Part 3: Midgard
Wer hälfe mir?
Gehorchen muss ich
dem leiblichen Bruder,
der mich in Bande gelegt.
-Mime
Al didn't sleep for the entire night after he got home from teaching those three dyke bitches a lesson. He just stayed up and looked at it.
It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It was gold - he thought - but it wasn't the bright, brash yellow gold that he remembered from his mother's sparse jewelry box. It was a muted color, and if the light caught it just right, it seemed to give off an iridescent sheen. It was thick, and when he finally brought himself to take it out of the box and hold it in his palm, it had a satisfying weight. Still, he didn't put it on. He couldn't. It was too perfect.
He looked at it, and he looked at it, and he looked at it, until his mouth began to feel dry. He ignored the feeling for as long as he could, but eventually admitted to himself that he needed a glass of water. Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, he picked it up, put it in one palm, closed his fist around it, and stuffed the fist into his trouser pocket.
He hated not looking at it. He never wanted to not look at it. But having it in his hand was the next best thing.
Al's roommate Mike was cracking a beer when Al got into the kitchen. "Little early for that, bro," said Al.
Mike snorted. "Whatever," he said, and jerked his head to the stove clock. The clock read 12:02.
It was noon. It was noon? Al stared at the clock, fiddling with the ring in his pocket. He had stayed up all night and all morning just looking at that thing, and now it was noon.
"Fuck," Al said.
"Fuck is right," said Mike, swigging at his beer. "You jerk off all morning and your dick's gonna fall off."
"Shut up, fag," said Al. He opened the fridge and got a beer for himself.
"Hey, those are mine," said Mike.
"I'll buy you a case," Al muttered into the can. All he'd wanted to do was get laid, for fuck's sake. That's all. And that redhead tease bitch - he bet that carpet didn't match the drapes - and her ugly, fat friends had fucked his night. They owed him.
god what if they called the police what if
He pulled the ring from his pocket. Not looking at it made him itch behind the eyes, but when it was there, in front of him, the world seemed to snap back into focus.
Fuck that. They don't know your last name or where you live. You made Big Red and Fatty open all the doors - there's no fingerprints. They got nothing. And you got me.
"Yeah," said Al. "Yeah."
"What the shit are you saying?" asked Mike.
Al had forgotten Mike was in the room, and he jumped a little. "Nothing," he muttered, wishing Mike would go away and leave them (no, him, what did he mean them?) alone.
"What have you got?" Mike was not going away. "Lemme see it."
Mike snatched at the ring in Al's hand, but Al jerked it back just in time.
"Fuck, dude," Al said, "that's mine."
"Lemme just see it," said Mike, making another snatch at the ring.
"Don't be such a fucknugget," said Al.
"I just wanna see," said Mike, whining a little. God, he could be annoying. Al had to find a job and his own place soon or else he was going to go out of his goddamn mind.
Mike made another snatch at the ring, and without thinking, Al jammed it onto his finger, just to keep Mike off the damn thing. He swatted Mike's hand away, but when he did, there was a crack.
"Ow, fuck," yelled Mike. "What the fuck, dude?"
"What?" said Al. "Stop being such a goddamn baby."
Mike held his hand up in front of his face. "I think you broke my finger!"
Mike's index finger did look kind of red, but there was no way Al could have broken it. He'd barely connected with Mike's hand. "You are such a little pussy," Al said, and walked into the living room with his beer.
Mike followed. "Come on man, it kills."
Al wasn't listening. He was looking at the ring on his right hand. It fit perfectly, the metal cool and smooth against his finger. It looked good, like total pussy magnet good. Like Tony fucking Stark good.
Redheaded cumdumpster did you a favor after all.
"Oh yeah," Al replied. "She sure did."
"What are you talking about?" whined Mike. "Seriously bro, I think I need to go to the emergency room or something."
"Will you shut the fuck up?" said Al. It made his eyes itch when Mike interrupted his train of thought. It kind of hurt.
"You are such a dick," said Mike, so Al punched him in the face.
Mike flew backwards, smashing through the drywall that separated Mike's room from the living room, and crashing into the exposed brick that formed the outer wall of the bedroom. The bricks held, but seemed to crumple and crunch around Mike's prone form. Mike moaned, tears running down his face and snot dripping from his nose.
