Nome, Alaska

Worlds away, Jane Foster has no idea that, however briefly, she was the object of Heimdall's far-reaching sight. Instead, she is cursing at her problematical telescope. Ceti Alpha 7654.4 is completely obscured, and Jane suspects something in the lens aperture has finally broken. Unless she can repair it, her work here is done until she can produce the funds to buy another one.

Despite her layers, the physicist feels the chill seep all the way into her bones. Her hands are clumsy and slow in gloves, but she doesn't dare take them off. She has heard too many horror stories from the locals.

Instead of snow, she stands on a muddy tundra covered hill that overlooks the wilderness, and beyond that, the Bering Sea. It churns in the distance, black and foreboding.

Over the weekend, Nome's weather returned to its yearly average for the season, (still freezing, according to Darcy), but not cold enough to keep fallen snow on the ground. Jane's boots make a squishing noise in the mud as she moves around the telescope, screwdriver in hand.

Despite the thaw, she can feel the temperature drop by the minute until her breath is visible in the cold air. She makes a few last minute adjustments and checks the eyepiece again. Nothing.

Jane resists the urge to stab the screwdriver into it. With a sigh, she dismantles the telescope completely. Head down, shoulder stooped, she trudges back into the cottage.

"Goldilocks didn't appear?" Darcy comments, seeing Jane's expression. The physicist sends her a scathing look, enough that Darcy mouths 'sorry' and backs away.

"It's broken," Jane hisses, dropping the telescope case on the floor. "I feel like I'm the butt of some cosmic joke. How could so much go wrong with one person?"

She throws down her coat, hat and gloves on top of the telescope and moves into the kitchen. Instead of going for coffee, her usual crutch, she settles on some tea. The teapot steams in no time.

"What happened?" Darcy asks, decidedly meeker than a moment ago.

"I can't see anything out of the eyepiece. I'm going to have to send the thing out for repairs and it going to take the last of my funding…"

She shakes her head and drops the tea bag into the hot water. "I'm sorry; you don't deserve me acting like this. I just don't know how much more disappointment I can take." She grabs the mug with her cold hands and holds it against her chest like it's the only warmth she's felt all day.

Darcy crosses her arms. "Then I guess it's a good thing that the Ublureak telescope is yours for the next three weeks."

Jane turns and her mug of tea falls from her hands onto the floor. She doesn't even notice. "What?"

Her intern can't resist a smile. "There are perks of having worked for a governor. I called in some favors."

"Oh my God, Darcy, thank you!" Jane runs to her and gives her a hug. "I can't believe it!"

The intern shrugs. "Now you can search the skies for your star and your little blonde man to your heart's content."

She gets a playful elbow in the ribs before Jane dashes to her laptop. She flips it open and begins to type furiously.

"What now?" Darcy asks.

"I have to prepare, make sure my data's in order, crunch numbers..." She's not aware her words have drifted off she's so consumed by her work.

The old fire that Darcy remembers is back in Jane's eyes. She grins and leaves the physicist to it.

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Jane wakes up with a gasp. It's pitch dark in her room, lit only by the alarm clock that reads 2:37 am. She shivers and grabs clumsily for a sweatshirt. She pulls it over her head, and is tempted to throw on another for good measure.

Forcing her stiff limbs to move, she climbs out of bed and walks to the door. The cottage is dark and quiet, save for the noisy furnace working overtime. In her periphery, she sees crimson fabric drag along the floor and disappear into the kitchen. Not unlike a cape. She bolts after it.

And collides squarely into Darcy's back.

"Hey!" the intern yells leans, pulling her thick red blanket tighter over her shoulders. "What the hell?"

Jane backs up. "I'm so sorry." She decides to omit the explanation involving her bizarre Thor sightings. Instead, she smiles meekly. "I thought it was an intruder." That's true. Mostly.

Darcy frowns. "Yeah, well good morning to you too. I was checking the thermostat. It's beyond freezing in here." She taps the cover with her fingertip. "Holy sh—" She looks over at Jane. "What's the temperature outside?"

The physicist walks to the window and tries to see through the frosted glass to the temperature gauge outside.

"It's broken," she reports, squinting at the mercury.

"Yeah, why is that?"

"Because it's reading negative sixty four degrees Fahrenheit." Jane turns, hands on her hips. "That doesn't happen this time of year. Not at this latitude."

Darcy pulls on her jacket and ski mask, and then holds her blanket back over her shoulders. "Well, that crappy furnace has been on all night, and it's only fifty one degrees in here. I believe it."

She grabs another blanket off the futon and trudges back to her room muttering "Global warming, my ass," before the door closes.

Despite the appealing idea of snuggling back under her warm covers, Jane is awake and decides to her time is better spent working through her data more. After brewing herself a cup of tea, she sits down at the kitchen table and gets to work.

