Disclaimer: Please don't sue me; I'm poor, and we all know that I don't own The Avengers.

Chapter 10: In Which Bea Gets a Lift

The Avengers were assembling, and Bea was departing.

Fury had shared the news of the impending Chitauri invasion (Take Two) with his merry band of heroes, and throughout the past day they had been trickling into their 'headquarters' at what was formerly Stark Tower. Apparently when Bea was drunk she was chatty, so the super-friends also all knew that she was supposed to bring a pair of princelings back with her. None of them were pleased with her new reason for visiting Asgard, and all of them insisted on escorting her to her "launch site," as Tony called it.

They stood around her, guarding her from the empty sand-blasted nothingness that was New Mexico. It hadn't come as much of a surprise to anyone that the coordinates coincided with the same section of desert that had greeted Thor when he was banished to Earth a handful of years ago. Now it would serve as Bea's point of departure. Hopefully her point of return as well. The Asgardians hadn't included a due date in their invitation, and that little omission had Tony in a tizzy. Dr. Banner had pointed out – quite validly – that in many cultures it was rude to uninvite a guest by telling them when they were expected to leave, and that this did not necessarily mean that the Asgardians planned on keeping her. But Tony had blow off the good doctor's good reasoning and gone into spoiled zillionaire mode. He wanted his Ducky. How would Stark Industries keep on schedule with its endless projects and parties if Bea wasn't there to finger paint? Who would make cookies and cinnamon bread? It wasn't fair. His employees were going off on vacation while he was stuck slaving away in the office.

Eventually Steve got the man to shut-up. And then they were all stuck in an awkward silence, surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the middle of the desert.

A lizard ran by.

Bea plucked at the long sleeves of her jacket.

Dr. Banner coughed.

Very. Awkward. Silence.

And it was hot – it didn't help that Bea was dressed inappropriately for the season. She was wrapped in cozy long sleeves and thick trousers to protect against the cold of space. No one knew what travel via the Bifrost was like, and, for all they knew, their meager precautions might be about as effective as a cough drop against tuberculosis. All Bea knew for sure was that her attire did not befit the desert of New Mexico in the waning summer season. She was sweating like one of Tony Stark's lawyers whenever a pretty new secretary was hired for the Tower offices.

"Well… it's almost time," Steve said, fishing for any way to drag them out of the Hole of Awkward he'd dropped them in.

Agent Romanoff checked her watch. "Four and a half minutes until the designated time. We might want to take a step back."

Everyone, sans Clint, complied with the subtle order. Not everyone was happy about complying (notably Stark), but… Romanoff was an assassin after all…

Clint tapped Bea's chest, fingernail making a muted click against the stone hidden beneath the fabric. "Don't forget what you're really there for," he said. How like Barton. One short sentence to represent a thousand. There was an awful lot to read between the lines. Clear my conscience. Get free. Stop wearing high-neck tops all the time. Get rid of this mark of my own devils. Poor quiet Clint. "And don't give the snake an inch. Make him squirm for me." That was better.

"If everything goes to plan, you can make him squirm for yourself pretty soon," Bea said. "Target practice and all. At long last we can see if you're really better than William Tell."

Agent Barton smirked. It was mischievous and nasty. He stepped back to join the other Avengers, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents all began to scrutinize their watches.

"Be good and eat your vegetables," Tony ordered.

"I will if you will," said Bea.

"Hm. Too bad then."

She gave her boss a quick smile and tugged at her sleeves, stretching the fabric down over her knuckles and pinning it between her fingers. It was a comforting habit. It made her less exposed – not that the fabric of the shirt would really do all that much to protect her if something went wrong, but still, it was the thought that counted.

An agent's watch chirped an alarm. Time was up, and everyone craned their necks back to get a better view of Bea's ride.

All eyes were on the sky as the first coal grey clouds began to swirl together. Then something that looked like an energy twister of death started zipping down, and the ring of spectators surrounding Bea took several more steps backward in rapid succession. She, on the other hand, stood there, staring up at it, wondering if it would shred her or send her off to Oz like it was supposed to. A heartbeat later and it was on her – around her – beneath her.

