You guys are amazing, and I'm just sorry you had to wait a whole week for this update. I found my USB (dropped it in the bank depository by accident), but with summer in full swing, things are busier at work and I'm doing a lot of stuff in the off-hours. Updates will never be more than a week apart, but I may no longer be able to do a chapter every four days anymore. That said, I promise to work as hard as possible for you! Enjoy!
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There was so much noise in the room—shouting, swearing, banging—as every member of the Avengers vigorously defended Jane's right to freedom that her ears took on a curious ringing sound, like the numbness that develops in the aftermath of an explosion. She saw people's faces—twisted in anger—and saw their mouths move, but she could not make sense of what she heard.
She saw Nick Fury turn and gesture towards his red-headed right hand—Natasha knifed through the discord in the room and grasped Jane by one arm, turning her around—but for a moment, Jane met the master spy's eye and could clearly read the sentiment there.
I told you so.
Jane flushed red and stood firm, resisting Natasha's not-so-gentle guiding hand. Director Fury wanted to sweep her under the rug, keep her out of sight, but it was too late for that. Jane was in it now, deep in it, and wherever her path went from here, she swore that she would be the one to decide it.
Not the US government, not the military…and not SHIELD or the Avengers.
She planted her feet firmly and shook her head at Natasha. The other woman stared at her for a long moment—green eyes searching and prodding, as they always did—and whatever resolution she saw there made her let Jane go.
The world came rushing back.
"Loki, stop this madness!" Thor looked angry enough to smash his hammer through the view screen, "She has nothing to do with any of this."
"You sick son of a bitch, if you think we're going to turn her over to you—" Tony's voice was drowned out as the Captain chimed in:
"She's a civilian; if you need a hostage, take one of us!"
"Everyone, shut up!" Nick Fury had neither a super suit nor genetic engineering, was not a god or a monster, but when he commanded, people obeyed. There was silence in the room. Momentarily.
"Fury, if you think you're going to hand her over—"
"Sir, this goes against all the rules of war—"
Tony and the Captain looked at each other; Jane wondered if this was the first time the two of them had agreed about anything. Fury ignored them both—he was focused on the one real enemy in the room: the mad god who grinned at them all, drinking in the chaos like wine.
"Your first choice isn't polling well with the crowd," Fury began, crossing his arms over his chest, "I don't suppose there's any chance you'll take a substitution?"
"And who would I want from this...illustrious assembly?" he replied, eyes moving over each of the Avengers in turn, "The assassins, with their hands drenched in blood? The monster, wearing the skin of a man? The relic?
"No. Miss Foster will come with me now or this war will end sooner than it has to, and I think you know just how the war would end if the confrontation came now. Six months gives you a chance, Director Fury—not much of a chance, I grant you—and all it takes is one little sacrifice." He drawled the last three words, looking past Fury to where Jane and Natasha stood. Jane managed not to flinch under his thin-lipped smile and wandering eyes.
His smile grew wider as he saw her stand firm and stare him down. For a long moment, Jane's awareness narrowed to the two of them; two beings poised at the opposite ends of a spectrum, locked together even though they could not have been further apart.
Then he looked back at Director Fury. Jane blinked and, embarrassed at her strange fascination, looked at the ground, taking in the room only with brief glances through her lashes. She saw Thor looking at her and had to look away immediately.
Her analogy had been wrong.
This situation was not about her and Loki. Not just about her and Loki, anyway. It was about Loki and Thor—and Thor and her—and Loki, Thor, and her. The permutations were enough to make even her brain hurt, and she was a mathematician. She was certain, however—as she was sure of her deepest convictions—that there would be no simple solution to their equation.
Thor might not think of it in the same way, but she had seen his face. The heartbreak, the hopelessness, the frustration—the frustration of a man whose strength was in his muscles when faced with a problem that could not be solved by violence—all of it showed Jane that Thor had arrived at the same conclusion she had.
This would not end well.
"Hypothetically," Fury was speaking again, "if we were to agree…a hostage keeps us from breaking the truce. What keeps you from doing the same?"
"I would give you my word, of course."
"Of course. But you'll forgive me if I think that your word is about as good as my left eye."
Loki laughed heartily at that. "Fair enough," he paused for a moment, thinking, "What can I offer you in return?"
"I want to be able to communicate with the hostage," he replied, promptly.
