A/N: A spin on the old Tokyo Babylon bet. We'll see who the bigger cheater turns out to be.

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Last time it was two years.

Jane could hear Darci's voice ringing in her head as she chopped vegetables for dinner. Her knife sliced through an onion and she could feel her eyes start to sting from the fumes. Why didn't people just genetically engineer onions that didn't make you cry? She sighed indignantly while trying to chop the offensive vegetable as quickly as possible.

Two years, the thought rattled around again. Like two years of illness. She had constantly thought of Thor, wondered about where he was, who he was with, why he wasn't with her. Sometimes she saw him on the news, and the image made her stomach turn until she shut it off. But that was nothing compared to the sickness that affected her now. It'd only been three days since he'd left again, but a sort of dissonance had infected her, as if he'd taken some part of her with him.

The carrots came next, tiny round pieces, slowly growing in size as her knife reached the green tops. She scooped up all the tiny pieces and dropped them into a sizzling pan. The pieces burned a bit as she stirred them. The pan was too hot. Jane glanced at the clock. Erik would be there in less than ten minutes.

The food would probably be terrible, but it mattered little to her. She hadn't really tasted food at all for these three days. In fact, she'd begun to have an intense psychosomatic reaction to Thor's absence and the possibility of two more years, or infinity, before she saw him again. She could not process what had happened; her body felt as though it were made of sand and someone was stirring it constantly.

Two years. 730.5 days. So many days.

But life had to go on and so she invited Erik to dinner, insisting on it despite feeling herself physically burning down and turning into ash. Food held no meaning to her, but she felt it was the right thing to do. Her dissonance seem to her like what it must be like to have information directly loaded into the brain, bypassing senses completely. You know the facts, but you can't feel the reality of them. It was in this way that Jane knew food to be satisfying, but it was only intellectual understanding.

She stirred the contents of the pan, adding salt. To taste, they say, and she tasted a piece of onion. She knew it was salty, but could not actually taste it at all. The sensation skipped her tongue and went straight to the mind. That small piece of onion was painful to swallow; it was flavorless fibrous matter despite the fact her brain processed it to be much better than that.

Jane stopped and leaned against the counter, reeling from the detachment. She wanted to see him, to touch him, to fill the void he'd left behind. It sounded stupid, but she felt like it was the only thing that could fix her.

Suddenly, the absent-minded cook remembered that she'd forgotten the zucchini. It had to go in before everything else turned to mush. Frantically grabbing the squash, she tried to move her knife impossibly fast the way those chefs on television did. Not two cuts in, the knife cut her finger and blood welled out of the small injury. The knife clattered to the counter, and Jane gasped in surprise. Desperately trying to stem the blood that was dripping all over the place, she stumbled over to the sink.

"Ouch…" she winced at the pain. Now that she'd taken a good look at the cut, it began to sting earnestly. The blood splashed into the sink, pooling with the watery bottom in a wispy haze. Thinking quickly, she hopped a step back and turned off the stove. She stopped to inspect the wound. It was a deep bleeder and stitches looked to be on the horizon.

"Sorry, Erik, dinner might be ruined," she muttered, wrapping her finger up in a paper towel to stop the bleeding. When the tough paper wasn't doing much, she dug through a drawer for gauze and rolled the finger until the bandage made it twice the size. Thankfully, the flow slowed with this treatment. Jane rolled her eyes, of course this had to happen.

Trying to clean up before Erik arrived, she took the bloody pieces of zucchini and threw them into the sink. One of the pieces fell into the garbage disposal as intended, the other fell onto the watery, blood-spotted bottom.

Except it didn't fall on the sink bottom, it fell through it.

Jane blinked, thinking she'd imagined the event. She fished for the uncut zucchini and dropped it into the sink. The whole vegetable disappeared into the sink bottom. Eyes widening at the sight, she excitedly ran over to the table, looking for her phone. Her heart pounded fiercely and her hands trembled, making dialing difficult.

"Come on, Erik…" she gritted her teeth while waiting for him to pick up. The impatient scientist in her took over and she tapped her food, wishing that he picked up.

Nothing.

She swore. Why can't people over 45 understand that cellphones are for the expressed purpose of being reached at all times and places? Time for a voicemail. "Erik, this is amazing. I don't know how it happened, but there is a portal in my kitchen sink. Please call me back immediately and hurry over!" she shouted into the phone.

Frantically, she rushed over to the sink again. How could this have happened? The realm alignment had ended already, there shouldn't be any more portals existing on earth. Something shimmered in the bloody water-an image.

Squinting to see the image, Jane lowered her face to be closer. Something wavered across the water, something bright, like sky. Moving her head to lean down, she saw columns through the water, framing a view of the ocean….she placed a hand over her mouth.

It was Asgard on the other side.

Tentatively, she extended a hand down in the sink. Her heart skipped a beat when her fingers disappeared through the sink bottom. She could go. Asgard. Thor. Everything.

