Author's Note:

Internet access still a crapshoot, so I'd generally be not present online. Enough said. Also, it's good to hear from you again, Melody! And AngelesPG who'd stayed with the story for a while now. As always, thanks for the reviews.

'-

~ o ~

Part 2 – That Yet We Sleep

~ o ~

'-

XXI Implosion, Portals, Doors, Part 1 (the Lotus Eaters)

Shit hits the fan. Thor and Darcy are caught in the first backlash. Darcy's mind is trying to unconsciously piece stuff together and comes up with the fantastic (with a little help). Tony and 'Tasha investigates. Loki always has an angle.

Jane finishes analysing her data—the puzzle in her hands resolves into a golden key.

Some of the best meetings happen unplanned and unexpected. Plans do not always work the way we wish them to.

'-

Darcy's mind was still numb with disbelief when she read the parchment in her apartment, but her legs moved faster and ran to all the places she wanted to. She scoured the library, checked the server room and even checked the lab. She didn't care if it was in the middle of the night as Stark Tower did not exactly sleep, so she wasn't as conspicuous as she first thought. She didn't find Loki. Of course you didn't—what exactly did you expect?

Now, she was left with either trying to knock on his apartment or to forcibly summon him through his cell.

(I do not recommend you to visit Apartment no. 8.)

The warning in his note lodged uncomfortably in her mind like a pebble in her shoe. Why was he trying to keep her out? Was it to keep people out from apartment number eight or was it just to keep her out? Should she do it now or wait until morning comes?

No, she wouldn't wait until she had any idea of what was going on, not when the fine hairs of her arms were standing and she had a really bad feeling about this.

So she took the elevator all the way back to her floor and knocked on his door. There was no answer—this wasn't a surprise. She would've knocked louder if she thought it would make any difference, but she was sure it could wake Jane and Thor. But what was wrong about waking Jane and Thor? That was a very good question. She ran over to number four and started banging her fists on the door.

"Jane? Jane! Are you home?"

Making a snap decision, she moved to number three. "Thor? Thor! You're there, right?"

It was only two minutes until the door swung open, but it had felt longer to her. She couldn't help the cry of relief that escaped when she saw his concerned face. He gladly hugged her, his comfortable bulk providing what little anchor he could for the solid ground she felt she was losing. He was just…there, the ever-dependable Thor.

"Is there something wrong, Darcy?"

"Is Jane with you?"

"She's still asleep. She has not had enough in the last few days, frenzied as she is in her work. Darcy?"

"It's Loki," Thor frowned. She felt compelled to clarify and head off any misunderstanding. "I can't find him. I tried knocking his door and there was no answer. I don't have a good feeling about it."

"Perhaps he is simply asleep?" Thor offered kindly.

She almost wanted to tell him that Loki slept over at her place most of the time anyway so this was doubly irregular, but she tamped it down because it was probably the hysteria speaking and this wasn't the time for unexpected reveals. Darcy rubbed her forehead and heaved a sigh.

"I don't have a good feeling about this, about tonight." Darcy admitted. "I just have to tell someone about it, y'know? If you think that I'm only being weird and it's better to get to his room in the morning, alright. But I just can't shake the ominous feeling…"

Her eyes were drawn once more to door number eight. Thor saw what had caught her attention once more and walked towards it, knocking on the door.

"There's no answer, see? Nothing," Darcy said. She could see his thoughts turning tumultuous with her words and he began to consider the possibilities she tried not to think too hard about.

"Loki? If you do not open up now, I will be forced to summon you from the imprisonment chamber! Lady Darcy is concerned for you."

Darcy couldn't help but blush from Thor's last statement. She was worried, yes, but the way Thor said it made it seem like she was a heroine from a Regency novel looking for the gentleman she gave her handkerchief too…and it was giving her all sorts of association that made her insides spin even more. As if she hadn't had enough crap she needed to actually sit and think through. She rubbed her forehead, willing her mind to clear.

"There's no answer, is there, Thor?"

Thor's expression was stormy. "No. It would seem that we must resort to extreme measures."

Darcy pressed her lips together.

"I have a better idea." She took a steadying breath. "Jarvis? You listening?"

A disembodied voice rang in the air around them. From the way Thor's arm briefly clenched and unclenched with Jarvis' answer, she could see he was still not too used to it.

"Yes, Miss Lewis?"

"You've seen what we're trying to do, right?"

"You were trying to locate the entity known as Loki and he did not answer you at the door."

Darcy huffed. "I've tried all the places I can think of and I have no better idea. Jarvis, do you think you can unlock the door?"

"I'm sorry Miss Lewis, but I can't do that. Mr. Stark takes the privacy of all his guests seriously. If you can provide evidence of an emergency or a critical condition for it, I will open it for you."

"Dammit!" she cursed.

"But I will not stop you from trying to bring the door down."

Darcy grinned. Thank goodness for loophole-aware AIs. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"You're welcome, Miss Lewis."

