Without the Darkness There Is No Light
by Riley Berg
%
Chapter One
And so It Begins
There are very few things I have been absolutely certain of in my life, but one of them is that I do not like the way Jane is staring at the electronic readout of whatever one of her scientific instruments she is holding in her hands.
"It's too early in the morning for this," complains Jane, hitting the object against the kitchen counter with one hand and childishly rubbing her bleary eyes with the other.
The state of her hair and clothes suggests that she fell asleep in the lab. Again.
"Did you show it to Erik?" I inquire lightly, feigning disinterest.
"Ya," Jane answers distractedly as she runs a hand through her brunette hair in continued frustration.
Although Jane looks as if her sleep has been less than restful, I surmise that Erik has not gone to sleep at all.
"He's packing," Jane says in further answer.
I snap my head up to look at her. "Is it that serious?" I can no longer keep concern from coloring my tone.
I slide off the counter and look over Jane's shoulder, but the information displayed there holds no meaning for me.
"What is it?" I ask instead.
"I… don't know. But it is concerning. I think we should tell… you know, the Avengers." She glances at the phone on the wall, as if it might have answers for her.
"Have you tried to reach Thor?"
Jane nods. "But there was no answer. I'm sure he's just… busy."
I allow myself a smile. "Out Avenger-ing," she offers.
Jane returns my smile momentarily. "But I should pack."
"Where are you going?"
"This needs pursuing," Jane explains. "Even if we get the information to the Avengers, they will need constant monitoring and interpretation. Erik is going and I'm not letting him go without me."
And I have no intention of letting Jane go without me.
"Have you made travel arrangements?"
"No, but I don't know when we'll get ahold of Thor."
"Well, let us stay one step ahead of the game, shall we? You intend to join the Avengers at their base of operations in New York, correct?" I do not wait for confirmation. "So, let us work toward that end. Pack, as you suggested. I will make travel arrangements. Continuing trying to contact Thor, and I will see what I can do about contacting the Avengers through more public or official channels. The worst case scenario will be that we get there before them, but at least, you can begin as soon as they return, instead of having to wait until travel arrangements are made, as well as the length of travel itself."
Jane stares at me, surprised, but eventually nods in agreement. Though Jane has been wise to refrain from asking too many questions, she knows I am wealthy; it is in one of my houses that we currently resided, and all of her room-and-board expenses—as well as some others when I could convince her, or trick her—have been provided for by me.
"You and Erik focus on packing whatever equipment you need. And do not forget important things like your clothes this time."
"That was Erik!" Jane protests, exasperated, not seeing my telling smile.
"Then make sure he packs his underwear," I dismiss.
I watch Jane leave through the same door she entered—the kitchen has multiple entrances—and with a polite "Thank you" to the chef follows suit.
By the time I reach my bedroom door, I am shaking. I do not yet know the implications of Jane's machine's readings, but I do not like the frequency with which such used-to-be-anomalies are occurring. Terra was quiet for centuries, but its encounters with alien life are coming more and more frequently, and less and less quietly. I do not want to think of the war these events portend.
Attempting to contact the Avengers proves fruitless, but I do successfully arrange a private flight for me and my companions—though I never doubted my ability to do so. We will have no trouble traveling with whatever amount of equipment Jane and Erik decide to bring.
Methodically, I secure my long black hair into a bun and slip into a nondescript black dress. I push a pair of sunglasses onto the top of my head. Though my matte hair and unremarkable height allow me an anonymity I appreciate, my gray eyes are rare enough to attract attention. The sunglasses are, therefore, priceless.
Carefully, I check to make sure my ever-present necklace is secured around my neck. It is a fine silver chain on which dangles a black, circular pendant. The necklace is simple and seems unremarkable, like the rest of my apparel—and, I hope, myself—but it is precious beyond even my own understanding.
