Nome, Alaska

Jane smiles weakly at the motel manger as she receives another frosty glare. It's obvious that her fib of needing to contact her tour group is becoming less credible by the minute, and a stark reminder that she needs a working phone at the cottage.

"A little longer," she mouths, her head tilted to the side as she balances the phone between her ear and shoulder. She thumbs through a Travel Alaska brochure, trying to look interested.

"Miss Foster?" the voice on the receiver says.

"Yes, that's me," Jane exclaims, the brochure forgotten. She earns another sharp look from the manager.

"Sorry about the wait," the woman on the other line continues, "but I've checked the records, and there is no sign of your request or the appropriate funding."

Jane's stomach tightens and she has to physically grip the counter in front of her for support. "That's impossible. I sent everything in months ago. All I need are a few weeks with the telescope…"

"I'm sorry, Miss Foster. But as you know, the Observatory is booked solid for the rest of the year, weather permitting. You can resubmit your paperwork, and provided the rental fees are paid, you might be able to land a spot sometime next summer."

Jane feels a like her legs might give out on her. "Please, just check your records again." Her voice drops, desperate. "I need that telescope."

"There is nothing in our system. Please resubmit your request, and the university will get back to you."

Jane blinks rapidly to prevent tears. "Right," bitterness seeps into her tone, "I appreciate your time." She hangs up the phone a little too hard and hands it back to the manager behind the desk.

"Thanks for letting me use your phone," she says, her voice flat. She storms out of the questionable establishment before the motel manager can reply.

A sharp wind penetrates her jacket, and Jane draws it closer around herself.

I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry, she repeats in her mind. The reality is, however, there is only so much she can do with her small telescope. She desperately needs the resources—and magnification power—of University of Alaska's Nome Observatory, housing the 200-inch Ublureak telescope, one of the most powerful in the world. She is certain her paperwork got there. She is being brushed aside.

Perhaps if she didn't exist on the fringes of the scientific community, if she had made a better effort to publish regularly, attend conferences, stay in contact with her old professors…

The list of Jane's regrets is endless, it seems, and she feels so weighed down she can hardly find the strength to make the cold walk back to her jeep. Just then, her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she is human and can't survive on coffee alone.

The physicist frowns and takes a look around. Nearby her jeep is a gas station with a convenience store. Taking a deep breath, she makes her way there.

Ten minutes later, Jane Foster is stands in the middle of the grocery isle, her hand between two bags of chips. This is going to be my great achievement of the day, she thinks wryly, to make a decision about which processed foods will make up my breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next week. Erik and Darcy had kindly taken charge of her abysmal food habits while in New Mexico, even as they indulged her ridiculous coffee consumption.

She pushes their painful memory out of her mind and ends up grabbing the chips to the left and throwing them into her basket. She meanders through the rest of the isle, staring at everything and nothing until food items transition into an assortment of personal care and hardware products. Her gaze comes to rest on a cheap tool set, complete with a hammer. It looks nothing like Mjölnir, and yet she can't help but stare at it.

The utter shock of Thor's unannounced appearance has dissipated somewhat over the last few weeks. In its place, the hope of his return has reemerged, aching and consuming. It makes Jane question her choice of living in such a desolate place. Well, not really living—surviving.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the remnants of the shattered ceramic bits still decorating her kitchen floor the morning after, (her sweeping job had been hasty at best), Jane would have considered the whole Thor interaction nothing more than the figment of a stressed and caffeine-addled mind.

But he was there, she was sure of it. And now, once again, he's not.

Jane's longing for the thunder god spits in the face of her carefully shielded independence, something she's painfully aware of. She recalls how in undergrad through her graduate seminars, she held her own in a ring with (male) intellectual heavyweights without batting an eyelash, the lone girl in a room of ego-centric bullies. She heard their mocking jeers, read the dismissal of her work on their faces, and yet she persevered. She was not out to get laid, to 'borrow' research or promote feminism. She loved what she did—but it was consuming, draining, and left her painfully alone.

