Lost Before The Dawn

Warnings: One instance of minor bad language. Some suggestive themes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Playlist: 'Lily's Theme' from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2' and 'Mina/Dracula' from 'Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula'

'Half of writing history is hiding the truth'

- Joss Whedon

'Hope is a waking dream'

- Aristotle

Jane was vaguely aware of an irritating bleeping noise as she groggily crawled her way back to consciousness. This time, her head felt like a jackhammer was currently having a rave in her brain, and she was almost certain opening her eyes was a really bad idea.

But that damn bleeping noise just would not quit.

She forced her eyes open to find a familiar pair of brown eyes watching her intently. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Doctor," Romanoff muttered dryly, eying her carefully. "You scared us for a minute. Thought you'd gone into a coma."

"Where's-? What…happened?" Jane managed to mumble out, her throat and mouth as dry as a desert. She missed the darkening of Romanoff's eyes as she fumbled with the leads stuck to her chest, wincing slightly as she ripped them away. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing blindly towards the heart monitor.

Romanoff turned it off as Jane focussed on fixing her jumpy vision, shaking her head despite the pain. Her ribs felt fine, but Jane guessed that was Loki's magic still at work, not human medication. She could vaguely make out the grey, uniform walls of the medical bay she was in, the bolted metal table beside her bed, and the grey plastic of the heart monitor.

"Here," Romanoff's hand swam into focus, proffering a glass of water, an aspirin dissolving into the cool liquid. Jane grabbed it, forcing herself to swallow it down despite the acrid taste.

"Thanks," she muttered, forcing herself to sit upright. Her vision swam then steadied, and she inhaled deeply. "What happened?"

"We hoped you could tell us," the red-headed assassin replied, and Jane glanced at her frowningly.

"Where's Thor? Doctor Banner? What about Agent Coulson?" Jane asked, her voice growing ever more urgent. Romanoff's face hardened at that last, and she shook her head.

"We've had no contact with either Thor or Doctor Banner. The helicarrier is disabled and heavily damaged. Loki got away," she told her curtly.

"I know. He put me to sleep," Jane breathed, inwardly glaring at an imagined image of the trickster.

"Coulson's dead," Romanoff continued. Jane blinked, staring at her, the pounding in her head slowly dissipating as the aspirin took affect.

"But how-? Loki stabbed him in the arm. He was still alive-" she babbled, but Romanoff cut her off.

"By the time the medical team got to you, he was dead, you were unconscious and all that was left of Loki was a big hole in the wall," the assassin told her.

Jane frowned, looking down. "But-"

At that moment, the door swished open and the forbidding figure of Director Fury stepped through, his one-eyed gaze sweeping the two women for a moment, before he inclined his head. "Quite a bump you had there, Doctor," he muttered. "Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton has awakened. I thought you'd want to be informed."

Romanoff nodded, getting up and leaving the room without another glance at Jane, but she glimpsed the troubled look in the spy's eyes as she left. Feeling a cold thrill down her spine, Jane folded her arms, drew herself up as much as she could with busted ribs and the partial pangs of a half-medicated migraine. "Director, what's going on?" she asked coolly. "When Loki put me to sleep, Coulson was still alive and not likely to die from a stab wound to the shoulder. Why does Agent Romanoff think he's dead?"

Fury's jaw tensed as he watched her, and he sighed.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Doctor Foster. No, Phil Coulson is not dead," the master spy murmured, as Jane listened, intently. "But before the medical team took him away, he said something which was all too true."

"Which was?" Jane asked, curiously.

"The Avengers would never work unless they had something to avenge," Fury finished, and Jane stared.

"You're letting the Avengers think Coulson is dead, so they'll band together and go after Loki?" she stated questioningly, brows rising when Fury nodded. "So you're willing to frame someone, who for once is innocent of the crime he's accused of, and hope the Avengers get mad enough to take him out. Where the hell is your moral compass? What, did it get too close to a magnet and screw up?"

"This is war, Doctor Foster," he growled heatedly, and Jane folded her arms. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"You have no idea what you've done, what you're dealing with, and the ugly thing is, I know you don't care," she shook her head, disgusted. "When do the lies stop?"

