A/N: All characters, places, and events you recognize belong to Marvel, Disney, etc.
Just a warning that this chapter has some icky parts.
Thanks again to dristi5683 for her amazing help!
Day 100
Puente Antiguo, New Mexico
Ceramic shatters. Darcy and Erik have dropped their coffee cups on the concrete floor.
Four figures stand outlined by the bright sun, dressed for a Renaissance Fair.
Thor says they shouldn't have come. He admits, "My father is dead because of me. I must remain in exile."
Sif is confused: "Thor, your father still lives."
All eight of them stand mute for a beat, the unspoken words ringing in their ears: Loki is a liar...
A dull roar. Impossibly, a funnel cloud in a clear blue sky. It shoots down and touches the earth.
"Was somebody else coming?" Hope fills Darcy's voice.
A giant metal man, a monster, takes shape in the desert. Someone whispers, "The Destroyer."
Nausea blooms in the pit of Jane's stomach. The others all push into the street, carrying her with them. A jumble of voices:
"Jane, you have to leave."
"Thor's going to fight with us!"
"I can help get these people to safety."
"Well, if you're staying, then so am I."
Some of the voices were hers.
The group splits up, shooing the residents of Puente Antiguo away from the monster. Every person just stands there, paralyzed, until someone else tells them to run, to hide.
Bone-jarring thud. Crunch. The Destroyer, ribbons of metal, a modern sculpture.
She is paralyzed too. Thor hauls her around a corner. Erik and Darcy are already there, crouching, waiting. Jane peeks around the corner.
A furnace roars to life inside the alien robot. A beam of fire shoots from where its face should be, slicing through a building and sending a van tumbling end over end. The acrid smell of burning rubber clogs her nose.
Another beam of fire. The 7-Eleven explodes, gas pumps bursting, flames leaping higher than Puente Antiguo's buildings. Black smoke billows, choking them all.
Out of a solid wall of flames, the Destroyer emerges and continues its inexorable march toward them. Volstagg launches himself toward the machine. Her heart pounds painfully in her ears. He is swatted out of the air like a fly and crunches into the back of a car.
Volstagg doesn't move. The Destroyer clangs its way to the immobilized man. The ominous glow begins to build.
Jane frantically clutches Thor's flannel shirt. "Thor! Do something!"
Thor shakes his head sadly. "There is nothing I can do, Jane."
Sif makes a flying leap onto the robot's back, long sword drawn. Too late. The stream of fire has already engulfed Volstagg. His screams echo through the small town. Jane can't see him—for which she is grateful—but she can hear his agony, the animal sounds ripping from his throat as he is roasted alive. A second later it hits her—she can smell his burning flesh. Her gorge rises. She swallows hard to keep control.
Another scream pierces the air, then another and another. Screams of excruciating pain, terror, no hope. Jane reflexively looks around the corner toward the noise. A piece of debris from the monster's rampage hurtles down the street toward her, then another and another. She flinches and draws back, reaching out to Thor for security, but he's not there. Nor are Darcy or Erik. She's alone.
Darcy and Thor huddle in the doorway of a building across the street. How did they get there? Why did they leave her alone? Where is Erik?
Darcy motions to Jane. Jane hesitates, not wanting to catch the Destroyer's attention. Darcy beckons again, smiling.
Jane risks walking a few more steps into the street to see exactly where the Destroyer is. She stumbles and looks down to see Fandral staring at her. Fandral is staring at her. His head is lying in the street in a pool of blood, ribbons of muscle and veins trailing down the street. A dismembered arm lies a short distance away. An arm too slender to be Fandral's. Sif!
She whirls around, desperate to get away from the hideous sight, but the gorge she's been swallowing down rises up too strongly this time. Involuntarily Jane bends double, vomiting up the eggs and coffee she's just eaten. Again and again, she retches, splattering her jeans and boots with chunks of half-digested food. Panic rises—she has to get out of the street—but her body is immobilized with the force of expelling her stomach's contents. Still gagging, she forces her feet to move.
Jane wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt and looks up to make sure Darcy is still waiting for her. Two more steps and she trips over another piece of debris and falls, landing in something warm and wet. What used to be Hogun. His body is split nearly in two, his intestines spilling out onto the dusty road. And now on Jane's hands and knees. She whimpers and chokes on the stench of feces in the air. Jane scrambles to her feet, slipping and nearly falling again.
