Author's Note: Hello! It's, uh...been a while. But, well, I saw Now You See Me 2 last weekend, and it rekindled my love for Mark Ruffalo, and I just had to make something happen. That guy just needs some serious kisses, and there's no way I could live with myself if I let anyone but Sága kiss one of his characters. So, I figured, how about a Sága AU, in which she was born in the 70s and grew up as best friends with Dylan? That could work, right?

So, unfortunately, if you haven't read my other story, Sága, you might be a little lost. But, honestly, aside from knowing that she's the daughter of Heimdall (Idris Elba's character from Thor), and that she has teleportation magic, there probably isn't too much to trip you up here.

This is probably gonna be kinda spoilery for the first and second movies, but I'll try to keep that to a minimum. I'm also not sure if there's gonna be a tremendous amount of plot to any of this; chances are it's gonna be just a ton of fluff, because I miss my girl and I want her to be happy in whatever universe she might inhabit. And this almost certainly will not be posted in chronological order, but I'll try to indicate any major time jumps so you know what to expect. This and the next chapter are gonna be pretty firmly set within the second movie, and while I don't think there are any real spoilers here, you might wanna be careful if you haven't seen it yet.

I don't really know if anyone is gonna read or care about this at all... This could turn out to just be a completely self-indulgent little project here, in which case I wouldn't be too surprised. But on the off chance that someone other than me is remotely interested in this, I figured I'd go ahead and post it. So, if you're reading, please let me know what you think! I've got most of the next chapter down, and a few other ideas of different points in Sága and Dylan's relationship, but I'd be very happy to hear any other suggestions of what you'd like to see!

Enjoy!

Chapter One: Welcome Back

Dylan hung up his phone, resisting the urge to smash it on the ground. Whoever had taken the horsemen could be tracking him through it, but without it they wouldn't be able to contact him.

Thaddeus Bradley...

"So, what's the plan?"

He gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently the universe was just aching to remind him of the worst day of his life. That was a voice he hadn't heard in years, and there was little guarantee that he was actually hearing it.

When he turned, Sághildr was leaning back against the trunk of his car, arms crossed over her chest and looking like a dream. Or a nightmare, dressed in all black, leather jacket and jeans and boots, her hair shaved around the sides but curly and wild on top.

This couldn't be happening. Not today, not now. She couldn't be here.

...Honestly, she probably wasn't here, just a figment of his imagination, some kind of stress-induced hallucination or something. So he ignored her, stepping right on by to get back into the driver's seat, starting the car and driving off without saying a word.

He didn't make it far before he felt it, the familiar prickling of his skin that accompanied her magic, and suddenly she was in the passenger's seat.

"Where are we going?" she asked as if nothing had happened, as if seven years hadn't passed since he'd last seen her, twisting around to put on her seatbelt.

He groaned, gripping the wheel tighter. "I thought you couldn't shift into moving vehicles?"

"Oh, so you were trying to leave me behind? Well, that's too bad. I picked up some new tricks while I was home. Dad says hi, by the way."

"What the hell are you doing here, Sága?" He didn't turn to look at her, but he could feel her eyes on him.

"I...saw you on the news. Thought you could maybe use a friend."

"Oh, is that what we are now?"

"Are we not? I thought you might have gotten over your ego by now, but I'll be happy to go if you don't want me here. I was in Mallorca, having a great time and not being snapped at."

He sighed, rubbed his forehead. She was right, of course; she always was. It's what made her so infuriating. "Sorry. It's been a bad day."

"I know. I'm sorry." She was quiet for a moment, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "And I'm... I'm sorry I left." He glanced over, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but... "I meant what I said. I didn't want to watch you be consumed. I didn't want to help it happen. But I missed you every day, and I wish... Well. I wish a lot of things. But I know I don't have the right to just walk into your life again after seven years and pretend like nothing happened, so if you want me to go, I'll go."

He slowed the car down, pulling off to the side of the road so that he could look at her, really look at her. There was a grim set to her mouth, a guardedness to her golden eyes, and a few thin wrinkles at the corners of her eyes; other than that, he could hardly tell she'd aged at all.

The last time he'd seen her, her hair'd been long and dyed a vibrant, obnoxious red. And she'd been naked in his bed.

The next morning, the empty bed, the letter all came back to him in a rush. He still remembered it, word for word.

"Dylan. I've been selfish. I have to go see my dad. I need to know that he's okay. But when I come back, I won't come see you. I'm sorry. I won't come back and help you plan your revenge, and I won't just sit around waiting for you to take Bradley down. I can't speak for your father, but I don't think he would ever have wanted this to destroy you, to control your entire life.

