spent all of his time holed-up in the lab department, then that would be okay.
If he didn't however, and the Hulk put in an appearance, Loki would be done for.
Darcy had heard all about the time he'd smashed Loki into the floor of the tower.
This time he'd probably redecorate the interior with him.

She shuddered, and shook her head to rid herself of all these unpleasant thoughts.

It was then she noticed the doorman staring at her, a rather flummoxed expression on his kindly, ageing face.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" He ventured cautiously, in his thick French accent.

Darcy approached him, giving a strained smile. "Hey, no. Not really. I don't suppose you've seen a gu-- I mean, a man. Really tall, dark hair, kind of longish..." She used her hands to emphasise her description. "His suit might be wet. Um....he's slim--"

"Ah yes!" He interrupted, as a look of recognition dawned in his green eyes. "I saw such a man. Tall, wet clothes, I'm surprised he wasn't dripping puddles on the floor. I told him, "Monsieur, you will catch your death out here like that, in this cold" and he answered me in French, "J'en doute fortement!"

"What does that mean?" Darcy asked, feeling her heart rate increasing. "And where did he go? Did you see?"

The man gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "It means, 'I strongly doubt it.' Which is strange, no? He went off then. That way." He indicated to Darcy's left.

She sprang forward and wrapped her arms around the elderly man, squeezing him appreciatively, and even kissing his cheek, making him chuckle with delight.

"Thank you! You're a life-saver!" She took a step back and read the name badge pinned to the front of his smart navy blue uniform. "...Pierre! Thank you! Thank you!"

Turning, she hurried away as fast as she could -- heels permitting -- along the beautifully lit, Champs-Élysées.

She knew she stood very little chance of catching up with Loki -- damn his long legs -- but she had to try. Only if all else failed, would she throw the towel in and make the dreaded call to Jane.

It felt like she walked forever, the famously long, bustling road seemed to stretch on and on, never-endingly.
Funny how it hadn't seemed so long when she had walked it earlier in the day, arm-in-arm with Loki.
The world had seemed a different place then. A warmer, happier place.
Now everything was a complete mess.
That was tender, affectionate Loki.
Tonight she had witnessed firsthand, just how fierce he could be, and what he was capable of when provoked. She had seen yet another side to him. Which had undoubtedly frightened her. But not badly enough to stop her from searching for him. Or to stop loving him.

Eventually she saw the Arc de Triomphe up ahead, and took a moment to appreciate the architectural beauty of the famous monument.
Once she reached it, she knew she'd be completely at a loss, not knowing which avenue to take. Loki could've gone in any direction.

She hung her head, silently cursing herself for her carelessness. If she'd have been more vigilant in her duties, none of this would have happened. She should have kept the controller on her at all times.
The problem was she had trusted Loki. Ironically, the one thing Tony had warned her about. And Jane too, to some extent. And she had dismissed them flippantly, arguing that she wasn't stupid or gullible enough to be taken-in by his false charm.

But she had been.

And that stung. It stung like a bastard.

Hot tears of regret suddenly sprung from her eyes. She stopped, taking off her glasses to roughly wipe them away, no doubt smudging her eyes in the process. Making her look like a toddler that had gotten at her mom's makeup. Her nose was beginning to run too, because of the perpetual cold. Sniffling, she lifted her head....

And that's when she saw him.

A tall, lean dishevelled specimen, in wet clothes, but that didn't mar the infuriating beauty of the easily distinguishable figure.

Hastily she put on her glasses, just to be certain that she wasn't hallucinating and he wasn't some kind of beautiful mirage.

Now as he walked her way, she could see in glorious high definition, that it most certainly was Loki.

The wet white shirt that clung tightly to his torso had almost become transparent, and she mentally scolded herself for even noticing. He sauntered along in his usual, purposeful stride, his narrow hips swaying slightly as they always did, with the fluid movements of his slender frame. He carried his jacket, slung casually over one shoulder, and his hair was still damp from the skirmish by the pond.

Impulsively, Darcy broke into a run towards him, not even caring that she may sprain an ankle in her heeled boots, or that her feet were killing her slowly.
She was intent on throwing her arms around him, even though Loki had now come to a halt, but as she got closer she faltered, and stopped short a few steps away from him.

His appearance wasn't quite right. She could see that now. Under the streetlight, his skin tone, his pallor was.....

"Loki, y-you're.....are you okay?"

His eyes were shuttered, his facial features a mask of stoical composure. As though he were carved from granite. He was being guarded, and giving nothing away. But he tilted his head to one side quizzically.

"Am 'I' okay?" He emphasised, sardonically. "After the scene you have just witnessed, which I'm sure was very illuminating for you, you're asking if I am okay? Surely YOU are the one who is not okay."

Her eyes widened as she drew closer with slight apprehension, unable to not stare at his face. "But you're--"

"Do not cheat yourself with the notion that you behold me repentant. I am all the villain you think me."