With similar care, I take inventory of my three rings—two on my left hand and one on my right. The one on my right I wear on my so-called ring finger. It is a golden band, inset with small black stones and bright green jewels, in an alternating pattern all the way around the ring. A human would say it is yellow gold inlaid with onyx and emeralds, but its origin may not be earthly, so I do not know if that is what the materials actually are.
On my left ring finger, I wear a black band set with a purple jewel that, if not rendered invisible—as all my rings are—even humans would understand by sight is other than earthly. Next to it, on my middle finger, is a delicate silver ring. It is finely smithed and elegantly engraved, and one can never be certain whether it changes shape or a trick of the light makes it seem that it does.
Assured that I have my most prized possessions and have sufficiently managed to subdue my appearance, I pack a bag—a small carry-on sized piece of luggage—and throw a dark gray sweater over my arm before wandering downstairs to assist my friends.
Much of the equipment is the invention of Jane or pieces modified from the store-bought standard. Even the gear which is not unique is not accustomed to traveling and, therefore, has no customized carrying case. It all sits in large suitcases, with odd articles of clothing padding the equipment. Well, Erik did not forget to pack his underwear, I think with a smile.
I take it upon myself to ensure that Jane and Erik's personal needs are packed while they finish inventorying their more scientific baggage, and a surprisingly short while later we stand at the front door, watching the several pieces of luggage being hauled into the cargo van that will follow us to the airport.
In a final attempt to reach the Avengers, I try to contact Pepper Potts. The businesswoman is unavailable—it being after business hours in New York—but I leave a message on her personal assistant's answering machine. With a little hope, I slide into the car beside Jane and direct the driver to the airport.
Too many hours later, I stare tiredly at Avengers Tower. Jane insisted on traveling straight to it, not allowing me to reserve us a hotel room or two for a much-needed rest. Miss Potts has yet to return my call, though, so I am uncertain what to do now that we have arrived. The majority of our journey took place during this time zone's night hours when Miss Potts was, presumably, out of the office. Perhaps she has simply not gotten to my message yet. Though in my message I tried to tell Pepper Pott's assistant that the matter was urgent, she may not have understood.
With an irritated sigh, I call Miss Pott's personal assistant again. Although my traveling companions are exhausted with the time difference between England and New York, it is morning here in New York City. The woman seems surprised to hear from me, and with obvious embarrassment apologizes for the delay. She must have assumed I was not serious. She transfers me to the C.E.O. immediately, in rectification for her mistake.
"Hello?"
"Miss Potts?" I inquire, to be sure.
"This is she," she replies professionally.
"Hello, my name is Astrid Quimby, and I am a… friend of Jane Foster's. Do you know of whom I speak?"
"Of course."
"Well, we—she—she and Erik, that is, have come across some… concerning readings and would like to inform the Avengers of them. It would seem, however, that they are away and cannot be reached. We have been trying all the while, but we have arrived in New York before talking with them. Jane is insistent upon… setting up shop as soon as possible. I was wondering if you could arrange that for us, and if you have a better way of contacting one of the Avengers than we do."
There is a long moment of silence. It is a lot to take in, and to judge the truth of.
"Where are you?" Miss Potts finally asks.
"At your door," I admit.
"I will be down momentarily." Miss Potts ends the call without further ado.
"Miss Potts will be downstairs to greet us momentarily," I assure Jane, in response to her look of inquiry.
We exit the vehicle, and coax Erik out of the van he was riding in behind us. I cannot convince him to come with us—he insists someone stay to watch the equipment—but I will not be parted from Jane.
"Miss Foster," greets a pleasant, genuinely happy voice.
I turn to see a woman with strawberry blonde hair, a fashionably lean figure, and a professionally stylish dress shaking Jane's hand. Miss Potts then turns to me.
"And you must be Miss Quimby, from the phone."
"Yes." I return her handshake.
"You should have called earlier; I would have had everything arranged for you."
Jane glances at me, but I refrain from informing Miss Potts of her personal assistant's error in judgment.
"It, unfortunately, did not occur to me until now," I politely lie.
