This chapter was a tough one. It didn't help that I lost the USB with the first page of the draft on it. That said, I like this version much better. Your feedback, as ever, is hugely appreciated. And to those who have asked: my inspiration for the post-apocalyptic scenes is partially from The Walking Dead, partially from Jericho, and partially from the reality show The Colony. I was watching all three as I was writing the last few chapters.
I've also received a very valid comment about my author's notes, in that sometimes I reveal too much about coming chapters. That's absolutely correct; I will let the story do the talking from now on and—hopefully—let you all be surprised. Enjoy!
()()()()()()()
A thundering crunch above Jane's head was yet another body hitting the pavement; the force was enough to burst an electrical circuit to her left, showering sparks along the rails and scattering the screeching rats below. Jane moved fast, jumping off the track and onto the platform itself, where through the debris-clogged staircase she could see some of the battle raging above.
The sunlight on her wristwatch showed that the fighting had dragged on for another half hour. Granted, she didn't have the best view, but she had no idea which side was winning. If winning was even possible in all the chaos.
There were screams in the air, intermingled with the shattering of glass and concrete and the hysterical squeals of buckling steel. Gunfire—from police and Skrull alike—was a staccato drumbeat, a deadly percussion underlying all other noises. Jane shivered as she saw someone stumble and fall just above her; it was a woman in ragged jeans and a filthy tee-shirt. She could not call out—could not risk her hiding place—and her heart broke for the thousandth time that day as she saw the bloodied woman pull herself up and keep running. In the high noon sun, Jane could even see the tears streaking down her dirty face.
Her arms ached with the strain of clutching her gun, but she had not let it drop from ready position since the fighting had begun, now a distant three hours ago. So far, she had had no occasion to use it—no one seemed to be looking down, since the battle was being decided in the air—but it was a security blanket that she could not let go. She had seen enough to know what happened to those humans who faced the Skrull with no defense.
Their brutality—cruel and efficient though it was—was still shocking. She had seen one of the reptiles grasp a man's head with one hand and crack his neck with a sharp jerk, throwing the body aside without a glance.
Thunder shuddered overhead, and the sound that usually made Jane run for cover now made her want to race into the street. Thor! A bolt of lightning streaked the sky and charred bodies and hovercraft crashed onto the street. The God of Thunder was using his formidable weapons—she only hoped they were enough to win the fight.
The Avengers team chattered in her ear; Natasha had left her with a headset and tuned it to the secure com channel they were sharing so that she would know when it was safe to come out.
"Tony, they're getting too far out!" a voice that she had come to recognize as Captain Rogers cried, "You've got to turn them back!"
"Workin' on it, Cap," Tony growled back, his bite significantly more gentle after the hours of exertion. A boom from his repulsors broke the sound barrier, and Jane head more shattering of glass. "Got 'em! Call it out, Legolas," he asked Clint, who was standing on top of the one of the skyscrapers next to Stark Tower, "Where's the next group?"
"I've got a cluster of six moving up Park, and I've got no clear shot," the archer replied.
"Heading back your way."
Natasha broke in, "There's a group of civilians under fire in the library; Captain, can you—"
"On my way; you keep them bottled here while I get those people out through the basements and subway tunnels. The police are setting up the evacuation line…dammit! I didn't think there'd be so many left!"
"Civilians or Skrull?"
"Civvies. I thought most of these people had gone."
"They didn't want to leave their homes," Tony's voice was dark, "even when we did."
"Keep it under wraps, Mr. Stark," the Captain was running; she could hear the exhaustion as he breathed heavily, "We do this job right and everyone has a home again."
Jane bit her lip. She was hiding in the subway station just to one side of the library at the base of Stark Tower. If she picked the right moment, she could make it up the stairs and into the main lobby without anyone noticing. She had seen the Skrull go into the building, but like the others had never dreamed that a cluster of people had been living there ever since the New York invasion. If the Captain was going alone—no one else had chimed in—he might need some backup.
Her breath was shaky, and so were her hands. But she knew that she had to do it.
She crept up the stairs and quickly—like a gopher—stuck her head out. One side was clear. She turned around and looked again. She had the street to herself.
