A/N: You guys. This week this story reached 100 followers on this site. What. The heck. Thank you so much! When I posted the first chapter, I wasn't even sure I'd continue it, but I feel obligated now. Which is fine, because I actually have the whole thing plotted out to the bitter end, even if a lot of details still need to be worked out. But yes, as I said in my previous A/N, I know where this is going. One more time: THANK YOU!

Clara stumbled out of the interrogation room on shaky legs, her hands clenched into fists and her stomach feeling similarly arranged. Fury was nowhere to be seen, but Agent Romanoff was standing in the hallway.

"I can take you home now," she said. "The car's waiting in the garage."

Clara could not seem to find the right words for a response—certainly not "thank you." She scowled at the woman, even if it did not seem to have any effect.

They both turned their heads at the sound of approaching footsteps. Steve Rogers was walking toward them. So Clara had not been wrong in thinking she saw Captain America in the lab.

"Agent Romanoff, hello," he said. He turned to Clara. "Good to see you again, Miss McKenna."

"You too," she said weakly.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"You know how intimidating Fury can be," Agent Romanoff said. "She'll be fine once she gets home."

"Need a ride?" Steve asked Clara.

"There's a car waiting. I was just about to escort her back to her apartment."

"I'll do it," he said. "She looks pretty shaken."

Clara was too relieved to be offended by his patronizing attitude. "Fine with me," she said. "I'm sure Agent Romanoff has work to do, anyway," she added peevishly.

The agent walked them both to the car. As she got inside, Clara just managed to glimpse her leaning down to speak to the unseen driver before Steve Rogers closed the door. He sat beside her, waiting for the vehicle to move, while Clara studied his profile. At least he didn't seem nervous about where they were or where they were going. Maybe that should have been some comfort to her.

"So what were you doing there?" she asked him once they had been traveling for a few minutes.

"Me?" he asked. "Since I…woke up, S.H.I.E.L.D. likes to do these blood tests every once in a while. Checking for after-effects, that kind of thing. They're still trying to replicate the serum, too."

"And doing other things," Clara mumbled.

He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

She met his gaze—another pretty pair of blue eyes. Damn, how are all the Avengers so good-looking? she wondered.

She was so close to telling him what happened in that little room. By now, she was wondering if there was anyone left in the world that she could trust. It was tempting to spill her guts to Captain America about her new position in the court of Asgard, how nothing was going right so far, how annoying Tony was, why she never wanted to have anything to do with politics, Fury's threats, and even her not-quite-hidden feelings for Thor.

Something kept her in check, though. She looked away, holding her tongue. She knew these patriotic, good-old-boy types: sweet, wholesome, loyal, ready to do just about anything for you. But the faintest whiff of rebellion, and they were like a hound with his quarry, turning on you in an instant. Maybe that description didn't apply to Steve Rogers, but under the circumstances, Clara had no desire to find out.

"Never mind," she said instead.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, for a moment forgetting where she was and where she had been. A headache was closing in on her and the pain in her stomach changed subtly. She realized that, in the morning's craziness, she had forgotten to eat anything.

"So where do you live?" Steve asked.

"Coyle Street, in Brooklyn," she said.

"Really? I'm from Brooklyn!"

Her eyes still closed, Clara smiled. Good ol' boy or not, this was the first friendly conversation she'd had in ages with someone who wasn't her roommate. "That's where all the cool people are from," she said. "Well, I was born in California, but…you know."

"Did you live in Hollywood?" he asked eagerly.

She opened her eyes and turned toward him, this time a little more tempted than before to tell him what was on her mind. He looked so fascinated, like a little kid.

"Nope, San Francisco area."

"Wow," he said. "And you came all the way out here?"

"Sure did," she said. "It's…not that big a deal these days."

"No, I guess not," he said. He paused, but Clara did not try to fill the silence. After a little while, he said, "I was on tour to promote war-bonds for a while, but we never made it to California before taking the act to Europe."

"You'll have to get out there sometime," Clara said. "You'd like it."

"Maybe someday," he said.

She grinned again, thinking how hilariously weird this was. How old was he, technically—around 90? And yet it was like talking to someone her age—which, in a way, he still was.

Then she looked at his face again. He seemed so youthful and naïve one minute, but in the next she could see melancholy mixed with the earnestness in his world-weary eyes. She held her breath at the realization that this man—a man her age, but not of her time—had experienced things she could never imagine. It might have broken her heart if she thought about it too long.

Finally, the car came to its final stop. There was a click as the doors were unlocked. Steve got out first, seeming to think nothing of the fact that they had been transported in something only slightly swankier than a kidnapper's van. Maybe he had worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. enough now that he was used to the way they did things, and didn't hate them for it. Clara didn't know how he could stand it, but of course she was a little more bitter that day. They probably didn't have to force Captain America to do what they wanted—he was probably a sucker for those patriotic guilt trips.

Clara opened her door and stepped out onto the pavement, almost surprised that they were in front of her apartment building. She could not relax completely until the car pulled away and disappeared around a corner. Meanwhile, Steve craned his neck as he squinted up at the buildings.