Jane thought it was decent that he said "the hostage" rather than "Miss Foster". It seemed to imply that he didn't already assume that she would agree to the exchange. It was a pleasantry, of sorts, for she was certain that Nick Fury had already decided how he was going to respond to Loki's offer.
She still had to square it with herself, however.
"I will allow communication," Loki conceded, "Miss Foster will be allowed to communicate with one individual—I leave the choice of individual up to you," he was looking at her again, and she gritted her teeth. Enough.
"What makes you think I'll agree to any of this?" she asked, shrugging. Though she was doing her best to seem nonchalant, her heart was pounding and she felt her lips trembling as she pressed them together; she only hoped he couldn't see it from the other side of the screen. "I thought that neither of us wanted anything to do with the other."
"You wound me, my dear Jane," he said, dramatically pressing one hand to his heart. "I wonder how you can think that after all the…tender moments we shared."
She broke in, mouth dry. Thor would not find out like this. "And you have to know that SHIELD won't really consider me much of a hostage; if they see a chance, they'll take it." She let that sink into the atmosphere, and then continued, "And I wouldn't blame them."
Thor moved suddenly, stepping forward as if to guard against the threat of her own words, Mjolnir humming in his hand, feeding off its master's agitation. The Captain stopped him with one hand on his arm, shaking his head—but Loki had already seen.
"A good bluff, Miss Foster," he smirked at her, "but we both know there is one person who will not allow any harm to come to you. Tell me," and he showed his teeth; more in a snarl than a smile, "have you fucked him yet?"
Even Natasha reacted this time—she grasped Jane by her upper arm as the physicist lunged towards the screen—and Jane bared her own teeth at Loki and snapped, "That's none of your damn business!"
"Is it not?" The set of his mouth had no humor at all, now. He was hunched—a panther waiting to spring—mouth turned down at the corners and jade eyes focused, unwavering. "He insists that he is my brother…and you," he ground out the words; Jane felt each of them as physical weights bearing down on her shoulders, "you are my hostage. My prisoner."
"Not yet she's not," Fury squared his shoulders, taking Loki's attention away from Jane. She took the opportunity to close her eyes—she was so tired, so sick of all this—and Natasha's hand on her upper arm was now a welcome support.
"We will need time to discuss your offer," Fury said, "how can we contact you when we're ready to make the exchange?"
"I don't believe I offered you the luxury of time, Director," Loki's objection was pro forma, only. Jane could tell he was pleased by Fury's seeming concession—his voice had lost its rough edge—and he continued immediately, "But, I am a generous man."
"We need twenty-four hours," it amazed Jane that he managed to sound so calm as he engaged in this lightning round of chess with a clever and skilled opponent. Her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry, and her palms were sweating…these next moments, after all, were to determine her last, small measure of freedom.
It struck her then that her mind was already made up. She knew what she would have to do.
He laughed, shaking his head. "I am not so generous. A full day to rally your men and prepare for a counterstrike? No. I offer twelve hours. At eight o'clock tomorrow morning, you will have Miss Foster waiting for me on the deck of your vessel. If she is not there," his image faded from the screen, "I will crush you where you stand."
The bridge was silent after Loki left. The helicarrier heaved underneath them as the gathering wind coaxed swelling waves from the sea. The various computer screens continued to beep on, displaying tactical and navigational information in bright, multicolored displays.
The only human sound was Fury's fingers, tapping a sharp staccato beat against the communication console. Slowly, they stopped. Then the glass of the console shattered underneath his fist. The sound of breaking glass threw Jane momentarily back into the battle for New York—she felt nauseous—but nobody moved.
Then, "Sir," the Captain cleared his throat and stepped forward, addressing the rigid back of Director Fury, "I believe that twelve hours still gives us enough time to prepare for an attack. I have been speaking to Colonel McQueen, and he says—"
"Save it, Captain," Fury's voice was not angry; it was weary and dispirited…broken in a way very few people had ever heard. "There's no way we could be ready in time. Hell," he turned, folding his arms across his chest, "even if we had a week we still wouldn't be ready. The 58th squadron took heavy casualties, we lost two aircraft carriers, and the submarines we have won't provide nearly enough firepower.
"Let's face it," he said, sighing, "we are hopelessly outgunned. And twelve hours gives Loki enough time to get his reinforcements from Africa and Western Europe on those flying troop carriers…or whatever they are. We'd be overwhelmed."
"So we're just going to give up, sir?" Steve pressed, his jaw tightening with frustration, "We're not going to put up a fight?"