She heard her soccer coach's voice in her head—she had been thinking of that tough woman ever since Natasha had started calling her "Foster"—and she remembered: Foster, you run. You run and it doesn't matter who's behind you. All that matters is that you get to the goal; you get where you need to go.
So Jane ran. Her boots crunched and slipped on the fragments of asphalt, glass, and concrete and she flung her arms out for stability—finger always off the trigger until ready to fire, as Clint had coached her—but she got across the street and up the stairs in record time. On her knees, she inched her way under the glass doors and took a peek inside.
A group of about twenty people was huddled in the main foyer, menaced from above by five Skrull with their laser rifles. The aliens were laughing—deep, guttural hiccupping sounds—as they peppered the ground with random fire, making the humans below scream and cry, panicked and helpless.
Fear left Jane as anger flooded her system, and her hands grew steady. There was enough noise from the street that her opening the door seemed silent, and she was able to take up a sheltered firing spot behind a pillar, concealed enough that she could bring her gun up to shoulder height and sight her target.
Now she was hearing Clint's voice: use your dominant eye, put your finger on the trigger, breathe—and take your time with it—and then squeeze. If you breathe, you give yourself the time to make sure you're hitting the right thing.
So Jane breathed. Her bullet penetrated the gap in the Skrull's armor just above the solar plexus, making a wet crunch as it entered bone and sprayed blood. The Skrull yelped, and keeled over.
She whirled around and pressed her back to the pillar, closing her eyes as the rest of the Skrull roared in confusion and frustration. It took them only a few seconds to figure where the bullet had come from, and the circulation desk to Jane's right exploded in a burst of smoking wood shards.
Good job, Jane. Now what?
She flipped her Glock to its automatic setting and turned the opposite direction, letting off a brief burst of bullets into the walkway above. The noise distracted the Skrull long enough for her to scramble two pillars down and take up a new hiding place. But they were still going to find her—one Skrull had already jumped down onto her level—if she didn't do something soon.
"Hey!" Jane heard the yell in her room and in her ear. Taking a peek from behind the pillar, she saw the red, white and blue-suited figure (and what a figure!) of Captain America, standing in the open window frame with all the light of day behind him. The humans in the room erupted in cheers, and the Skrull snarled.
The Captain threw his shield; it shattered the skull of one alien and ricocheted into another, throwing it from the railing and down into the lobby below. As the Skrull fired on his position, he jumped and missed the return arc of the shield—it clattered to the ground—but even without it, the man was an impressive fighter. He dodged the fists of the Skrull, grabbed the base of one of the rifles and yanked it away, turning it like a club on his attackers.
While he was occupied, Jane spotted the Skrull on the lobby level taking aim with his rifle. The Captain had no idea it was coming.
"Oh no, you don't," Jane whispered, raising her gun. Sight, finger, breathe…she fired. The bullet glanced off the Skrull's shoulder armor and the reptile turned, hissing furiously.
It saw her.
"Crap," she breathed, flipping her gun into automatic fire again and letting go with a barrage of bullets as it stalked across the foyer, scattering humans right and left. None of them even tried to help her as the alien approached her, raising its rifle.
Jane's bullets kept glancing off the armor; none of them could find a weak spot. She started to panic as it got closer, and ran to the left, continuing around the lobby to find another hiding spot. The laser rifle shattered one of the pillars she passed, and the walkway above gave a deep groan as the stones shifted and held together.
Running was a pointless exercise. Jane turned and fired again and again, closing her weaker left eye and aiming for the alien's gaping mouth. This time, she hit. A spray of purple blood and fragments of the alien's skull erupted from the back of its head, and it collapsed…a bare twenty feet from where Jane was standing.
She gasped and sank back against a pillar, breathing hard. Her hands were shaking again. But when she heard a thump to her right, instinct brought up the gun immediately, pointing it directly at Captain America.
Jane lowered her gun. "Are you all right?"
"Me?" He stared at her, shield hanging from one hand still in throwing position, "What about you? You're Jane Foster, aren't you?" he went on, "I didn't think you were supposed to be in this fight."
"I was hiding in the subway station just outside," she said, "and since no one else could come help you…I thought…t-this was stupid," her adrenaline levels were crashing and she was just realizing how idiotic she had been, running headlong into trouble like this, "I'm sorry."
