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"Ouch!"
Jane quickly set down the offending coffee mug that had just burned her tongue. Steam rose from the warm brown liquid, swirling into dissipation and seemingly taunting her. She huffed and ruffled her hair, still a rat's nest from bed. She hadn't been able to sleep a wink, and for some reason she had decided that coffee was the solution. And then she decided to take a sip of it as soon as it was done, not even bothering to wait for it to cool off. "Stupid," she muttered to herself. Stupid. Her mind had been in a bit of a daze, and she hadn't been thinking straight. Really, she hadn't been thinking straight for nearly two months. Not since Thor.
Thinking about him now, she frowned. He had said he'd come back. He had promised. So where was he? She liked to think that he was alive. At least, she hoped he was. She tried to reason that if he weren't alive, his brother probably would have sent the Destroyer or some soldiers or something to kill Darcy, Erik, and her. Well. Maybe. If they were important enough. But she was assuming that the crown prince's new sort of love interest would be important to a vindictive family member. So, holding on very hard to that belief, she assumed that Thor was alive, considering that she was still alive. Although, if he was alive, she was pretty sure she had the right to be upset at him. It had been two months. He had left her hanging, and now she wasn't sure what to think.
Of course, he could have been very busy. Princes did have things to do – royal duties and such. She was sure he was just swimming in responsibilities and council meetings and horseback rides with fair maidens. Right.
Or maybe she didn't mean all that much to him. Not enough to come back, anyway. They had only known each other for three days, which was hardly enough time to form a lasting bond. Maybe he didn't think that a budding romance was worth travelling all the way back to Earth for. She couldn't say she blamed him, if that were the case. She knew that she didn't love him; but was it that wrong to care about him? She didn't think so. She just wanted to see him again and make sure everything was alright. If something happened between them from there, then great. If not – well, at least she could say that he had been the friendliest and most attractive man she had ever been fortunate enough to kiss.
What was keeping her awake and jostling around in her mind more than Thor were all of the new possibilities. Travel across immense areas of space in just seconds had been proven to be possible; intelligent life outside of Earth had been proven to exist; magic itself (or, as she liked to think of it, science she just didn't understand yet) had been proven to exist. She just wanted to get her hands on some of it, any of it, anything at all, and start digging. She wanted to learn about it and ask questions and poke and prod until she understood it. She wanted nothing more than to do something with what she had just learned – the World Tree, the Bifrost, Norse gods.
However, to even think about learning anymore, she needed Thor. She needed to hear what he knew. So, here she was, bleary-eyed, with knotted hair and a smarting tongue, standing in her kitchen at one in the morning, staring blankly at a wall and hoping for a miracle to drop in so that she could continue to research what she absolutely could not work with or learn about on her own.
Shaking herself a bit, she shuffled over to the couch beside the huge windows that lined her entire workspace. She had left her trailer when she determined that sleep was not in her near future that night. She didn't even know why she even tried to sleep in there anymore; she almost always ended up curled up in a ball on the couch she was sitting on now, surrounded by piles of notes and cold mugs of coffee. She practically lived in her lab space. She had toyed with the idea of just selling the trailer and moving into the lab for good, but it was too depressing. It would probably be taken as a sign that she was giving up on life and just committing herself to an arduous life of constant drudgery – at least, that's how Darcy would put it. Darcy was very adamant that Jane try to not work too much, although Jane rarely listened. The work was pretty much all she cared about, despite the fact that she was currently at a dead end without a space-travelling alien teacher to guide her.
Oh well. She doubted Thor's knowledge on space and magic would have been enough for her anyway. She got the feeling that, as sweet and caring and sunny as he may be, he wasn't really one for books and learning. Maybe he could just take her to Asgard to study there when he got back.
If he got back.
With a sigh, she flopped onto her back and stared out the window moodily. It was completely black outside, with barely a shimmer of stars to keep her company. She wished that she could go onto the roof, but it had gotten too cold for that.