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Asgard

"What have you done?" Thor bellows, approaching Loki's cell like an angry lion, radiant and terrible.

Loki watches Thor with an amused interest before the serene mask settles over his features once more.

"Greetings," he says, his voice all silk. "I must have been devious indeed to earn a visit from the would-be king." A grin splits his face, though it holds no warmth. "I don't think I've had the pleasure of your company since you had me thrown in this place."

Thor has neither the time nor the patience for banter.

"Heimdall says you are blocking his sight of Midgard," he says, gauging Loki's reaction. It's an exaggeration, of course, but Thor is willing to play to Loki's vanity to get answers. His adoptive brother listens, hands behind his back, but gives away nothing. After a moment, he turns and walks to the other side of his cell, looking out into the bleak shadows of the dungeon. Thor's scowl follows him.

"Even removed of my current…predicament," Loki muses, turning back to glare at his brother again, "I could not possibly overpower Heimdall's sight of an entire world."

It's a moment of rare humility, and as such, Thor believes that Loki's admission might actually be true.

"So," the shamed prince continues, approaching the side Thor stands near, "what are you really accusing me of?" The corner of his mouth raises a fraction.

Thor struggles to keep his breathing steady. "What do you want with Jane Foster?" His tone holds an undercurrent of barely checked rage.

Loki looks affronted. "Heimdall must be truly too aged to perform his duties if—"

"Tell me!" Thor's deep voice echoes throughout the dark chamber of the dudgeon.

Loki leans forward an inch. "What could I possibly want with your worthless human?" he snarls, his gaze piercing.

"Do not fool with me, brother. I do not possess the tolerance for you that I once did." Thor steps closer. "Your petty schemes know no bounds."

Loki settles himself on the floor, legs outstretched, and looks blankly at the thunder god.

"I am incarcerated," he replies, the very picture of calm. "What harm can I possibly do from here?"

It's always a game, Thor realizes. All moves and countermoves, action and reaction. Thor's fists tighten. With effort, he relaxes them again, but not before Loki smirks. The god of mischief closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

"If you're so worried about your little human, go see her yourself," he suggests.

Thor shakes his head. "You know I can't," he argues, more to himself than to Loki. "There is work to be done here, work caused by your mindless destruction."

Loki looks like he is about to refute the charges, but thinks better of it. His eyes open again, his icy green stare penetrating.

"While you fritter away multiple human lifespans reestablishing peace in the nine realms," Loki observes, his voice losing a touch of its smooth quality, "Jane Foster will be dead, wondering what ever happened to her dearest—" he spits out the word, "Thor."

The thunder god flinches. He hates to admit that Loki is correct. While Thor would spend only moments of his long life, Jane would spend decades and then be lost to him forever. The image makes him feel weak and sick. His head bows, blonde hair trailing in front of his face. Instead of mocking, Loki looks on in silence, allowing his brother his thoughts.

No matter what Thor chooses, he will suffer. All that he can hope for is that, no matter what transpires, Jane will not.

He raises his head again and squares his shoulders. He cannot neglect the duties of the kingdom his father so desperately requires of him, made even more paramount by the Loki's dishonor to the royal family. Whatever Thor shares with Jane, however dear to him, is not worth the lives of countless others. He knows that she would agree.

Somehow, someday, he will honor his word and return to her, and when that day comes, he will never be parted from her side again.

Until then, he must trust Heimdall's sight—even partial sight—that Jane has not been harmed, and that she thrives on Midgard. Thor is no longer foolish enough to accept his Loki's claims of innocence, but not even his gifted brother can surmount the power of the Allfather keeping these prison cells secure. Can he?

"Someday, your lies will come back to haunt you, brother," Thor warns softly, "and I will not protect you."

His brother's final words hold none of the anger from earlier, and Loki watches him leave with a calculating gaze. How utterly predictable, he thinks. He could follow Thor's internal turmoil as well as if the brute had verbalized it. Honor and duty before personal need. It was not always this way with Thor, though none on Asgard seem to remember, Loki recalls bitterly.

Left alone again, the carefully maintained illusion shatters, and the dark prince is once again in his rags, jaded and weary. His left arm still bears the scars of ripping through the cell barrier, remaining a hateful shade of azure instead of his accustomed fair tone. He flexes his hand. It's still quite painful to move, but to see the look of shock on his mother's face…let her tell that to Asgard's king. The guard has doubled outside Loki's cell, but it is a pointless effort. Unbeknownst to them, he is not foolish enough to risk further bodily harm when the end result will still be his imprisonment.