"Listen," he said, stepping closer and putting one hand on her shoulder, "what you did was very brave. You took out two of those guys and watched my back. Do you think you can do something else for me?"
His hand steadied her, and the kind words he spoke were a far cry from the chewing out she knew she deserved. Jane straightened up, and nodded.
"I have to get back to the fight, but these people need to get to safety. Do you think you can get them to your subway tunnel and keep them safe? They'll be able to walk along the tracks and get to the police barricade three blocks down."
"Yes," she nodded, tightening her grip on her gun. "You fight. I'll get them out of here."
"All right," he strapped his shield around his arm and turned towards the doors, "It looks clear. Everybody listen up!" he called to the people in the lobby, "This woman right here is going to take you down to the subways; stay underground and follow the lines three blocks in either direction, and you'll find help. The National Guard and NYPD have set up a blockade and have medical help available."
He looked back at Jane, smiled, and asked, "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Do—" she tried again, quietly, "are we winning?"
"It's always hard to tell when you're right in the middle of a dogfight, Miss Foster," he said, shaking his head, "I can tell you that we're giving them a hell of a fight. And so far, there's no sign of Loki. If we can get the fight out over the ocean, the helicarrier's guns could do a lot for us—and that's what we're trying to do."
"Okay," she felt better—slightly—and knew she couldn't keep him any longer, "Come on everybody," she raised her voice, turning to the crowd behind them, "the way is clear and the tunnels are just a few hundred yards away. Stick together and move!"
Her thin and reedy voice was nowhere near as inspiring as the Captain's, but she did have a gun and that was apparently all the inspiration the group needed. While she held the door and scouted the street, the ragtag bunch made a break for the tunnels; after the last one left, she took up rear guard position and made sure that everyone was safely underground.
Once back in the darkness, nobody wanted to stay put. Mothers hurried their children down onto the tracks to reach the safety of the military encampments. Only one man turned to Jane and asked, "Are you going to stay here?"
She nodded, "My friends are fighting. I want to be here when it's over."
"It's dangerous, you know," he said, shaking his head, "if we stick together, we can make it."
"I can't leave," she repeated, "but do you know how to use a gun?"
"I was in the Chicago PD for twenty years," he said, "But I used all my bullets weeks ago, keeping the group safe."
"Here," she took her other Glock from its holster, sliding out two clips from her vest pocket as well, "take this. Make sure everyone's okay."
He nodded. "Will do. Just make sure you're okay too." He jumped down onto the tracks. Just before he moved out of sight, he called back, "What's your name?"
"Jane Foster."
"Many thanks, Jane Foster," he smiled, giving her a quick salute. Before she had a chance to ask for his name, he had turned and was gone down the track. The crunching of feet over gravel soon faded from earshot, and Jane was left alone in the dark with only the sounds of battle to keep her company.
She checked her watch. The whole excursion to the library had only taken fifteen minutes. But Jane was as bone-weary as if she had been fighting the whole day. She could only imagine how the Avengers felt.
Jane tightened her grasp on her gun and watched the only bit of sky she could see as it darkened with smoke from the burning city.
()()()()()()()
"Thor, light the bastards up!" Tony yelled, the connection fizzling in Jane's ear now that they were fighting one mile out over the Atlantic, "This is the last of 'em!"
"With pleasure," Jane had to smile; it seemed as though Thor could go another few rounds with the Skrull, as he sounded almost as fresh now as he had five hours ago. Even from this distance, Jane heard the roll of thunder and the crack of lightning shatter the air above the sea.
Within the last hour, the Avengers had successfully driven the straggling Skrull out over the ocean, and now the big guns of the helicarrier were significantly augmenting their firepower. The aliens were also taking a pounding from the short-range fighter jets launched both from the SHIELD carrier and from US Navy aircraft carriers. The jets had not been launched over the city for fear of civilian casualties, but now, over the water, they had full maneuverability and the Skrull were on the run.
Jane listened to the last tense minutes of battle from the safety of the National Guard outpost. Once the Skrull were off the streets, Jane had made her way to the barricade and was now helping monitor some of her magic-detecting technology that had been installed into every mobile defense unit, calling her readings into the SHIELD control center on the helicarrier. So far, so good; though Loki must have become aware of the three-pronged attack, she saw no portals opening anywhere in the country, nor did she register any elevated levels of magical activity.
