A/N This was probably the most difficult chapter for me to write yet, explaining the time I needed to grapple with it. Thank you, as always, for those readers who fav, review and otherwise support this fic.
Asgard
The Queen of Asgard walks a beat faster when she sees her eldest son standing on a balcony overlooking her private courtyard garden. It has always been one of her favorite places in the citadel, and she is pleased to see Thor there. She stops a pace away from him, the only indication of her presence the gentle swish of her silken gown against the polished stone floor.
"Mother," Thor turns greets her with a kiss on the cheek and a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
While she is accustomed to having her oldest son tower over her, for the moment, she's eye level with him. He's resumed his hunched over position, his forearms resting on the ivy covered stone railing as he stares ahead blankly. Still wearing his battle scarred armor, Frigga's sharp gaze notices every singed and frayed edge of the crimson cape flowing from stooped shoulders. Even the air around Thor seems tainted with a foul, smoky odor, no doubt in part to the layer of soot clinging to his body.
"Muspelheim was not a kind host?" she asks.
Thor shakes his head. A muscle shifts in his jaw. "They say with all the unrest in the Allfather's court, Asgard is vulnerable." He pauses, his voice lowering as though making a shameful confession. "Even worse, Surtur has a long memory for the transgressions of my younger years. He is reluctant to pay heed to a would-be king." He sighs. "You know I have no gift for words. It is a fragile alliance at best."
His brows furrow, and she almost doesn't recognize the distressed man before her. Where did the bold young prince whose taste for inane fighting, pillaging and gluttony disappear to? A prince who could rally a crowd with Mjölnir raised in his fist and stand toe to toe with Odin, (a gift that she had once thought was all her own)?
Much has changed since Loki's fall, Frigga reminds herself.
"Do you feel ill-prepared for the task at hand?" she asks, though it is less of a question than a statement.
Thor's posture stiffens. "Your tongue is as sharp as his," he says at last. His tone is not bitter, but she knows she has unintentionally stung what little pride there is left in him.
Frigga puts her hands on either side of Thor's face, turning him toward her. Her voice is soft and measured. "My instincts are that of a mother's, Thor, and I understand what you must endure."
For a moment, she sees not the adult heir apparent of Asgard before her, but a child, scraped and battered, uncharacteristically desperate for comfort. The gaze from his blue eyes is brimming with insecurities. Frigga's heart feels heavy in her chest. She had looked into another son's eyes, and beneath the depths of anger and pain, she saw the same thing. At that moment, Frigga had told Loki a guarded truth, only to have it be wholly rejected. But she can tell his brother a lie, and it would mean everything to him.
"You were meant to rule, Thor," she tells him, "and you are learning what it means to have true strength. Kinship has power, but even more so, bitter sacrifice. Heartache. Of your father's long years, very few have been happy ones." That much is true. She smiles sadly. "In time, you will find the words to strike fear in the hearts of your enemies and deference in those of your allies. But it must be learned, and you have much to endure before that."
Frigga grips one of his blacked hands. "I believe in you. Asgard believes in you. You will be a great king."
Thor bows his head. "Thank you, Mother—"
"My Lord."
They both turn as one, seeing Heimdall approach. It takes a practiced eye to recognize the anxiety in his gait.
Higga frowns. "What is it, Heimdall?"
The guardian's message is simple, though it cuts Thor to his very heart.
"My Lord, the human calls for you. She is in need."
{}{}{}{}{}
45° 5' 20.5296'' N, 171° 44' 17.8116'' W
I'm trapped, is the first thought that goes through Jane's mind as she surges back into consciousness. She tugs mildly on the restraints around her wrists.
She opens her eyes to a painfully bright gray and white infirmary, finding herself on one of two available hospital beds with an IV monitor beeping leisurely and pressure cuff attached to her right arm. Binding either wrist is a wool lined leather cuff attached to either side of the bed frame, similar to what she would expect in a mental asylum. She pulls against the restraints again, even as she realizes the futility of the action. She blinks as the room spins.
Her misery is compounded by the pounding behind her temples and a terrible case of cotton mouth. Squinting, physicist sees a blurred dark figure approach her bedside.