"So, Thor, think you can bring the door down?" She asked. The blond Asgardian stood tall and proud, appearing with the gravitas of the prince he was, even in earth clothes. In his hand was his trusty hammer—she had no idea when he retrieved it, only that it was there now.

"Easily," Thor answered. He raised Mjölnir high in the air, and Darcy backed away before it met the door with a resounding crack. She was not imagining the brief flash of light at the point of impact or the shattering lines that spread from the middle to everywhere. Darcy would've ducked, but apparently the door exploded inwards rather than outward and spared her the hail of wood chips.

She followed Thor in, barely noticing how he had paled.

The first thing that she saw was the great gouts of dark red that covered the floor, radiating outwards from a small area in the middle with all the acrimony of an accursed sun. Some splashes of colour could be found on the walls in vicious bursts.

It would seem that something had exploded there (or someone, a part of her said, but she refused to acknowledge).

In the parts that were not deluged or covered, there were drawings and letters on the floors and walls though a glint caught her eye on the floor. Thor might have called her then, but she did not listen, compelled by her heartstrings to kneel and pick up the curled piece of metal there. Thick liquid splashed her hands and she cut her fingers on sharp pieces embedded on the floor but neither sensation gave her pause. The acrid taste of rust began to form at the back of her mouth only to be admitted and ignored.

It was a familiar serpent made of metal, biting its own tail. The brooch was larger than the one she already had, the size of her palm. Its dark green gems for eyes glittered with welcome at her touch.

Then, the stench of blood hit her. She saw the redness of her hands and her soaked up jeans. She saw where she was kneeling with an offering received and taken in her hand—and what a picture she made! The lady by the dark water that glistened silver in the moonlit night. The lake, however, was of blood than water, and she was less of a Waterhouse sprite and more of a figure in Goya's Nightmares of War. Her stomach churned. She covered her mouth, unaware that she was smearing her chin and cheeks. Darcy ran to the bathroom to empty what little remained from her midnight snack. On the porcelain seat, the red hand prints she left everywhere were a voiceless plea.

When she'd finished washing her face and cleaning herself (what little she could do, when the blood had seeped, and she was half sure it had sunk into her skin too), she straggled back to the living room. Sometimes the pool of carmine gleamed quicksilver at the corner of her eyes. She resolutely ignored it to throw her arms around Thor, unconsciously marking him with the colour of violence. They clung to each other, offering wordless comfort as one does among family. Darcy couldn't hold back her sobs anymore even if she was uncertain what she was crying for.

'-

Jarvis had deemed the situation an emergency and contacted tower security; the AI called for assistance as soon as he could see inward using the hallway camera right in front of the door. Jarvis' image of the room had resolved from whatever magical interference had been there once Thor broke the door down and he entered it with Darcy.

Darcy drifted away to her apartment and Thor returned to his. She would sit on top of her toilet seat, lost in her own thoughts for a while. It would be another twenty minutes or so until people started arriving, as Jarvis had prevented anyone not personally involved to reach the 127th floor and rerouted or rescheduled any non-essential personnel as well. As far as anyone knew, apartment number eight was empty once more.

No one had any explanation for the few odd splashing sounds that was recorded to come from inside said apartment's living room during this time period. Afterwards as cameras were left inside, no more sounds similar to it was recorded.

'-

Jane woke up to see a bedraggled Thor sitting in the sofa, lost and blood splattered. After her initial moment of panic, she saw that he was uninjured. The blood was someone else's—she dreaded finding out who it belonged to.

The noises outside her apartment pulled her attention before she can talk, and Jane followed her curiosity. Opening the door, there were various official-looking people, more than a handful men-in-black types and a smattering of people that she'd guessed was lab technician. They were all heading to or from one direction. The trail ended at one of the other apartments on their floor. Its door had been smashed off from its hinges and yellow-and-black tapes cordoning the area off.

Jane could feel Thor standing behind her before he gently pulled her into a hug. She turned around.

"Thor?"

Just looking at him with pain in his eyes hurt more than she wanted to imagine. She closed her arms around him without any prompting, the slight tang of ozone behind a solid earthy scent that was all him was comforting to her. Even the metallic hint of blood on him did not bother her. She had held him when they were ringed with ashes and she will hold him when he smelled of fire and ichor, of battle freshly fought. He had stayed with her too when her mind did its best in containing the universe within it and cared not for the mundane details of everyday life. It did not bother him to be her anchor when she had stars in her eyes and all her ears were listening to was the endless song of space.

She knew what she accepted when she first held his hand and she has yet to change her mind.

"It was Loki's apartment," Thor said, his voice thin. "There was so much blood."

"Oh." A beat. She wasn't sure what she expected herself to feel, but she hadn't gotten over the shock of the news. She did know that she was completely uninterested to see what the apartment with the blown-up door looked like. Even if she never had a good relationship with Loki, she did not want to see him dead.

(So much blood.)

"I'm so sorry, Thor."