Al stared at his roommate, and then looked at his fist. His hand, which should have hurt, didn't even sting. The ring gleamed up at him, and he turned his hand one way, then the other, admiring it. What had he been thinking, not putting it on before? It didn't just look good on him. It looked perfect.
Mike's sobs seemed to float up to him, like something under deep water that didn't matter much anyway. It was several minutes, or maybe an hour before he realized that Mike was moaning "Aa-alll... Aaa-aa-allll..." over and over again.
Al tore his eyes from his hand and looked at Mike. Mike had maybe tried to crawl away from the imprint he'd made in the brick wall, but had given up halfway across the room. He was still crying while he moaned.
Al stepped through the hole Mike's body had made in the drywall. It was vaguely Mike-shaped - like a motherfucking Bugs Bunny, Al thought. He walked toward Mike, but then stopped, catching his own reflection in Mike's bedroom mirror.
His hair was thicker. He had no idea how it could be, but it was. He stepped closer, nearly putting his forehead against the glass, riffling his fingers through his combover - but now he didn't need a combover. He mussed it, turning his head to see it at another angle. His hairline had grown in, at least half an inch down his forehead.
"Aa-aall - ple-e-ease," moaned Mike from the floor. Al didn't hear him. His neck was thicker. He made a fist and then flexed a bicep in the mirror. It was bigger. He looked like - well, he looked like the Hulk, if the Hulk were person-colored instead of green and-
And if the Hulk looked like a pussy magnet, like Tony motherfucking Stark, right Al?
"Yeah," said Al. "Yeah. Right."
This, he decided, was going to be good.
"She is... brushing her teeth," Heimdall said to Thor.
"Are we going yet?" asked Loki.
"For the last time, we are going to allow her to have her privacy," Thor said.
"As private as you can get with Heimdall peeking," muttered Loki. "Did you watch her bathing, Heimdall?"
Heimdall and Thor both ignored Loki, as they had done for over an hour. Heimdall had found Jane after some searching, asleep in a bed that was in a room at the top of a large building in New York. Thor had made them wait as Heimdall watched her wake, make herself a pot of the hot brown Midgardian drink that Thor liked, and dress for her day. If Heimdall had seen her bathing, he had tactfully not mentioned it.
Thor knew that despite his stoic exterior, Heimdall was deeply disturbed about another set of jotnar making their way into Asgard without his discovering them immediately. When the frost giants had previously infiltrated the realm, Loki had been directly responsible for veiling them from Heimdall's eyes. Thor was not certain how these rock giants had accomplished this same veiling, but once he had Mjölnir back in his hands, he intended to find out. But before that could happen, both he and Heimdall had to focus on what was at hand.
"Does it seem as though Jane will be leaving her home?" Thor asked Heimdall. He wanted to meet with Jane on the street - he was not about to take Loki into Jane's home uninvited.
"I believe so," Heimdall replied. "She is putting on a jacket and a scarf."
Thor relaxed. Not too much longer, then.
"And there appears to be..." Heimdall trailed off, contemplative. "Ah - she is speaking to Ms. Lewis on the building's communications system."
Darcy too - well, that could not be helped, Thor supposed.
"All right," he said, hefting the Tesseract in its glass container. "Heimdall, tell us when she is about to pass a place where we can arrive undetected."
"How much longer?" complained Loki. Thor and Heimdall ignored him.
"She is exiting the building now," Heimdall said, "and speaking to Ms. Lewis, who was waiting for her outside. They are walking now together... and - no, that street is still too crowded."
Thor's hand tensed on the handle of the Tesseract's box.
"She is coming upon an alleyway that is deserted - five blocks away," Heimdall said.
"All right," Thor said to Loki. "Ready?"
"For several hours now," Loki said, but he took the other handle of the Tesseract box without further complaint.
Thor closed his eyes, feeling Heimdall's spell move around him, anchoring him to the place in Midgard where they would arrive. When he felt the spell solidify, he twisted the Tesseract case's handle, and he and Loki went.