Her time spent with Darcy in New Mexico—despite the intern's absurdity—had strangely become one of the most fulfilling relationships Jane never expected. Coupled with Erik's older guiding presence, an unruffled constant during their wine-infused brainstorming sessions, the loneliness was barely noticeable for a time.

"I'm ok. I'm doing what I love, and that's what matters," Jane says, trying to convince herself, especially given the raw emotion still churning from her failure with getting observatory time. Only when she receives a strange glance from nearby customer does she realize she spoke out loud. With a wince and apologetic grin, Jane heads up to the register.

"That all?" the cashier asks, eyeing her conglomeration of junk food and energy drinks. He's an older man of Inupiat Eskimo heritage, by Jane's reckoning. A lot of people from this area are, she recalls. Jane gives him a guilty smile and grabs a healthy trail mix bag from a nearby display to add to her pile.

"Yeah, it is."

He rings her items up slowly. Jane glances at her watch. The best viewing of Ceti Alpha 7654.4 is in half an hour, and the drive back from town is at least twenty minutes, provided the weather cooperates. She taps her credit card on the counter, waiting and looking out the window at the darkened sky. Like an ethereal snake, pale green northern lights twist up above.

"You have the look of Tuurngaq."

Jane's brows knit and she turns back to the cashier. "Tuurngaq?" she repeats, stumbling over the word.

The man frowns, the wrinkles creasing on his russet colored skin. He takes her credit card and swipes it.

"It means with another spirit." He hands her back her card. "Haunted."

"Oh," Jane pauses, unsure how to respond, "I don't think I am." She grabs the plastic bags and heads for the door.

"Be careful out there," the cashier calls after her. "They say a big cold front is coming." Jane thanks him and pushes out the door.

As she makes her way to her parked jeep, she's careful to keep her eyes down.

{}{}{}{}{}

The drive back is tedious and slow. Once past the lit roads of town, the clear winter skies turn gray and snowflakes begin to gather on her windshield. Reluctantly, Jane eases off the gas as the road becomes less visible. With the Bering Sea to one side of her, and a muddy ditch on the other, even she has to concede that she won't be stargazing tonight. She'll be lucky if she can find the cottage at all in this storm. She smacks the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

Within minutes, the snowfall is so dense that Jane stops, the jeep skidding to a halt. The two narrow beams of the headlights seem to hit nothing but a wall of swirling white. The snow almost seems alive, contorting and twisting in a hellish dance around her. Shapes appear in the darkness and then blow apart in a burst of arctic wind.

The wiper blades of the jeep seize up after being so caked with slush and ice. With a frown, Jane gets out of the warm interior of the vehicle. Leaning over the hood, she has to stand on her tiptoes to brush the ice off with her gloved hand. A few minutes later, she dives back into the jeep, thoroughly soaked. Her wet hair sticks to her cheeks and neck where not covered by her hat, and she feels miserable. Even worse, the snow appears even heavier than before. She can't see anything beyond the hood of the jeep.

Every survival manual Jane's ever perused says to stay put rather than chance walking. She glances at the gas gage. Less than a quarter tank. Not long enough if she wants to keep the jeep running with the heater on all night.

Real fear replaces her earlier disappointment, and once again, she hates that she's all alone in this place. What was she thinking? That she could simply escape? That the memories of New Mexico or of Norway wouldn't follow her?

Just as self-pity threatens to take hold, Jane spots something. She squints. There. A few meters ahead of her—a flash of red. She leans forward and wonders if it was just her imagination. Nothing.

Curious, she eases the jeep forward a few feet. Further up, she spots the red again, barely visible as it convulses in the wind. A cape, she realizes, her breath catching in her throat.

The game of cat and mouse continues, with Jane desperately stalking until—she blinks. She's back. The lights of the cottage are on, beckoning her.

Except she didn't leave the lights on when she left.

Weary and suspicious, Jane leaves her purchases in the driver's side seat and makes her way inside. She hears water running in the kitchen.