"I'm not talking about that." She said flatly, instinctively reaching a hand out to carefully touch his cheek. It was icy cold.

He blinked at her in slight surprise, as if he found the physical contact unexpected. "Then what are you talking about?"

"Loki, you're turning blue."

"What?"

"Your skin, your face. You're...blue."

Loki stared down at his free hand, eyes widening in horror.

"Damnation!"

He recoiled away, and turned his back toward her.
Then suddenly the shimmering golden light of his magic encircled her body, and as it dispersed, so too did the illusion of the beautiful peacock coloured dress she had been wearing.

An awkward silence dragged on. Darcy was for once, lost for words. Not knowing quite what to say. And experience had taught her that more often than not, when she opened her mouth without thinking, she would only make matters worse.

Of course she had plenty to say to him. But now was not the time.

Eventually, Loki slowly turned around to face her once more. His complexion as it should be. His usual skin tone restored.

"I'm sorry for being unable to hold the illusion on your dress." He said in a quiet, almost somber voice. "Keeping more than one illusion in place is rather taxing. It jeopardises the ability to keep my...." He faltered. "....my appearance, in place. And the cold.....the temperature makes me more susceptible to reverting back to my original form."

"Your original form?" She echoed, mind racing. "You mean how you usually look, isn't really you?"

He stared ahead, eyes fixed on the middle-distance, unwilling to meet her eyes. "No. My Asgardian form isn't my natural form. Surely you have read of my parentage in the file they gave you? I'm Jotun."

Darcy desperately tried to recall the information contained within the file Jane had given her. Her brow furrowed in concentration. There had been so much to take in. Loki's jaded history, the way Odin had taken him in and never disclosed the fact that he wasn't his real father and....
Of course. Suddenly she remembered. The Basket Of Awesome Winters -- or something like that -- and the conversation they'd had in the apartment back in London, where she'd likened him to Elsa from Frozen.

The cold didn't bother him, meaning he didn't feel it. And that was because of where he originally came from. Because of what he really was.

The rightful king of Jotunheim.

"Frost giant." She whispered, almost inaudibly.

Loki's posture became rigid. And he closed his eyes, nostrils flaring slightly as though he found the term shameful and disgusting.

"Monster." He hissed.

The word stabbed painfully at Darcy's heart in the most unexpected way, and she was stricken with sadness for him.
How could he possibly think such a thing of himself?

"You're not a monster." She blurted. "Just because you're a different race--"

His eyes snapped open. "Now you have seen me, Darcy, what else would you describe me as?"

"You." She replied simply, with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. "Okay, so it did freak me out a little, seeing you blue-ish, but that's because I wasn't expecting it--"

"I hadn't fully reverted, if you beheld me when I am completely transformed, with my red eyes and ridged, azure skin, then that would undoubtedly 'freak you out'."

Darcy shook her head. "No it wouldn't. You're still you. And I don't think you're a monster." She insisted.

He scowled at her in perplexed frustration. "How could you not? This is the form you find appealing." He gestured with his hand, waving it about his person. "Naturally you would not feel the same way towards me when my appearance is completely altered. You spoke of aliens once, and how they are the subject of horror movies....well, you would find my race a worthy inclusion."

"Oh, shut up!" She said bluntly, even chancing a small smile. "The issues you have are all in your head. It's people's actions that make them monstrous, not their appearance. And yeah, your behaviour is....questionable. Your actions, unacceptable. But, whatever you look like, whatever you are, you're still YOU. And none of it changes the way I feel."

He ran a hand through his dark, wet hair, pushing it back off his face.

"Oh please." He huffed, scornfully. "I saw the way you looked at me back at the hotel. You cannot claim that you're just willing to accept me for who I am. Genetics aside, experience leads me to admit I have none of the boyfriendly virtues you require."

"Of course you do. I've seen that side."

"And what is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Your gentler side. The side of you that's tender and sweet. Which, like I've said before, doesn't mean you're weak. Everyone, no matter what race they are, must have a vulnerable side. And you, you're....like the moon, I guess." She said, thoughtfully. "You have a dark side, that's a given. And yes, of course I thought what you did to Greg was harsh and shocking. BUT, that still doesn't mean I think you're a monster in any way. You're wild, and chaotic and unpredictable, and I've just gotta accept that. It comes with the territory."

Loki stared at her incredulously. "How can you simply accept it? I am destructive by nature, and my behaviour would never be deemed acceptable by your race. Nor do I wish it to be. Being lectured by humans and having them sit in judgement of me is altogether too lowly."

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "Look, this isn't about what's deemed acceptable by all the others. So please, just stop with all of that. I can only speak for myself. Even if I can't make any sense out of it. Even if I'm freaked out by it, which I totally was by the way, not you turning blue, I mean the way you lost it with Greg. But all I know is how I feel about you." She said desperately, as they looked into each other's eyes.