Loki doesn't spare what little energy he has on healing, not yet, at least. There are other more pressing matters worth his attention—like Thor's curious accusations regarding his little Midgardian pet. With a long exhale, Loki closes his eyes again and stills. It takes so much effort that sweat beads on his brow, but he pushes past the barriers of Asgard's dungeon, past Heimdall's guard on the bridge into the vast reaches of space, and then—

He's on Midgard, not in a corporeal form but real enough to the naked eye. The skill of projection, born under his mother's tutorage and nurtured in his lost years of torment, is now fully developed as he, Loki of Asgard, stands on a world not his own while his brother remains hostage to the ruin of the Bifrost.

Loki cannot dwell on this victory long, as the concentration required to project so far drains him by the moment.

While he has the ability, Asgard's prince isn't standing in the busy streets of Paris, London, or heaven forbid, New York City (should he ever return there, his first order of business will be to wipe that miserable Stark tower from existence). No, Loki is in a place much more bland and dangerous, a place the humans call Alaska. More specifically, inside Jane Foster's residence.

It's a feeble structure, even by Midgard standards, and Loki frowns in distaste as he navigates his way through the clutter in the dark.

Despite having no witnesses, even as a projection, the prince strikes an impressive image of burnished armor, dark leather and power. His boots move soundlessly across the tiled floor until he finds what he is looking for.

Miss Foster is asleep at the kitchen table, her head resting on her folded arms. In sleep, she appears even more fragile than normal. Weak. Unworthy. So…human.

She is lit only by the light from her laptop screen. Loki cannot command the physical world from his great distance, so the dark prince is relieved to see her work still open and available for his perusal.

One glance at the screen and he's already absorbed all her entered data. Clever girl, he thinks, a smile pulling at his mouth. She doesn't know what she has, and judging by her meager living conditions, no one else does either.

Thor's previous choices for companionship were never based on wit, as his taste for talent lay… elsewhere. This strange human can hardly compare to the stunning beauty of the Asgard maidens at Thor's disposal, and yet the glimpse of terror in his brother's eyes that Jane had come to harm—it was as incomprehensible and vile to Loki as it was fascinating. Intelligent as Miss Foster may be, by human standards at least, she is still inferior to their Aesir heritage in every capacity.

Jane moves her head, and for a second, Loki thinks she's woken, but she only settles into a different position. "Thor," she whispers, her voice groggy and nearly indecipherable. Her full lips part, and she emits a faint sigh.

Loki's eyes narrow, as he has no doubt as to where her dreams have taken her. He scowls. Should he have truly been on Midgard, he would have savored this opportunity for torment, but instead, (surprising even himself), he chooses to retreat.

Loki pauses as Jane speaks Thor's name again, but this time, he can detect the painful loneliness in her voice. He slowly turns and regards the human woman once more, more carefully this time. There's a stressed crease between her brows and her forehead. Her black lashes flutter against porcelain skin, and he wonders if his earlier judgment on her dreams was misguided. This bear's semblance not to ecstasy, but a nightmare.

Against all odds, the god of lies actually pities her. His scowl melts away. This human cannot possibly comprehend the forces against her affection for Thor, and yet, she continues her pointless obsession. He can (begrudgingly) respect courage in the face of impossible odds.

Buried beneath years of hardened resentment and anger, something else surges in him-the hateful obligation to soothe her, if only because his brother cannot. Will not, Loki corrects, smirking. If only Miss Foster knew.

Loki's form doesn't change, but his voice does, affecting the deeper timbre of his brother's tone. He leans close to her ear.

"Be at peace, Jane Foster," he says softly and with purpose, as though calming a skittish colt. Jane's features relax, and her breathing steadies.

Charity depleted, Loki feels disgusted and turns away. In the space of a second he's standing outside. Casting Jane Foster from his thoughts, he observes the Alaskan nighttime sky with a piercing gaze. Snowflakes swirl around the prince. He smirks. It is as he suspected.

He takes a breath, and—

Back in his dungeon cell on Asgard, Loki's eyes snap open. His head is splitting from the expended effort, and he presses his hands over his eyes to momentarily shield himself the blinding white light of the cell. His sadistic laugh is muffled against his palms.

A guard turns to look at the imprisoned prince. He nudges his companion. They grip their spears tighter and lower them into defensive position. It is an unnecessary precaution, as Loki hardly cares that he has an audience. He lowers his hands and throws back his head. His laugh fills every corner of his cell, slightly crazed and unnerving, for he is quite certain that he is the only being in the whole of the nine realms who realizes Midgard is being invaded.

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A/N I hope this chapter offers some sort of (half) payoff, as we have been waiting for Loki and Jane to interact. For that reason, it was one of my favorites to write.

Thank you to all who have left reviews, favs and follows. I write only with your continued support, so hugs to you all. Let me know your thoughts.