Wait.
What was that?
She scooted off the couch and padded closer to the window, peering out. There was a flash of light bolting down the sky, but it looked different from a shooting star. It was…bluer. And it was moving too slowly. She looked over to the main counter where most of her instruments (yes, SHIELD actually returned them, finally) were beeping softly. They weren't going crazy like they had during the Bifrost storms, but they were reacting to whatever was falling. That was good enough for her.
She was out the door the next minute, shoes and coat on, hair still wild. She rushed to the van and quickly hopped in, starting it and heading toward the falling light. She didn't bother waking Darcy or Erik – if this was what she hoped it was, then she'd rather they weren't around. If it wasn't – well. She had a very large van that had injured the god of thunder himself several times. She was pretty sure she could handle it.
She drove for a while. Soon, she couldn't see the light anymore, and assumed it had landed. Well, hopefully landed. If it was Thor, he would have been able to land. If it wasn't Thor, then it had probably crashed, which was fine by her. She was pretty sure that she was too tired to deal with a not-Thor, even if it turned out to be inanimate.
The site wasn't that difficult to find. It had definitely crashed (Dammit, she thought), and the dust cloud it had created was still lingering when she drove by it. She pulled off the road and into the dry sand and dust, parking next to the semi-crater that the thing had made. After seeing that, she was pretty sure that she had driven all the way out just to see a rock. How incredibly disappointing.
Jane climbed out of her van, coughing from the dust and waving her hand to dispel it. She stumbled over a few loose stones walking over to the small crater. If this was something that was going to bring in more SHIELD agents, she was moving to a new state.
Oh god. It was.
Jane gasped and turned away, her stomach rolling. Down in the newly made shallow hole, there was not a rock as she had been expecting, but a man.
Barely.
She hadn't seen him for very long, but what she had seen made her want to vomit. He was almost completely naked, with strips of cloth hanging onto his limbs. His skin was slashed, sliced, cut, torn, ripped – oh, everywhere. All over, his body was covered in cuts, some as small as paper cuts, some the length of her arm, and most bleeding. And at his stomach…Well, the flesh wasn't there. It was just…open. She really, really didn't want to look inside the hollow area of where that crucial part of his torso had been ripped off. The thought made her gag into the sand. Tears formed in her eyes and one escaped, rolling down her face.
She was halfway through dialing SHIELD's number to tell them to come dispatch the horrific (probably alien) corpse now – because she wasn't sure that she could handle moving it and they would probably be thrilled to get their hands on it anyway – when she heard the body shift. It was only slightly, but it was a quiet night, and nothing else was making a sound, so she definitely heard it. Then she heard a soft cry – more of a sob – and a gasp from the crater, before everything was silent again.
So.
Not dead then.
She peered over the edge of the hole to look down at him again. She tried not to look too closely at much of anything else except – yes, his chest was rising slightly. Barely, but it was.
It was his small cry that broke her. She snapped her phone shut, because she really could not willingly hand over a live man to a secret government organization without his consent first, bit her lip, and slipped down into the crater.
Up close he looked even worse. The ends of his fingers were bloody, and several of them were missing their nails. The tips of his ears and nose were frozen and frosted over with ice, as were his eyebrows and eyelashes. There was a frozen trail down his cheek – maybe tears. She had no clue how they could have turned to ice, but they had. The gashes that covered every inch of him looked terrible from so close up – she could see where the skin had ripped and smell the metallic blood. There were also a few burns that lay in patches on his body that she assumed came from the fall - gruesome shining scabs that were blistering, with one or two that were even still giving off smoke. And then – oh – there was the missing skin from his stomach. It looked like it had all just been ripped off, even the muscles, by something with claws, because it was not a clean cut. There were shredded ribbons of his skin hanging down inside of him. Inside of him. She could see his intestines…and a glimpse of his ribcage…and the smell was just –
Jane had to turn away and take a few deep breaths before she could face him again.