He clung to her because she was the only thing in the world that held him together, sharing the blood and sorrow. His head was buried in the crook of her neck, taking comfort in the scent that was Jane. She stroked his back gently. She crooned to him old lullabies she could remember her mother sing. All she could think was how she wasn't sure if Thor had fully recovered from the first incident of Loki's 'death'. He didn't need another weighing in his mind. She wouldn't let him fall that badly again, not while she was here.

"Come on," she said softly, "let's get back to bed."

She handed him clean clothes and he changed with only half his mind present. She had found the first answer to her conundrum last night, but getting to the lab was the last thing on her mind today. He pulled her into his arms and she gladly took away his cares, if only for the hour.

'-

Darcy dragged herself out of her daze when she could hear noises beyond her apartment door. As she pushed the creaky door and stepped out of the bathroom, she thought she could see herself and Loki again, probably arguing about nothing important in the living room. They were in formal clothes that reminded her of the time he pranked Jane. She blinked and the image disappeared.

Shit. It was a completely mundane scene but her gut clenched at the thought all the same. She missed the ass more than she thought she would if she'd started daydreaming about both of them—she strode quickly past her living area to walk out of her apartment.

Darcy had expected the police, but after considering the need for discretion, his choice made sense. Security came, with the paramedics following not long after and Darcy had insisted that she was fine, really, but it didn't seem to stop people from giving her blankets. She had even made some hot chocolate for herself. She let them drape a bright orange one over her, just to get them to stop and leave her alone.

(It was probably the blood. She hadn't even thought much about it anymore.)

One of the technicians almost dropped his bag when he saw her, his mouth open in surprise. She stared at the duct-taped glasses on his nose, uncomprehending. His eyes followed her from the top of her head to her feet, it was too quick and desperate to be anything else but searching. What he was looking for, she had no idea.

"You know me," he blurted out all of a sudden. It didn't even sound like the beginning of some lame pick-up attempt. He was too on-edge and his eyes darted around with the wariness of a prey.

Darcy only raised an eyebrow at him sceptically. "Really?"

"Yes, you and your dead friend. You've been dead, right?" He asked with wide eyes. "You look alive now."

Ironically, that wasn't even the strangest question someone had asked her. She only snorted and shook her head. "Yeah, alive and on my one and only life buddy. I'll tell you if I suddenly remember otherwise."

His friend, a tall no-nonsense brunette, elbowed him.

"John," she warned.

"It's her. I swore it was her, Melissa. But the clothes—"

"Is obviously the one she was wearing when she found the crime scene, okay? It couldn't be her. Let's just check the camera later, okay?" She cut in, exasperated. A The friend gave Darcy a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Miss, but you've been in your apartment the whole time, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Sort of. Why?"

The flabbergasted technician was staring back and forth between her face and her blood drenched clothes; she must've looked like an extra from the Exorcist but she couldn't care less. Darcy glanced at him once before proceeding to ignore him again, at least until his more in-control friend—Melissa, was it?—dragged him away.

"Maybe you should just take the day off—" Melissa hissed under her breath.

"I'm telling you I'm completely fine. What if there was a suicide pact and—"

"John, drop it. I mean it…"

Darcy barely reacted to whatever it was that they couldn't agree between them as they took their leave and continued to argue in low voices.

(Was she in shock? No she wasn't. No. She didn't feel like she was in shock. What was shock supposed to feel like, anyway?)

Loki couldn't be dead, could he? He was far too clever for that.

(Or maybe she just didn't want to think about it?)

As more and more people arrived and spoke with grim expressions to each other, Darcy managed to return to her room once more. She shed her clothes in the bathroom, numbly washed herself and walked out naked looking for clean change without thinking. Sleep failed to find her and she could only to sit on the bed with its green sheets, leaning against the head board and lost in thought while her hands turned the large serpent brooch again and again.

She had seen the wet track on Thor's cheeks. If she didn't feel she'd run out of emotions after her first outburst, she wanted to yell about the unfairness of it all.

A different part of her, the one that can't stop observing and watching and poking, noticed that some things aren't as they seem. There are discrepancies. Sometimes she was sure there were flashes of insight at the edge of her thoughts, but every time she tried to chase them down, they fell apart to unintelligible mess. She sighed and curled up on the bed, trying to ignore that hint of mint that was Loki.

Perhaps it would be clearer after she took some rest.

(That last sentence she read still followed her to sleep. 'I do not recommend you to visit Apartment no. 8.')

'-

It wasn't easy for Jane to fall asleep even as Thor fell into fitful rest. There was a new email in her inbox, from the junior researchers that Bruce Banner reluctantly referred her to when she called him. It was probably about the data she had sent them last evening (yesterday, it was yesterday already). The astrophysicist opened it with trepidation, a part of her was desperate to know what it contained and the other part wanted to flung her cell phone to the wall and never pick it up again.

This is ridiculous, Jane. You've checked the steps more than five times. All the methods you choose are reasonable. If anything goes pear-shaped, it's because there's something you didn't see, something that no one could have foreseen. Relax. You can do this.

