For Lokane week, some historical fiction that is in no way historically accurate.

The night was dark.

And Jane Foster was walking home after a long day at the dock. Everything was unknown these days…so many French taking up residence and with the war just over the Channel…

She sighed and kicked a stone. Her long skirts and such were now soiled with the wet from the pavers, and she longed to be home.

Jane made her way through, keeping her head down. Things were so uncertain these days. No one knew who to trust, whom to believe when they claimed to be trustworthy. The uprising in France had made everyone uneasy.

And the fact that no one, she was almost certain, knew her secret, was unnerving. She couldn't decide if it was good or not, and longed for someone to know.

Maybe.

Because it largely depended on who came to know her secret.

"Evenin' Miss Fosta."

She nodded, barely offering a smile. The mud was ankle deep now, and it was a chore to keep a steady pace. Maybe she wouldn't go to the dock tomorrow.

But then, Joseph would be giving her shift to someone else. And for a woman, having work that wasn't walking the streets at all was something.

Jane headed up High Street, grateful for the warm bed that was waiting for her…wishing that she had more than the brown bread and apples to eat. But still, she had something to eat.

She meandered up, trying to avoid the deep mud spaces she had memorized from frequent walks.

"Hello, Jane!"

She stopped, swallowing. "Mr Selvig," she smiled, turning. "How are you?"

"Very well. How's things?"

"Well enough."

He nodded, and put his hands in his pockets. "Chill has come, though. Bit early this year."

"Mm. Yes. Lucky I've got wood for the hearth."

"Well, if you or the Doctor need anything…"

"We're fine, sir. I assure you," and she nodded, turning, and lifting her skirts slightly. Her heart was beating quite fast now. She knew Selvig was watching her walk up to the house. She fumbled with the key and turned it, looking back to see him walking away.

Jane sighed and closed the door behind her. She rested her forehead on the jam and turned.

"Hello, father!" she called.

Though she was well aware that there'd be no answering call.

"Not an option."

"What isn't?"

"Not going," Thor strode across the hall, then stopped at the writing desk and sat.

"I fail to see any urgency, brother. Things are the way they are, and there's little else to be done," Loki sat on the settee, crossing his long legs.

"That's because you're a wanker who cares only for himself," he scribbled with the quill. "Paris is in ruin, and we have an opportunity to do something about it."

"They hate the wealthy there, Thor. What do you think they'll do to you? Welcome you with open arms?"

"No. I'll go and keep it quiet."

"Oh yes. You're a metre sixty nine. No trouble at all keeping a low profile."

Thor chuckled a bit. "I won't be gone long. Keep things under control in the interim, hm?" he stood. "I need to pack."

Loki shrugged and watched his brother leave. What a naive man…he really believed he'd be able to help those French souls. He, Loki, was not so silly. He knew that France was descending into hell.

It might be that Thor would get himself killed over there…and while that caused him disquiet, it wasn't enough to accompany him on this diplomatic mission.

After all, he had tried to talk him out of this nonsense.

But Thor was as stubborn as he was brawny, and there was nothing for it.

He stood and went to the window. In a few days' time, Thor would be gone, and Odin would be taking his mother to the countryside, away from the fray and the foreign interlopers.

And he would be there, in the middle of London.

A fortune at his disposal and no one to answer to.

He smiled as he looked out, ruminating on the possibilities.

She woke on her bed, straw poking in her side. Jane stretched and sighed.

She did not want to go to work…it was cold, and a long day that awaited her. Could she afford such a luxury as a day off?

Jane got up and dragged the tin box from under her bed. She opened it and counted.

Twelve pounds and change.

That was actually something. She might be able to take the day. Clean the house. Do some laundry…

Her father had left her a sum…it was ancillary costs that drove her to work. She had no rent. But she needed money for food…fire wood. That sort of thing.

If she needed new clothes, that was taken care of.

But it was dangerous to let anyone know that she was alone. That was her secret. She pretended that her father lived still, but was too ill to come out of the house.