"Perhaps never," Fury shrugged. "If that's what it takes to keep this world safe, I'll gladly keep lying until the day I die."

"Then we're as bad as Loki makes us out to be," Jane replied coldly. She hopped off the bed, her legs reassuringly steady beneath her. "Now where is Tony? I need to speak to him."

"You're going nowhere, Foster," Fury snapped. "I can't take the risk you'll inform the Avengers of the truth and knock them off-focus."

"You don't have a choice, especially as I'm the only one who, at this moment, knows the location of the Tesseract," she retorted, seeing Fury's eye widen. "I was looking at the screen beside Doctor Banner when we were blasted through that window. So you will let me out of here, Fury, so the Avengers can do their job and I will tell them the truth, so they stop Loki for the right reasons, not for revenge. That's Loki's way of doing things, not ours."

As she finished speaking, she saw a suspiciously respectful glint in Fury's eye, and she refused to back down. Eventually, Fury moved out of her way and Jane marched out, Fury's voice ringing in her ears. "Stark and Rogers are on the detention level. I hope you're right, Doctor Foster, for all our sakes."

As Jane walked as quickly as she could manage down the corridors of the helicarrier, she thought hard about everything that happened in the past few hours. Outside, the sky was still only just lightening, so she could only have been asleep for an hour at most. Her entire body ached with fatigue, and she just wanted to curl up, close her eyes and forget about all of it.

But she couldn't. She couldn't let Loki win, she couldn't let the Avengers believe a lie, and she couldn't…let him be harmed. At that thought, she stopped and leant against the bulkhead, relishing the cold metal against her overheated skin.

But how? How could she stop him from going down this road, when nothing she had said had been enough to stop him? She knew he cared for her, in his own way, otherwise why would he continue to heal her, to protect her? But how far did that care go, how much did it rule him?

Remembering the beautiful emerald green of his eyes in those moments before Coulson interrupted them, Jane had to admit hope was still there, but he needed something from her, something more than just compassion or understanding.

You can solve this, Jane. Think about all the variables, all the factors driving Loki. There's something I'm missing, but what?

His last words before he cast the sleeping spell came back to her, as flashes of memory the Tesseract had shown her popped up in her mind, and she gasped.

"I…belong nowhere, and so I have no other choice now."

Shaking wildly, the armour and cloth fell away, leaving Loki's pristine white skin open to the frigid air, and then as if dipped in dye, it turned the same shade of icy blue as the Giant's own, and strange markings in the skin raised themselves.

Loki walked briskly up the hallway, ignoring the alcoves either side of him. His breath came from him in quiet gasps, and he looked pale. Jane watched as he stopped before the casket in front of her, looking down at it with mingled hope and resignation, as he set his hands to the handles on either side.

He lifted it, and Jane watched as the blue once more consumed the white skin of his hands, chasing its way up his arm. She looked up, into his eyes, as resignation became realisation, and then horror and loathing filtered into those eyes.

Finally, you understand…

That strange voice in her head again…

You have to stop this, Jane. Only you…

Jane's eyes snapped open, as she panted for breath, sliding down the bulkhead to her knees, shaking. Every moment of the past few weeks crowded into her mind, Loki's words taking on new meanings as her newfound clarity of mind spread and expanded like a bird spreading its wings. Or maybe they weren't so new after all, the meaning had always been there, buried but there, and she had just never had the courage or the ability to see it before.

It wasn't just jealousy, or believing he was a monster that had turned him into this. Finding out his true identity, his true heritage, and the consequent destruction of everything he thought he knew about himself and where he belonged. Cast out on Jotunheim, deceived by his family on Asgard and then denied by the man he had, until that moment, still looked to as his father.

Loki didn't feel like he belonged anywhere anymore, and whatever or whoever had manipulated him and his memories, had fed that belief. Loki was raised to be a King, since what he saw as rightfully his was taken from him, so he would make the Earth belong to him. He would try to make her belong to him.

