A/N: The only thing I'm going to say is that I think this is my favorite chapter so far.

The next morning, Clara fought against the worst hangover of her life as she repeatedly apologized to Thor. He insisted that he was no longer angry at her or the others for mocking Loki's imprisonment and for photographing him in that state. He had not minded returning her to her room when she overindulged in Asgardian wine. Still, his melancholy that day kept her from believing him entirely. She couldn't help throwing out several more "I'm sorrys" and paying penance by refusing to ask for anything to soothe her headache.

Though he agreed to continue their tour of Asgard, Thor deliberately kept to the palace, knowing that she was ill. They visited the enormous assembly room where he had been crowned the future king, and halls full of great treasures and works of art. They came to the chamber that had turned by itself the night Clara came across Loki's cell the first time. Thor explained how it operated against an unwary intruder while she nodded quietly, pretending she had not experienced it firsthand.

They passed through a seemingly endless array of rooms and corridors. Between Thor's descriptions and Clara's camera shots, they shared friendly conversation for the first time since her arrival. Thor told her about his first visit to Earth, brought about by his attempted invasion of Jotunheim, and how Loki had seized the throne of Asgard. The narrative further cemented Clara's dislike of Loki, until Thor backtracked and described his childhood. In the way he spoke of his family, it was obvious how much he still loved his brother and how desperately he wanted peace between them. Clara listened with feelings that grew more and more conflicted.

In turn, she tried to explain her own family life, and with it, her father's job and the basic workings of the U.S. government. She talked about his duties as senator and his support of Tony Stark, and tiptoed around the subject of her mother's quiet misery as a politician's wife. Clara talked about her sister Francine who, despite being a few years older, was the more troubled soul. After a DUI and a stint in jail, she moved in with a guitar player in Montreal, and all their parents' hopes for a political legacy, once split between the sisters, now fell to Clara's unwilling shoulders. It had not taken her long to shrug off those expectations to make her own way in New York.

She was about to describe her roommate and their tiny Brooklyn apartment when they were interrupted.

Varin emerged from around the corner and came to whisper something in Thor's ear. Thor raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Thank you, Varin," he said. To Clara, "I shall return in a moment."

He did come back, followed by two men dressed in rich blue robes. One of them carried a carved box made of a heavy, dark metal.

"Asgard's greatest magic-users have been hard at work with the Tesseract," Thor said. "We now have a way for you to return to Earth in swiftness and safety."

Eyes widening, Clara rose from her seat. She watched as Thor lifted the lid of the box and removed something small. He turned around and came toward her again, his expression solemn. She looked down at his hand as he held out the object to her, and her heart nearly stopped.

It was a ring—a silver ring with a small, bright blue stone hovering in a tension setting.

It was not a particularly gorgeous piece—though the stone's shimmer was entrancing—but its meaning was unknown to her. She could only stare at it, held between Thor's fingers as he waited for her to take it. She clenched and unclenched her hands, ignorant of what he meant by the gift and unsure of the message she would send by taking it. She struggled to breathe as she wondered what kind of message she wanted to send.

It's only been a few days, she thought. We're not in a relationship. He can't be asking me to marry him. Can he?

Finally she looked into his face, saw the slight confusion there, and whispered, "What does this mean?"

"This ring is your means of return," he said. There was no trace of irony or amusement in his voice; he must not have been aware of the silent panic he had inspired. "The stone is connected to the Tesseract. It contains just enough power to transport whoever wears it between Asgard and Earth."

For the thousandth time in the last few days, Clara felt like a complete moron.

"How does it work?" she asked, still unwilling to take it from him.

"When it is on your finger, turn the stone, and you will be taken to the other realm."

It can't be that easy, she thought. She looked at him with suspicion.

"That's all there is to it? It won't make me invisible or…summon anything creepy?"

"The stone's only power is to transport you between Asgard and Midgard," Thor said. She wondered if he was losing his patience.

Finally Clara stretched out her hand and gingerly took the ring with her thumb and forefinger, almost afraid it would burn her, or explode, or turn into a deadly spider. It did none of those things. The only surprise was that it felt heavy for its size. She thought she felt a steady pulse of energy from the blue stone, but that may have been her imagination.

"So that's it," she murmured. "Just turn the stone…and I'm back in New York?"

"You did say you wanted to go home?" Thor asked.

Clara did not answer right away. She looked down at the ring pinched between her fingers, the stone's swirling blue light as mesmerizing as the Tesseract's. With a means of departure now literally in her hands, she had to hesitate. She never expected to stay for long, but now…now she wasn't sure that she was really all that eager to go back.

Yet she had already made it quite clear that, once she was gone, she had little intention of returning.

Finally she tried the ring on. It only fit her index finger, somewhat mitigating the awkwardness. She was never much for jewelry, and didn't even want to think about what her friends or roommate would say when she suddenly turned up from a few days' disappearance with unusual bling on her hand. Still, it was pretty…in its way.

After a few more moments of silence, she tore her eyes away and looked back at Thor.

"I…I guess I better gather up my stuff," she said.