The light was so intense it was nearly burning, and her eyes struggled to register the rapidly vacillating display of colors that shot around her, changing from coolly electric blues and greens to fiery reds and yellows. And, everywhere, there was gold.

Bea's breath was ripped away as her senses were overloaded with light and sound. The energy it took to transport a living being billions of miles in under a minute was intensely powerful, and Bea was quite literally in it. It was tremendous, terrifying, and amazing. It was like flying and falling and being dragged along behind a truck – all at the same time. Something would have to give, and give soon. It was brilliant and it was too much. And then it was over.

Utterly disoriented, Bea was unaware of arriving anywhere. She was only aware of the absence of input, and for a moment the deprivation of the Bifrost's power – all-consuming light and sound – left her feeling trapped in her own body. Blind. Deaf. Instead of flying or falling she was just still – utterly still – and though it had all been too much a second ago, suddenly it felt like regular space was not enough.

There was nothing but breath.

After a moment – or an eternity, hard to tell – a large heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, and Bea gathered the scattered bits of her awareness back together.

"Bea."

Blinking woozily, Bea looked up to find Thor, the crown prince of Asgard, kneeling in front of her. But he was still taller than she was. Seriously, she wasn't that small. At which point she realized that she was also kneeling, that she had fallen on all fours, actually, when she exited the psychedelic tunnel of dizziness. Dang. No roller coaster would ever be able to make her scream again. Ever. Seriously.

"Lady Bea."

Although her vision was still doing funny things, and her stomach was trying to reorient itself, Bea managed to frown. "I told you not to call me 'lady'."

She could see well enough to catch Thor's stupidly dazzling grin at her words.

"If you are able to chastise me, then I am sure you will be well."

"Yeah. I think so, too, just, you know, give me a minute. Still working on which way is up."

"I remember my first journey through the Bifrost," Thor reminisced. "It was… disorienting."

"Understatement of the year, my friend."

"I am grateful that you consider me your friend."

Bea closed her eyes, hoping that they would sort themselves out better in a bit of darkness, and took a long breath through her nose. Well-intentioned as he was, Thor needed to take some serious culture lessons. Since their worlds had been out of contact for approximately a thousand years, though, she couldn't blame the guy too much.

"And, speaking of friends," Thor continued, "I hope you find your feet quickly, because I have a few of my own to whom I wish to introduce you."

Once again, Bea tried opening her eyes, and this time they operated the way they were supposed to, and she could see.

The gold thing appeared to be a theme in these parts. It was no wonder her eyes had struggled to adjust. Everything was shiny and intricate and gold. Grandiose and highly polished, the gleaming entry room to Asgard certainly made one heck of a first impression.

No wonder Thor flaunted himself about the way he did. He'd learned it from his race in general. If this was the doormat, she couldn't wait to see the rest of the place.

"Feeling better?" he asked, a slightly teasing smirk fluttering on his lips, a few lines of worry crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah." Bea got one foot underneath herself and wobbled upright. "All better, thanks."

And that was when she saw their audience. There were five of them, all as outlandishly dressed as their prince. Though… all things considered… Bea was probably the one who looked out of place. Everyone else was wearing armor. She wasn't even wearing a sturdy jacket. Suddenly she was feeling underdressed.

One man, bigger than the rest and slightly removed, had angular ox-like horns on his helmet and a colossal broadsword in his hands.

Really, really undressed.

"This is Heimdall, the All-Seeing," Thor said, guiding Bea along with the hand still resting on her shoulder. "He is the gatekeeper of Asgard, our first and best defense against all enemies. He can see and hear all there is to be seen or heard in the Nine Realms."

Bea wondered exactly how much information the poor man was privy to that he would rather be ignorant of. Really now. Everything? There were tons of people who on Midgard who still believed in make out sessions on public benches in the park. How many of those had the poor guy accidently glanced at?

Just. Wow. His life must be like a never ending moment of T-M-I.

Instead of voicing any of that, though, Bea simply said, "That's very impressive. Pleased to meet you."

"We have already met, Time Shifter," Heimdall said. "Though, I doubt you have any memory of it."