"I do not know exactly where Tony would put you all, but there are a few renovated but unused floors below those belonging to the members of the Avengers. They should be suitable for now."
Pepper Potts instructs several employees in the transportation of the equipment to our newly designated floor, and Erik unnecessarily stays to supervise them. Jane and I follow Miss Potts to the elevator.
"I contacted Tony and let him know what is going on. They will return as soon as they are able."
"Thank you, Miss Potts," Jane sighs in relief.
"Pepper, please," she insists. "Same for you," Pepper nods at me.
"Jane," Jane reciprocates.
"Astrid," I politely follow suit, though I do not prefer to.
I am of no use as Jane and Erik set their equipment up with Pepper's permission and the help of several Stark Industries employees. Pepper and I glance at each other, mutually realizing our uselessness in the matter.
"Would you care for something to eat?" Pepper asks politely. "I don't think we're needed here."
Desiring a reprieve from the commotion, I accept her offer. Jane and Erik need to eat (and sleep) as well, but I know I will not be able to convince them to do either until they are finished.
"You said you are a friend of Jane's?" Pepper asks conversationally after I have eaten a few bites.
I nod, but I am not desirous to give further explanation, and so remains silent. Though, if Thor is coming, basic explanations will have to be made.
"Oh. Are you her intern? I think I heard something about an intern-turned-friend."
I shake my head. "No."
Apparently sensing that I am avoiding the topic, Pepper politely turns the conversation to less personal matters. By the time she walks me back to the elevator, all the arrangements for Jane's, Erik's, and my boarding have been made.
Pepper proves to be a good friend to Jane, and I am glad to see it. Darcy, the intern-turned-friend that Pepper mentioned, has her own life to attend to outside of Jane's research and the crazy adventures Erik pulls people into. Darcy and Jane are good friends, but I found it appropriate, and perhaps needful, that Jane have another friend to add to her small inner circle.
%%%
The disembodied voice of the artificial intelligence known as JARVIS wakes me, with some irrelevant information about the local weather conditions.
And then he informs me that the Avengers arrived in the night and are assembling for breakfast in the common room.
I fling off the bedclothes and spring out of bed, dressing quickly but not without thought to my appearance, and knotting my hair into a bun at the base of my neck without looking in the mirror.
Seeing Erik's bedroom door closed, I venture down the hall to find the gray-haired scientist soundly asleep. After only a moment of pitying hesitation, I pull Erik out of bed. After I inform him he will see Thor again, he obligingly gets ready.
Jane is already gone.
With clothing hastily pulled on, Erik presses the elevator's call button. As we wait, I straighten my own clothes—another simple black outfit—and tucks a few stray hairs into my bun. I have no desire to appear fashionable, but I respect my hosts enough to have a neat appearance. Erik is lovable with his untidy appearance; I am not.
We walk out of the elevator into the common area to find the Avengers, Pepper, and Jane lounging on various pieces of furniture, some with plates of food in hand or nearby.
Pepper jumps up when Erik and I enter, and greets us with a cheery, "Good morning," before instructing us to help ourselves to the extensive, buffet-style breakfast. "Obviously, you don't have to sit at the table," she finishes.
But Erik has no intention of eating first. Thor greets him with a hug and the other Avengers nod or vocalize their good mornings to the man concisely, glancing at me, some curiously, and some warily. Everyone knows Erik. No one knows me.
Thor pulls me into a hug as well. A tight hug.
"Thor!" I chastise with what breath he has not squeezed from my lungs. "Suffocation is a method of torture, not a sign of affection."
I shake my head slightly in fond exasperation as he releases me, but return his smile, reminding myself that I knew introductions would not be simple.
"This," Thor begins, turning to his friends, "is my sister, Astrid," he announces, my anglicized name sounding less foreign on his tongue than it did before.
At the shocked expressions on his fellow Avengers' faces, I chastise Thor. "Thor, they will mistake you," I stage-whisper.
