November 12th, 2013
Asgard—courtyard outside palace kitchen

The guard who had escorted Quinn from the examination room to the kitchen had apparently ditched her there, though she didn't believe she wasn't being watched by someone. Or something. At the very least, Heimdall would be able to see her—two humans running around Asgard would certainly warrant attention. And she thought the woman kneading bread was watching her, but maybe she was just curious about Quinn. Her suit—boring and expected on Earth—stuck out like a sore thumb on Asgard, and the fact that it was a bit worse for wear probably didn't help.

Should have asked for a change of clothes, she mused as she took another bite of the roast meat a young cook had given her when she asked for something to eat. Maybe I'll look for some after I eat. I should find Thor too. See if he learned anything and make sure Jane's okay.

For the next few minutes however, Quinn contented herself with knowing she could be found if someone needed her and the knowledge that she was eating delicious food and staring out at the beautiful scenery of Asgard as the sun set. She'd snapped a few more pictures once the guard left her, doing her best not to draw attention to herself, but her phone's battery was running down.

Maybe Thor can charge it with his lightning. Quinn snorted and shoved another mouthful of potato in her mouth. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just… left. Went exploring. She was dying to get lost in the city, learning what she could about the people and the culture. Everything looked so lush, so familiar and yet so strange. I doubt my lifetime would be enough time to see and learn everything I'd want to.

"How are you enjoying your visit?"

The deep voice startled Quinn; it was almost the last one she would have expected to hear. "Uh, good?" she said through a half-chewed mouthful of food. After she swallowed, she paused and looked around again, taking it all she could. "It's beautiful."

Heimdall sat on the bench beside her and placed his helm in his lap. His sword, which had been inserted into some sort of device when she and Thor arrived—Was it responsible for creating the Bifrost that brought them here?—was strapped to his back, hanging over the back of the bench. "It's good to hear the wonder in a newcomer's voice. See it in their eyes," Heimdall said, smiling. "I see so much. Sometimes I forget to see this place as it is."

Quinn finished her food and placed the empty plate on the bench beside her. She took a long drink from the mug of water she'd been given—the cook had warned her that Asgardian ale might be more potent than she was used to—and for a moment, just enjoyed the silence. Then she looked at Heimdall. "If it's not too much trouble, could you tell me where Thor is?"

"I could tell you, but you will not know where Odin's library is, nor would you know how to get there."

"Hm. I suppose you're right."

He stood, moving smoothly despite the golden armour he still wore and the size of the helm he carried. "Come, Agent Scott. Thor and Dr. Foster are speaking with Odin and I doubt you would be welcome. I will take you somewhere you might find more interesting. And perhaps find you some new clothes," he added with a look at the holes in her pant leg showing around her brace; her rough landing upon entering Asgard must have been to blame.

"That would be excellent." Quinn stood as well, ignoring the twinges of pain in her bad leg, and gathered her dishes to return to the kitchen.

She slipped them quickly into a sink as she followed Heimdall through the kitchen and into the hallway; no one paid her any mind now that she was once again escorted. He was careful to walk fast, but not fast enough to cause Quinn any discomfort, and he kept up a stream of information and facts about the art and architecture they passed, answering almost any question Quinn asked; she was careful not to ask anything that might be sensitive and didn't ask about Odin or the weird entity possessing Jane. There would be time enough to get that information from Thor. She also answered a few questions Heimdall had for her, mostly about SHIELD and the Avengers, which Heimdall had glimpsed while checking in on Thor.

By the time they arrived at their destination—a place Quinn immediately recognized as training grounds—the sun had set and Asgard had turned silver beneath the moon and stars. The training grounds weren't empty though—quite the opposite. Part of Quinn wanted to jump immediately in and start sparing, but the larger part of her knew she had to sit down and rest or her leg was going to hurt terribly in the morning.

"Heimdall!"

Quinn and Heimdall turned towards the voice—it was someone Quinn recognized, though she'd only ever seen Lady Sif from a distance. The warrior was clad in leggings and a leather breastplate, her long hair flying loose around her shoulders, though it was braided sensibly back from her face. She beamed at Heimdall and then turned to face Quinn, a smaller smile on her face.

"You must be one of the humans Thor brought to Asgard," she said, amused.

Quinn immediately liked her. As with most people, things, and mythologies having to do with Asgard, Quinn had read and formed images of them, but she was more than used to having to adjust her expectations; usually, she was pleasantly surprised. She grinned up at Sif. "Agent Quinn Scott. It's nice to meet you."

Instead of shaking Quinn's extended hang, Sif clasped her wrist. "A pleasure. I assume my brother has brought you here to train?"

"More like to find some new clothes and pass the time while Thor deals with a new crisis."

Sif snorted and Heimdall barely suppressed a laugh. "I think I can handle that. You can head back to your post, brother. I will take care of her."

Heimdall nodded and gave Quinn another small smile. "Until next time, Agent Scott."