"Water," she chokes out, closing her eyes. Long seconds later, someone presses a paper cup to her lips and helps her drink. She gulps it down and lays her head back against the pillow.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
There's something vaguely familiar about his deep voice. Jane doesn't want to open her eyes again—it hurts her head too much—but her curiosity is overwhelming. Slowly, she pushes herself up, (as much as the cuffs allow), and looks forward. A tall, African American man is standing at the foot of the bed, garbed in a somber uniform with a knee length black leather overcoat. His arms cross as he scowls at her, his dour expression made even more unnerving by the black eye patch across his left eye. He looks ridiculous and terrifying at the same time.
"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of a formal introduction, Miss Foster. I am Director Nick Fury," he says. He waits for the words to sink in.
When Jane speaks, her voice is croaky and weak. "And you work for SHIELD?"
"I do."
Her heart beats faster, and the monitor at her side beeps in accordance. "What did you do to me?" Jane asks, struggling to make her voice steady.
"You are here to recover."
"I wouldn't need recovery if I wasn't shot." Bitterness creeps into her voice.
There's a pause before Fury continues, his voice even, almost too measured. "Let's clarify. It was a tranquilizer dart. You're experiencing some of the unpleasant side effects now, and for that, I'm sorry."
He doesn't sound sincere in the least, and Jane realizes she is dealing with a man who uses deception in the guise of civility on a routine basis. The reality grinds against her naïve conditioned principles.
"Where am I?" she asks.
"SHIELD Helicarrier 64."
A what? Jane files that name away in things she needs to investigate, as her pride doesn't allow her to reveal her ignorance at the moment. She's surprised this Nick Fury gives her the location so easily. Her last experience with SHIELD was less forthcoming.
He's probably lying, her suspicious, pain-addled brain tells her.
"Really?" comes Jane's dubious response.
"Yes. Look outside the windows." Fury gestures to them. "That's the Pacific."
There are two small windows to her left. Sure enough, endless blue ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, interspersed by wisps of gray clouds. She can't feel the roll of the ocean at all. Either this—helicarrier—has fantastic stabilizers or—can they really be airborne? The thought boggles her mind, and it doesn't change Jane's present, uncomfortable reality.
"I'm SHIELD's prisoner." She says it like a statement rather than a question.
Fury's eyebrow shifts upwards. He leans forward, resting his palms on the foot board of her bed. "We reacted to your actions only, Miss Foster."
She sits up more, anger flaring. Her hands are fists. "With abduction? Seriously?"
"We needed your expertise. You resisted. The agents didn't want you to hurt yourself further. Now we're evaluating your condition. You should be thanking us, Miss Foster."
She doesn't know which part of his statement to argue first. The migraine is so extreme right now she's beginning to feel nauseated. Jane presses a hand to her temple.
"Where's Darcy?" she whispers. Director Fury must possess uncanny hearing, as he responds without missing a beat.
"Quite safe. We talked with her and now she is released."
"I have no proof of that."
"Then you're just going to have to trust me, Miss Foster." She can't see it, but he frowns. "You're attached to a morphine drip. The tab to adjust it is at your side." He makes no move to assist her further.
The physicist looks down and clumsily moves the slide to the max position. Within a few minutes, the pounding becomes more of a dull ache. She releases the breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Jane looks up. Fury is still standing there, watching her every movement, eyes narrowed. She wants to shrink back under her covers.
"I'll let you rest now, Miss Foster." He turns and exits the infirmary before she can object.
Jane leans back against the pillows. Too exhausted to fight the oncoming drowsiness, she falls into a dreamless sleep.
{}{}{}{}{}
When the physicist wakes again, it's an entirely different face staring down at her.
"Who are you?" she hisses, instinctively pulling away from him, though the cuffs prevent her from moving far.
He smiles sadly at her and readjusts the stethoscope around his neck. Middle-aged with a stockier build and an errant lock of black hair that flops over his forehead, he doesn't project the menace of SHIELD's director. This man's gaze is all kindly concern, and Jane feels herself relaxing a bit.
"I've been looking over your chart," he answers instead, his gaze momentarily shifting to the tablet he's picked up. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrible," Jane answers honestly. "My head still hurts."
He sets the tablet down. "Headaches are a side effect of the tranquilizer."