I turn to the Avengers. "What he meant to say is that I am a friend. A friend whom he cares about as if I were his own sister. And whom he, therefore, considers to be his sister."
A mutual expression of relief floods the room, though I ascertain that some are still uncertain of my trustworthiness.
Thor looks to me in confusion but wisely remains silent. I dismiss his concerns for a later time with an almost undetectable shake of my head, and Thor proceeds to introduce each of the other Avengers to me.
"Well, shall we get started?" Erik finally breaks the tension.
I smile at his use of "shall."
The Avengers agree with Erik. He and Jane lead Tony Stark and Bruce Banner to their makeshift lab. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton leave together a moment later, telling Thor that they "will join the geeks when they have come to some conclusions that can be interpreted into English." Pepper dismisses herself as well; she has to go to work.
Thor and I are left alone.
"Why did you correct me? I am proud to call you my sister." Thor wastes no time in questioning me.
He has nothing to be proud of, but I know better than to express that thought aloud.
"I am not your sister, though, neither biologically nor… adoptively."
Thor ignores my reference to adoption. "Mother asked me to accept you as my sister. I did so. I have always treated you as my sister and I always will," he assures me.
"And you are my brother," I return. "Whatever else may be, that will remain true. But others do not understand our type of friendship without observing it for themselves, so it is best to explain the matter initially."
"If you had not corrected me, they would think of you as my sister and our friendship would need no explanation."
I stare at him. Did he not notice how his friends reacted to the introduction of Thor's Sister? "They have not had the best experience with your siblings," I explain carefully.
Thor and I have yet to address the matter of Loki, but now is not the time.
%%%
When Thor and I join the others in Jane's lab, Erik is in a frenzy, Stark has an unusual, concerned expression on his face, and Banner is nowhere to be seen.
I walk straight to Erik.
"Erik, calm down," I instruct softly, placing my hands on his shoulders.
He collapses into a chair, but I let one hand remain calmingly on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he mutters.
I turn my head to Jane without removing my hand from Erik.
"It moved," Jane explains, referring to whatever anomaly they earlier detected. She turns back to the computer screen. "The initial… pulse of energy was close to the border between Norway and Sweden, about three-hundred-fifty kilometers north-northwest of Oslo."
The Scandinavian Peninsula. Thor and I exchange glances.
"That was what Erik and I saw, what got us started on this whole thing. The energy sort of trailed and tapered off, disappearing westward, and we thought it was a good idea to let everyone know. But another pulse occurred while we were traveling—actually, nearer the time we were arriving."
I look at the map displayed on the screen. The second anomaly was detected suspiciously close to our residence in England.
Silence reigns.
"Why didn't you notice it when it happened?" I break the silence.
"It was too far away for my equipment to detect. This," she gestures to the large display, "is information from the… databases I have been given access to. But I had to gain access to them, and there is a delay in publishing certain information…"
I nod my understanding and hide my worry.
Something about the shape of the energy is familiar. But its similarity or relationship to my experiences eludes me. Everyone else stares at the display blankly.
"JARVIS," Stark addresses the computer system installed throughout the Tower, "tell Capsicle, Carrot Top, and Legolas they are needed."
The nicknames that would usually be humorous fall flat. The situation is too serious. Stark still seems slightly amused, though.
"What kind of anomaly is it, compared to the others you have encountered?" I ask while we wait for the others to arrive.
Stark looks at me questioningly.
Erik answers. "This is different."
I knew it. I do not know how I knew it, but I did.
"How different?"
"It is an… energy. That is how the equipment can detect it. But it does not have the same signature as the Bifrost, or even the anomalies surrounding the Convergence, which signatures were quite similar."
I tilt my head at the screen.
"Jane, can you calibrate your equipment to a more localized occurrence?"
She looks at me questioningly.
I take a deep breath. I do not want to do this. The Avengers are wary of me already. As I told Thor, they do not seem ready to trust another sibling of his. And this will not help matters.
