Chapter 1

"The Tesseract has awakened," the Other told Thanos ominously. "It is on a little world, a human world." On his knees before his lord and master, he continued. "They would wield its power…but our ally knows it's workings like they never will." He thought back on the scepter he had bequeathed on the Asgardian, as a token of their alliance. "He is ready to lead; and our force, our Chitauri, will follow." Of a sudden, he sensed his master's dissatisfaction, his distrust of their exiled collaborator.

"He is already under our control! The Tesseract has claimed him." The Other sought to reassure him. Still, Thanos was not convinced.

We must seek another means to control him, should his alliance prove false.

The Other thought back on the legends of Asgard; of all the things he knew of Loki, adopted son of Odin. And then…something came to him.

"There is a way," he said slowly. "One Heimdall of Asgard gave a warning to him in his youth, a warning–nay, a divination– that a mortal shall become his queen." He chuckled lowly, a gravelly utterance that partially sounded like chains rattling. "How ironic: the one who deems himself so far above the humans, bound to one by Asgard's very own watchman."

How is this to our benefit? Thanos demanded, irritated with his minion's excitement.

"We shall threaten her," the Other explained softly, humbly. "She shall be found, and we shall tell him so; not revealing her identity to him–he has yet to discover his folly. We shall threaten to put the mortal in harm's way, should he deviate from the plan. And if he does remain true, yet fails in our conquest…we have our revenge."

There was a long silence. It is good, the villain decided. The Other let out a sigh of relief.

The Other imagined the magnificent forces, the Chitauri lined up in perfect battle formation. His wicked lips curled in satisfaction at the thought of the glory to come. "A world will be his. The universe, yours." His eyes glittered dangerously. "And the humans, what can they do…but burn?"

. . .

It was five thirty AM, in the small homey flat.

Five thirty AM, and the place was a mad house.

Jane Foster, scientist extraordinaire, was rushing about the flat in a desperate attempt to fix her hair while running the coffee machine and talking on the phone at the same time. Her assistant, Darcy Lewis, was calibrating various scientific instruments and chewing bubble gum-which was a little absurd, considering the time of morning.

"Yes, we'll be there by seven," Jane was reassuring someone, while trying out various pins in her hair. "Yeah, uh huh," she said quickly, covering the phone with one hand. "Darc, don't forget to pack the GPS this time. We can't afford to be late!"

"Fine, oh bossy one," Darcy said flatly, shoving the correct device into a black duffle bag.

Meanwhile, the front door creaked open, to reveal a tall, dark haired woman juggling keys and a heavy messenger bag. "Darcy, Jane, I'm home!" she called, brushing her brown hair from her green eyes, and looked up to see Darcy giving her a wave from the kitchen table. "Oh. Hi."

Immediately, Jane's head popped around the bathroom door frame. "Mia! Thank god you're back. Where'd you put the dry cleaning?"

"In the coat closet, you're room was locked again," Mia said, opening the closet door and removing a two piece suit set for Jane. "Must be important, wherever you're going."

"Consultation wif the Minifstry of Science," Jane said around her toothbrush.

"Ah." Mia hung her dark brown trench-coat on the coat-rack, unwinding her long black scarf from around her neck.

"Where were you?" Darcy asked inquisitively, the way your mother might when you'd stayed out too late. "'Long night'?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Please, Darcy. You know I don't do that kind of crap." She sighed, and ran a hand tiredly through her hair. "No, I had an interview with a mayoral candidate. I waited to be the last reporter in the room."

"Uh oh," said Darcy with a smirk. "Someone was in trouble."

"Yeah, well." Mia went to the coffee machine and poured herself a mug. "He's involved in more black market operations than I could count, I'm nearly positive he runs a money laundering ring, and more than half of his personal history doesn't check out. He had it coming." She took a swig of the drink. "Not that he knew it came. Probably thought I was flirting with him most of the time; but I got the information I needed. He won't be happy when my article comes out, though."

"That's the way of things, isn't it?" Darcy commented, shoving as many instruments into the bag at once as humanly possible. "Being a political anarchist. And let me guess: the article is due in, six hours?"

"Three," Mia corrected, reaching into the fridge for some chocolate hazelnut spread, and tossing two pieces of bread into the toaster. "But no biggie. I drafted the whole thing on the bus ride home."