This should have been comforting, but it wasn't. Jane knew that he was knew of their fight, that he was probably watching it—but Jane would find things less frightening if she could just see him, the wasp in the room. Not knowing when—or how—Loki would strike back was making her very nervous. Their streak of luck was surely too good to last.
For things were going well with the attack. So far, the battle in New York had lasted the longest. Since SHIELD had its biggest presence on the East coast, most of the mutants involved in the battles had been sent to LA and Honolulu. Apparently they had made shorter work of the Skrull armies there, driving them away from the harbors and out over the ocean.
Pearl Harbor—according to the guardsman Jane spoke to—was already flying the American flag again.
The radio in the back of the APC squawked, and the weary voice of Nick Fury said, "All right, boys and girls…the generals are calling it and so am I: New York is officially secured."
Jane shut her eyes and dropped her head into her hands, whispering a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods might have helped them, Norse or otherwise. Cheers burst out all around as police and military celebrated together; but the Avengers were curiously silent in Jane's ear.
All except for one…naturally.
"All right, yay us!" Tony said, pale and breathless and not like himself, "I think…I think we should take a day tomorrow. Let's just take a day and let someone else handle the cleanup, all right guys? I don't know about you, Slugger," Jane knew he was talking to Thor—he had nicknames for everyone, and Thor's mean swing was an easy target—and she smiled as he finished, "But I've got a girl I want to see."
"You are right, my friend," Thor said, and Jane felt a tingle sweep from her face all the way down to her toes, "There is a lady I should be glad to see once more."
She knew that she was blushing and was glad that none of the men around her had access to the Avengers' channel. No one outside the Avengers knew about her previous interactions with Thor, but her red face felt like a beacon—no one who saw her could doubt that there was something going on between them.
"No one's talking to Miss Foster until she's been debriefed," Nick Fury cut in, "Stark, will you go get her, please?"
"Aw, at least let Thor help with the debriefing," Tony drawled, "I'm sure he'd like that."
Jane snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth. Only Tony could make a dirty joke at a time like this. Thor chuckled, but she could tell he had not really understood the joke; Director Fury's frustrated sigh showed that he understood all too well.
"All right then," he growled, "Thor. Would you please go and get Miss Foster? There are some questions she needs to answer about her time in Stark Tower. Stark, I want you, Barton, and Romanov all here on the carrier when she comes in…might as well get you all done at once."
"Fine," Stark replied, petulant as ever, "But could I get a limo sent to that podunk little office in White Plains? I gotta have Pepper come in so she can start coordinating repairs to the Tower. She doesn't get a day off tomorrow."
"Agents have already secured Miss Potts," Fury responded, "and she'll be debriefed with the rest of you."
"Oh, this is gonna be a party! Fury, I didn't think you had it in you."
Clouds gathered over Jane's head and she could feel static electricity charging the air; she shivered and the fine hairs on her arms prickled and stood on end. She smiled up at the threatening sky—never again would she be afraid of bad weather, because it meant that Thor was on the way.
And a few minutes later, descending from the sky in a rush of wind and ozone, was the God of Thunder himself. Jane felt her heart pound—stop for a beat or two—and then pound again. Her smile was soft and shy, for no matter how many times she had rehearsed this meeting in her head, she could never quite muster the confidence she knew she should.
But she knew what she wanted to say.
"Hi," she said, so quietly that she wasn't sure he could hear her over the noise of the military men shifting and muttering amongst themselves over the god's presence. "I missed you." She stepped forward and had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Then she hugged him, wrapping her arms around his middle like a child hugging a parent. He was broad, and warm, and solid, and she pressed her cheek to his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the leather and steel.
When his arms came up and around her, cradling her to him with delicate care, she felt safe for the first time in months.
Her breath came in silent gasps—she was happy, so happy that the feeling verged on pain—and she said it again, leaning back to watch his face.
"I missed you," she blinked back tears, not wanting anything to cloud her vision of him. His golden hair was longer than she remembered, and his eyes were less childlike than before—it seemed as though years of age, experience, and sorrow had given them a depth of maturity she did not recognize—but he was still the same man she remembered.