"If it's you, you have some serious explaining to do," she warns, grabbing a heavy book just in case. Already she can conjure the mighty smack she'll give the blonde haired alien. Followed by the kiss she was denied.

Jane peaks her head around the corner, ready to strike.

"Darcy?" she gasps.

Her old intern pauses from her task of washing dishes, soap suds up to her elbows. "Yeah, dummy, who'd you think it was?" she says, looking over her shoulder. "You can't live without me, can you?"

Jane drops the book in her hands and comes running to her friend. Darcy holds her dripping soapy hands out as Jane squeezes her in a tight hug.

"Missed you, too," Darcy squeaks, shimmying out of the hug.

Jane almost has tears in her eyes. "I just can't believe you're here! What happened to the job with Governor what's his name—?"

"Eh, this sounded more fun—Nome, Alaska and everything. You know I'm a sucker for great weather." Darcy's tone drips with its typical sarcasm, but her eyes smile nonetheless. "Anyway," she continues, "I can't get enough of the upscale digs you choose to live in."

Jane laughs. "Yeah, well, I don't need much with just me here."

"Not anymore! I put my stuff in the rear bedroom."

The physicist's mouth drops open. "Really? Wow."

"Well, yeah. You sounded miserable in your emails. Anyway, I might not have all the initials after my name, but I can sure as hell type faster and keep you," she looks around, "alive."

She regards Jane closely. "You look like crap."

Jane laughs, the familiarity of her friend's blunt observations a welcome change. "Thanks. I haven't bothered with makeup in a while."

Darcy wipes her hands off on a dish rag and rests them on her hips. "No," her head cocks to the side, "there's something else."

Jane tenses, an action not lost on her friend. "Or should I say," Darcy continues, leaning forward, "someone else? Perhaps a stunning Calvin Klein model wannabe running around with the hammer of doom?"

"It's Mjölnir," Jane corrects, and catches herself. "And no, nothing quite so interesting," she deflects. "I'm studying a star, like I told you about. In the Carina Nebula."

Darcy smirks. "Yeah, whatever. We'll see."

"Seriously!" Jane's blushing, and she turns away to hide it. She's not sure why, but she's not willing to share her recent experience with Thor just yet.

"So your fridge is kinda barren," Darcy calls out.

"I have some stuff in the jeep to eat," Jane calls back over her shoulder as she heads for the door. She cracks it open and looks outside. "Provided I can find the jeep out there..."

Darcy checks out the window and whistles. "Good luck with that. I can't see anything, and I'm starving. Sure you don't want a rope around your waist or something?"

Jane rolls her eyes and heads outside.

A few minutes later, the contents of Jane's shopping trip are spread out on the meager wobbly coffee table before them.

"You've actually given up, haven't you?"

Jane hits Darcy in the arm, grinning. "No. I just…have other priorities."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Like diabetes and a heart attack." With that said, Darcy picks up the nearest bag of chips and rips it open. She flips on the ancient TV and sits back on the futon with Jane.

"Right. So not only is it black and white, you don't have cable." Darcy checks her phone. "And no cell phone reception or internet. This place is a black hole."

Jane smirks and dives her hand into Darcy's bag, drawing out a few chips. "Not quite," she says, chomping down. "I mean, it is quiet. And I can get work done. It has a certain rugged charm."

Darcy gives her an 'oh please' look and eats another chip. Jane snuggles further into the cushions of the futon.

"So you have to tell me what happened at your old job," she says, grinning. "Sounds positively scandalous!"

Darcy laughs. "You have no idea. It all started after—"

Jane tries to follow Darcy's animated retelling, complete with voices. The physicist gets a little lost with the names and events, but she doesn't care. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and it's a wonderful feeling.

{}{}{}{}{}

The next night, Darcy peers into the eyepiece of the telescope. "I don't see it."

Her words are muffled through the ridiculous layers of ski masks she insists on wearing. Jane checks the finder again and adjusts the magnification. The two young women are standing just past the doorstep of the cottage—the only few square feet they were willing to shovel out. Jane's usual place to set up is buried in two feet of snow.