She whispers desperately, "Darcy!" and stumbles to the doorway of the building. She is alone. Darcy and Thor are gone. Jane falls to her knees, pleading for someone to stop this horror. Jane pushes her hair back from her face. Only then does she remember that she has Hogun's blood and bits of his entrails on her hands. The odor of death and filth is overwhelming. Her stomach fills with acid and seizes again, but there is nothing to expel.
"Jane!" Erik calls to her.
She looks up to see her mentor in the building next to hers. He calls her name again, more loudly. The Destroyer suddenly appears out of the dust cloud next to Erik. Erik doesn't seem to see it, and begins to run to Jane. Jane waves her hands "no" at Erik, signaling him to go back into the building. But Erik doesn't stop, doesn't go back. And the Destroyer picks up a twisted piece of metal from the ground. And throws it. At Erik. Jane screams at him to look out. She thinks he opens his mouth to answer her, but it's blood that gushes out, not words. He looks puzzled; he doesn't realize there is a jagged piece of steel where his heart and lungs used to be. Erik falls, reaching for her, falling somewhere to the side where she can't see him.
The Destroyer stands impassively in the street. Looking at her. She crawls back into the building, flops on the floor. Her breaths are shallow and rapid. She's not getting enough oxygen. Her vision has narrowed, a black haze creeping up. Her heart is going to give out, she knows it.
"Jane!" This time it's Darcy calling to her. "Nooo," moans Jane weakly. "Darcy, no…" Jane tries to stand up, but her legs have become unbelievably heavy. She struggles until she can turn over, then army crawls to the door. Darcy is standing in the street.
"Jane! It's me, Darcy!" Darcy is smiling at her and waving. "Hey, come on! It's me, Darcy! Jane!"
Jane props herself up on one arm and waves Darcy away. She has to get away. She's insane.
Darcy keeps waving and smiling. No one listens to Jane. Why won't they listen to her? Doesn't Darcy see the bodies and the blood?
Jane hears the creak of metal on metal, and she wants to look away. She wants to close her eyes, and she thinks she does, but she can still see everything.
"Darcy, get away! Run!" But Darcy just keeps calling her name and waving. And when the river of fire pours over her, she screams and screams Jane's name. As her flesh turns black and melts off her body. As her eyes explode and her mouth opens so wide her jaw falls off. As her bones splinter and blacken in the heat, and her skull splits in two.
Jane tries to scream, but her throat is dry. There are no more screams. Where is Thor?
In the next instant, she wishes she had never wondered. Thor's voice rings out above the cacophony of crumbling buildings, screeching metal, and the screams of the dying.
"Brother!"
Thor is hidden by the smoke and debris from Jane's sight. What is he doing?!
"Whatever I have done to wrong you, whatever I have done to lead you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people were innocent. Taking more lives will gain you nothing. So take mine and end this."
No! No! Please, don't leave me alone. Don't leave me alone. Jane holds her breath. She hears no explosion, sees no fireball. Did it work? Is it over? A tiny flicker of hope flares up. Jane pulls herself forward a few more inches, straining to see through the dust and smoke.
Then: CRACK! Gruesome, unmistakeable—a neck broken, a body torn apart. Thor lands heavily a foot away from Jane. He faces her, his eyes open, but his neck is at a grotesque, unnatural angle to his body. Blood drips from his nose, his eyes, his ears, his mouth.
She claps her free hand over her mouth to stifle the scream.
"Ja...ne," Thor chokes out, his hands grasping futilely at his chest, his legs twitching.
She whispers, "Thor—no! No! You can't leave me alone!"
But his eyes are already dulling, his hands frozen into claws.
Jane is alone with a monster.
Alone.
Let me die let me die Iwanttodie…
The blinding sunlight of a hot New Mexico day dissolved into the dark warmth of a New Mexico night. The screams of the mangled and dying faded away, but the taste of blood and the smell of sick remained. And the terror. Always the paralyzing terror.
Jane blinked her eyes over and over, trying to clear her vision. She saw nothing but fuzzy gray as tears streamed freely down the sides of her face. Her legs were caught, immobilized. She was vulnerable. At the mercy of the monster.
Another scream rose up in her raw throat. Then something touched her arm. Jane let the scream go and threw her hands out to ward off the horror. A voice, "Jane. It's me. Darcy. It's me. Shhhh. You're all right. You're all right now."
Jane whimpered and thrashed from side to side, desperate to escape. Her hands scrambled for purchase, slipping on the blood of her friends. This was a trick. Darcy was dead. "Your legs are caught in your covers, Jane. Let me help you."