And when he smiled, the age, experience, and sorrow disappeared. As before, his smile drew out her own—she defied anyone to frown in the face of Thor's happiness.
"Hello, Jane Foster," his words had the same simple, rehearsed quality of her own, "I knew you would find me. I only regret I could not do more to fulfill my promise to return."
She shook her head and swallowed hard. "I'm just glad you're here, now," she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, feeling the tickling scratch of his beard against her skin and tasting ozone on his breath.
For a moment, he let the kiss remain sweet and gentle. Then his arms tightened and he gathered her closer, deepening the kiss as his fingers tangled in her long hair. Jane smiled and tightened her arms around his shoulders, feeling her heart swell and her coherent thoughts shatter into a joyous, laughing chorus of he likes me, he likes me!
She did not think again until the laughter and clapping of the soldiers around them made her aware of the fact that she was making out with an alien on the very public streets of downtown Manhattan. Instead of being embarrassed, she found herself grinning openly—discovering then that it was impossible to laugh and kiss simultaneously.
Thor put her down but did not let her go; his arm was still wrapped around her shoulders, draping her in warmth and making her feel uncharacteristically soft and girly. She had never understood the popular girls in high school who seemed attached at the hip to their football team boyfriends—but now she did.
Thor made her feel safe; just being next to him made her happy.
"So," she said, still getting her breath back after that kiss, "I guess Director Fury wants to see all of us, right?"
"I would that we could spend more time together, Jane," he replied, "but Stark is right: the sooner this is done, the sooner we can speak."
Jane's clever mind immediately supplied her with a list of about eight things that she'd rather do with Thor than speaking—and from the look in his eyes she could tell that he could imagine better ways to spend their time too—but she settled biting her lip and nodding.
"I guess," she smiled, wrapping her arms around him once again, "this means I get to fly with you again. It's the most amazing feeling, you know," she confided, "flying."
He smiled down at her. "I will take you flying as often and as far as you like. It will be my atonement for being absent from you so long."
She faked a pout—something she could never remember doing before—and teased him, "I hope you don't think that flying with me is a punishment?"
"If it were," he answered, wrapping his left arm securely around her shoulders and spinning his hammer with his right, "I should commit sins at every opportunity."
Jane laughed, and her heart soared as her feet left the ground.
()()()()()()()()
The debriefing room was windowless, airless, and accessible only by a steel door two feet thick that sealed automatically when shut. The air being piped in for the eight people sitting around the table smelled stale, full of dust and diesel fuel. Jane sat between Clint Barton and Maria Hill—Director Fury's right hand woman. Also in the room were Natasha, Tony, Pepper, and Agent Phil Coulson.
Everyone else—and there were hundreds of very important people on board ranging from US military representatives to mutants, to domestic and foreign ambassadors—had been excluded.
At the end of the day, Nick Fury clearly assumed that all information about Loki was a matter of importance primarily for SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative. It was likely to be this small group of individuals who would be responsible for defeating Loki in the end, but Jane could have done with a little less cloak-and-dagger…and a little more time with Thor.
They had already been in the room for—she took a discreet peek at her watch—three hours. Things would have gone faster if Tony hadn't kept antagonizing Director Fury at every opportunity, but Tony couldn't resist tweaking the lion's tail.
Jane had to admit that some of his jokes were pretty funny, but after the seventy-second spat erupted between the two of them, she knew her patience was wearing very thin. So was everybody else's.
"For God's sake, Stark," Clint snarled, "would you please shut up?"
The whole room went silent. No one could ever remember Clint Barton getting so emotional about anything. Jane saw Natasha smother a smile with one hand—Pepper bit her lip to keep herself from laughing—because the expression on Tony's face was priceless.
And for the first time since he'd sat down, he was speechless.
"Thank you, Agent Barton," Fury said, "I think we've heard from everyone except—"
Jane swallowed as every eye in the room turned towards her.
"Miss Foster," he finished. "Would you please describe your interactions with the alien?"
She found it very curious that no one of SHIELD seemed to call Loki by his name. It was always "the subject" or "the alien" or "the antagonist", depending on the situation. Sometimes she forgot just who they were talking about…as if those dry words banished the fear and menace about the man himself.
