Jane never could get used to the feeling of shooting through space faster than the speed of light. It was like being stretched as tight as a rubber band and snapping into place a little different than when you started—and it was packed into mere seconds. She always arrived slightly disoriented and groggy.
She was groggy when she stepped onto Asgard, but Sif knew this would happen and reached out a hand to steady her. Jane took it gratefully.
"Thank you for coming," Sif said, leading her away from the portal, which shut automatically, and down the hall of Asgard's royal palace.
Jane could have landed anywhere she wanted on Asgaard, but once she perfected her machine, she always had it take her to the front doors of the palace. It was easiest to land there and meet Thor… if she had strolled into the royal palace alone, she'd immediately be stopped by paranoid guards. It was easiest to let Thor escort her into the Royal Hall so she could greet his father officially and receive his permission to be in Asgard. It was all a formality at this point, but Asgardians were sticklers for tradition.
So Jane was surprised when Sif made no move to lead her to the Royal Hall. She knew Odin wouldn't mind her presence; while he had looked on her with distaste at first, she was confident she was wearing him down. He even seemed to enjoy her company at times.
"Sif, shouldn't we greet the All Father?" she asked, slowing down.
"The All Father has retired to his chambers for the evening," Sif replied. "He is much troubled by Thor and wishes to be alone to meditate."
Jane's stomach dropped. Even gruff Odin was concerned about Thor. This was very serious indeed.
Sif led Jane down the hallway and into her quarters. They hardly passed a soul, just common guardsmen. This struck Jane as unusual—she was used to seeing the palace crawling with Asgardians. There was always something festive going on.
"Where is everyone?" she asked. "Where are the Warriors Three?"
"Oh, they're out training," Sif replied. "We can join them in the gardens after you change."
Jane always changed when she visited Asgard. Odin and the other nobles had very strict ideas of what was proper and improper, modest and indecent. One of the rules he'd given her when she started visiting was that she must always dress in proper Asgaadian clothes when she stayed. He said anything else would be base and distracting.
Although Thor always declared he'd have his finest dress makers craft her dozens of gorgeous gowns fit for a queen, he always forgot to follow through with his promise. He was like that—passionate and devoted, but sometimes absent-minded and always easily distracted. Jane honestly didn't mind—after years of lab coats and yoga pants, she always felt a little out of place in regal gowns.
But she was used to the routine, and she followed Sif to her bedroom. Like the warrior maid herself, the room was minimalistic yet elegant in its austerity. Draped across Sif's bed was an emerald green gown with gold accents that glimmered in the light. It was intricately beautiful, but something about it made her uneasy. She realized the cause immediately, and mentally rolled her eyes at herself.
They're just colors, she scolded herself. They don't belong to him, and you can't let it be a big deal or you'll never be able to move on with your life.
So as Sif waited behind her, she quickly kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her shirt, tossing it onto the bed. Her bra followed. She shook off her jeans and pulled the gown over her head, relishing the feel of the cold soft satin against her skin. Even as she smoothed it over her hips, though, she realized this dress was different than the other ones she'd worn. It was far lower, amply showcasing her décolletage, and it hugged her body like a second skin. The straps were barely there, and the back was low. She felt shy—almost vulnerable—in something so revealing and sensual. Sif obviously saw nothing wrong with the dress or she wouldn't have offered it, so it must have been Jane's problem.
She tried to push the feeling away with humor, saying wryly, "Too bad Thor isn't here. I'm sure he'd very much approve."
Sif flashed a matching smile, eyes flicking down Jane's frame. "I'm sure he would," she said. She walked over to Jane, turning her around. "Let me help you with your laces." With quick and skillful fingers, she laced Jane's dress, tight but still comfortable.
"Thank you," Jane said. "Should we meet the others now?"
Sif laid a hand on Jane gently. "Wait," she said. "I thought before we joined the men, it might be good to have some alone time, and talk as women."
Jane saw the wisdom in that. Men just didn't understand some things, and honestly, she was aching to confide in a willing female listener. Darcy was great, but she was a bit of a ditz, and Jane didn't feel comfortable baring her soul to her lab partner. Jane and Sif had never been close, but she knew Sif loved Thor fiercely, though altogether differently than Jane did, and she trusted her. Sif wouldn't judge, not when it came to Thor.