"Do you have any idea about how we might win that fight, Captain?" Fury was starting to sound frustrated himself, "Because if you do, I'd love to hear it. The world's in a delicate state right now, and SHIELD high command is getting twitchy. I don't want to give them an excuse to drop a nuke on us if things get out of hand."
"I hope you're kidding about that?" Jane gasped.
Fury shook his head. "I wish I were, Miss Foster. It was only the six million people still trying to evacuate that kept them from dropping one on New York."
"So, let me get this straight," it was the first time Dr. Banner had spoken, and everyone turned to look at the man who leaned against the wall at the back of the room, "to keep your bosses from getting "twitchy"," his voice was gentle and even, but his words sneered, "we're going to give this psychopath a civilian who also, may I remind you, can give him all the answers he needs about opening portals back to Asgard. Is that about right?"
"He already knows everything he needs to know about making and directing portals," Jane said, shrugging, "all he needs is the power source. To get back to Asgard, he needs the tesseract; none of this will work without it."
"Mr. Stark?" Fury looked for confirmation. Tony nodded.
"She's right. There's nothing we know that would be news to him, but none of it means a damn without the tesseract. As long as we keep that safe, he's not going anywhere."
"Yeah, but he keeps tearing up the world," Clint said. "Would it be such a bad thing if he had the power to go elsewhere?"
"You would have him destroy Asgard instead of Midgard?" Thor said, hand tightening around Mjolnir as he stared the archer down. Clint did not back down; he held the god's gaze as Thor continued, "I did not believe that humans could be so petty."
"This gets us nowhere," Fury said, "what we have to decide now is—"
"You know what?" Tony interrupted, speaking to Thor, "Green Arrow's got a point. I would rather have him destroying Asgard. It's your fault he's here in the first place, and they only sent you to clean up the mess. And what have you done?"
"Mr. Stark—" Fury tried to interrupt, but Thor's deep voice rolled right over him.
"What have I done? I have called down the power of the storms to stall my brother's advances; I have kept this team and countless mortals out of danger; I have traveled with you as brother-in-arms from one side of this realm to the other—"
"And people are still dying!" Tony slammed his fist on the table and stood. It was almost funny—and would have been if Jane hadn't been on the point of tears—to see all five-foot-eight of Tony Stark squaring off against the six-foot-three thunder god. "So what the hell does all that matter, huh?"
He stepped closer, ignoring the static charge that filled the atmosphere as Thor battled his irritation. Lighting flashed outside, a single bolt splitting the sea. "You know what you should have done? You should have grabbed your brother, dragged him here, and used the tesseract to take him back to Asgard. But you haven't. Every time we fight him, you beg and you plead and you whine—"
Thor hit him; a swift backhand blow across his face. Jane couldn't believe it—Thor using his strength against an unguarded human—and the force was enough to throw Tony backwards. He landed solidly on his back on the table, cracking the glass surface.
Blood dripped from his mouth and nose and he spat it out. Discretion had never been the better part of Tony's valor, though, and in another moment—after getting his lungs working again—he went on:
"And now," he wheezed, cracking his jaw back into place, "and now…he's gonna take Jane. And what are you gonna do then, huh?"
Thor looked down at his fist—bewildered, as though it had moved without his consent—and then looked at Jane. She had both hands over her mouth to stop the scream that had wanted to come out, and she shook her head at him, dropping her hands to her sides.
The only sound in the room was Tony's labored breathing, and the glass tinkling to the ground as he rolled off the table.
Jane had had enough. She turned on her heel and left the room. No one said a word to stop her.
Outside, she leaned her head against the cool steel walls of the corridor, relishing the silence. Her ears were still ringing with angry voices and she pressed her hands against them, knowing it was a futile gesture.
This was the haven she had longed for? These were the people she had hoped would keep her safe?
Jane tried to be generous. They had just been through a hard battle. Tony, Clint, and Natasha had come from captivity, like herself. Dr. Banner fought every day with his alter ego, and this situation was probably extremely uncomfortable for him. The fact that he hadn't already lost control was impressive.
But even with every allowance she could give…she was still disappointed in Thor. He had hurt Tony; he might have killed him. How violently would he have reacted if Loki had been able to confess what had happened between the two of them during Jane's imprisonment?
The thought was disquieting, to say the least. But she would have to tell him, before she left…
The fully articulated thought gave Jane a momentary pause. There it was—the source of all this bickering, all this friction. The Avengers were trying to find a reason and a way to keep her away from Loki.