Jane bit her lip and tried to focus on just the facts. "Well, I was with Erik—who was being possessed, only I didn't know it—in Stockholm when I decided to try getting out of Sweden. I thought I would cross the border to Norway…"
She gave a quick five minute summary of her capture and journey to New York. Describing her actual interactions with "the alien" was a good deal more complicated. Being a scientist, though, she did her best to divorce herself from all the emotions the idea of Loki conjured—fear, curiosity, shame—and just stated the facts in as plain a voice as she could manage.
It took her another ten minutes to get to the first really sticky part.
"As Tony said," she had to pause to arrange her words, "Loki had him against the wall of the lab and was hurting him. I begged him to stop, and he did. But then," she swallowed, and dropped her gaze into her lap, staring at her hands, "then he took me upstairs and…and while I was in shock, he—"
It had to be faced. She looked up and said, "He kissed me."
Nearly everyone in the room was a professional assassin or spy, trained in the art of concealing emotion. But even Jane, untrained as she was, could clearly see the miniscule glances that darted between Fury, Coulson, Hill, Natasha, and Clint. They said nothing, but the downward tilt to Fury's lips spoke volumes of distrust, anger, and calculation. Pepper put one hand to her mouth and Tony swore under his breath.
She didn't let the silence stretch on. In the same monotone that she'd tried to maintain for her recital thus far, she continued, "I fought back, biting him and punching him in the face. After that, he told me that he had always meant to torture me and use the knowledge of my pain to punish Thor for casting him out of Asgard. He told me that he should have the Skrull beat me, break my fingers, and cut out my eyes."
How twisted was this whole situation that she found it more comfortable to recite Loki's laundry list of contemplated atrocities than describe his few moments of twisted tenderness? She saw everyone relax again as she told of how he'd wanted to kill her—but she knew that the taint of having been close to him in a different way was going to take a long time to rub off.
Especially when she got to the next kiss.
"On the day we escaped, I was awake at dawn." This time, she looked at the dull reflective surface of the steel table, letting her eyes trace the SHIELD logo as she spoke. "Loki came in and told me that he was going to battle to quell a rebellion. I challenged him and told him that we would never give in; we argued. He said that he was trying to bring order to our world, and implied that he was trying to prove his worth…but to whom, I don't know.
"And then he said all this was just useless philosophical discussion, because he had come too far to fail. He said he would use whatever methods he had to in order to conquer the Earth. He also said and that he had come to me for one purpose."
She paused. Nothing would ever make confessing this easier. "He kissed me again, even though this time I fought back from the start. I fought, but couldn't do anything. It was only when I begged him to stop that he did."
Tony let off a stream of profanity that made Jane blush; an achievement, considering how flushed she already was from telling her story. She did not look up.
"He asked if I'd ever been to Rome. When I said no, he told me that he would take me there one day when everything was settled. Then he asked if I would wish him luck; I said that I hoped someone would put a bullet in his brain. He left, and I got out of the room, met Tony and the others in the lab, and we escaped."
She met Nick Fury's eyes, and finished, "And you know everything that happened after that."
Whether it was the fact that he was a master spy or the fact that he was missing one eye, Jane could not read his expression. He stared her down from behind his folded hands, eye flitting over her face, reading her emotions and body language. He shifted in his chair, and looked around.
"Clear the room."
Coulson, Hill, Clint and Natasha moved immediately. Tony remained stubbornly in his seat until Pepper finally pulled him up by the arm. He got off one parting shot:
"I hope you're not planning to blame her for any of this, Cyclops," he said, "All this proves is that Loki—excuse me, "the alien"—" he made exaggerated quotes with his fingers, "is even more of a low-down little shit than we thought. We wouldn't have made it out without her. You wouldn't know where Loki or his henchmen were without her. So sending her away because of some suspected "contamination"," here he sneered, "would be a mistake even stupider than the ones you usually make."
He squeezed Jane's shoulder as he left. "Chin up, sweetheart. Don't let him mess with you."
Jane managed a wan smile. She wasn't certain if Tony had saved her, or just driven another nail into her coffin.