One of the first principles of the scientific method was replicability. Jane held on to this with fervour others reserve for the divine. It was why she sent her outputs over to them, the spectrograms, the data on the anomalies and portals, all of it, and asked them to check, even if she was afraid of being wrong. Especially because she was afraid of being wrong.

(Even if being right was actually worse news. Much worse.)

Jane took a deep breath and clicked the email, scanning through the pleasantries in a hurry. She couldn't help the cry of relief that flew from her mouth as she reached their conclusion, her lips covered behind her hand. The assistants didn't know what exactly it was they were staring at, of course. They probably thought it was just data to calibrate some equipment. Some on-the-ground equipment of a top secret rover project that the government is not disclosing, for some weird reason (what was so dangerous about space exploration, after all?), but they did not wonder why. Jane didn't disabuse them of that notion—she couldn't even come up with half as convincing an excuse as they did.

They took the same conclusion that she did.

'It is clear that five of these data sets are collected from locations that are on the same planet or planetoid, even on the same latitude. We do not believe it is an asteroid except for an unusually large one due to the significant atmosphere detected…'

She rapidly typed a thankful reply to them while she tried to come up with the next step. Jane never realised the spots of blood on her cheeks, the few dried flakes on her shirt that occasionally gleamed silver. She needed to get to the lab, check all the raw data again…

Thor turned restlessly in his sleep, and something felt too tight inside Jane's chest. She sighed.

She supposed she had to thank Darcy for her idea of backing up everything into the cloud. If she needed to, she could download any and all data she wanted from her apartment. She could stay here if it was simply to read.

Her tiredness caught up with her and she fell asleep on the couch not long afterwards. It was enough for a short nap.

'-

The club was decorated in warm tones and gold. Most of the accents were purple or the riper shades of mulberry, but the carpet was green. Darcy could see herself speaking to Jane with the words strangely blurred at the edges, as if she was listening to them underwater. She threw the end of her black feather boa over one shoulder (why feather boa?) The snake brooch with emerald eyes blinked from her right shoulder.

Jane, why are you collaborating with Tesla again? Yeah, sending electricity over the air is cool, but you're never going to sell the idea if you freak people the fuck out! Please, try touring the East Coast with the idea first…

The redheaded singer was singing on stage about she wouldn't save you, or something just as morbid. It was appropriately tragic for the club's atmosphere and the lyrics more than a little creepy—a hit with the absinthe crowd.

But Darcy, this could revolutionise power! They'll love this. You see…

For some reason, Jane insisted that Darcy would only need to see one successful effort to believe that it could be done. She pulled her brown cloche hat tighter, a large pin of trilobite fossil on it, and the scientist-slash-inventor walked out of Darcy's doors in a huff. Probably off to float her hot air balloon. Thor raised his hat apologetically before he followed his lady love. The brunette sighed. On the other hand, it was crazy enough to work. Jane didn't even have to think about where she'd get electricity when she could generate it easily with Thor by her side.

(Tap…)

Consciousness permeated Darcy's foggy mind slowly, but at one point she was aware that the tap-tap-tap sound was not goblins tap dancing on tables in her speakeasy (which would mean bedlam); the creatures were still properly running errands and not tripping the customers. They might be happy to be paid in scraps and candies, but you have to stand your ground and be firm. There's a reason not many people were brave enough to work with them—if those little buggers think they can run all over you, they'd give you instant pandemonium.

Darcy was up to the challenge.

(Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap.)

She turned her head once more, searching. That sound wasn't the thought police crashing through the doors of her establishment either, as no tables were overturned and no one was screaming. Usually, that happened because Loki was up to no good—if the anti-robot bigots tried to shake her down again because he riled them up too much and lead them here, she was going to punch Loki in the throat. She had nothing on the pro-robots or even the robots themselves; her bartender was an emancipated robot (he goes by Vision; she wondered what was wrong with a name like Rob or John, but she supposed it was better than Number 19).

Her issue with his brand of mischief was that she'd feel any setback she experienced right in the purse: it takes hard work to be an independent woman in this day and age and he wasn't making it any easier. Even if she always liked him dropping in. (You can't always knee every sucker who called you slut or tried to molest you outright. One of them might be the mayor's son.)

Oddly enough, there was another familiar brunette there. Sarah lounged in a corner, raising her glass of Southside, looking far more amused by the low-level chaos than was strictly necessary and telling her to relax.

Don't think too hard about the goblins, you're doing well enough right now. If you get too tense, they'd sense that too and it'd get worse.

Darcy snorted. Easy for you to say. You're a natural at this. Why can't you keep handling the goblin?

She rolled her eyes. We both need to be able to hold the club alone without the other. Anyway, nobody's a natural at this. I just had more opportunity to practise. Sarah whistled, ignoring the scandalised couple on the table next to her as several goblins came to her bidding. Darcy only managed to get one or two to come at once.

Are you kidding me? You just proved my point.

It's not that hard, let me show you…

(Tap-tap-tap-tap. Oh, it's the door. Someone's knocking on the apartment door.)