"No! Get away from me!" The buzzing in her ears intensified, sharpened, until Jane realized she heard her own screams.
Another set of hands, tying her down, preparing to kill her. Another false voice, another trick. "Jane. It's Erik. We want to help you. Wake up. It's a nightmare. It's not real. You're all right. You're safe."
No, I'm not safe. Jane had just seen the monster punch a hole right through Erik's torso, tearing out his heart and lungs and leaving a pile of raw meat on the sidewalk.
The fake-Darcy pulled at her paralyzed legs. "Help me, Erik. Hold her down while I untangle these covers."
Another scream as they pinned her to her bed. Her heart pumped frantically—she tried to fight off her attackers, but they were too strong.
Her legs suddenly swung free and connected solidly with something soft. She heard a cry of pain. Good.
"Jane! Enough! You must wake up!"
A shock of pain exploded across her face. Momentarily stunned, Jane blinked her eyes once, twice, three times. Her vision cleared enough to see the seams in the ceiling of her trailer. Tears still trailed down her temples, but she could make out two faces hovering over her. The buzzing lessened and faded away, until she could hear the humming of the air conditioner. Her heart rate slowed. So did her breathing, and she was suddenly short of oxygen and gasped loudly. The sharp odor of vomit lingered, though, and she knew that she had been sick all over herself.
"Jane? Dang it, girl. That hurt." Darcy's voice sounded raspy. She coughed weakly.
A strong arm slipped under her shoulders and pulled her upright. "Sit up, Jane."
Jane complied with Erik's request, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, glued by something she would rather not think about. "Did you"—her throat was so sore, the taste in her mouth so foul—"Did you slap me?"
Erik sighed and crouched by her bedside. "I did. I'm sorry, Jane, but I had to. You actually hurt Darcy this time. It's getting harder to wake you from your nightmares."
Darcy patted her arm. "Come on, Jane, let's get you into the shower. You'll feel better when you don't stink so bad. Erik'll strip your bed."
Jane sat unresponsive. Erik curved his arm around her back and gently prodded her into motion. She swung her legs off the bed and carefully stood upright. A couple of halting steps brought her to the end of her bed. She reached for the bathrobe hanging on the door but Darcy stopped her.
"Um, let me get that for you. You're kind of all covered in...gross."
Jane dropped her hand and stood motionless. Darcy stepped in front of her.
"Jane? Do you want to shower here in the little bitty trailer bathroom or do you want to go to the lab?"
"I don't care."
"Hmm. Okay. Let's just stay here, 'kay?"
Jane nodded.
Darcy looked from Jane's soiled nightclothes to the tiny bathroom and then to Erik, still removing fouled sheets. There wasn't room to strip in there.
"Ummm…"
Erik glanced up. "Just a minute. I'm almost done here and then I'll take these to the washer in the lab."
Darcy rubbed her hand up and down Jane's back. "Almost ready, 'kay?"
Jane didn't respond.
Erik brushed past Darcy carrying the unappetizing bundle of linens. "Come get me when you need me."
Darcy shut the trailer door behind him and turned to Jane. "Okay, come on, let's get this gross thing off of you."
Jane swayed a bit on her feet but made no move to remove her nightshirt.
Darcy sighed, then smiled. "All right, I'll help you."
She gathered the hem of the shirt and began to lift, careful to keep the vomit-soiled side rolled inside. Jane listlessly lifted her arms so Darcy could pull the shirt over her head. Darcy wadded the shirt up and set it on the closed toilet seat. She turned back to Jane.
"Oh, Jane…" The words escaped before Darcy could stop herself. Moonlight filtered through the tiny windows of the trailer, dappling Jane's naked form, but failing to hide the ugly truth. Jane had always been petite, but now she was just scrawny. Her hipbones and collarbone poked sharply through her dull, rough skin. Large bruises surrounded her eyes, and her lips were dry and cracked. A spot of dried blood showed where she chewed her lip. Her hair hung limp and damaged down her back.
"Jane, Jane, why didn't you call me? I didn't know things had gotten so bad. I would have taken the semester off to take care of you."
Jane blinked at her, her eyes too large in her wasted face. "I'm...okay. I just need to shower and...umm, brush my teeth and have some coffee. I'll be fine."
Darcy stepped aside and let Jane through to the miniscule shower stall. "I'll be right here with your towel when you're done, 'kay?"
Jane didn't answer, just turned on the shower spray and stepped under it, not bothering to check the temperature.
Darcy frowned, shaking her head.
Jane Foster was broken.