"Sweet." Darcy finished packing the devices and necessary materials, and turned to holler at the closed bathroom door. "Miss Foster, you're wanted on stage in three minutes!"

"Fine, Darcy!" Jane sounded frustrated. Mia exchanged a look with Darcy. "I guess that's my cue," she said, going over to knock on the bathroom door herself.

Mia and Jane had been rooming together since their first year of college, respectively. While Jane had been a bit bookish and shy, Mia had been relatively popular, funny, and intelligent; but could suddenly become bitter and sarcastic at times. Nobody knew why or where these random bouts of anger came from–but then, nobody really knew who she was, or where she came from. She had met Jane one day in their university's library, while looking for a place to stay; they'd been friends ever since. And a strange pair of friends they made: Jane was kind, if not studious and sometimes absent minded; while Mia was sarcastic and a little antisocial: she could be exacting with strangers, but very sweet to those she trusted.

Over time, Jane had toned down Mia's skeptical nature, to a degree (literally); while Mia taught Jane how to be stand up for herself. They had learned a lot from each other and about each other, over the years. Jane had been the nerdy girl most of her childhood, ignored and with not much more than her books for company. Being exceptionally smart had gotten her into an Ivy League school on a science scholarship, but she had little money for much else–hence her taking in a roommate.

Mia didn't like to talk about her childhood, and gave very few details; what she did say was that she had been inquisitive, sometimes more than was good for her, and that she had always an attention to details that over the years became so strong that she was practically a human lie detector. This had led to her interest in politics; mainly for the sake of uncovering the truth behind a person usually full of lies and presenting the facts to the public. She never told why she had chosen that school, or how she was paying for it. Jane had decided not to ask, after seeing the dark look cloud her friend's face at the mention of family.

Now, so many years later, they were as close as they'd ever been; even more so after Jane's trip to New Mexico the year before. Something had happened down there, and Jane didn't like to talk about it, which Mia found strange. Jane usually loved to talk about her 'field trips', but not this one. Darcy had hinted that it had something to do with a guy, which was completely unlike Jane. Neither she nor Mia dated much; their work took up too much of their time, and Mia had a tendency to tick people off.

But over the past year, Jane had become rather uncharacteristically depressed, moping around the flat in pajamas and eating ice cream in between science gigs, for which Darcy teased her endlessly. Mia, for her part, stayed out of the matter; except to occasionally try and cheer her friend up.

"Jane?" Mia called through the door gently. "Want some help?"

A sigh came through the door. "You're probably worn out, Mia. Don't worry about it."

Instead of responding, Mia simply opened the door and went in. Jane stood in front of the mirror, close to tears from trying to pin up her hair.

"I gotcha," Mia said soothingly, taking the pins from Jane's sore fingers and letting the woman's hair fall back down her back before rearranging it properly. "Just give me a minute, and we'll have you in shape."

"I don't know how you can do it," Jane moaned, shaking her fingers ruefully. "It's impossible."

"Aw, pfff," Mia blew her off. "Is the super-scientist giving up so easily?"

Jane scowled at her in the mirror. Mia smirked back at her.

"Besides," Mia continued, "You have this great, silky smooth hair that's easy to manage. I'd like to see you try and contain these curls." She pointed at her own head of ringlets. "Now that's difficult. This is fun, in comparison. Like the difference between Play-doh and sculptor's clay." She set the last few pins in and stepped back. "There. All perfect."

Jane swiveled her head and admired the work, a look of relief all over her face. "You're a lifesaver, Mia," she said, turning and giving her friend a quick hug, then heading out of the bathroom. "Darcy, let's go!"

"So... you wouldn't happen to be making cake today, would you?" Darcy asked slyly, slinging the duffel over her shoulder.

Mia, who had gone back to her coffee, shrugged lightly, suppressing a grin. "Maybe. I'll be out most of the day, but if I have enough time before my conference call tonight, I'll toss one in the oven."

"Yuss," Darcy said, punching the air in triumph as she walked out the front door. "Any day, boss!" she called back to Jane. "You've got the car keys."

Jane rolled her eyes at her intern's antics. "Sometimes, I feel like she's running me," the scientist admitted.

"You and me both, then."Mia handed her a travel mug of coffee. "Good luck today."

"See you tonight. And make sure you get some sleep!" Jane called on her way out, pointing back at her friend accusingly. "Darcy can do without cake."

