I would recommend reading my first story, Quicksilver, if only to understand the relationship dynamics in this story, as well as what the heck the characters are talking about in a lot of scenes. This story continues about a year and a half after Quicksilver.

This is based exclusively on movieverse (and comicverse), prior to Thor 2 and the other movies which follow, and I hope to feature brothers, family and friends.

The first case was an elderly woman with seven grandchildren. There were enough people in her family that the hospital room was crowded for several days in between treatments, blood transfusions and oxygen tanks. Each of her three children stood vigil by her bedside for days at a time, and her grandchildren stopped in as they were able to between work, or school, or whatever other activities they indulged in.

The symptoms were startling. It started as what she quaintly called a "case of the sniffles" and escalated into full-blown flu symptoms. Lung tissue necrosis began soon after, and within days she could not stop coughing a pint of blood a day. Near the end, the hospital forced the family from the room in order to keep her in isolation and prevent the spread of the unknown disease.

She died on the twelfth day.

One of her youngest grandsons showed symptoms next, and the parents rushed him into the hospital at the first signs of a cold, terrified of losing him to the same disease as his grandmother. Within a week, another funeral was scheduled.

The disease spread silently through the family, and then outward into the hospital population. It hit the local newspapers when the victim count hit seven, and the national papers when the count hit thirteen. Public perception veered from outright panic to apathy at this latest in a series of strangely named illnesses which the media so loved to latch onto. More than one pundit insisted that the worries were overblown, overhyped, downright stupid. Political motivations were assigned at times, and the CDC released a softly worded statement urging residents of New York and nearby cities to report signs of flu-like symptoms immediately.

All the while, the strain transferred quietly. Its method of dispersal was unknown, as were its origins; it could not be grown inside of a lab using known techniques. Isolating the culprit proved challenging, and in the end a lung tissue sample was removed from a victim and analyzed under an electron scanning microscope. The foreign entity was located lining the entire surface of a red blood cell. The description within the final report read "alien in appearance."

Media outlets coined a gimmick name: the Ridley virus. The name was repeated often enough that it became the accepted common term for this new strain.

The CDC convened an advisory board, which recommended that a higher authority be involved due to the apparent nature of the pathogen. Forty six days after the first recorded case, a black file was placed on SHIELD director Nick Fury's desk, the words Top Priority emblazoned in white across the folder. He returned to his office three hours later and took up the file, reading through the information and pulling up further reports on his terminal. Then he placed a call to someone with unlimited resources and a newfound conscious too big for his projects to sustain.

When Tony answered the phone, Fury explained everything that he could understand. When he was finished pleading his case and requesting assistance, the inventor waited a moment before giving his reply.

"I got someone for you. She's impressionable, young and backed by my investments. That cover it?"

"That'll do," Fury said. "I'll send the data over."

"Thor?"

"I am here, Jane."

"Just checking," she said. Her tone was absent, nearly dismissive, and Thor looked up from his task to observe her. Jane had her head down, nearly close enough to sniff the notebook she carried on her person at all times. She was working at a small, cluttered desk, not ignoring him, and the thunderer only chuckled to himself before looking back down. He gripped Mjolnir tightly in his right fist and gently struck the metal lying atop the bench, carefully shaping the form he desired.

"What are you working on?" she asked. She raised one hand and pushed a long string of dangling hair behind one earlobe.

"Come and see," he said. Jane hummed a noncommittal noise and continued to scratch her pen against the notebook. Thor waited patiently, and sure enough, after several seconds she raised her head to look at him.

"What?"

"Come see, and tell me your thoughts." Thor lifted himself to standing from the bench, stretching himself to his full height with a slight grunt. Jane stood from her own workbench and approached him, looking down at his project with bright curiosity.

"What is it?"

"It is a blade for an atgeirr, a traditional Asgardian weapon. I am molding it for Natasha."

"You make weapons?"

Thor lifted Mjolnir. "It can be used to both create and destroy."

"You're making a weapon for Natasha?"