"Wow," he said. "I haven't been in Brooklyn since…" He didn't finish his sentence. Clara watched as he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to eye level. "Well, it's changed a little from my day."

She quietly observed him for a minute before getting an idea. "Hey," she said. "You want to get some lunch? I haven't eaten all day, and there's a great falafel place a few blocks from here."

He looked at her suspiciously for half a second before he said, all politeness, "I'm sorry, Miss McKenna, I'll have to take a rain check. I'm supposed to meet Stark and Dr. Banner. They're helping me out with some of this modern technology," he explained with a self-conscious smile.

The mention of Tony made Clara scowl again. Narrowing her eyes, she said, "You know what, Captain? I'd like to join you. I need to have a word with Mr. Stark."

"Well…I don't mind, but…I don't know if he—"

"Oh, he'll be fine," she said. "Besides, do you even know how to get there from here?"

Steve turned around, only then realizing that the S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle had driven off. "Rats," he said.

"Come on in with me for just a second," she said, pulling her keys out of her pocket. "I want to pick up something first and we'll head to the subway."

Still wary for some reason, he followed her into the building. Upstairs, Clara unlocked the front door and led him inside, where they immediately cringed. A Shakira song blared out of Safia's room.

"Sorry about that!" Clara shouted to Steve. "I'm back, Safia! Do you mind?" she screamed into the bedroom.

Immediately Safia lowered the volume.

"Hey!" She bounded out into the living area. "Where did you—?"

Safia stopped—both in words and movement—when she saw Steve Rogers. Her eyes almost popping from her head, she said, "That's…that's not who you left with."

Clara laughed. "This is Steve Rogers—also known as Captain America. Steve, this is my roommate, Safia Varma."

She had to cover her mouth to avoid laughing at the sight of poor speechless Safia's face when Steve shook her hand and called her "ma'am." Clara thought she would melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Hi," Safia finally squeaked. "So…you're Captain America?"

"Yes, I am," he said with a shy grin.

"Wooowww," she breathed, still not letting go of his hand.

Clara stepped aside to gather her bag and her wallet. When she looked back, Safia had finally let go of his hand, but she was still staring at him, overawed, and he was looking more than a little embarrassed.

"OK, well, just wanted to grab my stuff," Clara said. "I have to go back to Stark Tower and talk to Tony about something."

She opened the door to let Steve out onto the landing, but before she could follow him, her roommate grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Oh, my gawd," Safia gasped. "Clara, you're…you're like…holy crap, you're just…going to hang out with the Avengers? Like it's…wow."

"There's more to it than that," Clara said. "I've been doing this, for weeks, you know that."

"Yeah, but…" Safia rose up on her toes to look past Clara at Steve. "I mean…" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Captain America is hot!"

This time, Clara let herself laugh as much as she wanted. "I'll see if I can bring him back with me later, okay?"

"Okay!" Safia whispered eagerly.

Clara gave Steve a miniature tour of Brooklyn on the walk to the subway. She felt so sorry for him by the time they reached the nearest station. Nothing looked familiar to him, and by the time they got on a train, he was crestfallen. After some attempts at conversation, however, he cheered up again.

"So what were you doing there today?" he asked Clara. "I thought you had some television thing with Stark."

"I did, but I guess S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't approve," Clara said bitterly. "Agent Romanoff showed up at my apartment and basically threatened me if I didn't come with her."

"And then what?" Steve sounded worried.

"Well, I finally met Director Fury. And Tony was right—he made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"What did he tell you?" He was almost frantic. That was unexpected.

"More than enough," she said. Steve withdrew, saying nothing else until they emerged from the station. He looked distraught even as they stepped into Stark Tower's enormous first-floor foyer.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he finally asked Clara.

"No," she said. "Maybe in a minute I will be, but not right now." She turned toward the sound of shoes on the tile to see the proprietor emerging from a hallway.

"Hey Rogers," Tony said, a friendly smile on his face that vanished when he saw who else was there. "Banner is—oh."

"You!" Clara said fiercely, storming toward him.

Tony cocked his head and looked over Clara's head at Steve, his brows raised. "What the hell, Rogers? I thought I got rid of her this morning."

"Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D. picked her up today," Steve said before Clara could answer. "I don't know what they did, but she was obviously upset. I saw her there—she'd just talked with Fury."

"Thanks for the chivalry act, but I can speak for myself," Clara said, now too ill-tempered to be polite.

Tony looked her up and down, as though evaluating the amount of damage she had sustained. "So they finally got to you," he said, his expression sobering.

"No thanks to you," she snapped. "You said that S.H.I.E.L.D. had a proposal for me, but you didn't say you were the one who told them about Odin's offer in the first place!"

"Excuse me?" Tony said.

"Fury said his 'sources' told him about my becoming an ambassador for Asgard. I never said a word about it to anyone here on Earth, and we both know Thor came to talk to you about it. Unless S.H.I.E.L.D. bugged the room, I don't know what other explanation there could be."

"Then you've got a limited imagination," Tony said with a scoff that somehow reminded her of Loki.

