Author's Note: In which you, dear readers, finally meet Eric Powers, mentioned in "Faithfully Yours" and "Forever Yours". The major OC of my Avengers AU. The main character who was been fermenting in my head for too long. Yes, in the fem!verse, he is Erica Powers. Same person for the simple reason he is too jealous to let anyone else go after the person he loves. Nevertheless. Read and enjoy. And for those curious about the title, "Serendipitous" is another form of "serendipity", a word that can also mean "fate" or "destiny". Any question? Feel free to ask.
Serendipitous Miscalculation
"Damn it." The words were the only ones Eric had been able to utter since finding himself lost in what appeared to be frozen tundra, wondering how in the hell he had ended up so far away from where he had been planning to go. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it."
It did not help he was not dressed for the weather, and it certainly did not help he was unfamiliar with the landscape. Had no idea what country he was in, for that matter, but the sounds of battle far off were making him nervous. Just because he did not recall any battles fought in a frozen tundra taught in history class, that did not mean a thousand of them did not happen. There was so much history pretty much unwritten, left to be remembered only by the earth it was fought on, and even the earth forgot it after a while. Sighing, he shook himself out of his whimsical thoughts, reminding himself he needed to focus on his reality and keep the romantic, artistic thoughts in the back of his mind where they belonged. He could compose a poem about the beauty of the frozen landscape, but truth be told, that action would most likely get him slaughtered while he was obsessively counting syllables. He sucked in a breath of frozen hair and winced, wondering if it was normally to feel his throat getting coated with ice.
He stuck to the shadows as he stepped closer to the sounds of battle, not sure of what he was going to walk into when he reached whatever battle was going on. One shaking, probably nearly frostbitten hand felt along the rock he had his back to, his eyes struggling to make sense of the darkness in front of him. How could any world be this dark? The stars above were contributing only a faint glow, and the cold light of the moon high above only served to cast more shadows than illuminate land. He swore at his bad luck to end up in the middle of nowhere and only hoped that, when he returned to the present, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would be out of his apartment. Next time, he would at least plan out a vague destination rather than chug a pot of coffee and leap toward freedom.
An odd shape in the snow caught his attention, bright, blue splatters on the ice making the bile rose in his throat. He knew what that was. His first extreme jump as a child had been to Norway, after all, just around the time the Frost Giants invaded the earth with the thought of killing and conquering everyone who resisted. Turning his head wildly to the side, Eric knotted a hand in his hair and jerked it back as he lost his control on his stomach. Vomit sloshed from his mouth onto the snow, steaming because of the heat versus the extreme cold, and he dry-heaved for a moment before slowly straightening. Damn it. Damn it. Had he seriously returned to the battle where the warriors of Asgard saved his planet from extinction and subjugation? He hoped not, because Odin had known him then, and if he had gone back too far, there was a possibility he could re-write his own history as well as the god's. And he had been so damn careful not to do something as stupid as that. So damn careful.
But as he edged closer to the battle, he was rapidly realizing the landscape was too exotic, too cold, and too empty to belong to his home planet. He combed through the information he had about Asgard and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he had to be on Jotunheim. Okay, so he had accidentally jumped and most likely got caught in one of those stupid gate openings, and it just decided to throw him from one planet to the next. Easy enough. He just had to find Odin, explain the situation, and get a ride to the Bifrost thing, and he could use the power of it to jump back to the present. That was doable.
An arrow soared by his head, nearly taking it off, and he flattened himself to the snow as he tried desperately not to piss himself. No. If he was going to die on Jotunheim, he was going to do it with honor and poise and every other damn thing he needed to come out of this not seeming like a lost sixteen-year-old kid. He waited to see if a warrior from either side was going to find him, and when one did not, he forced himself to his feet and ran. There was no time to walk, no time to hope by creeping he could make it into the thick of the battle without getting arrowed, stabbed, or thrown into a rock wall and beaten to death. The little panicked voice living in the back of his head, born from his twin's incessant worrying, urged him to turn back and wait for the battle to end before he tried to run into it, searching for help. But he told the little voice to shut the hell up, he knew what he was doing, and he knew Odin would make his way into the temple to retrieve the Casket, so he needed to go there. Now.
It was hard climbing over the rock walls to reach the temple, edging around the battle and still somehow getting the right leg of his jeans soaked in blue Jotun blood. Disgusting, nasty, vile fluid that it was. He nearly tossed his cookies again just from the realization he had blood all over his pants, but a high, piercing wail caught his attention, and instinct spurred him toward that. Though he had no idea what it was, he knew he had to get to it, get to it yesterday, and if he was not careful, he was going to get himself killed struggling to reach it.