The circling serpent with dark green eyes on her right shoulder blinked at her. It seemed to be content in Darcy's presence and warmth, to follow her in the absence of Loki. She didn't wonder why her feather boa was gone to be replaced by the snake (though for some reason it had stiff-featherlike stuff too). It had always been there with her and so it did not matter what form it took.

Wait, who was knocking again? It was odd, wasn't it? She was already open for business, anyone who wanted to enter could just waltz in if they so choose.

(No, not that door. Your apartment door. You know, in Stark Tower?)

She blinked. She saw a black tank-top instead of a black dress on her. The green carpet that she saw was superimposed with green sheets. Sheets? No, no, they were carpets. They were green because Loki didn't mind contributing some funds for the club as long as she went for green carpets instead of red. She could compromise colouring for free carpet. It wasn't as if she liked red anyway.

Too much red reminded her of pools of blood.

(You know who'd been bleeding recently? Loki. That is, if he isn't dead enough at this point.)

If there was something that jolted her straight out of her dreams, it would be that last thought.

Darcy sat up. The bed was solid under her, the sheets as soft as cloud under her skin. She held the found brooch in a death grip in her right hand and it was speckled with red. The metal's subtle gleam of green pulled her uncomprehending gaze towards it for another second or two, at least until she saw the scratches on her palm. Their sting was barely noticeable. Huh, okay.

All she could feel and remember was the walking into apartment number eight and being unable to breathe at the sight of its red-stained carpet. Her hands massaged her forehead warily.

What the hell have I been dreaming?

The tapping came again. Someone was knocking on her door. Darcy pulled a blanket over her shoulder, and walked out of her room groggily and not quite there. Her mind still half-expected everything to be done in an Art Deco style; oddly enough, it wouldn't even clash with the streamlined sensibility of modern-day Stark Tower. Now, that's a design aesthetic that could be worth trying. She sighed and pulled it open.

Tony stood in the doorway, hand half-raised while Darcy rubbed her eyes. She tried not to think of him that he should have a homburg on or a cigar held between his teeth and shook the last cobwebs of dreaming away. The intensity of his expression changed once he saw her and she looked away to avoid seeing the kindness in his eyes. It was hard not to notice the bracers on his arms, the first hint that he could turn into Iron Man at the slightest notice.

"Sheesh, you look like shit." Tony said.

She snorted. "Thanks for that hit to my self-esteem, Tony."

"Uh, I didn't mean that. I mean, you really look like you shouldn't be wandering out anywhere yet."

She tried to take a glance behind him and see what was going on. Tony seemed to catch on faster and stepped with her movement.

"Ah, no. You just go back and rest, Lewis. We could ask you questions later."

"I'm fine."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Right. That's what she said."

Darcy couldn't help the smallest of chuckles from escaping. The lines of worry eased away from Tony's expression in that moment as he allowed himself to laugh along with her. It allowed tension to fall off from both of them and she was sure he needed it as much as she did. She couldn't remember if he looked so at ease often. (Well, he always did when he was with Pepper, but then his gaze would've been obvious in its longing).

"It's not an emergency. We don't exactly have that many magic users on call, and without them we can't begin to follow any magical trails. All we know is that it seemed to have started and ended in that bloody room—that was an accidental pun, by the way. Some people thought that you might've known something, but seeing you now…"

"Seeing me now…?" Darcy prompted. Tony shrugged. He gave her cheek a light poke and she could see the trailing mascara on the tip of his finger. She didn't answer his questioning look.

"I know that finding that room sucks for you. Not as bad as Thor, yeah, but still…it sucks all the same. You're as in the dark as we are."

A pang of guilt echoed inside her as she knew it wasn't precisely true, but what is it that she knew, anyway? Not enough. She didn't even know enough not to walk into that damned apartment and dipped her arms in blood. He placed a supportive hand over her shoulder and she let out a gusty breath.

"Jarvis told me that it was already like that when Thor broke the door down. There wouldn't be many questions needed asking." Tony said.

She nodded. It was true enough.

"I'll hold everyone else off for now." He assured her.

She gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Tony."

"Not a problem, kiddo. Sleep well."

"I'll try."

The door closed behind her. Darcy made her way to bed again, dropping herself on the sheets and unsure whether the she liked the hint of mint on her bed or not. She pulled one of the lush blankets over her and slipped a hand under her pillow, not quite aware that the brooch was still in her grip as she closed her eyes.

'-

Tony walked at the hallways of the 127th floor as the crime scene technicians (SHIELD and Stark Industries, to be honest, not the local precinct) swarmed all over apartment number eight. Not that he wanted to walk in there, God, no. Just a glance from the outside told him the décor was the love nest of Freddy Krueger and Jackson Pollock. He knew well enough how death smelled by now, especially after Afghanistan, and he had no desire to get reacquainted with that and the associated nightmares. Natasha, though, had calmly wrapped her boots in plastic and went through all the necessary motions that would allow her to personally observe the details inside.

