Chapter Three

Jane's mind was tired the next morning, even her eyes seemed to hurt from just being open. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Hell, the whole situation was ridiculous! She could already hear what Darcy would say. Thor's dead, Jane. There's no way you saw him last night. I'm worried about you, come home.

Home. As if there was such a place anymore. Sure, Jane still had their house, which she'd have to return to eventually – just not yet. She might be seeing figures at night, but she wasn't so delusional as to think she was strong enough to return to the center of all of their hopes and dreams and retain her sanity. She could always sell it. Of course she'd still have to sort through their things.

Jane braced herself against the first floor bathroom sink, glad her recent shower's steam was fogging up the mirror's glass to obscure her reflection. "Deep breaths, Jane," she said to herself. "Deep breaths."

Once she was certain she was steady enough, she quickly dressed, and then brushed her teeth and hair. Hairbrush still in hand, she paused as she looked at her warped reflect in the fog covered mirror. Could last night have been some form of hallucination brought on by her emotional distress? Jane bit her bottom lip, uncertain if she should inform someone of this new development. Her psychiatric doctor had been very firm about seeking help should her depression deepen, and seeing an apparition of her dead husband would certainly qualify. After a small internal debate, Jane decided to wait for the day. Any further problem and she'd ask Fandral Vanir his professional opinion as a doctor.

Jane did her best to go about her day as normal as possible. She, however, found herself so puzzled over what had happened the night before, she was unable to focus on anything else for any real length of time. Around noon, Jane decided to walk into town and call Erik a day early. It was a Saturday after all, and the man would usually be cleaning, and he in fact was very glad to hear from her. Jane told him she was staying at Laufeyson Cottage, and to her great surprise he knew exactly where it was.

"I'm an astrophysicist, Jane," he teased her mildly. "I'm good at knowing obscure towns in the middle of nowhere. They are the best places to study stars, are they not? Truth be told I knew Loki Laufeyson quite well."

"Knew him? Why what happened to him?"

Erik paused on the phone for a few minutes before sighing deeply. "He committed suicide about thirty years ago. Look, please don't go asking the townsfolk about it. It was a big to-do when it happened, and you don't need to make any enemies there."

Erik made her promise not to go "meddling", and she smiled, recalling when he'd refer to her as "Velma" as a teenager when she'd go nosing about. Her smile slipping a bit as she realized even then she was valued more for her brain that her beauty. (Of course she would have been thoroughly insulted had he called her "Danger-prone Daphne" instead.)

"Listen, Janie," the pleading concern in his voice caught her attention, "I'll be passing by the cottage sometime in the next week or so on my way to a seminar. Would it be alright if I stopped by."

"You can stay the night if you'd like," automatically came out of her mouth, and she silently cursed herself. She knew he'd accept, clearly everyone was worried about her. Shouldn't it alarm her that she wasn't worried about herself? "Maybe you could take some things back to Darcy for me?"

There, prove to them that you've been busy, Jane. You've been working, and you're fine.

"I'm sure she'd be delighted if I did," he chuckled. "The press has been having a field day since your disappearance six months ago!"

"I thought that had died down," she questioned, her brows lowering in confusion.

"It had, but somehow someone let it leak that you'd been in hospital – though not what section of it, thank God – and now they're running around trying to sniff out a story. And, Jane," he sighed out hesitantly. "There is one more thing I should tell you…"

Jane closed her eyes against an oncoming headache and leaned against the phone booth's glass wall. "What is it, Erik?"

"Victoria has come forward."

Jane felt her knees buckle, and braised herself more against the booth. "What?"

"Darcy's been on damage control and it helps a lot that she only spoke to one magazine – trash, really – and that she demanded a large payment."

"I'm sure she did," Jane muttered darkly to herself.

"The point is, Darcy has asked me to make sure you don't call her cell or work numbers in case they've been compromised –"

"You mean bugged? This is ridiculous!"

"I know, Janie. Darcy also wants you to stay where you are. She said you're safe there, as not even the Odinson name has gotten any results."

"What do you mean," she questioned, internally wondering if she really wanted to know.

"Frigga has been hunting for you, but even with her name and money the paper trail ends at the travel agency, and they claim you have them legally bound not to disclose your location."