Director Fury didn't say a word for another few minutes after the room was empty. He only looked at her. Jane found his gaze unsettling, to say the least, but she wouldn't let him intimidate her into looking ashamed. She knew—intellectually, even if her emotions shamed her into feeling otherwise—that she was not to blame for Loki's actions. So she held Fury's gaze with her head held high; chin up, as Tony had said.
Fury sighed and dropped his hands flat on the table. "You know what this sounds like, Miss Foster."
"I don't know what it "sounds like"," great, she was sounding like Tony now, "All I know is the truth. And the truth is that I didn't ask for any of this. He targeted me because of how Thor felt—feels—about me. He wanted to punish him, and he thought using me would be the best way to do that."
"Whatever he meant to do," Fury replied, shaking his head, "his taking so much notice of you makes keeping you in the loop a very dangerous gamble. If he keeps focusing on you, and you know things about SHIELD's plans or tactics, what happens if he captures you again? He seems to have gone out of his way to keep an eye on you. So tell me," he turned his palms upright, appealing to her, "what would you do in my place?"
"Why would he come after me again? Especially if he could just go right for Thor?"
"You keep talking about him like he's in his right mind," Fury reminded her, "but he's not. He's as crazy as a box of cats, and we both know it. A sane person wouldn't go after you—you don't serve much purpose to him, at least from a tactical standpoint—but he's crazy. He could go for you right away, and the more you know, the more dangerous it is for us. You see what I mean?"
She knew he was right, but the idea of admitting it stuck in her throat. "Don't send me away again," she shook her head, "Please. You have no idea how bad those months in Sweden were. I…" she closed her eyes, squeezed them until the tears were suppressed, "I couldn't stand it."
"Well, then we have a problem," he said, sighing, "because I'm not about to risk the safety of this operation just because you don't want to be alone."
"What about Thor?" Jane was grasping at straws, but she wouldn't let SHIELD marginalize her again, "If you send me away, he won't be too happy."
"Thor wouldn't want you to be in any unnecessary danger," he was a good tactician, she'd admit; he was backing her into a corner and she knew that sooner or later he'd trick her into admitting the truth, "I'm sure he could be made to see how it would be safer for you to be in a SHIELD stronghold on the other side of the country."
Jane felt her shoulders tightening as she prepared to sink her teeth into this new argument.
Before she could speak, the hissing sound of the door's air seal disturbed the silence. Maria Hill stuck her head around the corner, her slightly wider-than-usual eyes the only thing that betrayed her shock and concern.
"Director Fury," she said, "sorry to interrupt, but he's contacting us."
Fury stood immediately, Jane just a moment behind.
"It's Loki."
()()()()()()()
Both Fury and Hill ignored Jane on the way back up to the bridge; since she hadn't been told either way, she followed along behind. The labyrinthine passages of the helicarrier were such that Jane immediately forgot how to go back the way she had come, anyway; and where was it more important to be…on the bridge, where the war's future would be decided, or in her windowless interior cell, with a cot barely big enough to fit her?
Even from one deck down, Jane could already hear raised voices coming from the bridge. She heard Thor quite clearly, his pleading voice pure heartbreak to her. There were other voices—mostly male, all crisp and military (she assumed from the US government)—but her heart stopped and her feet faltered as she heard Loki's smooth, honeyed voice answering them all.
"Brother,"
She slipped onto the bridge, remaining half-concealed behind a bank of computers as Fury and Hill stepped forward. Thor was speaking.
"Brother, please. Give up this futile dream. All of Asgard mourned for you. Give up and come home…you are still my brother!"
Loki's smile was just as she remembered it: heartless, crazy, and cold. His chuckle filled the entire deck, making some of the agents—and Jane, too—shiver as though touched by spiders.
"When will you give up this useless sentiment, Aesir?" He shook his head, brow furrowing with mock concern. "We are not now and have never been blood," he lingered on the last word, tasting it after the echoes had faded. "And blood is all that matters to the house of Odin, is it not?"
Before Thor could voice any rejoinder, Loki looked beyond him and caught sight of Nick Fury. "But here is the man to whom I wished to speak," he dipped his head, sneering as he did so, "the great Director Fury, who so boldly faced my army and triumphed in battle." He laughed, though no one knew why. "Well done."