Without another thought, Jane climbed onto the counter and prepared to step into the sink. It must look so crazy, she thought, jumping into a sink. But it was now or never. Erik was smart enough to figure what she'd done. Left foot, right foot. Jane closed her eyes and stepped forward into the sink, half expecting to go nowhere.

A force suddenly pulled her down through the portal and she found herself drifting through the spectacular stream of the Einstein-Rosen bridge. Before she knew it, her worn sneakers hit a stone floor, and she fell forwards from the force of entry.

Asgardian sun blinded her unprepared eyes, a disorienting welcome. Jane placed a shaky hand on the intricate railing and looked out over the sprawling architecture. The view was just as breath-taking as when she'd first experienced its grace, but there was only one thing on her mind now: Thor. Where could one find Thor?

Her mind raced, struggling to take it all in. It was midday after a tumultuous almost-end of the world. What would a prince be doing in a time like this? Leading the people, obviously. But where does one lead the people? Were there such things as offices in Asgard? She shook her head in frustration, no, even if they had offices, she wouldn't know where to look.

Then it struck her: the throne. Leaders led from their thrones, and she definitely knew how to find that.

Taking care to stay inconspicuous, she rushed through the sandstone halls. Her stomach knotted up in anticipation like never before. Images of how he would greet her played over and over in her mind. A kiss, an embrace, joyfulness, or annoyance? Her heart was beating out of control, and nothing at all had even happen. She could taste the salt of the air, feel the grit of the stone beneath her feet. Everything was suddenly so real. Funny that anticipation was the medicine to her dissonance.

After a few wrong turns and some strange looks from those walking by, Jane finally found the throne room. She hesitated at the door, momentarily paralyzed by her anticipation. Suddenly spinning around and putting her back to the door, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Her brow was deeply furrowed in anxiety. What if he didn't want to see her?

Wouldn't it be terrible for her to interrupt some important business of his?

Her logic said that there must be a better way, but her instinct was to just go. Taking her good hand, Jane slowly cracked the wide chamber door open. The weight of the door made it difficult to open quietly and she found herself only about to crack it without exerting great effort and a great deal of noise. Moving her eyes to the crack, she glanced into the massive throne room.

To her disappointment, there was no one there.

The temperature seemed to drop when she realized the emptiness of the vast hall. However, in the corner of the room, something moved. Jane's eyes snapped to the place and she caught a dark figure holding a large stack of papers, slowly reading them. It was a man with long hair and dark armor. Maybe this was one of his friends and could show her the way to him! Without much thought, she pushed the door further and entered the room. The hinges creaked a loud groan and announced her as she slipped through.

The man in the corner swung around sharply at the sound. Jane caught his pale face for a second before an illusion transformed him into someone else of a different stature. The man strode out of the shadow and regarded her with narrowed eyes. As light shown on him, she recognized him as Thor's father, the king. She knew this was not Odin, but it couldn't be…. Yet she was sure of what she'd just seen.

"Jane Foster," he announced with a booming voice, "How are you in this realm?"

"I saw you," she replied defiantly.

The king was suddenly directly in front of her, causing her to flinch in surprise. Sometimes she really hated these people's abilities. The man's lips curled into a sneer, uncharacteristic of his jovial face. This confirmed that she'd not been delusional. "And what exactly did you see?" he challenged.

Jane retreated a step back and glanced left and right uncomfortably. There was only the imposing emptiness around. Better face the trial than try to run.

"I saw you, Loki."

The old man leaned back and let out a chuckle. He tapped his staff on the ground and the illusion lifted, revealing a smirking Loki. She just knew it. Loki was too conniving to just let himself die. He raised his arm and flexed his hand, chilly eyes never leaving Jane's. She heard all the entrances lock with resounding metallic thuds. Fear was unavoidable at this point. She closed her eyes for a minute and thought to herself, "Life, it was nice to know you. Erik, Darci, it's been great. Thor, I am sorry that I'm so close but so far."

Loki circled her with an amused expression. "You know, Jane," he began, sounding casual and conversational,"You're quite extraordinary. I don't know how you got here, being so utterly mortal and all, but I must confess that you're far more clever than the people in this realm. You're the first to know it's me."

Jane stood her ground and replied fiercely, "Maybe because you are exploiting the grief they are feeling from your supposed death."

"Jane, Jane, you are so capable of flattery," he said in a condescending tone, "I know better than to think the people here grieve for me. They're all out there busy rebuilding our city. Not even my own brother can take the time to mourn me properly."

Run, her mind said, and she spun for the door, hoping there was a way to manually undo the lock. To her dismay, her feet froze in mid-stride and she found herself unable to move a muscle. Loki made his way around her slowly, his hand reaching around her neck. His fingers were as cold as ice on her skin. His expression was much more serious now.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he hissed, releasing her from paralysis but tightening his grip of her neck.

Jane gasped for breath and whispered with ragged words, "I'm going to tell Thor about you."

"I could kill you right now. You're like a mouse, so weak and helpless," Loki responded coldly. She tried to fight his hand by digging at them with her uninjured hand. His grip was iron and immovable.