"No, this has been going on longer than that." She pauses. "Weeks. Nothing works."
His brow furrows. "I'm sorry."
Jane hears the sincerity in his voice, and despite everything, it makes her like she might have an ally in this place. Just then, he goes to a drawer and pulls out a syringe.
"What are you doing?" Jane hisses, eyes wide again.
The man pauses and offers a tight, sympathetic smile. "I need a sample of your blood to analyze, if that is okay." He stands politely at her bedside, clearly waiting for her permission. It's a welcome change from SHIELD procedures she is familiar with. As if to give credence to his good intentions, the doctor takes off her cuffs, freeing her wrists.
"I'm not your prisoner?"
"You're my patient. May I please do this so I can help you?"
Jane nods reluctantly. She turns her head and looks out of the window at the endless ocean below. She never really had the stomach for needles. She feels a pinch in her arm and then—
"All done. You can look again," he says, winking at her. He instructs her to hold a gauze pad against her arm until the bleeding stops. Jane watches his back as he works.
"So how long have you been with SHIELD?" she asks.
He shrugs without facing her. "I was…recruited a little while back to lend support for the invasion."
"Is 'recruited' a polite euphemism?"
He chuckles. "No. SHIELD has some well-intentioned and persuasive allies. I came willingly."
"I didn't."
He turns and looks at her, frowning. "I know." With a sigh, he approaches the bedside. He speaks slowly, his gaze locked with hers. "I regret the way they handled this, especially considering how important you are. SHIELD doesn't deserve your trust right now, but my advice is to give them a chance. They rarely reveal all their cards. If you're here, there's a good reason. They don't take just anyone."
Take being the operative word, Jane thinks.
"I need to know where my intern—" she catches herself, "where my friend is. Darcy—have you seen her?"
"I haven't, but I'll let you know if I hear anything."
Jane waits, but he seems done talking. The questions pour through her mind. With one last quick smile, the man turns to leave.
"Where are you going?" The words come out of her mouth like a pounce, but she's reluctant to let go of the most…human…person she's met here yet.
"I need my lab's more advanced equipment to run your blood work," he consoles. "Should take a few hours at least. I promise, I will get to the bottom of these headaches you're talking about. Please try to get some rest."
"That's what everyone's telling me."
"It's good advice."
Jane grins back placidly and relaxes into the pillows. She waits several minutes after the doors close before rising from bed. Her first few steps are wobbly, and her head protests with every movement, but she refuses to sit back and let SHIELD interfere with her life. Not again.
She's certain that disconnecting herself from the IV will set off a cacophony of beeping, so she's thankful that she can wheel the cart with her. Jane stops before the computer terminal. The technology is cutting edge, and it takes her a minute to acclimate to the holoscreens.
"Don't trigger alarms, dummy," she whispers to herself, channeling Darcy. Skipping past the restricted personnel files, the physicist decides to look through basic information that should be available to all crew members. A few screens later, she finds a map of the layout of Helicarrier 64. Lines of blue and green depicting the complex maze of hallways and compartments reflect off her pale skin as she blazes through image after image. Large sections are marked in red—she's not sure if that means no access or under construction. Either way, it confirms that she is certainly aboard some massive SHIELD vessel which is infinitely more complex than she has time to learn.
Jane goes to the same unlocked drawer the doctor used and rifles through it until she finds the items she needs. A ludicrous plan formulating in her head, Jane looks up at the clock.
"Come and get me," she whispers.
{}{}{}{}{}
The room is dark when Jane's kind doctor reenters. The doors snap close behind him.
It's quiet. Too quiet.
Even from his vantage point, he can tell the IV monitor alarm has been silenced and his patient is nothing but pillows stuffed under sheets. But he realizes it a beat too late.
"Don't move!" Something sharp pricks against his neck.
"Guess I should have left you handcuffed." He takes a deep breath. "Look, Jane, you really don't want to do this." He tries to swivel his neck to look at the physicist behind him, but the pricking sensation increases.
"There's enough tranquilizer in this to take down a horse," Jane threatens, swallowing. "Take me to Fury. Now. Don't try anything funny. I will use this." It's actually saline from her own IV drip, but he doesn't need to know that.