"Thank you," Fury said, taking his spot at the head of the bridge. "And what is the purpose of this little call?"
"Why, to negotiate terms of my withdrawal, of course," he sounded as nonchalant as a man ordering what he wanted for dinner, "You have achieved superiority over this stretch of dirt," he went on, his smile turning even colder, "but I have a portal ready to open that will unleash millions of Skrull on your world. Can you imagine the devastation?"
The room was silent. Tony met Jane's eyes across the room; she shrugged, not knowing if he was bluffing or not. No one could.
Loki's eyes seemed to meet them all in turn. He went on, genially, "Now, all is not lost; I am willing to let you retain hold of your country, as America, as you call it, has no special meaning for me. But I still control one-third of this realm," he finished, "and if you challenge my control of it, I will return with my army and slaughter every man, woman, and child who calls this land home."
A white haired man in a distinguished Army uniform cleared his throat and said, "You're talking about killing over 270 million people."
He laughed. "No, no, my friend," he shook his head, "I am talking about killing over 270 million animals. You are nothing more than cattle to me; remember that when you make your calculations. To me, you are mindless beasts who have learned to walk on your hind legs and ape the speech of intelligent creatures."
Thor cried, "Loki, stop this!"
"You," he snarled, "have no place in this conversation—this is between Director Fury," he met that man's eyes, "and myself."
Fury crossed his arms. "What are your terms?"
"I will retain control of all the nations I possess that are not in the lands of North or Central America. The countries that have not been conquered will remain in dispute," Jane's stomach turned as she realized that this conversation would be no end to the war—just a continuation. "I will also pledge," he went on, "to leave the countries in the lands of North and Central America in peace for a period of three months. During that time, you may make whatever preparations for war you wish…but I would suggest your time better spent in preparing your people for their new King."
The room exploded, each man yelling out his opinion of Loki's "terms". Fury made a sharp movement at both Agent Hill and Coulson; they started to efficiently clear the room of the deadweight. After a few minutes, no one remained on the bridge except for SHIELD staff and members of the Avengers.
Fury turned back to Loki, who had viewed the entire scene with a look of unabashed joy. It must seem like perfect proof to him, Jane thought…proof that humans were incapable of thinking clearly for themselves or acting in unison for the good of the species. She felt shame for herself and her race, but shame was soon overridden by anger—anger that he had so easily found their weakness, and known just how to exploit it.
"This seems like we don't get a lot for what we give," Fury said, matter-of-fact as ever. "I'm not accepting this; you've gotta do better."
"I do not have to do anything, foolish mortal," Loki replied, chuckling, "Look at what you have left to fight me! Your armies are in shambles; you have spent all your resources to drive me from your shores. This is a triumph, I grant you that…but be honest; we both know it is short-lived. Are you prepared to lose everything," he shook his head, "because you cannot admit that you are beaten?"
Fury didn't say a word. Everyone in the room held their breath.
"We'll need six months," he said, finally, "Six months of non-aggression. This is a big country, with a lot of people," his lip curled, "and if we're going to get everyone ready for their new King," he sneered, "we'll need more time."
"Six months is a possibility," Loki conceded, "but if I am to be so generous, I will need some guarantee that you will not try to launch a sneak attack. I require a hostage."
"Sir," Maria Hill said immediately, looking at Fury, "I volunteer."
"And when did I ask for you, quim?" The raw violence in Loki's voice—and the insult itself—made Jane flinch, shrinking further back into the shadows. Her heart rate accelerated as she remembered that dark voice hissing in her own ear. Calm down, Jane. You're okay.
"What worth do you have? You are cannon fodder, throwing yourself forward like the chaff you are," he looked back at Fury, who glared at him—glared, but said nothing. "I require a hostage of far greater value."
"Who do you want?" Though it was a question, Fury's voice was flat—almost bored with the whole exchange.
Jane knew that it was stupid of her to have come into the room at all. Loki's eyes met hers with no hesitation; he had known she was there all along. She pressed back against the wall, feeling his gaze skewer her in place as his hands had done, once. He saw her fear and smiled, the tip of his tongue showing momentarily between his teeth.
"I want Jane Foster."
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