"Then he'll know it was you," she managed to croak out in between difficult breaths.

"Yes, he'll think that I, a dead man, killed you." The corners of his mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Do you honestly think I could cheat death but I can't kill a mere mortal?"

"He'll know." Jane insisted, desperately trying to escape in any way. She tried to kick, but her legs felt heavy and useless.

Loki released her and she crumpled to the floor, sucking in air greedily and fighting to get to her feet. He bent down and put a hand on her shoulder gently. Jane froze, expecting another blow. Instead, he pushed the hair out of her face and stared her in the eye. "You know, this is too easy," he remarked, "My mother always chastised me about playing with my food before I ate it, but honestly, is there a better way to tolerate something so boring? Let's do something amusing instead-let's make a bet, Jane Foster. If I win, I kill you. If you win, I let you live."

"What?"

"You heard me. Let's make a wager of your life."

Jane crawled to her feet and tried to inch away from him. "I'd rather die than make bets with liars," she spat out indignantly.

This turn of defiance made Loki laugh. There was just something so terribly amusing about how the powerless use death as an honorable path. "Let's make it more appealing, shall we? You set the terms for your win."

A pause between them settled into silence as Jane considered her terms. But honestly, what was she thinking? Negotiating with Loki, the least trustworthy creature in existence? He would never keep his word.

"If I win, you never strike against earth, me, or Thor, again." It was lofty, but she threw it out there to try her luck.

For a moment, she thought him offended, but to her surprise, he accepted. "Agreed, then what is the task?"

Ball's in your court, they say. And sometimes that's worse than having to just deal with a bad hand. The gravity of it puzzled Jane. What was a bet interesting enough for Loki to take and easy enough for her to win? They couldn't bet on strength, intellect, or any other ability. Loki would no doubt cheat her. She racked her mind for a weakness, but couldn't think of one. Putting herself in his shoes, she imagined what it would be like to be Loki. A man overshadowed by a more outgoing and well loved brother. His pride? No, there was no reason for him to keep his word if he lost on pride.

Then it hit her. So simple. The task was for her to succeed in convincing him to let her go. If she lost, then it was her fault. If she won, by virtue of winning he'd have no tricks. And it would also buy her enough time to wait for Thor to aid her.

"You will come spend a year on earth, with us mortals," she said slowly, confident in her plan to outwit him. "And at the end of the year, if you feel something-affection for us, for humanity-if you see us as something other than objects, then I win."

"And if I feel nothing?"

"Then you win."

Loki laughed at the suggestion as if it were the most absurd idea he'd ever heard. "Marvelous, Jane, you are entertaining. A year is a blink to us, a momentary distraction. You think you can show me what is so great about Midgard in this wrinkle of time? I think you have lost this one before we've even begun. Let's do pile on the interesting. I insist that you not speak to or see my brother in this time."

His words were like a knife twisting in her chest. The thought was pure agony and it must have shown on her face by the the looks of how Loki seemed to enjoy himself. But she didn't have to keep her word, she certainly didn't expect her opponent to do the same.

"Ok. I won't talk to Thor. So you accept the bet then," Jane pressed.

"Yes, I accept." He extended his left hand for a handshake, a clear mark of someone who'd never shaken hands. Awkwardly, Jane held out her injured left hand. Loki regarded her bandage with curiosity. "Whatever is this?"

"It's just a cut, it was an accident," she muttered quickly and shook to bind the wager.

The dark-haired man grabbed her wrist and refused to let go. "There is something strange about this wound," he remarked and began to unravel the gauze.

"Hey! Stop that!" Jane exclaimed, pulling her hand back. The gauze just ended up completely unraveling as she did this, pulling painfully at the cut itself. She hissed at the sting of the cotton ripping from her finger and instinctively held her left to her chest. Loki regarded her with a strange interest, his eyes glistening as he looked for something.

"Your blood." He narrowed his eyes. "There is a trace amount of Aether in your blood. I can feel it trying to save you."

The color drained from Jane's face as she looked down at her hand. Her cut had begun to bleed a little without the gauze holding it closed. Of course, it was the Aether all along. It dawned on her that the blood in the sink had made the portal. The possibility of it was exhilarating and terrifying at once. She could travel between Asgard and earth, that was spectacular, but there was the overshadowing fact that the residual Aether might be enough to slowly kill her.

Jane gave a sad frown and let her hand fall to her side.

A drop of blood fell to the ground and splattered into a small burst. God she wished she could be home right now.

Suddenly, the floor seemed to flex and wave like quicksand. In a flash, it pulled her through and she could no longer see the room. She heard an echo of her name as Loki called for her in confusion. Then there she was, falling to the floor of her apartment, the same way she'd fallen to Asgard. A loud thud came from right behind her and she turned to see Loki also fallen on the floor, his black hair wild and undignified. If it were not for the fear she felt, she would have laughed.

"Um, welcome to your year on earth, I guess."

He shot her a murderous glare.