It was a different experience than travelling by bifrost. The bifrost was a bit like a road - one could feel oneself traveling along the path it opened between the point of origin and the destination. Travel by Tesseract seemed to rip one apart before assembling one back together, and the experience rattled Thor. He had to take a moment to catch his breath - but he was not so jarred that he did not remember to yank the Tesseract out of Loki's hands as soon as they reached Midgardian soil.
Loki gave him a look, and held his hands up in a decidedly innocent pose. He had already transfigured his Asgardian garb to a black Midgardian suit, topcoat and tie, the only ornamentation a black and white check scarf which he had wrapped around his neck, a nod to the different, cooler season on Midgard.
"Hold still," Loki said, and cast the spell on Thor. Thor found himself in another suit and topcoat - gray instead of black, with a blue tie. The Tesseract case in his hand now appeared to be a slim and opaque leather case.
Thor tugged at the tie. "I do not like this," he said.
"How unfortunate for you," Loki replied.
"When I was in Midgard with Jane, she gave me a pair of blue trousers that were very comfortable-"
"You are a prince of Asgard, and I will not dress you as a laborer," snapped Loki. "Now go, if you don't want to miss them."
We may need to have another chat about who is in command, considered Thor, but he didn't have time to get into an argument with his brother now. Peering around the corner, he saw Jane and Darcy in the distance, crossing a street and heading toward the block on which he stood.
"All right," Thor said. "Stay exactly where you are, and do not move until I return. Is that clear?"
Loki raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes at the wall opposite. Thor took that as a yes. He took a deep breath, held it, stepped out of the alley into the sidewalk, and began to walk.
Jane and Darcy were chatting, only vaguely aware of what was in front of them. Jane saw him first, and stopped, her already huge eyes going wider as she recognized him.
"And so he was like 'I just don't know if I can be with someone who discounts the influence of David Foster Wallace on twenty-first century literature,' and I was like whatever because clearly he was the one dismissing the impact of The Crying of Lot 49 on The Broom of the System and it was just such a boner-killer," Darcy was saying, before she realized that Jane was no longer next to her. She looked back, startled. "What?" she said.
Jane was not looking at Darcy. "Hi," she breathed, barely louder than a whisper.
Thor felt as though his tongue had attached itself to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't say a word, or even let out his breath.
"Oh my God!" yelled Darcy. She ran to Thor, jumping to throw her arms around his neck. This at least had the effect of forcing the breath out of Thor. "This is so crazy!" squealed Darcy in his ear. She let go of him, and looked back at Jane. "Well?" she said, gesturing to Thor. "Like, make out or something."
"I got your letter," said Jane, who didn't move.
"Oh," said Thor. "That is good."
"And the flowers. They were beautiful."
"Pepper said you did not want a haunch of goat," Thor said.
"Oh. Yeah, no, I wouldn't have had any way to cook it."
"Ah," said Thor. "I am glad you liked the flowers, then."
"They were beautiful."
"Yes, you said so."
"Oh - yeah I did - uh-" said Jane.
Darcy looked from Thor to Jane, then back to Thor. "Seriously?" she said.
Jane walked toward Thor, slowly and carefully, as though she were crossing a narrow bridge that spanned a chasm. When she was in front of him, she reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm, as if to reassure herself that he really was there.
"I like your suit," she said.
Thor decided that he, too, liked the suit. He took Jane's hand and kissed it, hoping that he would think of something dashing and romantic to say before he finished. He did not.
"I knew you'd come back," Jane whispered - and that was it, he knew, that was the moment to take her in his arms and kiss her in a way that expressed all that he could not say. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not having come for her, but for Asgard. It would have been a lie.
"Jane," he said, "I need your help." And he watched as she tried not to let her face fall. His heart sank with her expression, and he cursed himself for not coming sooner.
"What is it?" she asked.
A couple pushed past them on the sidewalk. "Perhaps there is somewhere we could sit and talk?" Thor said.
"Oh - yeah," Jane said. Thor gave her his arm, and to his relief, she took it. They began to walk slowly toward the alley where Loki was waiting. Thor felt the nervous knot in his stomach tighten with every step they took.
"I wanted to thank you for telling Pepper about me, actually," said Jane. "She's an amazing businesswoman - she completely changed my life."
"Are you working with her now?" asked Thor. That would explain the move from New Mexico to New York.