"Which is.....?"

She swallowed, her breathing now coming quick and hard.

"You could be any colour, it wouldn't make a difference. You could tell me everything, about all the terrible things you've ever done, and I'd still want to love you anyway."

There. She'd said it.
Sort of.

Her words had the most profound impact on him. She could see that. He looked utterly stunned, his mouth opened then closed again. His beguiling eyes searched her own, for what she couldn't tell. Perhaps signs that she was lying. Or maybe that she was telling the truth.

"Darcy, I...."

She held up a hand to silence him. "Wait. I haven't finished yet. You get your turn in a minute. What I want to know is why you took the controller and left? I can think up excuses for your other behaviour, but that.....that hurts, Loki. So you'd better explain yourself, and I want the truth. You at least owe me that!"

At least then he had the good grace to avert his gaze, and stared down at the ground ashamedly. "I saw how my behaviour affected you, and I couldn't bear it."

She faltered for a moment, her turbulent mind trying to process what he was saying.

"So you were going to just, what? Abandon me?"

"I was."

"And you just left!"

"I did."

"But I thought you....I thought you cared about me?"

"I do!" He admitted with reluctance. "Which is why I came back. Don't you see? I didn't want to go. I could have chosen freedom. To not be bound by the restrictions my brother and his cohorts impose upon me. In the past I would not have hesitated. And yet, even though the opportunity has presented itself several times, due to your complacency--"

"Hey!" She objected, but he immediately silenced her.

"Shush. I'm not done yet! You have been complacent, you cannot deny it."

Darcy pouted, knowing that he was right. And the closer she and Loki had become, the more negligent she had been in her duty.

"Okay I'll give you that."

An amused smile hovered over his thin lips, but his expression remained serious. "The point is, I failed to act on it, whenever the chance arose. I could have left in London, but I didn't. The desire to remain in your company proved to be too irresistible."

She watched as he slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, and pulled out the controller.

"Here. Take it. I'm surrendering myself to you. But for heavens sake, don't drop it! I'm a fool, I didn't even bother to remove the disk. It's as if by having it there, and you having the controller, we are bound together somehow. Connected to each other.....always. And I'm alarmed that I don't want to sever that link. I don't dislike it."

Darcy's heart swelled in her chest. His confession, his decision to turn around and come back, to return the controller to her, was the biggest compliment she could ever receive in her life.

Loki, God of Mischief, the rightful king of Jotunheim, and prince of Asgard, had sacrificed his chance of freedom, for her. Darcy Lewis.

She took the device from him, and in that moment all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms.

So she did.

His strong arms enfolded her, and in spite of everything, any doubt she ever had evaporated.
God, she loved him.
And she could happily stay forever, locked in his tender embrace.
But he was icy cold to the touch, and although the contact warmed her heart, physically she couldn't prevent herself from shivering.

Which didn't go unnoticed by him.

"We need to return to the hotel, before you get hypothermia." He remarked, easing away from her. Mindful that his touch merely added to the risk of her becoming dangerously cold.

"Yeah, and you'd better go and get some dry clothes on." She pointed out. "But Greg was going to the hospital. They'll ask him what happened. What if he's told them everything? The police could be coming for you. If we go back to the rooms he booked, I'm pretty sure we'll be getting arrested."

Taking her hand assuredly, Loki flashed a mischievous smile which reflected in his eyes.

"I may have stolen the key to another unoccupied room. Just in case the one allocated to me didn't meet with my approval."  He confessed, revelling in her surprise. "And they won't see us return. I'll take care of that."

She stared up at him with almost disapproving admiration, as they began to walk hand-in-hand, back in the direction of the hotel.

"You really are a complete snob. And very bad. But your resourcefulness sure comes in handy, space boy."

****************************

To Darcy's relief, there were no police officers awaiting their arrival when they returned to the hotel.

She had been fearing the worst, and was still panicking when they made their way through the lobby and up to the 12th floor.
To alleviate some of her concerns, Loki cloaked them in an invisibility spell, which she thought was cool, but that didn't stop her from fretting about using a room that was meant to be unoccupied.

"Stop worrying." Loki told her, firmly. "Look at it logically, it's highly unlikely anyone will book into the hotel this late. And even less likely that they'd specifically ask for a suite."

It was easy for him to say that. It was just a bit of fun to him. The chances of them being caught may have been slim, but Loki seemed to enjoy that element of doubt. As if he found it almost thrilling, taking the risk.

And then there was the looming question of how they were going to get back to New York now, as it was glaringly obvious that Greg wouldn't be willing to pay for their flight.
Everything was such a mess, and she knew if she dwelled on it too long, she was pretty sure she'd have a panic attack and start hyperventilating.