"If I stay, I'll just be in your way. But if you're ever finished with this, and you still want me around, all you have to do is call. I'll be there. I'll always love you."

He didn't think he'd ever see her again, didn't think she'd ever really want to see him.

But now here she was. So he reached back and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, opened it up, gently tugged the picture inside free. It was worn and delicate now, the first one she'd sent him when she'd returned from Asgard, two years after she'd left him. Her hair was back to its natural black, long and blowing in the wind; she was trying to hold down her flowered sundress with one hand, waving with the other, laughing in front of the London Eye. On the back, she'd written, "I was happy when this was taken, but I miss you always. I love you."

He'd been devastated when she left. But she'd been right, of course; he couldn't be Dylan Rhodes with the love of Dylan Shrike's life sharing his bed. Someone was bound to make the connection. She'd always known that, even when he tried to deny it, and she'd given him the power to choose. He knew he'd always wonder if he'd chosen wrong.

When the picture came in the mail, he'd cried like a child. He'd been carrying it ever since.

He tossed it into her lap. "I don't want you to go."

She picked up the picture and released a breathy laugh. "Shit... I can't believe you kept this! God, look at my hair."

He laughed, reaching across to brush against the short, prickly hair around her ear; she shivered when he touched her, but didn't pull away. "Yeah, this is new for me. I like it. How long have you had it short?"

She grinned, leaning into his touch. "It's been a couple years now. After my second trip back home."

He pulled away from her, reluctantly. Touching Sága was always a slippery slope for him; whenever he started, he could never seem to stop. This car was a rental, and there were things they needed to do. "Iceland home, or home home?" he asked as pleasantly as he could, shifting the car back to Drive and pulling back onto the highway, trying not to think about all the things he could do with Sága in a rental car.

"Home home. I'd really love to take you there sometime, but... Well, dad is always glad to have me around, but I fear I'm not the most welcome guest. I doubt everyone would take kindly to my human plus-one."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. Just knowing you is enough excitement in my life; I don't think I'd handle going off-planet very well."

"Oh, please! I've spent the past year working in a café while you've been, what? Working for the FBI while secretly harboring fugitives and running tasks for the EYE? In terms of excitement, Dylan, I think you've got me beat these days."

"Oh, yeah? For once in our lives I'm in more trouble than you, so that makes up for 30 years of you dragging me into all kinds of crazy shit?"

"Yes, it does," she said, punctuating it with a nod and a victorious grin.

"Of course it does," he muttered, reaching across and grabbing her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. She gripped his hand tight. "Crazy shit or not, I really missed you, Sága. I'm glad you're here."

She grinned at him, and opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated. When he glanced over, she'd turned away from him, looking troubled.

"What? What is it?"

She shook her head. "I was just, uh... H-how's Alma?"

"A-ah..." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. It had been a mutual split, on good terms. He'd been enamored with her, certainly, but she'd fallen for the person he'd only been pretending to be, and the deception had weighed heavy between them. They'd had a good time despite it, as much as they could, and then gone their separate ways. "Last I heard, she's doing great. Especially without me around."

"Oh. Oh? Oh..." She glanced out the window. "Sorry. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, it's fine, just... I was just surprised you knew." He shouldn't have been, especially given the photos and postcard from Iceland that had shown up addressed to him at Alma's place in Paris. Still, he hadn't been exactly...comfortable talking to Sága about their respective partners, not since high school at least. He should be, they were like real adults now; but he didn't think he'd ever be over his crush or be able to ignore how his feelings for her had made him feel guilty in every relationship he'd had. He wasn't married because Sága hadn't married him yet, as mom liked to say. "Have you been keeping tabs on me this whole time?"

She blushed deeply, fidgeting and looking anywhere but at him, yet never letting go of his hand. "...Not all the time? Just, y'know, occasionally checking in. Well, I mean, you got all my letters, obviously. How else do you think I got your addresses? I just...wanted to know you were okay. And then you ended up in Paris, and I, well... I got a bit nosy. Sorry."

He laughed. "I could never keep anything from you, could I? Well, turnabout's fair play: what about you? There was never anyone else in the pictures you sent me, but someone had to take them. Are you...seeing anyone?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, not currently. There weren't... I wasn't, y'know, alone all this time, but... No one lasting. And I didn't have any of them take the pictures of me, thank you very much."

"Yeah?" He gestured at the photo she was still holding in her free hand. "Who took that one? You looked so happy, I always figured..."

She snorted a laugh. "Not in his life! No, no, definitely not. Oh, but Dylan...if I told you who it was, no way you'd believe me. But he's only a friend, someone I met when I was home home; he hadn't been to Earth in ages. Literally." She laughed softly, her thumb rubbing circles against the back of his hand. "It was his idea that I send it to you."