"I didn't really wonder how S.H.I.E.L.D. found out about it, since I never heard directly from them until today. For all I knew, you could have just been making it all up. But then, they not only screw up my interview, but they send that Romanoff lady to kidnap me, and then Fury threatens to take down my blog if I don't cooperate. So now that I know this shit is real, I want to know why you ratted me out, and why you thought you should hide that fact when you came to my apartment that day."

"I didn't mention it because that didn't happen," Tony said, now visibly angry. "They needed someone to talk to you, and I offered, but I didn't tell S.H.I.E.L.D. about it in the first place. You might ask your boyfriend about that."

"Thor wouldn't tell them about it behind my back," Clara said, only half-convinced of that herself. "And for the last time, he's not my boyfriend."

Tony looked at Clara's hands as she gestured angrily. "So did they confiscate anything?" he asked.

"No, thank God," she said. "Fury didn't even see my—" She stopped and turned over her hand to see the ring's blue stone. She looked back up at Tony. "Fury didn't know how I've been getting to Asgard."

Tony stared back at her silently, his expression unchanged except for a quirk of his mouth.

"You knew," Clara added. "But you didn't tell him. Then…?"

"Miss McKenna, I think you're angry at the wrong person," Steve said.

"Am I?" she asked, whirling around to face him. "Who should I be angry at?"

He lifted his chin slightly. "I'm the one who told Director Fury about you being asked to work for Asgard. Dr. Banner and I were here that day and we heard what Thor said about it."

She took one staggering step backward as though she had just been slapped in the face. "You?" she gasped. "Well, thanks for throwing me under the bus, Captain America! Why would you do that?"

He looked ashamed again, enough that she would have felt bad about yelling at him if she'd been only slightly less angry. "I know S.H.I.E.L.D. made a lot of mistakes, but it seemed in everyone's best interest that they know about this. It sounded like you were a nice girl who got in over her head, and after all that's happened, I didn't want you to get mixed up with the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of that and get hurt. I thought they'd protect you. I didn't think they'd try to recruit you, or…threaten you."

"Well, that was stupid," Clara said.

"Yeah. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Nice move, old man," Tony said dryly.

"Did you know about that?" Clara asked Tony.

"It really doesn't matter," he replied. "They were going to nab you eventually."

Clara sighed. "Yeah." She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. "Tony, they want me to spy on the Asgardians."

"Figured as much. S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to make up for losing the Tesseract somehow."

She lowered her hands. "Fury mentioned that, but what's it got to do with anything?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was using the Tesseract to build advanced weapons," Steve answered. "We think it's what attracted Loki and the Chitauri to Earth."

"Holy shit," Clara said. "I didn't know that part."

"Scared yet?" Tony asked wryly.

"Little bit."

"Buck up, kid," he said. "There's a lot more 'scary' where that came from."

Clara sighed. "It's probably too late to take everything back, isn't it."

Tony grinned knowingly. "You really want to?"

"No," she said, almost before she thought about it. She took another deep breath. "Okay, well…I…I need to go. Tony…I'm sorry I yelled at you. And Steve…"

He looked at her hopefully, but she could only frown and shake her head before rushing out of the building and back to the subway station.

Safia was gone when she got home. Clara hurried around her room—as much as she could within the tight space—packing several days' worth of clothes, toiletries, and camera equipment. This time, she checked the mirror to brush her hair and touch up her makeup before she left.

She hooked her arms through the straps of her backpack and looped her camera bag over her shoulder. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and turned the stone in her ring. A flash of light, rushing air, and she once again felt her feet leave her bedroom carpet and come into contact with the marble floor of Odin's palace. She was prepared for the impact, but staggered under the weight of her possessions.

Again, there was no one in the entrance hall. Setting her bags on the floor, Clara took a moment to savor the quiet and solitude. Strange, how much freer she felt here—free from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scrutiny, from Tony's sarcasm, and from Steve's mistaken good intentions.

I think I can find my room from here, she thought. She sighed, taking in the cool air of the palace, before picking up her baggage again.

She turned down all the right hallways and passed through several rooms before she came to the now-familiar doors of her palace apartments. It was the first time she would be staying in them in an official capacity, she realized. She thought eagerly of dipping into the bath, but remembered the comfortable bed with even greater fondness. Sleep—that was what she needed most after this day.

I wonder if I could take a nap before I talk to Thor? No, I should find him first and tell him what happened. He deserves to know as soon as possible.

She set down her bags and collapsed onto the sofa for a moment of quiet. She closed her eyes and tried to practice controlled breathing, but a ferocious pounding noise made her shriek and sit up again. Someone was banging on the door as though intending to break it down.

She was not surprised to find Thor standing on the other side. To her astonishment, however, he wore an expression of rage such as she had never seen in him before. His crystal blue eyes flashed, his skin was flushed, and his scowl was deadly. He seemed taller and broader than before, if that was possible. Clara could not help noticing the white-knuckled grip he had on the hammer Mjolnir. Seeing him like this made her wonder how she could have thought Loki the more terrifying brother.

"So," he said, "you have returned to spy on us."