"Now try," the physicist suggests. "It will seem dim and blurry to us, but that can happen when you're 7,500 light years away." And when I'm denied access to decent telescope that I have every right to use, she thinks.

Darcy stamps her cold boots against the ground, trying to regain feeling in her toes. "How can you stand this?"

Jane shrugs. "I guess I have gotten used to it," she answers honestly. She hands her thermos to her intern. "Here."

Darcy unscrews the cap, pulls up the ski masks and takes a few greedy sips of hot coffee before handing it back to Jane.

"I just don't get it," the intern continues. "What we were doing in New Mexico was cutting edge fascinating oh-my-god-there's-aliens stuff. This is so lame in comparison."

The thought has crossed Jane's mind to many times, and yet she feels an obligation to defend her choices and come clean with her friend.

"Look," she begins, "you remember my trip to Europe around the time of the invasion?"

Darcy nods.

"Yeah, well, that wasn't my choice. I was taken and forced to live in a place I didn't want to be with no one who knew me or cared. My research was stolen, and when they said I could leave, they suggested that I pursue other avenues than worm holes and 'oh-my-god-there's-aliens stuff.'"

Darcy frowns. "And when you say 'suggested'—?"

"Threatened. And they have a lot of guns."

The intern looks genuinely troubled. "Who are they?"

Jane shakes her head and peers into the eyepiece again. "SHIELD. It's this pseudo military spy group that claims to protect earth from whatever's out there. Somehow Tony Stark, Thor and all them are connected…I really didn't get the details."

"Thor? Your Thor?"

"I don't want to go there, Darcy. He's not mine. I knew him for only a few days." Three amazing days, she mentally adds.

The intern is silent for a long moment, working out the new information.

"How could SHIELD understand your theories?" she asks at last. "I can barely read your scrawl, let alone interpret it."

Jane stands back, and adjusts her green plaid trapper hat. "I'm pretty sure Erik was helping them," she says, registering Darcy's open mouth. "I hadn't published anything yet, as you know. What SHIELD has, and what they used, had to be explained and manipulated by someone who knew what he or she was doing. That's me or Erik."

"Thanks."

Jane gives Darcy a good natured punch in the arm. "You know what I mean."

"Well," the intern concludes, "we've been out here an inhumanly long time, and I can't feel any of my appendages anymore."

They make short work of breaking down the equipment and bringing it back inside the cottage. Jane has to smirk at the pile of snow gear dripping on the rug by the door. Boots, coats, sweaters, hats, gloves, scarves—it looks like ten people just came out of the cold, and not two. Darcy admittedly likes to be toasty warm, so her sacrifice to be here, of all places, makes Jane all the more astonished and grateful.

The physicist takes a seat on the futon and drags out her beloved notebook. She hears the fridge open, followed by a snort from Darcy.

"I still can't believe the lack of food around here. Anything good in town?" She pokes her head around the corner.

Jane makes a noncommittal sound in her throat, only half paying attention as she moves her pen furiously to record the last of her observations from outside.

"What about take out? Delivery?" Darcy asks. "Sushi? Thai? Shawarma?"

Jane shakes her head at Darcy's rapid fire list. The intern collapses on the futon next to her and sighs dramatically. "So there's nothing remotely edible here not soaking in MSG and polyunsaturated fat?"

Jane puts down the pen for a moment. "There's a wine bottle in the cabinet above the fridge. For a special occasion."

"See, I knew you were holding out on me." Darcy grabs it and reads at the label. "Nice. Where's your corkscrew?" She doesn't wait for an answer before she starts rummaging through the kitchen drawers.

Just like old times, Jane thinks, and she grins into her notebook.

An hour later, note-taking abandoned, she's giggling like a school girl over one of Darcy's jokes. "You're the ultimate lightweight," Darcy likes to remind her, and while Jane doesn't think she's intoxicated, she's quite close.