It was a challenge to keep his eyes on the road; so he settled for lifting her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against her warm, soft skin. She smelled a bit like smoke; whether cigarettes or magic, he couldn't quite be sure. "Remind me to thank him next time he visits the planet."

"I will," she breathed, and he could tell from her voice she was blushing.

He pulled off the road again, a little less gently this time.

"What, we're stopping again? Don't we have somewhere to be?"

He threw it in park, turned to her. "I know, I'm sorry, just-I just gotta-" He released his seatbelt and turned, put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, and god, it was like...

Like magic, just the same as it'd always been before, but still something completely new.

She gripped his shirt the way she always used to, pulling him closer and sliding her tongue between his lips, moving against his own, relearning the feel of his mouth.

He moaned into her, knowing they had to stop but wanting nothing more than to stay here with her forever.

She saved him the trouble, leaning back and pushing against his chest. "Fuck, Dylan," she half-groaned, half-laughed, her head falling back against the seat.

"I know, I'm sorry. I know," he muttered, checking his mirrors and pulling back onto the road as he wriggled back into his seatbelt. "I'm sorry, I shouldn'ta done that. We've got... The horsemen... We can't afford to stop anymore."

She reached across and grabbed his hand again, holding it tight. "Oh, so there is a plan? Where are we headed?"

He cleared his throat, knowing she would hate this and hoping she didn't up and disappear when he told her. "We're, uh...going to see my friend Mr. Bradley." He didn't look at her, but he could still feel the weight of her glare.

"If we survive this, I'm gonna kill you."

"I know."

Sághildr shifted back into the car with her bag at her feet and three coffees in her lap.

"So, how'd it go?" She twisted around, eyeing the older man in the back seat, now staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"Like you don't know," Dylan grumbled.

She laughed, twisting a cup out of the unbleached, twice-recycled carrier and handing it over to him. "Extra shot, extra dry cappuccino for Dylan McGrumpypants, then. Here," she handed another cup back to Bradley. "Didn't know how you take it, but who doesn't love a latte, right?"

Dylan took a sip of his drink and groaned, practically melting back against the seat. "God I love you, Sá. This is good, you make this?"

"Mm," she affirmed around a mouthful of her own capp-cinnamon, lots of honey. "Yeah. Went to get my stuff, then popped into work to tell 'em I wouldn't be back in for a while."

"No, Sága, you didn't-you shouldn'ta quit your job-"

"Shut up and drink your coffee," she growled at him, wishing he'd drop it. "It was just a little gig to keep me busy, I think I'll live."

"This says Boston," he snapped, holding the cup high and eyeing the sleeve. "You told me you were in Mallorca."

"Yeah, I was on vacation," she drawled, shooting him a look. "Sorry I didn't run every minute detail of my life by you in the, what, hour I've been here?"

"Of course not, but shit, Sága! You've been in Boston-in America this whole time and you didn't bother to tell me?"

She opened her mouth to try to answer, but a silky-smooth voice from the backseat saved her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this tender moment," he started slowly. God, she'd forgotten he was even back there. "But did you just materialize in this moving car from a coffee shop in Boston?"

She grinned back at him. "Oh, and you're just dying to know how I did it, aren't you? Good. It must be awful for you, going through life with all of your mysteries always solved. That's why I'm here, to keep everyone on their toes."

He had a little crooked smile on his face. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Thaddeus Bradley."

She eyed his outstretched hand, wondering if he had any idea how thoroughly he'd ruined Dylan's life. He must not, if he thought she'd actually shake his hand. She turned away from him, facing the front again and propping her knee up on the dash. "Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Bradley. We've met before, in fact, though you clearly don't remember, nor would I have expected you to. I am Sághildr Heimdalardóttir. And that's precisely what you can call me."

The man chuckled softly, and she could hear him take a sip of his drink. "Well, then. Thank you for the latte, Ms. Heimdalardóttir-if that's acceptable?"

She sighed. "Your accent is horrid, but that will suffice."

"Everyone's accent is horrid, Sá, your language doesn't make any sense."

"Your face doesn't make any sense."

"Seriously? Yeah? That's what we're going with now? Are we in high school again?"

"Hey, I'm just sayin'. There's no good reason you should look like that."

"Wha-like what?" She just laughed and turned away, pretending to be positively savoring her drink. He growled, gripping the wheel. "Fuck you."

"I sure hope that's a promise," she teased.

In the back, Bradley started rolling his window down and back up. "I am still back here."