Somehow this man's heart was still beating. Somehow he was still breathing. She at least owed it to his persistence to try and help him.
Ducking her head and scrunching her shoulders, she slowly shuffled over to the still body. She stood there for a moment, contemplating how to actually move him and just what on earth she was actually going to do with him, when his eyes slowly blinked open. She didn't notice until she heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Oh! Um…" she said, kneeling by his head. "I-it's going to be okay," she continued in a quiet voice, trying to keep it as steady as she could. As much as his condition made her stomach churn, it tugged at her sympathy even more. He looked terrified. His eyes darted everywhere, never landing on anywhere or seeming to see her, and his breaths started to come in short gasps.
"Shhh. Shhhh," she whispered, trying to soothe him. Chewing on her lip, she tentatively reached a shaking hand down to his head. She stroked his hair once. He didn't seem to notice and didn't move or react at all, even though a chunk of his hair came out of his head and into her hand. She shuddered and dropped it immediately.
She scooted over and hung her head over his, forcing him to look at her. He seemed to see right through her. "Hey, can you speak? Can you tell me your name, or where you're from…?" She trailed off, unsure of what to do next. She just ended up sitting beside him for a few minutes, not saying a word, just listening as his heart frantically tried to keep him alive and tearing up at just how awful it all was.
Why do you always get yourself into the worst situations? She chastised herself. Just call SHIELD. They might know what to do, and you definitely don't. And he needs help! If you don't find him help, he will probably die, and –
Her internal monologue was interrupted with a soft, "W – wh – ?"
Her eyes snapped to his face. He was looking at her now, blinking rapidly. She couldn't believe that he had the energy to even keep his eyes open, let alone to blink. He let out another sound that sounded to be little more than air escaping from his mouth. "Whe – ?"
"What?" she asked him. He didn't answer (she didn't think he could). "What? Where?" she guessed. ""Where are you?"
Hid head barely twitched. She took that as a nod.
"It's ok," she soothed. "Shhhhh. Everything is going to be okay. You're on Earth – you know, Midgard?"
He let out a quiet groan and shut his eyes again. She decided that the groan was for the pain rather than for where he had landed – she hoped. "Hey," she said firmly. "No. Open your eyes. C'mon. You gotta keep your eyes open."
He slowly lifted one lid. If his face had been slightly less covered in blood, she was pretty sure that she would've been able to see that he was glaring at her. Great. She had an unfriendly zombie on her hands.
"Alright, none of that," she said. "Come on. We have to get you up. You need a hospital – I mean, a healing room. Or whatever." And somehow we have to keep you internal organs from falling out of your body as we get you to my car. And then we have to explain to the doctors what happened and why probably none of you resembles something human.
She should have called SHIELD. They were jerks, but they would have been able to help. Maybe she still could call them. She reached into her pocket and brought out her phone.
She hadn't even pressed the first two numbers when a skeletal, bloody hand reached up and grabbed her wrist. She had to bring her other hand up to muffle her scream.
The man had both of his eyes open now, and he was definitely glaring at her. He shook his head, and his movements were much stronger now. His grip on her wrist was strong as well – it was getting tighter the longer he held on.
"No," he whispered. "No – one – else." His speaking sounded labored, but it was definitely improved from one minute ago. She tried not to let that weird her out.
"You need help," she told him. "And I can't give you any. I don't know anything about medicine."
He mumbled something indiscernible. She leaned closer. "Sorry, what?"
"Will – heal," he breathed. "Will – heal – on – own."
Jane frowned. That wasn't believable at all. She could see his organs.
…But how would anyone else be able to help him? She didn't know if doctors could. By all rights, he should've already been dead. She was almost positive that a doctor wouldn't know what to do to fix him. SHIELD probably couldn't either – they'd most likely just poke at him until he was dead.