For a moment, Sif and Quinn watched Heimdall walk away, replacing the horned helm on his head as he disappeared into the city, and then Sif said, "Let's try and find you some more appropriate and less… damaged attire, Agent Scott—"

"Please, call me Quinn."

"Very well then, Quinn, let's see what we can find you. We shall also have to find you somewhere to rest for the night since I assume Thor isn't taking you back to Midgard just yet."

"Probably not until he figures out what's going on with Jane, though he may just chuck me back through the Bifrost. He wasn't exactly happy I tagged along."

Sif started walking and Quinn fell in beside her; like Heimdall, she walked slow enough for Quinn to easily keep pace, though it was clear she wanted to move faster. "Why did you?"

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about asking Thor to bring me here—I've read the mythology my whole life—but in the moment, I was mad at him and didn't want him to walk away. I reacted as if we'd been two regular humans arguing in a room rather than an Asgardia and a human yelling at each other beneath the open sky: I reached out and grabbed him when he turned away. Then, I was here." Q uinn let out a small laugh. "It's rather ridiculous."

"Maybe a little," Sif agreed, but she was also smiling. "But I understand. Thor and I have had many arguments he has simply walked away from. Mind, I have never accidentally ended up in another realm, but there's a first time for everything."

"I would honestly do the same thing if I had a chance to replay that moment—I wouldn't miss seeing this place for anything." Quinn looked around as Sif led her back into the palace through a different entrance. They were in a less ornate part of the palace, but it was still gleaming and gorgeous. "Asgard is more beautiful than I could have imagined. Certainly more so than anyone who wrote about it imagined."

"From what I've seen of Midgard, it too has its charms."

"Oh, sure. But nothing like this." Quinn reached out to touch the wall as Sif led her into a clean and fairly sparsely decorated bedroom with a stunning view off the balcony. She was rendered momentarily breathless at the sight and barely noticed the unfamiliar texture of the wall beneath her hand. "Holy shit," she gasped.

"You can rest here tonight. It is a bedchamber used for guests in the palace, of which there are currently few. If you would like to take a bath, I will find you some clothes. In the morning, you and I will return to the training grounds and see what you have learned at your SHIELD." The last was said with a different sort of grin, one Quinn understood.

"That sounds excellent, Lady Sif."

"Just Sif will do, Quinn."

As Sif went in search of some clothing, Quinn stepped into the adjoining bathroom, expecting to be overwhelmed and for it to take several minutes to figure out how the faucets worked; it certainly took some time every time she entered an unfamiliar bathroom on Earth. However, she was surprised to find that everything was straightforward and it took virtually no time to fill the tub with steaming water. Quinn undressed, set her brace carefully on the counter, and sank gratefully into the heat.

November 13th, 2013
Asgard—training grounds

"Your accuracy is quite impressive, Quinn!" Sif exclaimed as Quinn threw her last knife at the target.

"Thanks. You should see the guy who trained me though—he never misses." Quinn walked to the target, gathered the throwing knives Sif had managed to find somewhere, and sheathed them in the belt around her waist. Quinn was also wearing a polished metal breastplate and bracers; she wasn't sure what they were made of, but the armour was all silver in colour and quite light. "It's been a long time since I saw any real action though."

"Because of what happened with the Destroyer?"

Sif's voice had changed when she asked the question and Quinn wondered how she felt about that day. Quinn didn't remember much about it, having nearly died, but she'd watched all the footage and read every report that existed about that day, and from just about every source. "Yeah." She rapped her knuckles against the brace and said, "My injuries and recovery from that day have slowed me down quite a bit. Hasn't been all bad, but I miss being in the field."

"I am sorry for what happened to you."

Quinn smiled at Sif and shrugged with one shoulder. She was used to the sympathy, but she still was never sure what she was supposed to do with it. "I'm alive and I'm much better than I was."

"You are strong. Anyone could see that." Sif gestured to the sand pit they were standing near, currently the only one not being used by soldiers training. "Shall we see if you have any skill with a blade?"

Quinn accepted the short sword Sif offered and swung it experimentally a few times. She'd used a sword a few times before—only for fun or when practicing martial arts—but was far from skilled. However, she'd been trained with a baton, and many of the moves would translate fine. As long as she didn't cut herself first. It was a practice sword, but from the look of the edges, it was still plenty sharp.

It'll be fine, she told herself. Totally fine.

Seemingly sensing Quinn's apprehension, Sif said, "Do not worry. I'll go easy on you."

Quinn laughed and took up a rough stance across from Sif.

Even though Quinn could tell she was holding back, Sif was fast, and the countless years of training and battle were more than evident—not that Quinn wasn't aware of Sif's skill, but it was different up close.

"Keep your arm up! Did you want to try a shield on your other arm?"