"Yeah, her and Tony," she said with a slightly embarrassed grin. "And I'm teaching a course at Columbia this semester."
Thor had no idea what this meant, but Jane looked so pleased about it that he only said "that is wonderful."
"I'm her TA!" piped up Darcy, who had been following them and evidently listening in.
Jane's smile widened - it made her look more like herself again. "She switched majors."
"Astrophysics is so my jam," said Darcy, with a smug smile.
"I told her she could TA for me as long as she kept a 3.3 GPA," Jane said. "She... has a 4.0."
"See?" said Darcy. They had almost reached the alley by then, and Thor came to a stop, still not quite ready for what had to be done.
"I keep telling her that hot guys don't fall out of the sky all the time, but-" Jane started, grinning.
"Whatever, you don't know," retorted Darcy. "You're supposed to have a brother, right?" she said, eyeing Thor suggestively.
Jane whirled around to Darcy. "Uh, yeah, the xenocidal psychopath who destroyed half of Manhattan?" she said. "That would be like dating Osama bin Laden."
Thor wasn't sure what an Osama bin Laden was, but from Jane's tone, it wasn't anything good.
"He has a beard?" asked Darcy, making a face. "Ew."
Jane sighed, turning back to Thor. "A 4.0. At Columbia. Seriously, I have no idea."
"So how's Fandral?" asked Darcy, unperturbed.
"Jane," said Thor, the knot in his stomach twisting in an extremely uncomfortable way, "I need to tell you-"
"No - no, it's okay," Jane said quickly. "I'm glad you're here now. It's been so long, I just-"
"No, Jane, you must understand that - that-"
"Well? Are you going to introduce us?" came a voice from the alley. Thor did not have to turn around - the reaction of confusion, then recognition, then horror on Jane's face told him that Loki had just stepped into view.
"You're him," she said, staring over Thor's shoulder.
"Jane, I promise you-" Thor started, but before he could finish, Darcy shoved past them to squint up at Loki. She examined him for a moment.
"I was to understand that you had a beard," she said accusingly.
Loki looked at Darcy, then at Thor. "What is that?" he said, pointing at Darcy.
Thor sighed, and rubbed his forehead with one hand.
Three hundred and sixty-seven.
The number ran through Jane's head as she walked with her arm in Thor's. Three hundred and sixty-seven. That was how many people died in New York that day.
And he killed them.
After Loki's odd encounter with Darcy, Thor had not introduced him to Jane. Instead, he had snapped at his brother to walk exactly ten steps in front of them, and to not say another word. Loki had given the three of them a frosty look, and then done exactly as he was told. So there he was, walking with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his topcoat, looking up at the buildings around them with mild interest, staying ahead of them as though he were on an invisible leash.
Three hundred and sixty-seven.
The questions crowded Jane's mind - the "how could you bring him here"s and the "what were you thinking"s. But a look at Thor's troubled expression told her that even if she vocalized her questions, she wouldn't be saying anything that he hadn't already thought of himself. So instead, she took his arm and started leading the group to the small cafe where she had been planning on taking Darcy to brunch. The cafe didn't serve particularly good food, but it tended to be almost deserted on Friday mornings, when Jane had her day off from teaching. She liked the fact that she had found a quiet oasis in the middle of the city to grade papers and create lesson plans over coffee and french toast. It would be as good a place as any to find out just what was going on.
Walking with her arm on Thor's was a surreal enough experience, she thought, as they continued up the sidewalk. It had been a year - no, more than a year, almost a year and a half - since she had last seen him in person. And it had been seven months since - well, since the incident. The attack.
Three hundred and sixty-seven.
When she got the call about the job in Tromsø Jane had been utterly thrilled. Her work theorizing on the Einstein-Rosen bridge was finally gaining her a measure of fame - academically speaking, at least - despite her agreement with S.H.I.E.L.D. that she would not publish about her encounters with Asgardians. She had felt a bit guilty about this at first, but admitted that the rest of the world was likely not ready for the news that otherworldly beings might come and go - and possibly wreak destruction upon - the earth as they pleased. And S.H.I.E.L.D. had helped her get funding, equipment, resources. Her career was taking off, she had always wanted to travel, and a stint working at the observatory in Tromsø would give her some international renown. She had been naive, she realized now, to think that was all it was.
