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It was early in the morning when Elizabeth bought her first New York pretzel. The vendor had just opened, and the smell had drawn her in like a well-cast incantation. She had been all over the city that morning; in the span of an hour or so, she had explored more of the city than she could have imagined. Or, at least, it felt that way. The blocks were short, and there as so much to look at.
Elizabeth took a bite out of her pretzel and glanced up at the morning sky. The sun was hidden behind a large cumulus cloud – something she considered to be a blessing, as it brought the temperature down a few degrees. Something shifted in the corner of her eye, so she turned her head to look; the light from the partially-concealed sun burned her eyes, but there was no mistaking what she saw.
The sky undulated like a wave. Puckered like poorly stitched silk.
She was no stranger to that phenomenon; it was not a natural one in the least. As she watched the clouds swirl into a loose helix, she cursed under her breath.
This was why Tony never woke up early.
With Natasha and Clint asleep from their night at work, Steve out on a run, Bruce swimming laps in the basement pool, Pepper on a business call, and Thor still snoring away in his room, the tower was disturbingly quiet. He would have talked to Elizabeth, but, according to Pepper, she had disappeared early that morning to "explore the city." So, that put Elizabeth at who-knows-where and Tony all alone on the main floor of the tower.
He was in the middle of scrambling some eggs – the extent of his cooking abilities – when he heard the elevator's cheery ding from out in the hallway. A moment later, a dripping-wet Bruce was walking barefoot across the hardwood floor.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Tony cried a bit too loudly; in the shock of it, the spatula clattered to the floor, and his right hand smacked against the hot skillet. He clutched his injured hand, the skin angry and burnt, and stuck his hand under the faucet before it could blister.
Bruce didn't seem to notice Tony's fiasco at the stove, instead making his way gingerly toward the sofa, tiny puddles of water accumulating at his feet and making Tony cringe. "You rode my elevator like that?" he asked, imagining the sodden carpet and already smelling the mildew. "And now you're walking all over my floor. Really?"
"Relax, Tony," Bruce replied. "I just forgot my towel." He lifted a beach towel from the sofa as proof, drying off his feet quickly and then dragging it along the floor to sop up the water he'd dripped. "See? I got it."
"Well, good," Tony bristled, assessing the damage on his burnt hand. Red had reduced to pink, but it was still a good-sized scorch. "Pepper would have murdered both of us."
Bruce laughed as he toweled the rest of himself dry. "Right." He shot Tony a sarcastic look that was received and understood. His smirk vanished as he bent over, scruffing his hair with the towel. "Hey, where is everybody?" he asked.
Tony rattled off the list, and Bruce straightened up again, wrapping the towel around his waist. "So I guess that just leaves you and me," Tony finished.
Bruce half-listened, watching Tony crudely wrap his hand in napkins. "Want something for that burn?" he asked, already doing a quick mental inventory of his medical supplies.
Tony flexed his fingers around the makeshift bandage. When the napkin tore, he sighed. "Sure. What've you got?"
"Burn cream. And gauze."
"All that fancy medical stuff you get for being a doctor," Tony quipped as Bruce headed off to go find his med bag.
Just then, Tony remembered his eggs. He quickly pulled the skillet off the heat, transferring the eggs to a plate he had pulled out earlier. He prodded them with his fork; a bit dry, but not too bad. He'd live.
While they steamed, he poured himself some milk, pressing the cool glass to his seared hand; it felt like something from heaven.
Around the corner, he heard a door open and close; he assumed it was Bruce, coming back with the gauze for his hand, but, when he heard running, it occurred to him that he might be wrong. It was probably just Steve coming back from his circuit around the city. He was early; Tony guessed that it he had probably given himself an easy day as a reward for pushing himself all week.
But the panting sounded a bit too feminine to be Steve, and the stride was just a hair too short. Curious, Tony peered into the hall. Elizabeth was leaning heavily against the wall beside a door he had almost forgotten about, breathing hard and fast like a fat dog after a long walk. She glanced up at him and gestured over her shoulder. "Lots of stairs," she gasped.
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Yeah; that's why I had an elevator put in."
She shook her head fervently, catching her breath. "Too slow," she said.
"Bet it would have been faster than you climbing all those stairs."
She shook her head again. "I'm fast. Two at a time."
Tony let out a low whistle, crunching the numbers mentally and realizing that she just dashed her way up more stairs than he had ever probably climbed in his life. "Why the rush?" he asked. Before he got an answer, she was pushing past him and into the living room, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one of the walls.
She moved around a bit, looking out at different angles. Then, she swore. "You can't see it from here," she said as explanation. In a single smooth turn, she faced Tony. "This may sound crazy, but, while I was out this morning, I saw something in the sky."
"Those are called airplanes," Tony quipped sarcastically. "They're machines that fly through the air."
She leveled him with a quelling gaze, entirely unamused. "I know what those are, Stark. This was not that."
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey now, I was only joking. You've gotta learn to laugh a little more, Princess."