At least, that was what he thought he needed. Something in Jane whispered that would not satisfy the lack inside of Loki, not the forced submission and the lie he would spin for himself. Eventually it would come crashing down, and what then? What then would he become, whether the Avengers defeated him or not?

Jane shivered.

And how did she feel about all of this? She cared for him, deeper than was probably sane, but not, she felt in the same way Stockholm victims felt for their captors. She had seen the flashes of the true Loki beneath the madness and the rage, had worked out what was driving him, what had happened to him. But what did she feel?

She truly didn't know. She cared for him. She was attracted to him, to his intellect and his charm, to his dark beauty and to the ache he felt. She wanted to soothe that ache, fill that lack…

God, I'm turning into one of those chick flick girls who tries to save the bad boy…Jane mentally groaned to herself. But underneath the logical part of her that warned her off, told her to run and keep running, another part of her insisted she was right, that the solution slowly taking shape in her mind was the right, and only, course of action if she wanted to save everyone.

Could she do it? A part of her wanted to, but could she survive it? Survive him?

Jane suspected she wouldn't know unless she tried. She took a deep breath and stood, suddenly determined as all the confusion cleared from her mind and she decided on a course of action. She knew what she had to do.

She turned and strode for the detention level.

Stark and Captain Rogers stood, looking at the covered opening of the chute Thor had dropped down, when Jane approached. Momentarily uncertain, she watched them both as they talked quietly, the repressed grief of two men who didn't want to admit it filling the air.

Gathering her courage, Jane cleared her throat.

Stark glanced up first. "Doctor Foster. How's the bump on the head?" he asked jokingly, a weak smile on his handsome features. Jane shrugged.

"Ok. Thank God for aspirin," she replied. "Look, I need to talk to you both. About what happened…in here."

Rogers' eyes swung to her piercingly, as Stark shrugged. "We know what happened," he gestured at the blood stain against the bulkhead. "Coulson-"

"Is alive. He's not dead," Jane interrupted. "Fury lied."

"But…" Rogers began, frowning sternly. "Fury…the trading cards…"

Jane was lost for a moment, before she snapped back to the point. "Look, before Loki put me to sleep, I felt Coulson's pulse. He was bleeding but not bad enough to die from it. The blade got him in the upper shoulder, it would have hurt but not enough to kill him, especially if the medical team got to him as quickly as they appeared to."

Stark watched her closely. "How do you know Loki didn't do something to him afterwards?" he asked. "The guy's a nut job."

"Point taken," she conceded. "But…he's never lied to me. Ever. He said Coulson wasn't fatally wounded, and he wasn't. And you can see the hole in the wall. Something tells me Loki wouldn't have had time to do anything to Coulson before he blasted him into next week."

"But why-?" Rogers asked, shaking his head. "Fury lying doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it?" Stark suddenly spoke up, folding his arms. "We weren't exactly getting along, and all those nice little revelations about what SHIELD was really doing with the Tesseract were just icing on the cake."

"Fury needed something for you to unite around, or as Coulson apparently put it, for the Avengers to 'avenge'," Jane continued. Rogers shook his head again.

"Even if I believe you," he began. "That doesn't change the fact that we need to find Loki and stop him, Doctor Foster."

"No, it doesn't," Jane sighed. "But I saw the screen when the programme located the Tesseract, just before everything went to hell. I know roughly where it is."

"Where?" Stark frowned.

"New York City, Downtown," she replied. "Within half a mile of tons of different buildings. The Chrysler, Stark Tower, the Empire State…"

"No, he needs an energy source. Not even draining the New York grid of all its power would give him enough-" Rogers frowned. "Besides, why there? Why New York?"

"He made it personal," Stark suddenly interrupted, his face clearing as an epiphany dawned. "That's Loki's point. He needs to beat us to win, to demoralise the planet enough to get us to submit or whatever, he needs to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."

"He does have one hell of a inferiority complex," Jane muttered in agreement.

"Like the whole show in Stuttgart," Rogers nodded thoughtfully. Stark shook his head.