So she had packed her bags and hugged Darcy goodbye, racing to meet the tight deadline for her flight. The only person she didn't manage to get in touch with before leaving was Erik. Agent Coulson had only said that he was "unavailable," and had refused to provide any further explanation. She'd been angry about that, and had been sharp with him on the telephone. She regretted it now. She had never spoken to Agent Coulson again.
The news came a short time after she'd gotten to Norway. She had been tired the day before, had gone to bed early, and woke to the Norwegian press reporting an extraterrestrial attack on New York City. She had sat glued to her computer with her fellow colleagues, blowing off the work day and watching English-language news streams that were reporting information. It was on one of the streams that she saw it - the photo of downtown Manhattan, one of the huge fish-snake-turtle things flying through the air, and the blurred form a man flying toward it.
But even though the photo was blurry, she could still see it. The flash of blond hair, the silver of his armor gleaming in the sun, and in his hand, the hammer.
She had scrambled, then, commandeering her laptop to the protests of her colleagues, trying to find a flight - any flight - to New York. There were, of course, none. A no-fly zone had been instituted around the city - Fox News aired a rather nasty comment about exceptions being made for Stark Industry private planes, and had to recant once it was confirmed that Tony Stark had been one of the tiny group of men and women who had fought off the invasion. But no commercial planes could get through. Jane booked a flight to Washington D.C. with the idea that she'd drive up, but that was when S.H.I.E.L.D. clamped its collective fist down, cancelling her ticket and revealing that they had been the ones to send her to Norway in the first place. But the agents in Tromsø did not tell her why she had been sent, or why she was not permitted to return.
In the meantime, there was almost no information about Thor in the news. The media had begun to profile the heroic group that had fought the alien invasion at incredible odds, with Tony Stark carrying most of the press appearances. He was the most visible - the spangled Captain America was also prominent, though he never appeared out of his uniform. The green beast which was apparently called a Hulk received a lot of recognition, but he never made any public appearances, and no one seemed to know who he was. There were two more, a man and a woman, but aside from a few photographs, they were not identified by name, and were the subjects of wild speculation on the part of the public. Coverage of Thor was practically nonexistent - there were only a few blurred photos of him flying, and the name "Thor," to give evidence that he'd been there at all. Jane suspected that S.H.I.E.L.D. was suppressing the information again - under the reasoning that one alien invasion was enough, but two might be overkill for the general populace.
Jane fought for days to get back to the United States, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents refused to allow her to even leave Tromsø. She argued, she threatened, she cajoled, and - she was a little ashamed to admit - on some nights, she cried with the exhaustion and frustration of it.
But she woke one morning nearly three weeks later to a knock at her hotel room door, and a woman in a sleek black suit. "Good morning Doctor Foster," the woman had said. "I've been asked to escort you to Tromsø Airport."
Jane had just blinked at her in disbelief.
"Please read this," the woman had said, and handed her an envelope. The note inside was brief, but sent Jane scrambling to pack her luggage and hustle out of the door as quickly as she could.
Dear Doctor Foster,
We understand that you have been trying to reach New York City - would you please allow us to help you do so in exchange for a moment of your time when you arrive?
I look forward to meeting you in person.
P. Potts, COO, Stark Industries
It was Jane's second ride on a private jet, and she was far too nervous to enjoy it. She paced, she twitched, she jounced, she tapped the armrest all the way to New York, where she was greeted at the terminal by none other than Pepper Potts herself.
Jane recognized Pepper from when she was on the cover of Forbes Magazine the year before, and barely managed to stammer out a greeting. But Pepper had been so kind, with her open smile and straightforward manner, that Jane felt herself at ease for the first time since she had found out about the invasion. Jane had been whisked from the airport, through customs and into a limo before she could come to grips with what was really happening. In the limo she'd been greeted with the sight of an enormous bouquet, and an envelope which Pepper had handed to her. Pepper had given her the space and the time to read the contents of the note, and had looked out the window so that when the tears pricked Jane's eyes, she wouldn't be embarrassed.
"So he's gone again," Jane said, once she trusted herself to speak.