She also desperately wanted to talk some more about Loki's Jotun genetics. She hoped that maybe, now that they'd touched on the subject, he would feel comfortable enough to discuss it further, and perhaps open up to her about his acceptance issues, and past.
But she sensed she'd have to broach the topic sensitively, and not push it.
Wearing his soul on his sleeve, was not something he did. Thor was the brother who was more inclined to do that.

The fact that Loki had talked about his parentage at all, was a huge step. So she would let it be, for now. Though she ached to know more. To get closer to him.

Darcy's worries, and scattered thoughts were practically all temporarily forgotten though, as soon as the door was locked, and she stepped into the room.
She had thought Greg's room had been something pretty special, but it was nothing compared to the lush splendour of this one.

It had an enormous squishy bed, adorned with rich quilts and plump pillows. There was a decorative white fireplace, with a vase of flowers placed in the centre of the mantle. Above it hung a large gold-framed mirror, and antique armchairs were arranged at different angles around the room.

She wandered around absently, wide-eyed and trying to come to terms with how much such a suite must cost, not to mention how fortunate Loki had been to steal the keycard to such a spectacular room.

It couldn't be a mere coincidence.

Meanwhile, he had slipped out of his damp jacket (fastidiously hanging it up in the antique wardrobe) and disappeared into the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, which meant he obviously wasn't using the toilet, so she called out to him as she continued her exploration of the room.

"Man! This room is something else, right? Don't expect me to believe that you just got lucky, because I ain't buying it. You must've known this place is like a freakin' palace!"

"Yes, I confess I overheard some guests downstairs discussing the wedding couples' suite." Loki's voice rang out in reply. "So I made it my business to slip into reception and procure a key for a room on the same floor, just to sate my own curiosity really. You know how I like my luxuries, Darcy."

Darcy smiled to herself, as she distractedly admired the peonies in the ornate glass vase.
"Yeah, and to think you were gonna sneak off up here, while I'd be slumming it seven floors down, and you'd be kickin' back, chillin' in the lap of luxury."

There was a prolonged pause before he answered..

"Well, you don't have to slum it now, do you? And the bed is more than sufficiently big enough for the both of us."

She halted, coming to a complete stop in front of the fireplace.
Okaaaay, so they would be sharing a bed. Which was no big deal. After all, they'd shared a bed the previous night.
But, she hadn't been in her right mind then.
Tonight she was stone-cold sober, and not sick or wasted, so she was fully aware of all the implications, and possible outcomes.

Would he be expecting her to put-out?
Admittedly, the heady prospect of spending the night with Loki -- in a bed that was quite literally fit for royalty -- and maybe even getting more intimately involved with him, was enough to throw her headlong into a lust-filled reverie.
Now she didn't need alcohol, she was intoxicated on her own sense of wanton abandonment. Eager to cast aside all her inhibitions and indulge her curiosity and carnal desires.

Yet she was still hesitant.
Was she ready for sex?
More importantly, sex with a God?
Probably not. And would she ever be?

Her self-doubt had crept into her mind again and seemed to be making itself comfortable there, much to her dismay.
But how could she compete with the Asgardian women Loki was accustomed to?
No doubt Goddesses were flawless. She on the other hand, had many imperfections, and she wasn't sure she possessed the courage to let Loki get close enough to see them.
After all, he was a bit of an irrational perfectionist.
She couldn't have him scrutinising her. What if....what if he was appalled by her naked form? Just like Greg had implied he would be.

She inwardly crumpled at the thought, and her shoulders sagged as she was overcome with a feeling of dread and hopelessness.
She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and a little voice inside her head screamed at her indignantly....

'What is wrong with you? If he's gonna roll into your station, climb aboard the Loki train and enjoy the ride! Why would you even need to think about this? Are you crazy?'

"No I'm not." She acknowledged to herself aloud, though anyone who was listening would have more than enough reason to beg to differ. "I wanna ride that train so bad. Right to the end of the line."

"What's that, Darcy? I'm afraid you'll have to speak up, I can't hear you clearly." Loki called.

A hot flush swept through her entire body, and Darcy shifted slightly, holding onto the mantlepiece as she distracted herself by slipping out of her ankle boots. She was instantly lowered about four inches, and her aching feet flattened and stretched as they sank into the thick, plush carpet.

"Don't mind me. Just talking to myself as usual." She shouted back. Realising then that there seemed to be an inordinate amount of splashing coming from the bathroom. The sound of running water making it difficult for them to hear each other.

Ever curious, and lacking in tact, she went and poked her head around the door.

Loki was running a bath. A proper, scented candles, foamy bubbles, bath.
He himself was half-dressed, his damp trousers still on but unzipped, and shirtless.
Yowza.

"I must cleanse myself of that filthy fountain water. And get warm." He explained. Then he smiled wickedly at her. And asked her the million-dollar question....
"Care to join me?"