"Yes," Thor said with a smile. "I feel that a spear is suitable for her."

"Why didn't you ask Tony to do it?" Jane leaned closer to the blade. "He can make any weapon you want."

"This is tempered Asgardian metal. I am afraid his tools cannot mold our metals."

"This is from Asgard?" Now he saw real interest in her, and raised his hand to stem the flow of never-ending questions. She drew a column down the center of a new page in her notebook and began jotting notes in her small, messy handwriting. "What's the difference?"

"Midgardian metals are tempered differently." Thor had learned much many ages ago, when Tony first pelted him with questions. "They are not so strong as those found in Asgard."

"Right - he told me about that. He's trying to duplicate the style." She nearly picked up the piece, but Thor stopped her.

"You may cut your hand on the blade."

"How many weapons have you made now?" she asked. "Is this a new hobby?"

"Perhaps," he said. "I find myself wanting to forge more often, now that I have tasted the fires of creation."

Jane laughed. "That's a strange thing to hear, especially when I know you mean exactly what you said."

"I do not mean to say I am superior -"

"Not what I meant." She kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder, moving back to her notebook. "When's your next trip home?"

"Will you come with me?"

That got her attention faster than before. She raised both eyebrows, eyes and mouth wide. Thor continued once she set the pen down, her sign that she was completely focused on him.

"As ambassador on behalf of Midgard. Director Fury has approached me about establishing regular contact, and trade, between our realms. Banner and Tony have made the same requests."

"You want me to be a liaison?" Jane could hardly keep still. "That's a lot of responsibility."

"The ambassador in charge of relations between Midgard and Asgard will be privy to a great well of Asgardian technology, and receive immunity within the realm." Thor took her hands in the hopes of playing to her emotional attachment to him. "There is only one mortal whom I would trust with such information."

"Stop playing me," she scolded, and drew her hands away. "This is big, Thor - this is huge. We'd have to clear it with Fury -"

"I have already done so."

"Tony will want to come along at least once," she said. "He'll insist."

"Tony Stark is not my choice," Thor said. "He is not nearly so composed, and I do not trust his behavior in my mother's presence."

"Or anyone else's," Jane said. She sighed and leaned her elbow against the table, bracing her chin. "I'll need a few days to think this one over. This is a lot of...everything and I just need to think."

"It will also help in your pursuit of the machine you are working on."

Jane glanced at her notebook, chewing on her bottom lip. "That's true. Tony didn't set a deadline, but there's a lot of theory I don't have right now that Asgard might."

Thor could see that her thoughts were spinning in a direction which favored him, and reached for her. She settled easily into his lap, the position so habitual that she continued to pick at her fingernails while she considered her options.

"And," she continued, "you mentioned immunity. That could come in handy."

"Aye," he said, feeling distracted from the topic at hand. Jane flicked his nose and he laughed.

"Focus," she said, "this is serious!"

"Of course, Lady Jane."

She laughed and kissed him.

"That's better," she said.

Tony hated suits. He continuously adjusted his tie until he finally gave up and removed it, rolling it into a wad which he jammed into his coat pocket. He strolled across the parking lot of the Stark Industries Atlanta facility, the large logo a beacon for all to see his staked claim in the city. He wanted to move further south, closer to the research triangle, but the reason for this facility had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that she had no intention of leaving this city because someone else had decided for her.

Considering the one past similarity they shared, he had to respect that.

As he stepped through the doors, a receptionist waved from the front desk, a wide smile breaking across her features. She stood and he looked her over, not bothering with subtlety. When he was satisfied that she was exactly what he wanted greeting him every time he walked through these doors, he smiled at her and removed his sunglasses.

"How can I help you, Mr. Stark?" she asked. She wasn't trying for subtlety either; her eyelashes fluttered so much that he wondered if there was a breeze in the room.

"I'm looking for Lynn," he said. "She in today?"

"Miss Creed is in laboratory three, Mr. Stark." The disembodied voice made the receptionist jump; Tony smiled and winked at her.