Darcy looks over the back of the futon out the window at the night sky, and whistles. "You know, I guess I can understand your attraction here. It looks amazing. Cold. But amazing."

Jane follows her gaze. "Yeah. I think I'll turn some good things up here." She takes another sip. "There's something out there."

Darcy looks strangely at her. "What are you talking about?"

The wine makes Jane's thoughts muddled, but she takes a breath and tries to think. "Bad weather and long daylight hours aside, the night sky is amazing up here, right? Virtually no light pollution, and then there's the Aurora borealis—"

She's rambling and pauses to reorder her thoughts. "Something hides Ceti Alpha from view. Sometimes it's only a minute, but it's like the star just…disappears. It could be an equipment malfunction or—"

"Well, it did snow 24 inches last night."

"No, I'm not talking about environmental conditions." She takes another sip from her glass.

"Sounds like a spatial anomaly to me," Darcy says, shrugging. "Maybe a wormhole that sucks all the light in?"

Jane grins ear to ear. "You've been holding out on me, Darcy," she says, pointing a shaky finger at her friend. Her gaze becomes reflective again, and she quiets. "Honestly, I just don't know. I don't want to jump to conclusions without more time to analyze what I have. And I can't until I get access to better equipment."

She fills in Darcy on her problems with landing time at the Nome Observatory. The intern takes a big sip. "You see what this is, right?"

Maybe it's the wine, her own pesky belief in the power of human goodwill, or just plain naiveté, but Jane can't. She tells Darcy as much.

Her friend snorts. "By your own admission, who has the power, resources, and drive to keep you in the dark?"

Jane racks her brain. And then the answer is suddenly, horribly clear. "Oh God. SHIELD."

Darcy nods. "You must have really pissed them off. Or worse, they're terrified of what you're capable of."

The physicist can't speak. She tips her glass up and drains the rest of her wine. Every emotion she has lived over the past few days comes roaring back full force, and she can scarcely breathe. On the contrary, her intern looks almost happy. Jane asks her why.

"Because," Darcy says, a grin spreading across her face, "where there's a will, there's a way."

{}{}{}{}{}

Asgard

The guardian of the ruined Bifrost and watcher of the nine realms, ancient and somber, stands on the broken edge of the rainbow bridge, staring out into the heavens with golden colored eyes. Every so often, his gaze shifts, or his nostrils flare, the only indication that the guardian is alive and not a magnificent statue. Replete in the armor of a warrior, he rests his dark hands on the hilt of his sword balanced between his feet, and stands at attention.

"How fares the realms, Heimdall?"

The guardian doesn't turn, but the corner of his mouth quirks upwards as Thor steps beside him. In contrast to Heimdall's formality, the prince wears a simple cloak and no armor. In the short span of time that has elapsed since his banishment, fine lines have formed around edges of Thor's eyes and mouth, and his presence lacks the boisterous spirit it once did. Be it from too much time spent in sorrow, or from managing the heavy burden of his role, the guardian knows not.

Heimdall returns to the question at hand. "Some are well, my Lord," he replies, "other's still bear the damage done by—," he pauses and leaves out the name, "indiscretion."

Thor looks out into the stunning multicolored canvas of space laid out before them. They are both silent for a time.

"Is she well?" Thor finally asks, his voice low.

Heimdall does not need Asgard's heir apparent to elaborate further to know about whom he speaks.

"Yes." His golden eyes flash as he looks through space. "Though at times, she is hidden from me."

Thor turns, concern flashing over his handsome features. "Hidden? How?" he beseeches the guardian.

"I do not know," Heimdall says, and his deep voice sounds almost weary. "But in all my years, there has only been one being capable of shrouding my sight."

They both know who that is.

Something darker than rage flashes in Thor's blue eyes. "Tell no one of this," he orders. Heimdall nods somberly, and watches the prince storm away.

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A/N It was lovely reading your comments. It's an honor to hold a discourse with such intelligent readers, and I hope to continue to do so.

Both University of Alaska's Nome Observatory and the Ublureak telescope are products of my imagination.

Leave a note. :)