Another Loki/Darcy Drabble (sort of)
She helped him find his identity once more, when he had lost all hope of recovering it ever again. He had been drifting (in more ways than one), and she grounded him. Albeit, after he was physically grounded, the process of which he would not recommend to anyone. Travelling between worlds without the help of the Bifrost tended to end in broken bones, particularly when one has fallen through a wormhole. But she picked up the pieces and put them back together again. And this configuration made sense.
Before, when on the bridge and locked in combat with Thor, he had been teetering on the brink of madness and despair and megalomania. That being had been shattered into utter ruin with his rather unorthodox descent into Midgard. With any luck, that form of him wouldn’t be making a reappearance any time soon. But then, he wasn’t exactly on the best terms with luck, was he?
She had found him in the desert, bloodied and broken. He saw her blurrily through a haze of pain as she bent over him assessing his injuries. For a moment, his vision cleared as he locked eyes with her, and he saw sympathy as well as… fear. For him? Of him? He wasn’t sure, but at that moment the agents from S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, and when they moved him the sheer agony caused his jaw to clench and his eyes to roll back in his head as blackness descended and oblivion overtook him.