"Can you?" Mia called, once she was out in the hall. A loud groan came back through the door, and she laughed. "Hypocrite."

. . .

Two hours and forty five minutes later, Mia had just sent her article over to her editor at the New York Times for review. She leaned back in her office chair and sighed, clicking off the television on her wall. The news channel was broadcasting another wearying debate about President Winters. She knew more about that man than most, and didn't need to hear the usual speculations over again.

Stretching her arms above her head and looking out her window at the city beyond the glass, she changed her thought train from the one she least liked, and focused on the present. It still surprised her how she had actually been successful doing what she'd chosen to do with her life, instead of what others had expected her to do. Being friends with Jane had been rewarding in that regard as well: both she and the scientist had shared an understanding of the trials of being women in their respective fields, and had overcome some pretty serious obstacles to get where they were now.

After her brief reverie, Mia sat forward determinedly. She still needed to request the ledgers from the Bureau of Conveyances on the recent Delaney trial; she had a nagging suspicion that a Supreme Court judge was caught up in some corrupt dealings there. A judge that was directly involved in another investigation she had going on, concerning a lawyer and a–

On her desk, the household cordless phone rang. Private, the screen read. Well, that didn't help. Half the calls she received were from private or unknown numbers…but those usually came in on her personal phone. Intrigued, Mia answered the call.

"Paxton, Foster and Lewis residence," she said, inwardly chuckling at the thought of Darcy's comment that it sounded like they were a law firm every time one of them answered the phone.

Instead of a reply, a harsh crackling came through the phone. "Hello?" Mia called again, but there was no reply. The phone beeped, signaling that the call had dropped.

"Hmm." Mia set the phone down dismissively, turning back to her tablet console…only for her mobile to ring. It too read Private.

"Hello?" Mia answered the call through her earpiece. The same static met her ear.

"Darcy, if this is another of your pranks," Mia began, when the static suddenly dropped.

"Nargul in-nui argotharny," a strange, harsh voice said, and Mia immediately gravitated to the glock she stored in her right upper-hand desk drawer. That voice was definitely NOT Darcy.

"Who is this?" she demanded stridently; deciding against the glock as her wrist flicked on instinct. But as suddenly as it had begun, the line beeped, the mobile clearly displaying CALL LOST on its display.

Angrily, Mia tried to call the number back; it gave her a disconnected line message and terminated the call in a matter of seconds.

Then, she realized that her hand was tingling. She looked down, and saw herself holding a small sphere of golden energy sparks. She scowled and fisted her hand quickly, the sphere collapsing under the pressure and exploding in a small cloud around her hand. Now was so not the time for that.

"Well, that's charming," Mia grumbled, slouching back in her chair moodily and not a little frustrated. "I may not be a linguist, but that sounded like a threat on my life."

"Not that you don't get those all the time, cat eyes," said a familiar voice from her tablet's screen. Another old friend.

"Pepper!" Mia said eagerly, glad to see a recognizable face after such a nasty incident. She was actually one of the only people who had the privilege of the woman by that particular nickname. The journalist composed her face into a composed and friendly expression. "How goes the Stark-mania?"

"You know, if I hadn't just seen you looking extremely put out, I would believe you actually want to know," Virginia Potts said, eyeing Mia thoughtfully. "Tony has a point. You really are a good liar."

"I'm not a liar," Mia said defensively. "I go around calling out liars: that's my job. I, on the other hand, am merely persuasive. Tony just likes to get my goat because I called out a few kinky details of his social life at one point or another." She grinned at the memory.

"True enough. And he likes you well enough now…well, most of the time."

"When I don't call him cocky, or get into sarcastic smack-downs with him, yes."

Pepper laughed. "Hey, are you available for lunch later? I have an opening around two-thirty, and really need a second opinion on something."

Mia could tell there was more to what Pepper meant, but that she didn't want to say it on a (possibly) recorded or monitored transmission. She looked over to her thick leather bound planner and saw that her day was actually double (and in some places, triple) booked. Then she looked up at her friend.

"Sure, two-thirty works. Usual place?"

"Sounds good."

"Alright, see you there, cat eyes." Pepper winked before closing the call. 'Cat eyes' was a pet name she had come up with for Mia. It had something to do with how she kept a stealthy eye on the city, while being as cool as a cat', Pepper had said–though Mia suspected it had something to do with the coal eyeliner she wore regularly.