Maybe injuries on other planets were different. Maybe this wasn't that abnormal. Thor had died before he had come back and completely obliterated the Destroyer. That meant that maybe this wasn't so bad. Or maybe it just meant that he really would just heal by himself. From what she remembered of Thor, he had been a fast healer – the marks her van had left on him had been gone within an hour. She wasn't sure if this man was the same species as Thor, but if he was, then he might be able to fix himself over time.
With no other options and her mind made up, she nodded. "Right," she said. "Okay. Let's get you up then."
He squinted at her and dropped her wrist. "I – said – "
"I know what you said," she replied. "And I'm going to respect your wishes. If you think that you can heal this better than a doctor, then I'll believe you. But you can't stay here. It's not safe – there are animals out here that could hurt you while you're weak, and the dirt could get in your wounds and give you an infection. You're coming home with me."
She was pretty sure he sighed. She propped an arm under his back, slowly pushing him to sit up and trying not to gag as his blood ran down the sleeve of her coat. Luckily, once he was in a sitting position, he put his arms over the stomach area. She didn't know what he was doing, but nothing vital was falling out, so she shrugged and just decided to roll with it. It's not like her life could get any weirder anyway.
Looking back, she wasn't exactly sure how he got him to the van. She eventually got him to stand, but she had to support nearly all of his weight, making her sweat and wish that she went to the gym more. There was a lot of stumbling and falling and crawling involved. By the time she managed to pull him out of his shallow crater, her legs and arms were shaking violently and she had to sit for a moment before carrying (dragging) him to the van. She might have hit his head on something as she helped him lower onto the floor of the vehicle. She was almost certain that he didn't want to come with her, but fighting her probably would have taken more energy than allowing her to take him with her. Besides, his strength had improved more in the past twenty minutes than she had ever thought possible, so maybe he'd be able to leave her in a few days.
The ride back was a bit of a blur too. She didn't speak, and the only sounds he made were to let out a hiss of pain as he was jostled in the back. Somehow she was able to get him inside her lab, although it took a good ten or fifteen minutes. He was unbelievably heavy for someone so thin and with only half his flesh.
She left him on the kitchen floor and scooted her old cold coffee away to make room for anything she might need. She grabbed her first aid kit, some paper towels, rags, ice, and lots of water. He'd said he's heal it himself, she knew, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to help him along.
She tried to dab at his wounds, but there were too many, and he hissed at her every time she tried to touch them. Finally she just threw all of her gathered supplies his way with a grunted, "Have at it then," and scooted away from him to lean against her cabinets. She had already gotten him out of the elements, and he was being incredibly rude towards any of her attempts to help, so she left him to it so that he could do it his own way. Besides, she was too tired and way too grumpy to deal with poor-mannered zombie aliens.
Thus, she ended up just sitting on her cold kitchen floor, watching a breathing corpse try to wipe himself clean of blood and slowly cover himself in all the bandages she could find, plus some rags when the bandages ran out. He never spoke, and neither did she. She was able to look at him more easily once his torso was wrapped, but he still looked like hell, and was beginning to resemble a mummy more than a zombie.
She didn't know how long she sat there, watching her strange and creepy guest. She probably should have been scared for her safety or something, but it never crossed her mind. He could still barely move – just wiping and wrapping his arm took him nearly an hour. His slow, pained movements were sort of hard to watch, and she ended up feeling more pity than fear. She wondered what on earth could have done such a thing to him, and waffled between being desperate to know and thinking that some things didn't have to be known.
She decided to forgive him for his rudeness for the night. If she had taken even a quarter of his injuries, she would have been even worse, she was sure.
Eventually her eyes began to droop as her lids grew more and more heavy. Her new space mummy-zombie glanced at her occasionally, but still didn't speak. It grew quieter and quieter, and the blackness of the night still didn't let up. The silence of the quiet lab and the desert night finally enveloped her, and she drifted off to sleep beside the nearly-corpse on her blood-stained kitchen floor.