Surprise, surprise. The sound led him into the temple. He slowed at the bottom of the stairs, noting the way the blood had frozen on his jeans from the frigid air. Somehow, it was a bit less sickening to have the stuff no longer wet, slick, and sticky against his skin. He knew it was risky, but he needed speed, and the jeans were holding him back. He unbuckled his belt, confident he would be up the stairs and at Odin's side before he froze to death or died of exposure. He stripped off the jeans, leaving himself in the loose basketball shorts he always wore underneath, and took off up the stairs as fast as his sore, tired legs would allow. Twice he stumbled, gripping the wall for support, but he pushed off and tried to make it to the pained cries coming from the temple. Something about those cries was driving him upward, upward, upward, fueling his resolve. The muscles in his legs burned, his lungs felt raw and cold, but he had to reach those cries before it was too late.
Just like the rest of the planet, the temple of Jotunheim was mostly cloaked in shadow, but he could see a tall figure, a too-tall figure, illuminated oddly by the glowing blue box Eric knew was the Casket. The so-called source of the Jotuns' powers, but he knew nothing about that. All he knew was that the monster, the Frost Giant thing, was holding a squirming bundle. A baby. And a knife. Damn it.
"What are you doing?" Eric demanded before his mind could connect with the situation and offer up an intelligent course of action. As always, he spoke before he thought, but the expression in the Frost Giant's eyes told him he had finally made a fatal mistake.
As if in answer, the thing lifted the child in the air by its foot, dangling it, and Eric had the sudden urge to rush forth and take the kid away from the thing. Did not matter the kid could turn out to be the same monster holding him because, at that exact moment in time, he was a kid. A helpless little baby, and it was wrong to just leave him there. "I am killing the runt mercifully before one of the warriors finds it and tortures it. It would never have lived to greatness anyway. Not with its pathetic size."
"You've got to be kidding me," Eric said automatically, and the scarlet glare fired in his direction made him jerk back. "Look. Uh, don't kill him, okay? Just hand him over to me. I'll take him away from here. But don't kill him. That'd be bad."
"Why do you have a desire to save this runt of a child?" the Frost Giant demanded, lowering the knife in his hand, still holding the child up in the air.
Eric held up his hands to show he had no weapons, shaking violently from the cold air wrapping around his legs like hands, squeezing tightly, digging in. "Because it's a baby. You don't kill babies. I don't care if you don't want him. I really don't. Just don't kill him. Give him to me, and I'll walk very quietly away, and that'll be the end of it, okay? The end of it all. The baby doesn't have to die, and you don't have to kill it, and no warrior is going to torture it, and that's the end. Please. Don't kill the baby."
He was begging, now, begging so the monster would not kill the baby, and incredibly, it was working. After a moment of long, cold silence punctuated only by the faint cries outside, the Giant beckoned him forward and lowered the child into his reach. Careful not to harm the child any more than the Giant already had, Eric took the baby in his arms and quickly shrugged out of his jacket to have something to wrap the child in. Screaming child, he noted, and that was hardly surprising. He stepped away from the Giant slowly, rubbing the baby's back, whispering soothing nonsense in a hope to end the screaming. While he was vainly hoping he could find the stairs without seeing them, a bright golden, familiar light momentarily blinded him.
Damn it. He felt his back hit the wall and slid down it, holding the child against his chest and trying to curl up in an organic shield. When his vision cleared enough for him to see, the Frost Giant was on the ground, and Odin, badly mauled, was standing there in his golden armor.
"Oh, thank the gods!" Eric scrabbled, one-handed, to his feet and ran to the older man gratefully, trying not to get sick at the sight of the god's missing eye. "He was going to kill the kid. I swear he was."
Odin gave him a strange look and rested a hand on his shoulder, and Eric briefly wondered how many years had passed here since his last jump. On his planet, it had been ten. Here, though, he had the sense it had been much less time. "I see you found the strength to yet again make it this far back, young Eric. How exactly did you make it to Jotunheim?"
"I'm not entirely sure about that one. I just did. And I can't get back quite obviously because I went back too far and to the wrong place. But I came up here because I remember being told about this, and that thing was about to kill the baby." The words came out in a rush, but Eric wanted to sob in relief when he saw Odin understood. He was starting to feel his limbs go numb, a bad sign.