"He had to go," Pepper said, in a gentle tone. "He was broken up that he couldn't see you, but he didn't have a choice."
"I don't see why-" Jane started, but the expression on Pepper's face made her stop. There was something she wasn't saying, that she didn't want to say in the car.
"Let's have dinner," Pepper suggested, and Jane acquiesced. She stared out of the windows as they drove, marvelling at how bustling the city was - how quickly it seemed to be rallying to put itself back together.
They drove uptown to a section of the city that had remained relatively untouched, and stopped at a posh-looking restaurant, the name of which Jane had no idea how to pronounce. Pepper led Jane straight through to a private room at the back. This relieved Jane a bit - she was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with a t-shirt underneath, and felt extremely underdressed, especially when compared to Pepper's tailored suit and Louboutin heels. Pepper ordered them a bottle of white wine, the first sip of which felt like a breath of cool air to Jane's tired body. Then Pepper opened the small satchel she was carrying, and drew out a file folder. She began to take out large pieces of paper and lay them out on the table, one by one. They were photographs - all of them of Thor, all of them taken during the attack. Unlike the photos she had seen on the news feeds, these were crisp, clear and colorful, giving Jane the impression that she could reach through them and touch him.
"Fury - S.H.I.E.L.D. - is keeping all information about Thor under - well, basically it's a lockdown," said Pepper.
Jane nodded "We have a dialogue for nasty, invasive aliens but none for heroic Asgardians," she said. She'd expected Pepper to smile at that, but Pepper didn't smile. Instead, she drew out another, smaller set of photographs, and began to lay them on the table, on top of the pictures of Thor.
These photographs showed a dark-haired thin man, first in a black suit, and then in a set of armor that had a sort of similarity in style to Thor's, but included a huge horned helm. "They were taken in Stuttgart, Germany," Pepper explained, "and they're under lockdown as well. I had to get special permission from Fury to show you these - Tony's got quite a lot of say in the organization now, but even his influence only goes so far. But since you've been working with S.H.I.E.L.D., and you knew Thor from before - well, we all agreed that you deserved to know about him."
Jane's eyes kept returning to one picture in particular - the dark-haired man striking another man in the face with some odd-looking instrument, just over his eye. It wasn't the violence of the photograph that caught her, but the expression on the dark-haired man's face, a sort of satisfaction that bordered on pleasure. It made the wine she was drinking taste acidy in her mouth.
"He's from Asgard," said Jane.
Pepper nodded. "His name is Loki. He was behind the invasion," she said, "and he's Thor's brother."
Jane's first instinct was to say "no he's not." But she didn't. She saw the similarities - not between the two men's appearances, but in their strange clothing, in the way they carried themselves.
"So I was sent to Norway," she said.
"It was Phil's idea - Agent Coulson, I mean," said Pepper, "and I think he should have told you why he was doing it, but-"
"Oh, he is so going to get it when I see him," said Jane, but her grin faded almost immediately at the look on Pepper's face. "Oh my God," Jane. "How - did anybody else -" and then she felt a jolt, as though a fist had squeezed her heart. "Erik? Is Erik okay?"
"Yeah - he's fine, he's here in New York, you can see him after dinner," Pepper said hurriedly, and Jane slumped over the table, holding her forehead in one hand, limp with relief. Erik was okay, Thor was okay, Darcy was okay - Jane had texted her when the plane landed, and gotten an almost immediate response. But that meant Jane was lucky. So many hadn't been.
"How many people?" she asked.
"The official count?" said Pepper. "Three hundred and sixty-seven."
Jane nodded, took a sip of wine that turned into a gulp, had to cough to keep from choking, then reached out and turned the photograph - the one with that expression - over. Pepper took this cue to gather the photographs up again, and place them back in the folder.
"Thor took Loki back to Asgard," Pepper continued. "That's why he couldn't stay. But he'll come back. He told me how much he misses you."
"Thanks," said Jane, and let Pepper pour her another glass.
At that moment, the door to their room burst open, and a man strode in. Jane nearly dropped her glass - it was Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. He spread his arms in a gesture that managed to be both magnanimous and cocky. "Ladies!" he said. "Am I late?"
"You're always late," Pepper said, giving him an indulgent smile, and her cheek to kiss, which he did. Then he stuck his hand out at Jane.