"That was just previews, this is opening night and Loki's the big diva. He wants parades, he wants flowers and a monument built to the sky with his name on it-" Stark trailed off abruptly, as Jane suddenly cottoned on, and Rogers waited, eying the two questioningly.

"Son of a bitch," Stark growled.

"Of course! The arc reactor. He's gone to Stark Tower," Jane breathed. Rogers nodded, as the three turned and began walking in the direction of the medical bay.

"We need to talk to Romanoff and Barton," Rogers muttered, leading the way.

He did not rest often since his fall from power, but after being hit by that ridiculous weapon, he had needed it to heal.

He could not afford to be weak. He must be strong. Soon, the final stages of his plans would initiate, and he needed to lead.

Now he remembered why he did not sleep often. In dreams, the memories of his past always returned to haunt him.

He stood, in the gardens of the palace in Asgard, watching, heart heavy, his breath laboured as the trees above his head whispered a soft welcome, laden with blossoms.

Slowly a figure advanced through the mist, hair piled high and flashing gold in the sun, form swathed in the softest silk of Asgard. For a moment, he was certain it was his moth-…it was the Queen, but as the figure drew nearer, he realised it was not.

It was Jane.

Her slender limbs were covered by mauve silk, cleaving to her form, as she walked along, as graceful as any maiden of Asgard, her hair piled atop her head in radiant curls, the russet brown shot through with soft gold.

A happy smile lit up her face, as she called his name, half-teasing, half-questioning, but he did not move. He could not, no matter how much he longed to.

"What is it that you want, Loki of Asgard?" a soft, familiar voice asked. He had heard it often when he slept, the rare times he permitted himself it. Always the same. Always…her.

Queen Frigga came into his line of sight, tall, willowy and beautiful in robes of softest, oldest gold, her eyes holding him lovingly. He wanted to weep, he wanted to tear the heavens apart in rage.

"Do you desire this? Peace, the woman you desire?" she asked again, but he was mute, unable to answer. "This future could still exist, but not like this. If you continue on the path of rage and pride, you will fall still further into darkness and there will be no hope for the universe."

"I will not," Loki breathed, suddenly able to speak. "Jane will be mine, peace will be mine. I will rule the Earth."

"No, Loki. That is not what your heart truly desires anymore," Frigga shook her head sadly. "It does not take an entire world to belong, nor can it be taken by force. You are weak where you believe yourself strong."

"I am not weak," he growled desperately.

"Then turn back before it is too late. Cease the lies you have spun, that Thanos has spun, to destroy what is left of who you really are," she told him. "Find the strength and remember, Loki. Remember, or lose her forever…"

He gasped for breath, his eyes snapping open as he bolted upright, on the soft, low-slung bed in Stark's apartment. Above his head, Stanley worked ceaselessly to finish preparing the Tesseract for its task, and the sky was growing ever lighter.

He buried his head in one hand, kneading the skin of his forehead, half-expecting to feel the cursed markings of his birthright there, instead of smooth, pale skin.

A sound made him look up, and his jaw nearly gaped when he saw the woman, pale, dishevelled and urgent, standing in the doorway.

Jane.

Her clothes were ripped and torn by the fight on the helicarrier, and her hair was tangled but the sheer urgency in her eyes pinned him to the bed.

"Loki," she breathed, rushing across the space between them faster than any human could possibly move, and then she was in his arms, pressing her lips to his.

Desire rushed through him, heated and consuming, as he caged her to him, his hands sweeping beneath her ruined clothing, as he twisted her onto her back beneath him, her hands in his hair, the delicate skin of her throat under his lips.

"Master…" she gasped contentedly, and he paused, frowning, despite the urgency in his body, urging him to claim her as his own. But Jane, his fiery, intransient Jane would never say that, would never acknowledge him her master…

He looked up, and saw the glowing blue of her eyes, the eyes of the enslaved, and he shot back-

Loki all but sprang upright from the bed, his chest heaving as he stared down at the rumpled covers, eyes wide and unseeing as he tore his mind from nightmare. The sceptre glowed on the bedcovers, and he groaned, burying his head in his hands as the first sounds of repulsors approaching the Tower echoed through the air.

To be continued...