His voice was deep, loud, and resonant, like the biggest bell in a cathedral's belfry. Authority and power probably oozed from the man instead of sweat. Regardless, Bea was getting a little tired of finding out that everyone and their cousin knew more about her heritage and powers than she did. "I think you must have me confused with someone else," Bea said.

"I most assuredly do not," Heimdall said,

Maybe coming to Asgard hadn't been the best idea after all.

And what had that been that Loki had said about enemies? Was there more to that than empty lies? Even a half-truth in that corner could be a very real problem.

Sensing, perhaps, the growing tension in the shoulder under his palm, Thor steered her away from the golden ox and towards the little troop clustered together by what Bea guessed was the exit of the golden doormat room. Three of them were men. One was a woman. Oh, thank heavens. Bea could use a break from the testosterone.

"These are the Warriors Three and Lady Sif," Thor said, booming voice ringing with pride. "They are my favored companions and shield brothers – and sister." Somehow, Bea got the idea that that was a common slip. Poor Sif. "Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Sif, come! Introduce yourselves! In Midgard it is customary to shake the hand of a new acquaintance."

The first to follow Thor's prompt was Lady Sif. She was a lot scarier up close, but Bea kept on a determined smile, and tried to return the strong grip Sif gave in the shake. Strong grip, indeed. Bone-crushing grip more like. "I am afraid that Prince Thor has been less than helpful explaining your background to us, Lady Bea. Are you a warrior? He did say that you escaped Loki when he took you from your home."

"Err, not a warrior, really? I work as a… hmm. That would be hard to explain. I help organize events and design the appearance of things."

So much for female bonding time. The warrior woman looked disappointed, but she reined herself in pretty quickly, and donned a more open and inquisitive expression. "An artisan?" she asked.

"More or less. And just Bea, please. I'm not a noble or anything, and titles like that aren't really used in Midgard anymore – at all, really. Or at least not where I'm from."

Sif was all but elbowed out of the way by a blonde with a pointy goatee who not only shook Bea's hand, but dragged it up for a quick kiss, much as Thor had upon their first acquaintance. "A lady is defined by grace and elegance. It is merely a title when the woman in question is unworthy and must force the word of praise from the lips of others." He smiled, quick, shallow, flirtatious. Then he finally let go of Bea's hand. "I am Fandral, Lady Bea, and it is a pleasure to meet a friend of my lord prince."

The ladies' man. Every group of friends had one. So, Fandral was the player. Good to know.

Next to take her hand – and actually shake it without injury or kissies – was an Asian-looking gentleman with a smooth top-knot and a severe face. "I am Hogun," he said.

Bea smiled again, making sure to fulfill her part of the handshake. If Doctor Banner and Clint had some strange fusing ceremony and became one person, she could see them becoming something like this guy. "It's nice to meet you."

He nodded respectfully and moved aside for the fourth and final member of Thor's personal posse.

He was very very big, and not in the strictly muscular sense.

Although he shook her hand, he shook it with both of his, and Bea got the idea that he was more of a glomper than a shaker. He also had some issues with personal space. "I am Volstagg," he said, enthused. "Our prince has said many good things about your brief time together in Midgard. You – I understand – are the creator of some truly tremendous foodstuffs."

A foodie. Really, she ought to have guessed. Part of her really wanted to be offended that the only person in Asgard who wasn't mostly interested in her powers was interested in her cooking. Sometimes life just wasn't fair. Then again, it had worked to make things less awkward with the crew back home, so would it be so horrible to try it again here…? What did they even cook with in a place like this? Did they just magic it into existence, or did they spit a pig over the fire like olden days? Neither option sounded Bea-friendly.

"I am," she said, succinctly answering his question. Before the dawning hope in his eyes could spread to the rest of his face, though, she added, "Maybe when you visit Midgard someday I can cook for you."

Though this had clearly not been the answer he'd been hoping for, the big man took it with good grace and gently released her hand. "I look forward to the day with great anticipation, lady." And she believed him.