"There is no reason for laughter when I'm trying to tell you something serious," she countered. "And never call me 'Princess.'"
"He calls me 'Behemoth.'" Bruce came back into the room, hands full of gauze – pads, squares, rolls, whatever he thought would come in handy. He had a tube of burn gel between his pinky and ring fingers, Q-Tips pinched precariously between two rolls of gauze. "Believe me, 'Princess' isn't the worst he could have done."
She rounded on him almost as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Perhaps you'll take me seriously," she muttered. Then, she repeated, "This may sound crazy, but, while I was out this morning, I saw something in the sky." She didn't give him a chance to respond before she made her point. "The clouds were behaving strangely."
Both men scowled at this, confused. "Thor's still asleep," Bruce pointed out. "Could he have been having a nightmare, unconsciously affecting the atmosphere?"
"No," she replied, "I have seen all of his tricks. This was nothing like him. Besides, I have seen this before also." She hesitated, watching both of them. "It looked like someone from another realm might be trying to travel to Midgard by aid of a portal."
"Any of your people?" Tony asked. "You and the Scrimorus did mention the word 'fugitive' during your little conversation."
"Tony," Bruce said warningly.
"What? It's true." He looked straight at Elizabeth. "I really had hoped that we wouldn't have to go here, I really did. 'Cause we all like you, and we don't want you to get hurt. We'll protect you if we can, but we need to know the facts. Are you a fugitive on your home planet?"
Tony's blunt question didn't startle her in the least; in fact, she looked as though she had been expecting it for some time now. "No," she told them, just as blunt. "I never ran. I never fled the law or my punishment." She stared out the window at nothing, simply avoiding their faces; Tony hoped that no condemnation had crossed his expression. "A criminal, perhaps. But a fugitive? Never."
Bruce reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, don't worry; we don't hold it against you." Her eyes flickered back at him over her shoulder, half believing. "If anything," Bruce continued, "we're proud. You didn't run away."
"That's a mark of a hero, kid," Tony told her. "Being able to face the consequences of anything you've done, good or bad."
Her eyebrows creased. "Don't you want to know what my crime was?"
"The way we see it, that's your business," Bruce said. "If you want to tell, then great. We'll listen. But, if we demanded that everyone in this tower spill about every crime they've ever committed, none of us would have the guts to live together anymore."
"Some things are better left unsaid," Tony agreed. "Unless, of course, you want to say them, in which case, we love some good assassin gossip."
"But, at the moment, we're not trying to push you into telling. We're more concerned about who might be coming through that portal," Bruce told her. "Do you know?"
She looked back and forth between them. "Exactly what I was going to ask you."
"Great," Tony grumbled. "So I'm getting that you didn't call anyone here."
"No, and, if my understanding is correct, neither did you."
"Nope."
They fell silent for a moment, just staring out the window, waiting for the sky to churn in such a way that they would be able to see it. Eventually, Bruce asked, "You're sure you saw a portal opening up?"
"Yes."
"And there's no chance it's your people coming to pay you a little visit?"
"None."
Tony sighed. This was less than ideal, though none of them needed to point out this fact.
"How did Thor travel here?" Bruce asked, face lighting up like he had been stricken with an idea.
Elizabeth shrugged. "It came as a surprise to me when he appeared. He should not have been able to leave Asgard, what with their Bifrost having been destroyed – Thor's own handiwork, incidentally. It must have taken an immense amount of power to send him here. Besides, travelling outside of the Bifrost is harrowing to say the least."
With a slight groan, Bruce said, "So I guess these visitors of ours didn't somehow repair this Bifrost thing?"
"No," she replied. Then, she hesitated, glancing out the window again. "I don't know if it is even in its nature to be repaired. And, if the Bifrost can be fixed, it is completely illogical for anyone to have completed the task in such a short time."
"Alright," Tony said, holding up his hands for quiet, "so if it isn't your people –" Pointing at Elizabeth. "— and it isn't our people –" Pointing at himself. "– and it isn't his people –" Pointing down the hall to Thor's room. "—then is it safe to assume they probably don't have our best interests at heart?"
For a moment, nobody said anything, and the silence hovered over them like a cloud. Then, Elizabeth let out a breath. "I think that we are the only ones looking out for our best interests at the moment."
She didn't think twice before banging her way through the door, striding up to the man sitting cross-legged on the bed behind the laptop computer.
"Could you not knock?" Thor asked, eyeing her over the computer screen, clearly irritated.
"I was unaware you knew the meaning of the word." She stood, hands curled into fists, arms crossed impatiently
"Who's that?" chirped a voice from the computer. Elizabeth recognized it.
Thor cut his eyes up at Elizabeth. "Somebody who is being significantly ruder than usual."
"Not without cause," she shot back at Thor. Then, coming around to look at the laptop screen, she said, "Hello, Jane. Nice to finally meet you in person. Goodbye." And she snapped the laptop closed right in Thor's hands.
There was the rawest form of shock coloring Thor's face for just a second; then, he glared at her. She met him halfway, her unamused and entirely nonplussed stare a wall – a challenge. Fight me if you must, but I can do this all day.