"If I were to try to recreate that," I gesture to the energy signature, "in a small scale, here in this room, would your instruments be able to measure it accurately enough to compare the two?"
Jane bites her lip for a moment, unperturbed by the implications of my statement but distracted by the science. "I think so. I'll have to recalibrate it, but I think I can do that. Why?"
Rogers, Romanoff, and Barton arrive but apparently sense the seriousness permeating the room and remain silent.
"There is something," I tilt my head at the screen, my eyes losing focus, "familiar about that. I have been struggling to remember what it reminds me of, but I think I know now."
Jane looks at me, worried, but nods her head and begins fiddling with her equipment. Stark summarizes our conversation thus far for the benefit of the newcomers.
Rogers turns to me. "What does it remind you of?"
I consider whether or not to tell them before I am sure. But if I am right, they might not want to use up valuable time later listening to my explanation. I will tell them my suspicions while Jane readies the experiment.
"There is a very basic, or very… old," I take a deep breath, "technology, for lack of a better word,"—'magic' would be more suitable, but I suspect they are wary of the term—"that is used to locate an object or person, that I think would have a similar pattern. Because it is so old, it uses an inefficient amount of energy for a very simple process, which might result in so large a signature. If I were to imitate it, my signature would be nearly invisible because I know how to do it efficiently, but it should make the same… shape. If Jane can calibrate her equipment to detect it, then we can confirm or dismiss the theory."
"You have this technology?"
I hesitate. But if I am going to experiment on my theory, they are going to see magic in a few moments anyway. "The old technology that I suspect this… person to be using would be a cross between science—an explainable process—and… magic—a proven, but, as of yet, inexplicable process. I do not have the science or technology part of it. But I can recreate the… inexplicable portion of the process. Which is, honestly, the majority of it."
I watch Jane tinker, not wanting to see my brother's friends' reactions to my admission.
Clint Barton is the first to speak. "Are you saying you can use magic?" he growls.
I pinch my eyebrows together and slowly turn my head to look at him, wondering why there is such venom in his voice. Knowing better than to inquire, or to ask permission for what I am about to do, I carefully reach my mind out to his. I feel like I am pushing through molasses. It has been a long time since I exercised my power. I carefully control my force so he will not detect my presence and no one else will detect my use of power.
It is not difficult to find the source of Barton's fury. The images flash readily before my mind's eye as he remembers them himself. With deep loathing, he focuses on one figure: Loki.
I understand his anger.
"What you experienced was not magic," I inform him evenly.
My declaration was, apparently, not the answer anyone expected.
I glance at Jane. She is ready.
"Do I have your permission to proceed?"
I do not direct the question to anyone in particular. I do not know whose permission I need. Barton, who is wary of magic, Stark, whose tower this is, or Rogers, who appears to be the leader.
Several of the teammates exchange glances and slight nods. Finally, Rogers speaks.
"Go ahead."
I stand where Jane indicates.
She takes a deep breath. "Ready." It is almost a question.
I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. I do not need a great deal of concentration for a task so simple, but I feel myself grow nervous as the implications of my actions grow clearer in my mind. Even Thor, despite all the time we spent together, has rarely witnessed my abilities. And following in the wake of Loki's attempted reign of terror, my magic is unwelcome—never mind that he did not use any magic as far as I am aware.
But whatever or whoever is using the locating technology is searching too close to home. They could be interested in Thor, or Jane, or even Erik. And I would be remiss in my duties as a sister and friend if I did not do all in my power to help them.
I take a deep breath. I have to use as little magic as possible in order to avoid anyone other than Jane detecting my so-called spell. Although I can work spells such as this from within myself, I choose to draw a small ball of energy onto my hand, no bigger than a pencil-top eraser. Disconnecting it from myself in hopes of further hiding my identity from any who might be monitoring energies, I set the small, lavender ball of flame-like energy on the ground. With a single word—a command in the ancient Dark Tongue—the ball of energy disappears.