All of this was to try to protect her.
Jane put her back to the wall and slid down, resting her forehead against her knees. The thought was humbling, and she felt ashamed for her ungenerous thoughts. It only helped steel her resolution; she would have to go. No one would die because of her.
"Jane?"
Even speaking gently, Thor's rich, deep voice was enough to fill the entire hallway. She looked up, straining to meet his eyes; he dropped down to one knee before her, resting his hands lightly on the ground.
"Are you all right? I am sorry," he dropped his gaze and murmured like a guilty child, "for striking Tony. He is a friend of yours, I know."
"He can be kind of a jerk," Jane conceded, trying to laugh and not succeeding, "but he is a good friend to me. I don't understand…you could have killed him."
"I would not have—" he paused, and shook his head, "No, you are right. I have never struck a fellow warrior out of anger before. It was wrong of me." He shifted forward and leaned against the wall, warm against her side. She dropped her head down to rest on his shoulder, folding her arm under his.
She felt him breathe deeply before he spoke again:
"I was angriest because…because he was right. My failure to act has caused great harm. And now you are affected by it as well," Jane squeezed his arm gently, encouraging him to go on, "None of this would have happened if I had done as I ought."
"You still love him," Jane said, pressing a light kiss to his bicep, "I don't blame you for not wanting to hurt him."
He kissed the top of her head, "I could have captured him without hurting him overmuch. But I had hoped…"
She picked up the tail end of his thought, "You hoped that you could talk him out of all this."
It was a long moment before he spoke again. "I fear that he is beyond my reach."
What sort of things could make Thor say the words "I fear"? An immortal being with the power to manipulate the storm—someone who could fly and travel the boundless reaches between the stars—had he ever said those words before?
Jane untangled herself from him and raised herself to her knees, turning to face him. His eyes were bright, even in the dim hallway—twin blue stars, shining like Rigel in the darkness of space. He blinked twice, quickly, and Jane's heart contracted painfully in her chest as she realized he was trying to hold back tears.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gathering him to her like a mother gathers a child, running her hand in long strokes down his back. He leaned into her, his head resting against her breastbone, arms tight around her middle—she could feel them shaking. Like a mother, she wished with everything inside her that she could stand between him and his pain, a shield of flesh and willpower to keep him safe from pain.
Somewhere—the thought made her throat spasm with unshed tears—Thor's actual mother must be shedding tears of blood, to see her sons hurting like this.
"I do not want you to go, Jane," he said, his breath drifting against her collarbone.
She steeled herself, and said, "You know I have to."
His arms grew tighter and his voice deepened, growling the threat: "I could take you away from here. I could keep you safe."
"You could," she said, gently, resting her hands on his shoulder and leaning away from his embrace, "you could keep me safe. But everyone else would suffer for it. I can't let that happen. You can't either. I have to go."
"I do not like this."
"I don't either, believe me. But Director Fury is right. We don't really have any other option."
"I will not allow them to threaten your life, Jane," Thor said, interlacing his fingers with hers, "If any of the Avengers act in a way that will endanger your safety, I will stop them."
"But that's what Loki wants, you know," Jane said, shaking her head. "He wants the team to fall apart. He wants you to fight Tony, for Natasha to fight the Captain…for Dr. Banner to lose control. That can't happen. Until we have a chance to recover, and the army builds itself back up again, the Avengers are the only people who can stop Loki. You need to stay together."
He gave her a weak smile, "I knew you were a brilliant scientist, but I had no idea that you also have a keen tactical mind." He lifted one of her hands and kissed the palm, sending a shiver up her spine. Her lips parted in a silent gasp. "You are truly unique, Jane Foster."
Warmth unspooled in her stomach and she shivered again as he lowered his head to lay open-mouth kisses on the soft skin of her wrist and forearm. The soft hairs of his beard tickled and she wanted to laugh—she settled for breathing a quiet sigh as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.
He was warm, and strong, and wild, and everything she wanted…but there was no time for what she wanted. She still had something very important to confess before they went any further.
"Um," her voice wobbled as she spoke, but he looked up anyway, "we need to talk about something. Do you have a room?"
Any other man might have made a joke about her intention to do any talking, but Thor only nodded, taking her hands in his as he pulled the two of them to their feet. Jane settled into his side—head barely able to rest against his shoulder—as they walked the confusing hallways of the carrier.