Sometimes he wondered what they did to her in the Red Room to create the cold, competent and untouchable persona that was the Black Widow. Other times, he was too thankful that she was here with them instead of against them that he never asked, especially after that one time she took the shot meant for Pepper. He had said once that should she wish to visit vengeance on those who made her the weapon she is now, she only need to tell him the name and he wouldn't ask of the detail. She clarified then that the people she wanted dead the most were those she had personally sent to the other side.

Well, that makes it harder to find presents for you, doesn't it? He groused about the exact same topic and to his surprise, Natasha had laughed. It was short and it vanished as quickly as it had come and made him wonder whether he had imagined it, but she patted him on the shoulder and assured him that surely, Tony Stark was creative enough to come up with something else.

So now, he simply leaned on the wall next to the doorway and waited for her to surface again, because it was the least he could do for a teammate.

"So, found anything interesting?" Tony asked, once she had stepped out.

Natasha didn't even glance in his direction as she answered. "It's too clean."

"What." Tony gaped.

Lines formed on her brow. "It's too clean. Yes, there is blood everywhere. It does spread out in a manner that you would expect if someone has exploded, yet if that happened, there would also be viscera involved. Even when I first entered I smelled nothing of punctured gut or offal. There are no pale specks that would signal brain matter either."

He did his best not to imagine anything she was saying. "Uh, what if someone was squeezed out and his remains thrown away like so much orange rind? The muscle and bones wouldn't be left behind."

Why was he talking about this again instead of taking a hundred steps away from here? Oh, right, because he's the only other Avengers here that wasn't shell-shocked. Dammit. The Cap or Hawkeye would've been better for this; they were the trained soldiers and killers.

"Again, the intestines would still be ripped open and there would be bile spilled somewhere. Wherever I went inside, the only scent I could detect was blood. It's too neat for slaughter."

The last thing Tony would describe the room was neat, but he supposed 'Tasha had completely different memories to compare it to than Tony's (and he was grateful his memory banks was nowhere close to hers in content). When he looked up, the redhead was staring into the room again, deep in thought. She was tapping her lips with two fingers.

"…he could've collected the blood on his own," Tasha murmured.

"Have you seen the amount of blood there?" Tony asked.

"I know," she said, closing her eyes for a second. "No one can lose that much and not go into shock or just die on the spot. Still, it doesn't have to be his blood."

"Then whose is it? It's not as if there were any butchers in Stark Tower that he could supply himself from. You said yourself that he can't harm other people, so I'm not considering that as an option."

She eyed him carefully. "How was the ward?"

"The whole tower ward? As much as I could check, it's functional and it's intact. I suppose I should be glad that we still have working defence against further magical attacks, but it doesn't clarify anything for our case. How on earth did Loki get splattered, got taken out, without affecting the wards?"

She murmured something in Russian. Tony's Russian was pretty decent (even if he pretended he couldn't speak it more often than not), but eavesdropping people who were mumbling things rapidly were beyond him.

Also, he had the suspicion that it was closer to White Russian than the harsh and functional forms of modern-day Russian.

"But what?" Tony asked instead.

"Even the trapped wolf will gnaw its own leg to escape."

Tony winced at the thought. "Why think that?"

"The cuffs are fragmented and thrown across the room. Some smaller pieces are embedded in the wall. The force required to do that is significant." Tasha told him. "I found half a dozen of those shards embedded on the floor too at the explosion's ground zero—there are bits of tissue there, this time. It's still not enough for the whole pair."

He sighed, looking even grimmer.

"That would be worse. That would've been like having a grenade throw metal bits at close range. As someone with shrapnel in their blood, I could say that it's definitely Not Fun. All this reeks of desperation to me, but it's not as if we'd bring him to certain death or unspeakable tortures."

"So why would he do that?"

She shook her head. "We're still missing something here and I don't like it."

'-

"You're back to Denver already?" Jane asked Banner through her cell phone. She could hear the irritation in his voice, not at her, but at the whole mess that just wouldn't be done. It wasn't difficult for Jane to sympathise with him. The helplessness that she felt whenever she accidentally heard the death toll rise was uncomfortable (she would be lying if she said she hadn't been trying to avoid the news). She didn't want to imagine how it was like for him.

"It's alright, I'm not complaining. It's just that I don't think I can trust just anyone with what I found out, Bruce. No, I won't say it over the phone either." Darcy's paranoia had rubbed off on her. She thought it was a good thing, most of the time. "Yes, really. I trust Pepper, but I need another pair of eyes to look over this, someone with the science background and is an Avenger."

Silence reigned on the other side for several seconds. Jane didn't blame him. He was thinking through the possibilities now, what sort of trouble she expected that she asked for those two specific traits. Jane sighed. She, on the other hand, thought it was too obvious, but she didn't know how to hide her intent further. She wasn't even that good with the whole tenure-track power plays, much less something on a larger scale. Jane wished Darcy could do this instead of her.

(But she had seen how her friend looked when Tony knocked on her door this morning; she had decided that she would give Darcy all the space she needed).