"Tony," he said, and Jane shook. "So, did she say yes?" he asked Pepper.
"I haven't asked yet," Pepper said.
"Oh!" Tony yanked a chair out from under the table, sat, and helped himself to a swallow from Pepper's wine glass. "Well, Doctor Foster-"
"Jane," Jane interjected, beginning to see why Pepper couldn't seem to keep a straight face around Tony.
"Oh-h," Tony said, with another smile - this one decidedly flirtatious. "Jane. Well. We want you to come work with us."
Jane felt her face go slack with surprise. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah!" said Tony, as though this should already have been obvious. He started ticking on his fingers. "You have top-notch credentials. You come very highly recommended. I just read your dissertation - the one about the Wheeler-Fuller theory of potential instabilities in an Einstein-Rosen Bridge? Great stuff."
"You run a research and development company," Jane said, shaking her head a little. "I'm a theoretical astrophysicist."
"Yeah, but see, here's the thing," Tony said, propping his elbows on the table. "We want to R&D your theoretical astrophysics into actual astrophysics."
"I'm... not sure that's actually a thing," Jane said, but she'd started to smile again.
"Who cares!" said Tony. "We'll make it a thing." He leaned forward, hovering over the table. "Ja-ane," he said "I have some amazing toys at my house. Wanna come over and play with my toys?"
"Tony," Pepper said in a mock-warning voice.
"I'm being good!" Tony said.
"We're prepared to give you a full research staff, any equipment you might need or want, facilities as needed, flexible schedule if you'd like to teach somewhere, full benefits - of course," said Pepper. And then she named the salary, a number that made Jane's skin prickle. Jane took another sip of wine to try to hide her shock.
Tony grinned again. "And of course Doctor Selvig has already agreed to join us."
Jane choked a little on her wine. "Really?"
"Absolutely. He's been the one asking for us to bring you back over."
And that did it. "Well," Jane said, "okay. Let's give it a try."
Tony clapped his hands and pumped his fists in the air. "Ha! I told you. Didn't I tell you?"
"You did," said Pepper, confiscating her wine glass. "Well Doctor Foster, welcome to Stark Industries." She clinked her glass with Jane's.
One huge and extremely delicious meal later, Pepper dropped Jane off at a very sleek hotel with her letter, her bouquet, and one final gift - Erik's room number. Jane raced the bellhop to her own room, paced as he set down her things, and then rushed down the hall to see Erik.
It was nearly eleven, so Jane wasn't too surprised that Erik looked bleary and disheveled when he opened the door. Once he saw her, though, he broke into a huge grin and grabbed her in a bear hug. "Oh, thank God," he said. "Thank God, thank God, thank God."
Jane returned the hug in force. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said. She looked up at him. He didn't look okay. He was unshaven, his hair was mussed, his eyes bloodshot, and his cheeks a bit red. And did she smell - what was it, vodka? Gin? She dismissed it - she'd had the better part of a bottle of wine at dinner herself; drinking with Tony was a little like running a marathon when you're used to only a morning jog. "Where were you? Nobody would tell me where you were."
Erik gave a little barking laugh. "Yes - I was, ah... classified. But now very much back in the open. Where did they put you?"
"Tromsø," Jane said. "I got you a present!" She hefted her duty-free bag and pulled out a bottle of akvavit, the Scandinavian liquor that Erik always said reminded him of home.
"Fantastic!" he said, examining the label.
"And I hear we're going to be working together," she continued.
"Now that," Erik said, "calls for a toast." He fetched two glasses from atop the side table and poured them both a measure of the akvavit. "Skal - to better days ahead," he said, and Jane believed him.
"Better days," she agreed, and they clinked and drank. They chatted for only a few more minutes before Jane had to admit that she was exhausted, and said good night. She had gone to her room and fallen asleep almost immediately.
She woke a little after two, with a dry mouth and acid in her throat. Okay, first rule of the new job, no more drinking with Tony Stark, she thought, as she crossed the room to get a glass of water from the bathroom tap. She drank it down, drew another, and sipped, letting her eyes adjust to the light. The fog of alcohol and fatigue seemed to clear as well, and she found that she didn't really want to go back to bed.