An hour later, she was standing near the entrance Central Park, Thor beside her, on the very spot from which they had left. Has it really been only a few days? she wondered, looking around as though she had gotten sidetracked into another foreign land.

The air of the city had never bothered her, but now it felt stifling. The flashing lights, the cars honking, the crowds of people pressing past them almost overwhelmed her senses. She thought about taking a walk through the park before going back to her apartment, but the flowers and grasses seemed lifeless after the flora of Asgard. They stood by a fountain that had once been soothing to her ears, but now seemed to spew its water with a harsh clatter compared to the musical streams that had lulled her to sleep for the past few nights.

Not sure what else to say, she turned to Thor. "Well…it worked."

"Of course," he said. "They made sure to test the stones' power before allowing us to use them."

Clara's ring was not one-of-a-kind: Thor was wearing a similar piece. He could go back to Asgard without her, leaving her a means to return if she wanted. Wedding traditions must have been different on Asgard; the fact that he wore a matching ring did not seem to embarrass Thor at all. Clara had not needed him to come with her, but he had insisted, and she did not discourage him.

"So, I guess this is goodbye," she said, clearing her throat.

"Please reconsider our offer, Clara McKenna. Remember that my father expects you to name your terms if you accept. We shall look forward to seeing you again."

"Yeah," she said, suddenly feeling a little twitchy. She had an idea—one not quite as crazy as the one that had taken her to another realm. She looked around to make sure no one was loitering too nearby, then put down her camera bag and hopped up on the marble edge of the fountain. For once, her head was above Thor's—though not by much.

"I said I wouldn't accept the job," she said, "and I don't expect to change my mind." He stared at her, clearly perplexed, as she placed her hands on either side of his face. "So…just in case this is a permanent goodbye?"

She leaned down, closed her eyes, and kissed him. She could feel it take him by surprise. He rallied quickly, however, and responded with equal pressure, and unexpected gentleness. His hands went to her waist, the touch filling her with warmth. She tilted her head slightly, deepening what was intended only as a farewell peck.

Suddenly realizing she had gotten carried away, she broke it off with a gasp, all the warmth now concentrated fully in her cheeks. She felt a little less mortified when she saw that his eyes were alight—and not with mockery.

"I like your idea of a parting gift," he said, smiling.

"It's not for everyone," Clara said. "Trust me, all your dad got was a handshake." He chuckled, and she had to fight the urge to kiss him again. Instead, she said, "I should…probably go home."

He helped her down and she slung her bag back around her shoulder. Still she hesitated, looking around her. Did I really miss this? I could still go back, she thought to herself. Then she remembered her father, and what awaited an aspiring politician. No, I don't want that. I never did.

"Maybe I'll see you again sometime anyway," she said. "And thanks for everything. Really."

He reached out a hand, and she gave him hers. As she had hoped, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

Ask to come with me … Ask to come with me …

"Consider what I have said," he said. Without realizing what she was doing, she nodded.

"Okay," she said.

With a final "Goodbye" and a last smile, she turned her back and headed toward the nearest subway station on slightly wobbly legs. With every step, her heart—and her stomach—seemed to sink lower and lower. She stopped to look over her shoulder, but Thor had gone. Disappointed, Clara resumed her walking. She couldn't help looking down at her hand and the stone glowing in its setting. How easy it would be just to go back to that incredible, shining world, to the luxury of Odin's palace, to Thor's side…

She shook her head. It's always a letdown after a vacation, she thought. I'll be fine in a couple days.

After several subway trains, six city blocks, and three flights of stairs, Clara was standing outside the door of her apartment, fiddling with the keys. Opening the door, she heard the strains of an all-too-familiar song blasting from Safia's room. Clara groaned and pressed her forehead against the doorjamb.

Never mind, I'll find someone like youuuuuuuu / I wish nothing but the best for you twoooooo…

Safia and Evan broke up—again. She probably had not even noticed Clara was gone.

She dropped her camera bag off in her room and unlaced her boots. She peeled off her jeans and replaced them with sweatpants, looking around her room as she did so. Yes, there was her wallet on her desk—her phone beside it, the battery dead. With grim amusement, she plugged it in and watched the missed text messages and voicemails pile up as the phone came back to life.

She did not have to bother listening to the voicemails or reading any of the messages to know who to call first.

"Clara, honey!" her mother shrieked into her ear. "Are you okay? I've been worried sick!"

"Yes, Mom, I'm—"

"Where were you? You didn't call, or answer. It was all over the news, and we tried calling you, the police and the fire department, every hospital in Manhattan. Are you okay?" she asked again.

We, Clara thought. She's still using we, like Dad and I are still communicating.

"Mom, I'm fine," Clara answered. "I…got out of the city for a few days and forgot my phone."

"Why didn't you call me?" Mrs. McKenna gasped. "You could have borrowed a phone, or…do they still have payphones somewhere?"

"Mom, I'm really sorry," Clara said. "It was chaos, you know? Everything's fine, I'm fine, Safia's…fine, and Earth is in good hands, so…you know. It's all good."