Instead of arguing her order, the doctor swipes his palm against the id reader and the doors open for them both.
"What's going to prevent SHIELD from stopping you right now?" he asks, trying to keep the amused smile out of his voice.
Honestly, her plan ended with approaching Fury and demanding her release. Perhaps fear of a mad scientist?
"I have you," she concludes, apprehension seeping into her voice.
"Do you know who you have?" he asks. The question lingers in the air as they walk together, as if there is something important she is supposed to know and doesn't. It makes her once again question her entire desperate scheme.
"Nick. Fury. Now," Jane orders, trying desperately to remain stern. She's thankful that SHIELD staffing on the helicarrier is at a minimum, for they are able to navigate the hallways without interruption until her victim stops before another door.
"Sure about this?" he says. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Jane's frantic nod.
The door opens to a large control room, which Jane can only assume is the bridge, pays subtle homage to the setup of the Enterprise. Two dozen people in dark uniforms sit at their respective stations staring at holomonitors, and before them all, a network of large glass panels revealing the movement of the helicarrier through the gray misty clouds. There is quiet, indistinct chatter going on until Jane and her hostage step in. All eyes turn to them, and the room becomes intensely quiet.
A young, attractive woman in a crisp SHIELD jumpsuit approaches them slowly, radiating authority. Jane notices the woman fingering the gun strapped to her hip. "May I help you?" she asks. Her tone is anything but polite.
Before Jane can open her mouth, her hostage speaks for her. "Director Fury, please," he says quietly.
There's another silent moment where Jane can all but see the mental process as the woman contemplates whether or not to give into the request. When she finally nods her head and points to a door off the side of the bridge.
The door shuts behind them. Fury is seated at a large table, looking through some encrypted documents. Seeing them both, he puts his tablet down and rises to his feet. If looks could kill, Jane would be a pile of smoldering ashes.
"Drop the syringe and back away. Slowly," Fury orders, his voice frigid. His tone leaves no room for disobedience. Jane does as he asks and steps away. Fury ignores her completely and instead focuses on her hostage.
"Dr. Banner, how are you feeling?" he asks. Jane thinks she can detect a glimmer of wary alarm in the director's face before it fades into his regular sour expression.
"Fine," Dr. Banner answers. He picks up the discarded syringe. "This wouldn't have done a thing to the other guy anyway."
"Exactly what I'm afraid of," Fury answers.
Dr. Banner. That name. She's heard it before…at a university? No. TV? That sounds right. A sudden mental picture surfaces.
"Wait, you're Dr. Bruce Banner?" Jane gasps, suddenly feeling very, very stupid. "I didn't realize..."
Not that she is overly familiar with his abilities, but she's seen enough blurred news images to know that Dr. Banner takes on a very different form. What did Tony Stark call him again? Green rage monster or something to that effect?
"I like to keep it that way," Bruce says, interrupting her mental workings, "it tends to ruin things." The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks at her.
The door open and two SHIELD agents materialize just behind her. Jane swallows. Whatever courage she drew upon before is waning by the moment.
"Can I trust, Miss Foster, you are willing to behave now?" Fury asks, glaring at her. Jane gives a stiff nod, and he motions to the empty chair at the table.
"Then we'll take this opportunity to debrief you on the situation."
She sits stiffly in the chair and folds her hands on the table. Though difficult, she keeps her gaze locked on Fury, and somehow, she feels she has his respect for it.
"Dr. Banner, you do not have to stay," Fury says, looking over at the man standing quietly beside the agents.
He shrugs. "Jane's my patient. I'd like to."
Jane sends Bruce an appreciative glance, and the warm nod she receives back tells her that all is forgiven.
"Well then, Miss Foster, I'll start at the beginning," Fury says, his eyes narrowing. "Do you understand SHIELD's purpose?"
"To safeguard Earth."
For a millisecond, he seems surprised by her answer, but nods. "Indeed. And with any means necessary. More recently, we utilized the Avengers to combat the alien threat."
In her periphery, Jane sees Dr. Banner stare down at his feet. Fury continues. "As alarming as that threat was, it could have been much worse if we had not taken control of the technology that allowed a passageway into this realm, and your previous work was a large factor in this."