About seven hours later, after running more errands than she cared to count, Mia found herself sitting at a quiet upscale café, reading through a French menu and thinking about her day so far. A highly controversial paper ready for print (her editor had approved it around noon,) a threat on her life (which she still didn't understand,) and six different interviews and short meetings postponed (or skipped) in order to meet with her orange haired friend. All in all, not a bad start. She still had a few stops to make on her way home, and that conference call in the evening, but besides that, she was free.

This was good because though she was desperate not to show it, Mia was tired. She had been on this rigorous schedule for two weeks, though Jane and Darcy had been too busy to notice. Even when she was tucked away in her room, she wasn't sleeping. In fact, Mia had slept a grand total of eight hours of sleep in those two weeks, and the strain was beginning to get to her.

Pepper showed up promptly at two thirty, looking like she'd come straight from a press conference. She was beaming, and full of news: according to her, she had been handling most of the publicity for Mr. Stark while he worked on his latest project: some sort of self sustaining energy conduit called an 'Arc Reactor'.

"In fact, we're installing the prototype tonight," Pepper said proudly, sipping minty lemonade. "If it works properly, Stark Tower should be able to run its power completely off-grid for, oh, about a year."

"Impressive," Mia said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude; it's just been a busy week…well, couple of weeks, honestly."

"I'll bet; with this year's elections being as highly controversial as they are, you must be swamped."

"Yeah, well," Mia said, a little sheepishly. "A lot of that controversy is my doing." She yawned again. "I just hope they don't transfer me down to DC, come election season. I don't do DC; it messes with my head."

After a nice lunch, Pepper grew more serious, the talk turning from work to more serious matters.

"I'm worried about Tony," she confessed. "A few months back, he came across information regarding a program SHIELD came up with, called 'the Avengers Initiative'."

Mia stiffened. "I've heard of that," she muttered. "It had a level seven SHIELD security clearance, but one of my associates got her hands on the material as well. Something to do with planet-wide protection against hostile alien invasion."

"Exactly." Pepper sighed. "I don't even think he qualified for the program, but it seems to be bothering him."

"It was shut down," Mia said thoughtfully. "In favor of another, more complex program." She didn't give any more details; this was actually something that she was tracking down for herself, and she didn't want to give away her leads.

"Right..." Pepper gave her a suspicious, lingering look, but let the subject drop. "Anyway, last night we picked up a transmission from a SHIELD base. It was incomplete, but from the sound of things, the entire base was blown up by some sort of enormous force field. Tony was, of course, immediately interested; but for some reason, he didn't want to tell me anything about it this morning."

"I don't blame him," Mia said, sipping her own iced tea thoughtfully. "SHIELD is involved in a lot of things that are sometimes better left uncovered." For a time, she amended mentally.

"But you know Tony," Pepper insisted. "He's not one to not follow up on something like that; and I'm sure he did. Why isn't he telling me?"

Mia thought for a minute. She knew that Tony Stark was an arrogant git sometimes, but he was an extremely good guy, and didn't want those he cared about in harm's way…especially Pepper.

"I dunno," she finally concluded. "It probably was either something stupid, like someone put aluminum foil in some high powered cosmic microwave and blew the place sky high" –Pepper snickered at that mental image– "or it was important, but Stark doesn't want you to know too much."

Pepper took this news solemnly, then nodded and proceeded to order cheesecake for the both of them. "I just hate it when SHIELD gets involved," she said after the waitress had gone away with their order. "It's not that I don't like seeing Phil Coulson when he stops by from time to time, but..." Pepper sighed. "It's just that, whenever they're behind things, it gets complicated."

"Tell me about it," Mia said quietly. She'd worked with her share of SHIELD agents, sometimes not under the best of circumstances. "But they're not all bad. After all, any organization has its kinks. SHIELD just has…way more than necessary." Both women laughed at this.

"So what do you think I should do?" Pepper asked. "What would you do, in my shoes?"

Mia hesitated. "Let him have his secrets," she said. "If things get more complicated, let him have his space. You remember how things went with Afghanistan: he may need some time. And if SHIELD pulls him into something, he won't even have the time to explain things until after all the chaos is over."

"So, basically…" Pepper was confused.

"Enjoy the moment," Mia said firmly, watching her fingers swirling with golden sparks under the edge of the table. "But brace yourself for what's coming."