"You will come back to Asgard with me, and I am sure Heimdall will know what to do." Odin peered down at the child and smiled faintly. "You never fail to do something that amazes me. But you saved the child, and so he will come back to Asgard with us."
The god's hand settled on the child's, and Eric watched as the blue color faded away into soft pink skin, the scarlet eyes deepening to emerald green. Smiling faintly, Eric handed the child to the god and only prayed the trip to Asgard would be a short, warm one before he lost feeling in his body and had to have something cut off.
OoOoOoO
The trip to Asgard was short, and Eric found himself being ushered into the palace before any of the warriors could get a proper look at him. It was better that way considering none of them needed to know there was a mortal who could delve into their past if he so desired. When they reached the god's inner chambers, Odin wrapped a wolf pelt around his shoulders and sat him in front of the fire, then took the child to the healers. Eric did not want the baby to leave his side, but he accepted the action with a sigh and let himself warm up. It would not be long before he was back home, where he belonged, and he was only hoping the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had decided to leave his pot alone for a change. Every time they swooped in and he ran, they took his weed, and that was not cool. Whether they accepted it or not, he needed marijuana to keep him calm when his body tried to amp up for a jump he could not control, and that was pretty much the only reason he used it. Pretty much.
"You did a good thing by saving the baby," Frigga, Odin's wife, assured him as she brought him a goblet of what looked like mead. "The Allfather says we will keep him and raise him as Thor's brother. Did you get to see Thor the last time you met my husband? I thought not, since it was on Midgard."
"No. Your husband was the first and last Asgardian I met. I didn't even know he had a son." Which was partially the truth. Everyone who knew anything about Norse mythology or who watched crummy Syfy movies knew Thor was the son of Odin, but he had no idea Thor was currently in existence. Had no cause to think that thought. But when Frigga gestured for him to stand and follow her, he took a sip of mead and stood, following her across the hall.
Like all of the other rooms in the palace, the one he assumed was a nursery was golden, lavishly decorated, and emanated warmth. She glided over to what actually looked like a crib and waved him over with a fond, if slightly resigned, smile. When he joined her, he saw why. He was certain it was late in Asgard, despite not having a clock to go by, and the toddler in the crib was wide awake. Huge blue eyes gazed up at him, bluer than his own, for a moment, and then eager, chubby hands were stretched out to him. Sighing softly, Eric passed the mead to Frigga and picked the child up, nearly losing his balance when a hand darted into his hair and yanked. As if his balance had not been compromised enough by walking through the temple of Jotunheim in jersey shorts. He balanced the kid in his arms and cocked a brow at the kid, who became suddenly interested with the collar of his t-shirt. That was well enough. He carried the boy, whom he presumed was Thor, back across the hall to Odin's room.
The king was waiting within and smiled when Eric stepped into the room with a loudly babbling Thor. "I see you've met my son."
"He's adorable," Eric mumbled, combing his fingers through Thor's hair and earning himself another hard yank to his own. "Except for the hair-pulling part. You're going to keep the baby, though? And he's going to be okay, right?"
"The boy will live as a prince and will not know of the past he came from. But one day, when he is old enough to understand, I'll tell him who you are, and he will know of the valiant mortal who saved his life," Odin assured him. "Now, we do have to get you back to your own time because as time passes here, it passes there. I remember you speaking of your brother once before. Would he know you had, as you said, jumped if he finds you are not at home?"
Eric nodded and passed Thor to Frigga, hoping she had some luck with settling the little one back down. "He'd guess once he figured out S.H.I.E.L.D. had been there. Maybe I'll get a chance to see the one in my time. What are you going to call him?"
"Loki," Frigga murmured. "His name is Loki."
He twitched and hoped neither Odin nor Frigga noticed, repeating the word "crap" in his head again and again until it was all that swirled within his conscious. The Trickster god. The God of Lies. Was he the reason Loki came into being what he was? Oh, Jesus, had he worked so hard to keep from altering the future when he jumped only to end up making a huge change on a whim? And now that it was done, there was no way he was going to go to the future, come back to the past, and then go back to the future to try to undo it. That was too hard. But trying to wrap his mind around the thought he had been the one to bring Loki into Asgard, and as a result create the trickster of Norse mythology, was harder than he wanted to admit. It brought up too many thoughts. Like the one about where time really was set on a very specific course, and he knew who Loki was because he was destined to go back in time to save him. Or a million other paradoxical ideas. All of which he hated.