Jane can't stay quiet any longer. "You're kidding, right?" she interrupts. "SHIELD took every piece of equipment and data compiling of years of research without apology, then abducted me during the 'alien threat' with hardly a word as to why. I wasn't allowed to contact anyone, I wasn't allowed to work…"
She draws in a breath.
"And despite all this," Jane continues, trying to keep her voice even, "I did what you guys wanted. I choose another subject to research. A safe, mundane subject. No aliens. No wormholes. And you still come after me?"
"You forget, we're the good guys," Fury responds placidly. "True, you don't agree with all our policies and safeguards. That's fine. But you will have to respect them, as SHIELD only has your best interests at hand."
"You have a lousy way of going about it."
The director is silent, and Jane has the overwhelming feeling that they have reached a stalemate on the subject, so she tries a different tactic.
She folds her arms. "I need answers."
Fury nods and waits.
"Did SHIELD take over the Nome Observatory, installing your people and systems?"
"Yes, temporarily."
"To monitor my research?"
"Yes."
Jane tries to suppress the hot feeling of rage circulating through her veins. "So I never had my freedom?"
"Of course you did. But you have an uncanny ability to find," Fury pauses to consider his words, "abnormalities with critical repercussions on the future of this planet and its people. SHIELD intervened to prevent further damage."
"I'm researching a star! Yes, there's a bizarre weather phenomenon, but nothing to the extent of what I was seeing in New Mexico."
"We both know that is a lie, Dr. Foster."
"I'm not looking at wormholes. I kept my word."
"I know. But we need you to find out what it is exactly that we are looking at." Fury leans forward, his glare penetrating. "Even without your input, we know something is occurring in the location of Nome. I have no doubt your research will help give us an answer. The only question is, will you help us?"
Jane stares at him a long moment. "No."
The answer seems to surprise everyone in the room, Fury most of all. The feeling of power surges through the physicist.
"I'm not going to be bullied by this organization any more. I want to go back home immediately."
"And where's that?" he asks.
Alaska? New Mexico? God, she doesn't even know anymore. But since she has a temporary advantage—
"And I want to talk to Darcy."
Fury sighs. "That is not possible right now."
"But why not if she's free like you claim?"
Fury is silent for another moment. "If I arrange a phone call, can we put aside notions of your leaving until you're fully recovered? Those headaches must still be bothering you." His gaze darts to Dr. Banner in some sort of unspoken message.
While she knows it's not concern, but rather another stealthy negotiation tactic, Jane sees no reason why not to go along with him.
"Sure."
"Good."
Sensing the briefing is over, she gets up, slightly shaky on her legs. She can't believe she was successful. Did she actually beat SHIELD for once? She walks toward the door.
"One last thing, Dr. Foster. Quid pro quo, if you will."
She turns and regards the director.
"How long has it been since you've seen Thor?" Fury asks.
Everything in her stops. Her stomach tightens painfully and she can't help but glance at her feet. "It's been a while," she answers, remaining cautiously ambiguous.
"The thing is, if you help us, and this investigation goes where I think it will, we'll need Thor's help. We can contact him. Bring him here. Is that something you would appreciate?"
Suppressing her knee-jerk angry reaction that SHIELD would know about her personal relationships, (of course they would, she reminds herself), the prospect of getting to be with Thor again is too attractive to pass up. Jane nods and is escorted back to the infirmary.
Dr. Banner shakes his head sadly. He could see right through Fury's bluff. Unsurprisingly, the director found his victim's pressure point and utilized it.
"That…wasn't nice," Dr. Banner comments after Jane has left.
Fury crosses him arms. "I've never claimed to be nice. I do what I have to. Despite everything, we need her on our side."
"By lying to her? We have no way to contact Thor."
"We don't," Fury agrees. "But I'm just hoping he'll come to us."
The doctor frowns and moves to leave.
Fury sighs. "Dr. Banner?"
Bruce stops at the door, but doesn't look back.
"Dr. Foster's not been forthcoming either," Fury reminds him. "According to her intern, Dr. Foster's been 'seeing' things. I can't have someone of her talent—and propensity for trouble—free to do whatever she pleases while being mentally unstable. Not at a time like this."
The doctor says nothing and exits the room.