The memory of what it was like to hold Captain America's shield flashed through Quinn's mind and she nodded. Steve's shield was heavy and far too big for Quinn, but the small buckler was, like her armour, light and much easier to maneuver. Having never used a shield however left her totally unprepared for the way her entire arm vibrated as she blocked Sif's attacks in their next round.

"I have a new respect for warriors who battle for hours, days, months…" Quinn doubled over, hands on her knees, and breathed deep. She was smiling though, enjoying the exertion—even if her leg was protesting.

"It is too bad we won't have more time to train. You could make quite the warrior."

Quinn grinned as she straightened. "Something tells me my human constitution wouldn't hold up to well against the threats you guys usually face."

"Hmm, you are probably right."

They shared a laugh just as an alarm went up, slicing shrilly through the air. Silence descended over the training grounds, but it lasted only a second as the soldiers gathered their helmets, weapons, and whatever else they needed before running in the direction of the palace.

"What—"

"It's coming from the cells beneath the palace," Sif said. She was already moving, her shield in one hand and her sword in the other. "You should probably return to your room. You will be safer there."

"I— Yeah."

As she followed Sif at a jog, the Asgardian scooped up a long blade, somewhere between a dagger and a shortsword, and handed it to Quinn. "You should be prepared."

Quinn had kept the shield on her arm, and she took the blade, grateful, but with apprehension growing in her gut. She hadn't been joking about not being able to stand up to threats from other worlds. What if she couldn't get back to her room safely? What if she was injured or killed here? What if—

They'd reached the palace, and there was already a fight well underway. The Asgardians soldiers in their gold armour stood out among a mishmash of others, all seemingly fighting for their lives. Quinn turned to head down a hallway to one side, but it was blocked by a knot of soldiers, so she just hung back, nodding to Sif when the Asgardian looked over her shoulder before she ducked behind a pillar, vigilant for any immediate threat; for the moment, she'd managed to stay off the radar.

Next time Thor comes to yell at you, do not grab onto him as he attempts to fly away, Quinn. Just… let him go. Quinn dropped her head against the pillar and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut the voice telling her to join the fight up.

But she was full of adrenaline now, both from sparring and from the battle going on around her. As a loud whirring filled the air and a golden glow began to surround the palace, Quinn poked her head out from behind the pillar, a throwing knife already in her hand. A new enemy was joining the fight, black and white and grey humanoids with pointed ears were filing in from a ship that had crashed in the fray.

Quinn looked outside. The gold shield was halfway up the sides of the palace, but dark ships were flying through the air, leaving dozens of hostiles in their wake.

Fear taking firm hold inside, Quinn picked out one of the figures from the crowd and threw her knife for their head. It struck true, embedding itself in their temple, and dropped them to their knees. A familiar mix of revulsion and satisfaction flooded Quinn's system. She shoved it down and threw again and again, hitting an arm here, a leg there, and on eyeball; it wasn't her most effective performance, but she was starting to feel a little lightheaded and dissociated from what was happening.

That was, until one of the elves—there was no other term that applied in Quinn's mind—tackled her into the wall.

Her head bounced off the marble and her vision wavered, points of light darting across her eyes. She was sure she was about to die—the elf sure looked like they were about to kill her, though there was no expression in their black eyes—but then the elf was gone, pulled away by a tall, burly warrior who was, judging by his laughter, enjoying himself a great deal.

Quinn dropped to the ground, her bad leg straight out in front of her, afraid she'd fall over if she tried to move. Her chest ached when she inhaled, which meant a rib or two had been broken or cracked when she was tackled.

Let's not come to Asgard again. Bizarrely, despite the fear and pain, Quinn felt the urge to laugh.

"Stay there, Midgardian!" the burly warrior boomed. He was familiar—Volstagg, Quinn thought, another of the Asgardians who'd been in New Mexico. "The battle is almost done. I will keep you safe!"

Quinn lifted a thumb in Volstagg's direction, but still she kept another knife in her hand, even though she knew she'd be of no use, dazed as she was. She also put her shield arm across her stomach, so the shield was between her softest bits and the remaining battle. She had to force herself to keep her eyes open—she knew she had at least a minor concussion—so she focused on Volstagg. It was easier than watching the continued slaughter.

Hey, Steve. Guess what? I accidentally went to Asgard and nearly died when elves attacked the palace! Quinn snorted. It wasn't really that funny.

Eventually, the battle before her was done, the floors of the throne room and surrounding hallways littered with dead. A horrible quiet settled on Asgard and Quinn exhaled. The adrenaline was leaving her system, and the full extent of her pain was taking over. She wanted to close her eyes.

"None of that, Midgardian," Volstagg said, crouching in front of Quinn.

"Quinn."

"Quinn, then. How bad are your injuries?"

"Concussion and a cracked rib or two. I'll heal, just much slower than you Asgardians."

Volstagg chuckled, and helped Quinn slowly to her feet. "The battle is over and won for now. Let's find Thor so we can figure out what's to be done with you."