Outside, the sky was getting darker, the by-product of Thor's prodded ire. Still, Elizabeth didn't look away.
Eventually, Thor snorted indignantly, setting the laptop gently on the bed. "Your persistence will not work on me."
Her eyebrows twitched a bit. Oh, really? "I think it already has," she said. "But," she added with a careless shrug that completely countered her hurried interruption of Thor's conversation, "as long as you're not raining cataclysmic doom down upon us –"
"What do you want?"
She paused a moment, cocking her head at him in annoyance."Patience. I wanted to tell you that we've got enough to deal with already; a portal is opening," she finished.
"What?" Thor gaped at her briefly, before re-arranging his expression. "You mean the Bifrost?"
"If only."
A beat, then realization dawned. Thor slung his legs over the side of the bed jerkily, standing and lunging for his armor that waited, laid out on a chair since his arrival. As he stripped off his shirt and jeans, Elizabeth turned away.
With her back to him, she asked, "So you realize the significance of this development?"
"I may not be as quick as you, but some things would take talent to miss." His voice was somewhat muffled as he pulled his protective undershirt over his head.
"Finally seeing things my way," she commented.
Thor's large hand clapped down on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. "If what you say is true – and I know to question such things – then a foreign party is attempting to breach the atmosphere of Midgard. And if this is indeed the case, now is no time for snide remarks."
"If you had your way, there would never be time for snide remarks; they do vex you so," she returned with practiced, slingshot bite. When he reached for a piece of his armor, she grabbed his wrist. "You are right not to believe everything I say. In the past, I realize that I've not been the most trustworthy; but trust me now when I tell you that rash battle instincts will likely not help you against what's coming."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You know what we should expect?"
For a moment, she was silent – thoughtful, dark, and pensive. "I have my suspicions," she eventually told him softly. "They may prove unfounded, but –"
"They may not," Thor finished.
She swallowed. "It is difficult to be sure."
Thor paused in fastening his breastplate, saying, "What are you thinking?"
She glanced up at him, letting out a resigned breath. "I'm thinking that the most likely suspects are those who have already found a way to compromise Midgard's security. And even likelier are those who have done so most recently."
"The Chitauri?"
Her silence was as good as affirmation.
"But they are guns for hire," Thor said, confused. "What reason would they have for attacking Midgard without any sort of contract?"
"We can't know for certain that they are currently unaffiliated," Elizabeth pointed out.
"Even so, this is Midgard."
Elizabeth nodded absently, thinking. "Yes, I see your point." For a second longer, Elizabeth stood at quiet attention, running the scenario over and over in her head. No, it didn't make much sense. But something inside her kept telling her that she was right – she just wasn't seeing the whole picture. In the corner of her eye, she caught a distorted glimpse of herself in the glare of Thor's armor, and she froze. "It's me," she muttered.
"Sorry?"
"I'm the reason the Chitauri would come," she clarified. "They want to finish what their Scrimorus didn't."
"Killing you?" Thor asked.
Elizabeth shook her head hastily. "No, they never wanted that; in fact, they never counted on meeting me in person at all. The Scrimorus was genuinely surprised to see me here. Although," she mused, "because their Scrimorus failed so abysmally, I would imagine that their intentions have changed. If nothing else, I have made myself rather inconvenient to them as of yesterday. They may very well want me dead at this venture."
"I will not let that happen," Thor said.
Elizabeth just looked at him. "Now is not the time for nobility, Thor."
"Nobility?" Thor scoffed. "That is not nobility. That's common sense."
"Thor, I –"
"No. You are, for all your ill qualities, good in battle. We will certainly have need of that. Besides, though my better judgment warns against it, I care too much." He looked at her very seriously, with a sincerity that hadn't passed between them in quite some time. "I would sooner give up my life than see yours taken from you."
For a moment, Elizabeth eyed him gravely. Then, she dipped her head once in a modest show of gratitude. "Let us hope it will not come to that; the Chitauri are cruel, and, right now, I don't hate you enough to subject you to their wrath."
"We both know you wouldn't stop me."
Immediately, Thor wished he hadn't spoken. Or, at the very least, that he had thought more carefully first.
His words settled in the air around them. They had hardly been spoken in anger – he had been merely stating a fact – but they felt heavy nonetheless. Slowly, Elizabeth lifted her chin a bit in a gesture that Thor recognized as the raising of a barrier in front of her. At the sight of it, his stomach tensed with dread; it was not a good sign. When she calmly said, "No, I would not," the bad feelings grew.
"I never meant to –"
She held up a hand, and he silenced. "No, you're right. I wouldn't stop you. That's the difference between you and me." Thor tried to respond, but she was already walking away. She was already halfway out the door when she turned back, saying, "Help the Avengers prepare. If it is the Chitauri, they'll come looking for a fight. We must be sure not to disappoint."
Then, she was gone, and Thor was left standing in the middle of his room, half-clothed in armor, wondering what he had just done and wishing he could take it back.