At least SHIELD had known to give Thor a larger room than her tiny broom cupboard. And he had a view. There was a large bed, a table with four chairs, a desk, and even a little kitchenette. Jane saw a coffeepot and made a beeline for it. Caffeine was possibly the only thing with enough power to take her from Thor's side, but they could probably both use the pick-me-up.
"So this is the machine that makes the delicious drink you offered me!" Thor stood behind her and watched her pour the grounds into the filter. "I must learn its operation."
"Well, you're in luck," Jane teased, bumping her hip against his, "because I happen to be a fantastic teacher."
He learned how to use the coffeepot in about two minutes—Jane let him brew the first pot—and she thought that she had never seen anyone smile wider at mastering such a simple task. He made her sit at the table as he brought powdered creamer and sugar from the tiny cabinet above the sink and poured two mugs of coffee.
It had been so long since someone waited on her—not since pre-possession Erik, when Darcy was still living with them—and she had to swallow hard so she wouldn't sniffle like a baby when he asked if the drink was to her liking.
"It's very good," she laid her hand over his and he turned his over so they could hold hands. She kept her coffee black; the bitterness in her mouth echoing the sorrow in her heart. He smiled at her and she had to look away. It was no good to get attached to that face or those hands…it would be a long time before she saw them again.
"I have to tell you about what happened when Loki held me prisoner," she said, her words coming in an undisciplined rush, "I want to tell you, because I know if I don't, you'll find out some other way and it will be terrible. And it doesn't seem like anyone on this boat can keep a secret. So…" she swallowed, trying to slow herself down, "this is gonna be a little awkward, so, um…just bear with me."
"I will hear whatever you have to say, Jane, in however much time you need to say it."
She smiled at him quickly and looked away again. Even his understanding and considerate reply was a knife in her heart. She pulled her hand out of his and wrapped her palms around the hot mug. She took a moment to stare at the shining brown liquid, watching it shift against the clean white ceramic, trying to get her thoughts in order.
Unfortunately, while her brain was taking its sweet time buffering, her mouth had decided it was already loaded.
"Loki kissed me,"
Thor choked on his coffee and coughed. "What?"
"Twice," she said, looking up with a wild-eyed stare. "I didn't—I mean—I didn't ask for it. He just kind of…did it."
There was no way Hallmark made cards that said "sorry your brother's kind of a perverted creep". She could have used one of them.
She didn't know if it was a good sign or a bad sign that Thor seemed to be as much at a loss for words as she was. He opened his mouth—changed his mind—and tried again.
"He has always been envious of me…" he trailed off, "This…would not be the first time jealousies had arisen between us because of a woman. But never something like this," he ground his teeth and hissed, "Den lilla skiten, när jag får mina händer på honom—"
Jane didn't want to know. She let him rant—his shoulders tightening and his grip so strong that he broke the handle off his mug, spilling coffee on the table—until he breathed deeply and stopped. He also returned to English.
"My apologies, Jane. For my brother, I apologize. There are no excuses I can make for him in this regard. His offenses against me and Jotunheim I could understand and forgive, but this—this is vile."
"Well," damn, that Hallmark card would be really useful right about now, "It sounds worse than…" was she really going to say this? "than it was. I mean, I didn't want him to do it and I hated it…but I don't think he was really trying to—" she couldn't finish the sentence, not when Thor was looking at her like he wanted to be sick for being associated with the cause of her pain.
Jane swallowed. "He did stop, when I—when I asked him to."
"Jane," the word was strained, uneven, "are you certain you want to do this? If Loki—" he stopped himself, "I could not reach you in time."
"I know," she nodded, "but I don't think he will. He had plenty of chances before, and he didn't. He even told me that he'd considered hurting me," she was paraphrasing, but Thor didn't need to know the whole nasty truth, "and had decided against it."
"I do not want you to go."
"Believe me, I don't want to go," Jane said, covering one of his big hands with both of hers, feeling his fingers grasp at her with urgency, "but you and I both know what's at stake. I have to."
He nodded, slowly, his acknowledgement dragged out of him against his will.
Jane checked her watch. It was already after eleven o'clock. That left her only…nine hours of freedom. If this was the last night she would spend as a free woman…she knew what she wanted to do.
She tightened her grip on Thor's hand and stood, keeping contact with him as she walked around the table. He slid his chair back as she drew closer and she settled herself on one of his knees. His blue eyes grew a little darker—the scientist in her noted the dilation of his pupils as he took her in.