"Thanks, JARV," he said, and started for the main doors.

"I'm afraid I can't let you enter without proper ID, Mr. Stark." The receptionist was still smiling. "It's against our security policy."

"I wrote that policy -"

"Actually, Miss Potts wrote the policy," JARVIS offered. Tony began approaching the desk, the same smile plastered on his face.

"- and I own this building. I own this property. I own every office supply you use every day, sitting at the desk I also own." Tony laid both hands on the receptionist's counter. His smile never wavered. "So let me inside."

"I'm afraid I can't."

The door to the left of the desk clicked, then swung open. Lynn Creed stood in a pair of tattered jeans and a loose-fitting, plain tank top. She was swarthy and small, her hair tied behind her head in a loose, ill-conceived ponytail. A worn pair of tan loafers covered her feet, though she wore no socks. When she took a step, he could see the tops of her feet and ankles.

"Tony?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Good grief, kid, you look like college." Tony felt overdressed in his suit as it was; Lynn shuffled from foot to foot self-consciously.

"I didn't expect you today," she said.

"Surprise. Don't tell me you wear those in the lab?" He pointed to her feet, so ill-protected that any spill could coat them instantly. "Don't they teach you anything in that cut-rate school?"

"He's fine, Janice - mark him as my guest," Lynn said to the receptionist. She dutifully marked several lines on a complicated-looking form attached to a clipboard, then offered the form with a pen to Tony.

"Sign here, please, Mr. Stark."

"The hell is this?" Tony lifted a hand, rejecting the offered clipboard. Lynn took it for him and set it on the counter, pointing to where he needed to sign his name.

"Consequences of being affiliated with the government. Here, sign this. She won't let you in otherwise."

"What's she gonna do?" Tony asked. "She one of Nick's?"

"She came recommended by Natasha," Lynn said. Tony relented and signed the form. Janice, still smiling sweetly - as she had been the entire time - offered him a bright red badge which proudly declared VISITOR across the front.

"Please wear this at all times inside the building, Mr. Stark," she said. Lynn swiped her own badge against the electronic sensor, then opened the door and waved him through. As soon as the door shut behind them, he shivered.

"Brr. Romanoff gave us that?"

"Only once she heard you were the one asking," Lynn said. Her loafers thwapped awkwardly against the linoleum tiles. She was rubbing her hands together, out of nerve or shame he couldn't tell. Her twitching only got worse when they reached the lab door. She swiped her badge and opened the door, stepping inside first. Loud music blared through the doorway before the lights flickered on.

"Welcome back, Miss Creed," JARVIS said from overhead.

"Thanks, JARVIS. Cut the music, OK?"

The A.I. did so immediately, leaving them in sudden silence. Tony was looking around the bench tops, which only one year ago had been pure black. Now they were partially grayed in areas, some spots showing clear signs of chemical spills that damaged the black tops. Most of the work stations looked used, with various plated samples stacked at precarious angles and bottles labeled as assorted types of media and chemical concoctions.

"You alone today?" he asked. Lynn was hovering a bit, close to the door, and gave in after a few seconds when she realized he wasn't leaving soon. She walked by him toward her station.

"It's a Sunday," she said as she leaned against her bench, where a bucket of ice sat housing six small plastic tubes. "Sometimes people stop in. Today it's just me and Janice. She works a half-day."

"It's three PM."

"She comes in at noon. Neither of us wants to wake up early."

"You make the receptionist come in on Sunday?"

"That's your fault," she said with a sharp look. "Your rules say no one is allowed to be alone here, ever."

"Pepper's rules," he corrected. "I'll talk to her."

"And I don't make her do anything. People stop in all day Saturday and sometimes Sunday, so Janice works the front desk those days."

"What are you working on?" Tony prodded at a PCR machine, which hummed dully in the otherwise quiet of the room.

"Same as always," she said. "My thesis."

"Yeah, well, your thesis is going to have to take a back seat," he said. He pulled one of the rolling lab chairs to himself and sat, clasping his hands. "I have a better project for you."