Jet lag, maybe, she thought. I should just try to sleep - let my body adjust.
But she hadn't gone back to sleep, and she still shivered a little - now, seven months later - when she thought of what would have happened if she had.
It would have been three hundred and sixty-eight, she thought.
"Are you all right?" asked Thor.
Jane found that she was gripping Thor's arm, and forced herself to relax. "Yeah," she said. "Fine. Just thinking."
"Has it been so bad?" he asked.
"Not for me," Jane said, and that was true. She liked living in Manhattan. She enjoyed the new job - Tony's promise of amazing toys had not been just a boast. The course she taught at Columbia was going well. Her first major article on what her fellow academics were calling the Foster Theory had been published a month ago, and Neil DeGrasse Tyson - Neil DeGrasse Tyson - had e-mailed her, to ask whether she would like to appear on StarTalk. It was even good to have Darcy in New York - irritating as she could be, she did draw Jane out of herself, made her laugh, and forced her to go to brunch on Friday mornings.
Even so, Thor's absence in the months following the attack had stung. He'd told her before he had left that he would come back - not just come back, but come back for her. Objectively, she understood that Thor was in a terribly difficult situation, but the sub-rational part of her brain kept nagging, her, asking what was it about her that made her so - well - leaveable. She'd asked herself the same question three years ago, when Donald had walked out of her trailer with half his things packed in a plastic garbage bag, and had never come back for the other half.
It's different, Jane tried to tell herself. Thor is different. It's not going to be like Donald.
And now, finally, it seemed that she was right. Thor was back, walking with her, arm in arm. But he had come with a price.
Three hundred and sixty-seven. And the monster who had done it.
"He has sworn that he will not harm you," Thor said.
"That's not what I'm thinking about," said Jane.
They reached the cafe. Darcy and Jane walked in first while Thor caught up to Loki. "Good morning, ladies," said the hostess, who recognized the two from their weekly brunches. She blinked with surprise when she saw the two men behind them. "Four today?"
"Yeah," said Jane.
"Double date?" asked the hostess with a grin.
"No," said Jane, with more force than she'd intended. "Uh - business meeting," she added, when the hostess gave her an odd look. "Can we have that table?" She pointed to a booth in a deserted corner near the back, away from the few other diners.
They went over, and Jane slid in next to Darcy before Thor or Loki could sit. She registered the slight disappointment on Thor's face when she did it, but she steeled herself against it. There was no damn way she was going to let Darcy sit next to that monster. It was all she could do not to ask Thor to have his brother sit at the next table. Or maybe to wait outside. In traffic.
Okay, get a grip, she told herself as Loki folded himself into the booth opposite Darcy, and Thor sat opposite to Jane. Thor was the one who stopped him in the first place
(but he needed four other people and a Hulk to do it)
and he wouldn't bring him unless it was important
(because coming to see me wasn't important thought we had a deal)
so just let him explain what's going on and we'll decide what to do
(like maybe push his brother under the A train?)
and anyway Loki hasn't done anything
(yet)
"Four coffees?" said Darcy next to her, and Jane jumped. The waitress was there already standing over the table. "I just... remember you liked coffee," Darcy said to Thor with an apologetic smile.
"Ah. Yes. Coffee. I like it," agreed Thor, and the waitress gave him a confused look.
"Okay," the waitress repeated, "four... coffees..." She had trailed off, staring at Loki, who was in turn looking up at her suspiciously, as though she had just said "four strychnines."
"Yep! Thank you very much!" said Jane in a forced-cheery tone that jolted the waitress, and sent her scurrying back to the kitchen. Jane had forgotten how exhausting it could be to acclimate Asgardians to human activities. With Thor, at least, it had been fun.
The four sat in awkward silence until the waitress brought their coffees. Loki stared at his cup as though he still suspected it contained something lethal. "What is this?" he asked Thor.
"Just drink it," said Thor, who sounded completely out of patience.
Well, Jane decided, that made two of them.
"Okay," she said, "I think you should just tell us what's going on." It came out a bit more sharply than she'd meant it. Thor looked down into his coffee cup. Loki looked at Jane with an expression that wasn't quite a smile, but betrayed an interest that hadn't been there before.
"All right," Thor said, and told her.