Erik sounded proud and Jane couldn't help but feel a little bit better. "Are you really surprised? You raised me after all." They chattered casual for a few minutes more before saying their goodbyes, and then Jane did a bit of light grocery shopping and walked back to the cottage.

Once home, she decided to cook something time consuming for dinner and let her mind wonder freely. Of course, she was in no mood to actually eat once the dish was ready, and ended up putting it away in the refrigerator. Next she showered, attempting to force herself to relax but all she could hear in her mind was Erik repeatedly telling her that Victoria had come forward.

"That bitch," she whispered, her eyes watering with tears as she submerged her face under the showerhead's spray. A vast array of emotions flooded her – shame, embarrassment, angry, hatred, and then guilt – and then came the depression. Jane both recognized and accepted that her marriage to Thor wasn't perfect, he'd made a mistake – a rather large one – but they'd agreed to work it out. Jane's hand fell to her stomach for a second as she breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She could handle this. Hell, it seemed like she had to handle this, whether she was able to or not.

And speaking of things I'm not sure if I'm ready to handle…

Jane dressed for bed, then – scissors in hand – headed upstairs. If she were hallucinating last night, well, a good yell at Thor sounded very therapeutic at the moment, and if she weren't… If she'd actually seen a ghost? An apparition? Was it better to know the truth or be blissfully ignorant? Jane squared her shoulders and headed upstairs to the living room. Clicking on a small table lamp, she settled herself on the sofa and just watched the corner chair with scissors still firmly in hand. Time passed slowly, and after several hours, Jane found herself tiring. She yawned and stretched, and when next she looked she wasn't alone in the room any longer.

His frame was tall, yet lanky. His complexion pale (he is dead, Jane), and literally transparent. His shoulder length ebony hair was styled neatly and brushed away from his face, which held the most hypnotic blue-green eyes she'd ever seen. "Differently not Thor," she mumbled to herself and saw his lips twitch in amusement.

"So," his velvety voice filled her ears for the first time, "you can see me." He looked at her, just stared in a way that made Jane think he was the loneliest person she'd ever met. "You can drop those now," he said, pointing to the scissors. "Not like you could hurt me with them anyway."

And to prove his point, the man moved one pale arm straight through a nearby end table lamp. Jane's eyes widened in amazement, a breath escaping her lips. "Why are you here," she finally asked.

"It's my home."

"But I live here now," she corrected him. He smirked, his eyes raking over her quickly as he admitted he'd been watching her. "Are you going to hurt me?"

He scoffed at this. "Forgive me, it's been awhile since I've spoken with anyone. For so long now I've been able to move about as I pleased so silently that no one noticed. Now… I can moved things, be heard and seen." Blue-green eyes narrowed as he studied her curiously. "What's so special about you?"

"Nothing," was her instant response, and she said it with such conviction that his eyes widened momentarily. His gaze then wondered down to her hand, where she still held the scissors – though rather loosely.

"Forgive me if I startled you."

Jane forced a weak laugh. "Startled… terrified is more like it. Did you know I had the caretaker's husband searched the place after that whistling stunt of yours?"

"I wanted to know if you could really hear me," he defended calmly, as if her spending a night paralyzed by fear in her bed was nothing to be concerned about.

"Clearly I did," she returned darkly, her gaze hardening a bit.

"Clearly," he repeated smiling mischievously at her, until Jane found herself releasing a giggle. "I am sorry though," he clarified. "Technically, you're a guest in my home and I should have been more courteous. Perhaps we could try to become more comfortable around each other? Maybe even ease your need to walk about the place with shears in hand?"

Jane's check heated with embarrassment, as she finally leaned forward to set the scissors on the coffee table. "More comfortable, hm? Alright then, I'm Jane Foster."

"Loki Laufeyson," he replied with a curt nod of his head. They grinned briefly to each other, both trying to think of something else to say that wouldn't be considered too invasive or rude. The silence stretched on, and when Loki finally had thought of something to say – though it wouldn't immediately answer any of the questions he'd formed during his observation of her – he found the poor girl fast asleep. Again, as he'd become quite found of doing, he watch her as she rested and found something achingly beautiful about the oddity that was Jane Foster.