"I can't stop working on my project," Lynn said. "I want my degree."

"What do you need to work on this for? You already know how it happened."

"But now I need to prove it to everyone else."

Tony shook his head. "Look, origin of life studies is great and all, but this is really important."

"How important?" After she spoke, from overhead, JARVIS said, "It's time."

Lynn put on small rubber gloves, then removed the first tube and added water using a pipette. Tony watched and evaluated her progress in skills. She'd been clumsy her first few weeks, slow and imprecise. Now she could pipette and swap tips while holding an unrelated conversation. He grinned.

"Very. The CDC threw up their hands and asked me to fix it." She paused in her work and looked at him. He sighed. "Well, they asked Fury to fix it, who asked me. Indirect is still direct."

"Yeah, OK," she said while rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, it's up your alley and I want you to take a look."

Lynn reached for a petri dish full of agar and removed the top. "What is it?"

"It's a disease. Deadly. They're calling it the Ridley strain." Lynn stopped at that, turning to look at him. "Yeah, the one from the news. Thing is, it's alien. And I don't mean strange, I mean it looks like we've got a second invasion going on."

Lynn blinked. Tony fidgeted and finally stood, unable to sit still for long.

"You can't be serious. I don't even have my master's yet."

"You got a lab, kid." Tony spread his hands in a grandiose gesture at their stark white surroundings. "High quality, all the latest gadgets - you've arrived."

"Not on paper." Lynn depressed the plunger of her pipette to inoculate the agar and placed the plate onto an automated spinner, which began to operate seconds later. She pressed a flat glass spreader to the agar and let the circular spinning do the spreading for her. "My research is what will earn me the degree, not your gadgets."

"They do help, though."

"Yeah." She couldn't deny it, so she didn't bother. She pressed a button on the side of the spinner; the plate came to a stop, and she capped it before walking across the lab and opening the incubator door. She laid the plate on the shelf and closed the door, then pulled the second tube from the ice and repeated the entire process.

"What do you want, Tony?" she asked. She placed the second plate on the spinner, watching her actions instead of his constant prowling around the facility. "You know you can just tell me to do it. You're my sponsor."

"Maybe I think you deserve a choice."

Lynn laughed. "I guess there's that."

"Yeah - look, kid." He sounded serious, even downplayed. She turned to look him in the eyes, a move which set him back into nervous motion.

"It'll involve SHIELD a lot."

Lynn jolted and shook her head.

"Tony, I can't -"

"They already know about you. File and all."

"Do they know about -"

"Your visits from the fairy hogmonster? No, they don't."

"But they could find out," she said. She'd stopped plating, her fingers drumming against the countertop. "If they find out, we could all be in trouble."

"I can handle trouble."

"Tony -"

"People are dying, Lynn." She looked up from the bench to him, and the haunted, faded look of his eyes made her look away. "They're dying because someone dropped a load of rotting dead aliens on the city."

"It's not your fault," she said. Tony laughed.

"Survivor's guilt is a bitch. C'mon, kid. Fury trusts me, and I trust you."

"I need help," Lynn said, straightening and starting on the final tube. "I need a real PhD in here, someone who can help me think things through." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Know any doctors who might be willing to help?"

"I can wrangle up a few."

"Do it fast," Lynn said. "The news says this could go pandemic, fast - if SHIELD was called in…"

"JARVIS, get Pepper on the line. We need some research done, fast."

"Yes, sir." The A.I.'s voice was replaced with a ringing noise, which then became Pepper's upbeat tone.

"Tony?" she asked over the speakers.

"Hey, Pep. Got a favor to ask."

They discussed on the overhead speakers while Lynn continued with her samples. She set the last plate on the spinner as the conversation finished with a list of names already being tossed about.

"Sounds like we're on our way," Tony said with an accomplished smile.

"Then I guess I have no choice," Lynn said quietly. Tony made a slight, strangled noise which she ignored. She put the final plate inside of the incubator and pulled both rubber gloves off of her hands with a quiet snap.