"Why do they need you there, anyway? I know there's the epidemic and all that, thought your other degree was in biochemistry and not M.D.? Betty wasn't exactly an M.D either, is she?"

"What? Why would they need all sorts of biologists?"

"…"

"I see. Some alien life forms were sighted? Alright, I—"

She gasped.

"Seriously? 'Displaying incompatibility with earth-based biology'—are you saying they're toxic? Oh, no, not toxic but only inciting extreme inflammation reaction that is contrary to patient history of hypersensitivity—Bruce, I'm not a biologist, but I still know that there are scary things you're not outright saying. Look, pretend I never asked you about this, okay? They need you more over there." Jane finished quickly before Bruce could try to argue with her. She knew how critical things were just from his description. The astrophysicist was pensive now.

"Still, about my work…"

Jane almost stood up.

"Tony? I wasn't aware that he did high energy physics. At least you're still a nuclear physicist—"

She huffed as Bruce interrupted her, talking quickly but reasonably about how Tony knew more than enough about physics, especially when it comes to building machines that were supposed to detect exotic radiation or matter or create them—and speaking of the Bifrost, wasn't Tony's engineering background actually an advantage? Jane leaned back. "Alright. I suppose it would be better than waiting for who knows how long until it ends."

The nice thing about talking to Dr. Banner was this; he was as wary of SHIELD as Jane was. She didn't even need to spend more time than necessary to explain to anyone why she didn't want to go to SHIELD as her first choice. When Bruce said someone was having seizures on the other side and at the very least he could help with the machines even if he wasn't the right sort of doctor, Jane told him not to worry and that she was done. He could go off to help them. She closed the phone with the distinct feeling that she was lucky to have chosen to go into physics after all.

'-

Thor woke up some time later to an empty bed with a soft sigh. He had not expected Jane to stay, for she had her work to do and she does not abandon her duty so carelessly, but he could not help but hope…

He walked out of the bedroom and was stupefied at what he saw.

The simplest way to say it was to say that the dining table was no more. It was Jane's table now, if all the papers and pictures she had printed out and scattered all over the place was any indication. Her laptop was open in the middle, rallying others around its banner as their field commander—and indeed, it, like Jane, was the centre of the mess. Jane's paper minions had even begun to creep on the surface of the chairs and there were sometimes a pile of them on the floor too, under the table. The petite astrophysicist was pushing up the glasses that were sliding down.

Even with all the chaos around her, her determination only made her more beautiful. Her spirit had always been that of a fighter. He smiled.

"Jane, I thought you would be gone already."

She almost jumped up from her seat at his voice. She saw him and lit up with such joy from within she surpassed the sun. She took her spectacles off and dropped them on the table. He did not know how she extricated herself from the disarray so easily without toppling anything over as she rushed to his side.

"Thor! Oh, you're awake already?"

"I am."

"Sit down on the…uh, couch, I think. I'm making some soup. It should be done some time soon."

Thor could not help the look of amazement that crossed his face. Jane saw it before he changed it into anything else, her expression one of exasperation.

"I know, I know. You're not sure whether I can cook, right?"

"Jane, I never meant—"

"It's alright," she said, waving something in her hands that he had missed before. "Soup is mainly about throwing ingredients in the pot in the right order and I have a timer to remind me when to throw the next stuffs in. I saw Darcy do it, it isn't that hard, really." She insisted. Thor wasn't sure if he would even complain about it, as he mostly roasted game when in his travels.

Just as she finished speaking, the odd dial in her hand rang. Jane turned it off and rushed to the kitchen, tipping two bowls of chopped vegetables into the large pot and stirring all the while. He saw her scan the remaining ingredients before manually setting the dial again as she strode back to the living room. He saw that there were still bowls of chopped produce that lay idle in the kitchen, but concluded that it was not his affair—what did he know of cooking soups?

"There. Not that hard."

"You are not in your lab?" Thor asked, even as he allowed Jane to gently steer him to the couch.

"Not all of the work I need to do has to be done in the lab," Jane answered. She did not clarify the words, only walking over to the dining table to pick several sheets to read before she sat next to him, comfortably tucked under his arm. Thor found he had no reason to complain. He almost drifted to sleep again until he saw what Jane was sketching a landscape that was for all intents pristine and untouched by civilisation. It was arresting, but Thor knew enough that the appearance of beauty only guaranteed the dangers present to be well-hidden.

"Jane," Thor asked, "what is that?"

She shrugged. "Oh, it's just something I saw. The camera wouldn't work, though, so I drew it."

"You have a delicate touch and an artist's eye."

Jane blushed. "Thank you."

"May I see it?"

'-

Tony walked into Jane's lab in the morning without bothering to hide his confusion. It wasn't difficult—he was still bleary eyed from lack of sleep and Tony Stark had never been a morning person. It was made worse by how the Black Widow had dragged him out of bed before sunrise because she was paranoid enough to have a contingency plan for the most improbable possibility. He would've preferred to ignore it, but seriously, when did he ever back down from the impossible? Never. 'Tasha would never let him live it down either if she was right. So he dragged his feet and carried a pot of coffee for himself everywhere.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

The astrophysicist was not by her computer. She was just standing next to the couch, the lab itself far neater than it usually was and because of that it looked less lived-in, less homey for some reason. The permanent frown she seemed to have gained overnight was uncomfortable to see.