So she sat down on Sif's bed, and Sif sat beside her. "Tell me," Sif started, "what are your fears for Thor?"
Jane sighed. "I don't even know how to start to answer that," she replied. "Ever since he fought the Dark Elves, he hasn't been himself. We used to sit and watch the stars for hours. Now, he hates to look at them. And little things that used to bring him pleasure, things as innocent as making pancakes, send him off on his own to brood. I just don't understand. I know he suffered loss, but I don't know how to help him work through it. I tried… I tried to be there if he needed to talk, or—or cry, or whatever he needed. But he won't let me in. He won't let anybody in."
"The loss of Frigga is a terrible thing to overcome," Sif told her.
"But it's not Frigga he's mourning over," Jane replied, almost bitterly. She'd been over this in her head a thousand times. "I mean, of course he's pained by her loss. Of course he is. But he's really mourning Loki, and I just can't understand that."
"What makes you think he misses his brother so?" Sif asked.
"I just—I can just tell," Jane replied, frustrated at herself for not knowing the words to explain. "For one, he doesn't pull pranks anymore. He used to play pranks on Dr. Selvig and even Darcy, but now he doesn't. He refuses to wear green. He doesn't laugh anymore."
"It does stand to reason that Thor would mourn his brother," Sif said gently. "They were close in earlier years."
"I tell myself to be understanding," Jane said, hugging her curled-up legs and staring into a corner. "I remind myself that Loki saved us both from the Dark Elves. That proves there was still some good in him, some love under all that hate. But I can't forget all the death he caused—all the destruction. He hurt so many people, and I—I hate to see Thor torn up over him like this." She pressed her lips together tightly, thinking. "He isn't worth it."
Sif was very quiet.
"And what makes it worse," Jane continued, words tinged with self-hatred, "is that I resent him. I resent him, because even though he's gone he's still causing pain. Why can't Thor and I just be happy together? I love him so much, but he's consumed by the loss of his brother. And I... Oh, Sif, I hate him. He always manages to steal our happiness, even when he's not here."
"You haven't lost Thor," Sif soothed her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "How could you fear the loss of a man who traveled across the galaxy to share your home?"
"My home…" Jane chuckled, but it was a humorless chuckle. "He did come to live on earth, but he doesn't share my home. He's staying with Dr. Selvig. It's been a month since he came back, and he hasn't come to my bedroom once. He said he wanted to be gentlemanly, that he didn't want to rush anything. I thought it was a custom of your people. But sometimes… sometimes, I wonder if he even wants to come." She paused, almost wincing at the pain of putting these worries into words, and got up to pace around the room fitfully. "He tells me he loves me, but I hardly see him. He's always spending time with those Avengers. I worry that he'll grow bored of me, or that he already has. He's got an entire galaxy out there—why would he want to stay with some earth scientist? I wish…" She bit off the thought, wrapping her arms around herself discontentedly.
"What is it?" Sif asked, standing up and walking closer. For such a harsh warrior, she certainly was a wonderful, sympathetic listener. Jane found herself sharing things she'd never intended to share, things she'd hardly admitted to herself. And because of that kind sympathy, she decided to open up further.
"I wish he'd kiss me like he used to," she sighed, leaning against a window and gazing outside. She'd started talking to Sif, but as she continued, she let her mind wander back to Thor, almost forgetting Sif was there. "I wish he'd leave a trail of kisses down my neck and kiss the hollow of my throat in that way that always gives me shivers. I wish he'd play with my hair and nibble my ear. I wish he would touch me the way he did when he first came back to earth, before the Aether and the Dark Elves. He was so tender and gentle and—and—good. Just completely good. I felt so safe with him, like he'd protect me from anything, like I was the only thing in the world he cared about. I never felt so treasured."
She sighed, an almost hopeless sigh, leaning her forehead against the cold glass.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You don't want to hear about me."
"Oh, but I do," Sif replied, but her voice was different somehow—darker, crueler. "That's why I brought you here." The voice had deepened until it merged into another voice, one that Jane recognized instantly and sent ice through her veins. She whirled around in dread.
Loki was leaning against Sif's bedpost, smiling at her with a grin that was both charming and terrifying.
"You didn't think I'd let our last engagement end so incompletely, did you?" he purred. "Dear Jane, I still have so many lovely plans for you."