"Do we have to talk any more?" she murmured, leaning closer, "I'm tired of words."
"And I," he said, so close that his lips brushed hers when he spoke, "have never been blessed with the gift of speech. My talents," he kissed her softly between words, "have always lain in action."
There were no more words.
()()()()()()()
Four hours later, Jane eased open the door to Thor's room and stepped out into the hallway, tightening the belt of the SHIELD-issued cotton bathrobe over her pajamas. Thor had been asleep for the last half-hour, but Jane's mind was too restless to shut down. And even though it had been a half-hour since Thor had pressed his last kiss to the pulse point at the base of her throat, her heart was still hammering.
Three hours of making out with a thunder god, apparently, was not all that conducive to sleep.
A walk would probably help settle her restless nerves. And if she could get a drink of water along the way, even better. Her throat was parched and her lips were dry and swollen. Even so, she was smiling.
The helicarrier was silent at this hour, and Jane only heard the voices of two or three crewmembers staffing the bridge. The Avengers were all asleep; she wondered how many of them were planning on being present for the exchange in a few hours.
She heard the distinctive sounds of booted feet pacing, back and forth, restlessly. Her own socked feet made no noise in the hallway, and she doubted that any active duty crew would be pacing. She followed the noise to the carrier's central kitchen.
The last person Jane expected to see awake and tormented by his decisions was Nick Fury, but there he was—wearing only a black tee-shirt, jeans, and his boots, pacing the long length of stainless-steel cabinets set into the wall. It was a strangely stripped-down look for the man; she couldn't remember ever seeing him without his long leather coat.
Though she approached nearly silently, he spoke without turning around:
"Can't sleep either, Miss Foster?"
"I needed a drink," she went to the cabinet and took out a plastic cup, stamped with the ubiquitous SHIELD seal. She filled it from the tap. "You know, for a super-secret organization, you guys are really fond of your logo."
Fury smiled. "I've talked to the marketing department about that, but they don't really understand the message."
She chuckled. A super-secret…marketing team. "Why can't you sleep? After a day like today, you must be exhausted. And…" did she dare? "you must have done a prisoner exchange before. That can't be what's keeping you up."
He didn't reply, but he stopped moving. Slowly, he turned to face her. Jane could not read the expression on his face—she didn't think she would ever be able to—but it was not the blank canvas she had expected to see.
"I do something very ugly and very necessary, Miss Foster," he said at last, "so that other people are free to do things that are beautiful and useless. Sometimes, I have to do things that even I regret. This exchange tomorrow will be one of them."
"I did want to thank you," Jane said, setting the tumbler down on the table, "for before. You let me make up my own mind…even though there was only one decision to make. But I still appreciate it."
"You're welcome," he said, "and you're wrong. You could have made a different call."
"Could I have?" she hoped he would forgive her skepticism, but she found it hard to believe he would put the entire world's freedom at risk just for her.
"Well, we won't ever know, will we?"
She shrugged. He was right—it really didn't matter now. The choice had been made.
"But I want you to know…there's no safety net here. If he threatens you, if he hurts you…we will not break the truce. We can't afford to. But you were right. If we see a chance to break it to our advantage, we will."
Jane took another sip of water to moisten her dry throat. If Loki decided to revisit his former plans—or make some new ones—she would have to deal with it. For six months. Alone. Suddenly, the self-sacrificing resolution she had made seemed like the adolescent fantasy it was. What was she thinking?
No. No panic. It was the only thing to do. She had to do it.
"I understand."
He was looking at her again, and this time Jane could detect a shadow of admiration. "Yeah, I guess you do." He sighed and ran his hands over his head, cupping the back of his neck. "We could both use some sleep. Go back to your man, Miss Foster," Jane flinched as she realized that everyone must have made some embarrassing assumptions about her and Thor's sudden disappearance, "He'll need encouragement too…for the months ahead."
Months, she thought, heart sinking…Jane, don't panic.
"Yeah," she put her empty tumbler into the sink, wondering whose job it was to wash the dishes. Were there SHIELD janitors? With SHIELD-brand cleaning supplies?
Oh my. She was tired…she only made terrible jokes when she was exhausted. The clock on the wall read 0347.
Less than five hours to go.
()()()()()()()
To anyone who catches the significance of Colonel McQueen and the 58th squadron, you are my new best friend.