Introductions were thus concluded, and Thor eagerly guided (tugged) Bea towards the exit. She felt ridiculous following along at his side, dressed in her simple warm clothes – and the awful black back pack that S.H.I.E.L.D. had 'equipped' her with. It contained a strange combination of survival gear, basic toiletries and attire worthy of meeting an Earthly royal individual. Bea was beginning to feel that anything she'd stowed in her sad little back pack would be dramatically lackluster in the gleaming court of Asgard. She didn't even have any armor.

Tony would do a better job in this place… or at least his armor would.

"My father is waiting to receive you," Thor said.

"Right away?" Bea squeaked.

"But of course! You are our honored guest, and he would not dishonor such an ally by forcing them to wait for an audience."

Well, she hoped she hadn't ruffled herself up too badly during her little trip through Skittles land. Still, she wished she could at least put on a dress, or even slacks and a nice blouse. Anything other than the frumpy getup that S.H.I.E.L.D. had insisted on.

And ally? Really? Hadn't Thor implied just a few minutes ago that they were friends, not allies? The difference might be pure semantics, but Bea was still flustered by it. She was horrible at politics. She didn't enjoy them, and they'd never done her any favors in the past. It took a lot of brow beating to even get her to vote. Now she was being shortlisted for Most-Influential-Ally-In-The-Nine-Realms. It was so massively unfair that she could have cried. What was she supposed to say to Odin? He was powerful enough that humans had once considered him a god.

Then they marched out onto the shiniest bridge that Bea had ever seen in her life, and, rising in the distance, was Asgard in all its incredibly shiny glory.

Her thoughts of inadequacy tripled while being simultaneously smothered by the gleeful girl within who enjoyed glittery things. It was a whole city of shiny. Some of it was even floating. Holy poop.

"Uh, wow."

Thor seemed inappropriately amused at her loquaciousness and let free a good belly laugh. While Bea glowered, he took the reins of a horse – which Bea had ignored up to that point on account of the sheer volume of shiny – and turned to her expectantly.

"I assume that you do not ride," he said.

"You assume most accurately," Bea replied. "At least where horses are involved. I can ride a bike as well as the next childish office type."

"I thought as much." Thor shook his head. "Midgardians are entirely too fond of their machinery. Not once in either of my recent travels to Midgard did I see a horse in the streets."

"That's because they make smelly messes in inappropriate places," Bea pointed out. "Cars don't do that. Not to the same extent, anyway. Not as good for the environment, of course." And that was when it struck her. "You want me to ride pillion, don't you?"

"I thought it might be safest," Thor confessed.

Bea gave the animal a dark look – gave the prince a dark look – and then watched in testy silence as the prince swung up onto the horse's back. Like it was nothing. Show off. He held a hand out for her, and Bea took it slowly. But she had no idea what to do after that.

"If I may, lady."

She had just enough time to realize that it was Volstagg who had spoken, and then she was being hoisted up and over. She let out a manly squawk and wrapped her arms around Thor with enough force to wind a human. He and his chums all seemed to find it quite hilarious, though, and he showed no signs of pain.

Before Bea could thank or curse her assistant, the horse was moving, and then she was too busy clinging to Asgard's crown prince for dear life to worry about something so petty as her dignity.

A/N: Wow! I should make threats/offers more often! Thank you all so much for the reviews! They really do mean a lot. Sorry for the posting delay - there's been some interesting drama in the real world. Worked like a mad woman last week, realized that one of my jobs (the rough one that paid less) was not working out so well for me, and quit it. The other job is going brilliantly. Still need to get another second job, though. In the meantime, I have more time to write, so rejoice!

My dad also came down with Bells Palsy. He's considering getting an eye patch until it fades, and keeps going around making pirate jokes. Considering the last chapter I posted... yeah. I laughed. A lot. Poor man. He's taking it very well.

Not sure about the second fic yet. I have some original projects that I think I need to work on first, and I feel like I should make sure I'll be able to finish this fic without running out of steam for this fandom before I start a second project. I am actually working on it, though. From time to time. When I feel inspired. It's fun, and very different.

THANKS AGAIN! Please keep talking with me, because I love to hear your feedback, opinions and jokes! You are funnier than I am: fact.

Oh! I'm officially going to name the funniest reviewer from each chapter in the author's notes of the following chapter - starting with this one, meaning that I'll name the funniest review in chapter 11. So get reviewing!