"Okay, you messaged me about something important. Bruce messaged me that you have something important and I've got a high priority email CC'd by two junior assistant researchers from something they sent to you and no one seems to want to help me escape this meeting. Care to explain, Girl Genius?"

She was hugging her arms, a classic defensive posture. "I joined Stark Industries to continue my work on the anomalous folds in space-time, especially those on the microcosmic scale. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, go on."

"How much of my reports did you read?"

"You suspect that all anomalies are actually portals, not just some of them. It's a worrying security matter if it was true, so we've agreed to pass that info on to SHIELD as well. Also, earth rainbow bridge team for the win!"

Jane nodded as if he hadn't made the last outburst at all and she passed some printouts to Tony and he was mildly put out by how easily she ignored his eccentricities, though he supposed he shouldn't actually complain about it. She pointed out to the passages that she'd highlighted.

"All anomalies are portals. It's been confirmed by those junior assistant researchers that some of those anomalies open to the same planet."

Tony frowned. "You mean…"

"Yes. If the anomalies are random, what are the odds that any of them would link earth to the same planet? Out of all the many solar systems in our galaxy?" Jane's voice was hitching as she rushed on. "Even if we use the anthropic principle and go on a wild, wild, completely unfounded guess that the anomalies are related to intelligent life forms and thus eliminate gas giants, planets that have substantially different atmosphere and gravity, and basically exclude anything not conducive to life as we know it—"

"—that's still a bazillion planets." Tony finished. He could see Jane twitching at the completely unscientific measure that he used but she managed to hold herself back.

"What are the odds that fiveof them would be from the same planet?" Jane asked, rhetorically. Tony scoffed.

"Less than one to the number of grains of sands on earth."

"You see why I can't trust the message on anything less than face to face, right?" She wrung her hands together. He nodded, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"So the anomalies aren't random. Someone's been opening them. Just great. Seems like the Avengers need to meet up again." Tony's mind was already going through the logistical contortions necessary to do it again. The location chosen would probably be nearer to Denver, he thought, what with Bruce, the Cap and Hawkeye being on more-or-less permanent basis there for the time being and nothing of note coming up around New York.

Jane tightened her hold on the next paper. To Tony's surprise, it wasn't a printout, it wasn't even a notepad and it pricked at his curiosity like a wounded fox drew bloodhounds.

"That's not the worst."

He groaned. "Oh, I just love it when someone says that. Because my life sure as hell isn't interesting enough before."

"Well," Jane began with an uncertain smile, trying to lift his mood. "I have good news and bad news."

Tony would've said that people usually have bad news and worse news when they say that, but he took pity on Jane's nerves. She clearly wasn't used to doing this. "Go ahead."

"Good news, I managed to identify that planet. We could get into the technical details later."

He took Jane's sketch in his hand. It was a beautiful snowy landscape, serene and untouched. He had never thought of Dr. Foster as an artist before, but he could see raw talent there.

"Pretty," Tony said. "Where is this, the Himalayas? Hmm, I don't think the Everest is that pointy, though, so it had to be somewhere else. You recommending me to go on a holiday somewhere? Take a break from the fast life?"

She smiled easier when he said that, even if it was still weak.

"I sketched the mountain range that I saw in two of the anomalies. It was the exact same range, I still remember it. That was how I first became certain that they're all portals. I can't seem to take a picture of things beyond the portals, so I tried recording it the traditional way."

"Pencil and paper. Nice. So, when's the unpleasant surprise coming?"

"Well, that jagged mountain you were talking about? Thor recognised it. That's the Fang of Ymir. This planet is Jötunheim."

"Shit!"

'-

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Author's Note:

Yesss, we finally hit the stride of the story's big action/adventure plot! This was the initial framework for the story when I came up with it.

On robots: I chose the term 'robots' since it's the oldest term that's close enough to the modern idea of artificial intelligence in artificial humanoid bodies (the word robotess came from the same source, of course, Karel Čapek's play R.U.R). No one's too confused by the dream sequence, right?

The appropriate soundtrack for the speakeasy scene would be the song In Circles from the Transistor Original Soundtrack. Conveniently for me, the singer of the song in-game is also known as Red.

'-

The Weird and Wildly Random Glossary:

Anthropic Principle: The consideration that the universe must be compatible with the conscious and sapient life that observes it. In layman's term, one of the main reason that things are the way we see them is because it has to fulfil the necessary conditions to support intelligent lifeforms. In other words, there is no way that the universe we can observe is one that is harsh for intelligent life – the fact that we exist and can observe it is an evidence against it.

Southside: There are several cocktails called Southsides with slightly different names, but this one is named for Southside Chicago and the gangs that held the area during prohibition. Typically made with gin, lime, mint and simple syrup.

'-