"Come, now. Let's take you to the Bifrost," Odin said.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Eric managed a small smile and wiggled his fingers at Thor. "Bye, little guy. Maybe we'll see each other again one day."
"Bye, Eric," Thor said matter-of-factly, and while Frigga laughed softly, Eric just gaped at the kid until he was being drawn into the hall.
The rainbow bridge leading to the Bifrost was as familiar to him as the neighborhood he had grown up in, and he waved Odin off as he set upon the path. He wanted to walk it alone, to have the sensation there was only a few inches between his feet and whatever lay beyond Asgard. And there was the fact he had questions for Heimdall, questions he did not want Odin to know he had asked. He combed a hand through his hair, wondering what weird changes would occur in the future because he had left his jeans in Jotunheim and his jacket in Asgard.
When he reached the Bifrost and the very large, very intimidating guard who stood at its entrance. He bowed automatically, something he did not do with Odin because Odin had never scared the living hell out of him before. As he rose, he saw the ghost of a smile on Heimdall's face and wondered if it was for him or for the situation.
"I can see you wherever you are, you know," the Gatekeeper said, voice the same monotone it had been the last time Eric heard it. "Though you travel through time and others do not recognize you if you appear to them before you are supposed to, I remember. Your thoughts weigh heavy on you."
Blink. Blink. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm just sort of wondering if I just ended up causing a whole lot more trouble than I should have. Because Loki was a bit of a troublemaker on Earth— Midgard— and I can't imagine he was any better here. And I'm just wondering if I'm the one who spurred a whole chain of events culminating in a very bad thing because I was finally trying to do something good. Did I, Heimdall? Is Loki's existence sort of my fault?"
"No, it is not." The Guardian rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, the touch warm and instilling in him some form of comfort. "No matter what changes you make, the major events that must occur will occur regardless. Had you not found the dark prince, Odin would have found him himself and brought him to Asgard. It must happen. The few before you who have had your gift believed they could prevent such large events from happening, but they failed as well. Had you tried to injure Loki, perhaps kill him, you would have been killed by either Laufey or by some accident. But I sense the fates believed your intentions were pure, and so they let you have the choice to save the child's life. And you did. This does bode well for your future, mortal. Well indeed."
"Well, that's comforting. Then what's the point of being able to do what I can do if you can't change anything? I mean, I don't want to. I just use it to run away from the people trying to catch me. But it kind of seems pointless to be able to do something like this and just not be able to change anything," Eric said, unintentionally leaning into Heimdall's touch.
Heimdall chuckled, an odd sound to hear from the normally indifferent god. "Perhaps you have changed something, mortal, but not for the future to come between this moment and your present. Perhaps the changes come in the future you have not yet seen. I would tell you to remember this moment, to remember what you have done. The crown prince knows your name now, and perhaps that may change a moment in which you two were supposed to meet. Or maybe now you two will meet. And when Odin does tell Loki who and what he is, your name will rise. And that may spur an interesting change as well. So do not worry about immediate changes. Think of the future neither you nor I have seen."
"That'd be nice," Eric admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I should probably go home now. Not a wise idea to be walking around where someone might see me."
"Indeed," Heimdall said with a short nod. "Let us return you to your home."
OoOoOoO
The good news was S.H.I.E.L.D. had apparently had their fill of his pot, but Eric had no reason to smoke while he had so much to think about. He started to pack the few clothes he had and wondered where he was going to go. And what was going on in Asgard. The reality he lived in was over one thousand years after the war between Asgard and Jotunheim, so both Thor and Loki would be grown men, preparing to take over Asgard. Hard to wrap his mind around that. It was the middle of the afternoon here, and he had just come from a land wrapped in the darkness of night. Loki had been a baby, Thor around possibly two, and now they were hundreds of years older than he could ever hope to be. That alone was enough to make him need some of the extra strength Tylenol in his bathroom cabinet. As he retrieved three of the capsules, he checked for any sign S.H.I.E.L.D. had been there and found nothing other than odd scrape marks in the carpet. They were too good at their job.
He lowered himself onto his bed for a moment, inhaling the scent of the air floating in through his window, and he told the apartment goodbye. It had never been much of a good one, but it was the one he had been living in for years, and he was going to miss it. Just as he missed all of the other apartments he had to abandon because of S.H.I.E.L.D.
But if they did happen to catch him, maybe Fury would know something about the Norse gods Thor and Loki. Maybe Eric would even get the chance to see them once again.