"Where did you go?"

"I stayed with a friend, erm, upstate." She didn't know why she bothered to lie; her mother read her blog and would find out the truth soon enough.

"They said it was aliens. Honey, did you see it? Where were you?"

"I was in my apartment when it happened," Clara said, "but we were watching the news. It was…yeah, it was aliens. I'm not kidding. I got…I got some good shots of the aftermath."

"You went out there?" her mother gasped. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I live in Brooklyn, Mom. I could have been killed several times already. But I didn't go out until it was quieter, after…after the Avengers won."

"The Avengers?" Mrs. McKenna repeated. "Are they real?"

"Yes, very real. I can tell you more about them too, but later. I, uh, need to call some more people and let them know I'm okay. I just got home."

Another lie. Clara hung up and flopped onto her bed, leaving her phone on the desk. That didn't just happen, did it? she thought. Everything she had experienced in Asgard had not seemed nearly as bizarre as it did now, back in her tiny apartment with its peeling paint, the lingering smell of takeout and dirty laundry, and Adele's most depressing songs invading her ears on repeat.

She had intended to take a nap and let the dust in her mind settle a bit, but there was no way she could sleep with that music. Besides, even if the apartment was quiet, her mind was not. Sighing, she dragged herself back over to her desk and turned on her computer.

As it usually happened when she was editing photos, she lost all track of time. It was well past midnight when she finally finished uploading her best shots from the damage to the city and the shawarma restaurant, and wrote a few descriptive paragraphs about that day. Nothing about Asgard yet. She would make it a series—spread it out over a week—more for herself than her readers. She needed to readjust. It felt less like post-vacation blues and more like a soldier returning to civilian life. Again, she couldn't believe it had been only a few days.

Looking through so many pictures—not even all of them—made her wish she had not come back. She rubbed her tired eyes and looked over at her bedside table. She had left the ring there as she worked with her camera and her computer. The stone was still shining blue, even in dim light.

I don't have to be here, she thought. It could be easy. I could put it on, and turn the stone, and I'd be back in Asgard, just like that.

And then what? came another part of her mind. What would you expect to do there? You're not taking the ambassador job.

Right.

Realizing that the apartment was now quiet, Clara clicked "Submit Post" and then collapsed into bed. The last thing she saw before slipping into a dreamless sleep was the blue glow of the Tesseract-powered ring.

The next morning, a bleary-eyed Clara sat at her desk once again, shaking her hair out with her fingers as she waited for the computer to start up. When she checked the email account for her blog, she almost fell out of her chair.

Seventy-three comments.

Getting seventy-three comments on one of her blog posts was not new, especially on a controversial topic, but never had she acquired seventy-three comments in a few hours. Even as she stared at the inbox, another one popped up.

Most of them were unsurprising.

OMG YOU MET THE AVENGERS?

nice pics

Good cosplay. Too bad it's FAKE.

wheres the shawarma place i want to go maybe i'll meet captain america lol

Hey! Where's that hott chick in the leather?

LUCKYYYYYYY

you idiots don't think this is real, do you?

Did you see the Robin Hood guy?

Some were more interesting.

It's nice to know that true heroes still exist. I can't imagine how much worse things could have been without the Avengers. But who designed Captain America's costume? A little overdone, I think.

Someone replied to that comment with: When you have an ass like that, you can wear whatever overdone costume you want.

You met Bruce Banner? He's one of the smartest physicists in the WORLD! Can you get me his contact info? I have dreamed of showing him one of my papers.

I can't even imagine what the insurance must be like in NYC after this. Although now I wish I lived there, just a tad.

Billions upon billions spent on national defense, and New York gets smashed up AGAIN? I KNEW we shouldn't have voted for that idiot.

I met Tony Stark at a fundraiser a few years ago and hooked up with him that night. Two words: Worth it.

Someone replied: I'm 100% heterosexual and I would go gay for Tony Stark.

Why don't we use striker drones here? Seems unfair that the "Avengers" do all the work.

Just found your blog through another photography site: definitely not what I was expecting, and I mean that in a good way!

Clara scrolled through the comments, alternating between shaking her head and laughing, sometimes doing both. She replied to a few of them, assuring people of the photos' authenticity and promising more to follow. No, she had not slept with Tony Stark. No, she did not know how to contact Bruce Banner. Yes, she had seen Loki, and he was terrifying. Yes, Captain America was as polite and wholesome and handsome as you would wish, in spite of the ridiculous costume.

She finally took a break to shower and change clothes. There was no sign of Safia as Clara puttered around their tiny kitchen to make lunch. She had missed ham sandwiches and pickles.

She almost choked on her mouthful of bread and cold cuts when someone knocked at the door. Everything inside of her went haywire—her knees felt unsteady again, her lungs couldn't function properly. Please let it be Thor popped into her head before she could squash the thought.

But when she looked through the peephole, all she saw was the back of a head of short, dark hair. Definitely not Thor.

She turned the handle. The moment she opened the door, the man outside turned around to face her.

"Hey, Princess Clara. Have a good trip?"