She had no idea how long she could keep up the charade, but thought she'd do it as long as she could.

One day she'd sell the place and move. But the market had been bad since father died, what with the war and migrants from France.

And it was the home of her youth. She couldn't sell to just anyone.

People would tell her to marry. That was their answer to every problem. Find a husband, Jane Foster. Give ye poor old da a rest.

There was not nothing to that. A husband could help.

Or she could live in fear of the rage of a man, and get beaten until she squeezed her ninth child from her loins.

That would not suit her. She'd rather be alone.

So she slid the tin back under and threw a wrap over herself. She'd tell Mary next door that she needed to stay home that day. Make some excuse…Mary worked at the dock, too, serving the fishermen just like Jane.

She ran outside, hoping to catch her. "Mary!" she called, as her neighbor began to walk down the street. She was leaving a touch earlier than was usual.

Mary turned.

"Can you tell them that I need to take the day?"

"What for?"

"Just need to. Things around here need to be worked on."

Mary nodded. "Keep yer day, then."

Jane smiled and waved. Her breath was misting in the air before her. And as she turned to go back into the house, she saw a man across the way looking at her. She dropped her gaze and went back into the house, touching a smallish dagger in her apron as she did.

Loki said goodbye to his parents and Thor, and went to the study.

He pulled out a quill and paper, setting them on the desk. He stared at them both for a moment, thinking.

What he was about to do was not only dangerous, it was stupid. And one thing he wasn't was stupid.

Interfering with Odin's business and land was something that Thor would never do.

This fact made him want to do it even more.

He sighed loudly and decided to go out before night fell. Loki grabbed his overcoat and swung it on, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Out he went, the day half gone.

His eyes were fixed on the ground, he had no cause to pay attention to his surroundings. He was perfectly safe wandering as he pleased.

Why did Odin vex him so? Why did it bother him that Thor was so obviously favored?

He looked up at the streetlamp being lit…it was early yet, but the season was that which the sun falls early. There were a lot of people about, which was curious and yet not. Curious because dusk was falling, not because it was early yet.

He had much to be grateful for, and he should learn to embrace gratitude. He never starved, never would. He had a comfortable home. He was safe.

He was not in France.

But his insatiable desire for more always lingered along the periphery, and it was near impossible to ignore it.

He lost track of where he was…mired in his own thoughts.

It had been a fruitful day. She had cleaned the place and went through her laundry. And now, Jane decided to head to the market. She needed some food, and it wouldn't simply appear.

So she grabbed her wrap and tied her bonnet on. It was quite cold now, the sun all but gone.

She headed out, head down, and began her decent on High Street.

Into the market she went: first the butcher, then the fruits along Brick Lane. She had a few parcels by the time she left the place and headed back up to High Street.

Jane's breath was becoming labored, since she was hurrying and trying to get home before it was fully dark. Should she take the alley? It cut through to High Street…maybe shave a few minutes off of her walk.

She felt compelled to look at the sky…it was cloudless, clear. There were stars shimmering, and the chill was suddenly not so deep.

She turned to the alley and adjusted the parcels to better accommodate her walking. Her boots sunk into the dirt, slightly more solid from the cold air.

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

Loki found himself in a more disadvantaged part of London before long. He looked around, trying to gain perspective. His breath misted before him.

…and he heard something.

A scream, maybe?

Not terribly far away.

And he almost turned away; there were always screams and such in the darker parts of London.

But something bade him to investigate.

"No!" she wrested her arm out of his grasp. She felt a gloved hand cover her mouth as she dropped her parcels. She tried to bite the hand, but the glove disallowed any penetrating damage. Jane wriggled and another arm put her into a choke hold. She had to get her hand free. She had to fight the instinct to use her hands to pull the arm away…but her breath was almost gone…the time was now.

She let go and found the pocket of her apron…Jane took the small dagger out and stabbed him in the leg, and pulled the weapon out again.

She then felt him stagger back and she turned, gutting him with the knife.

Jane fell to her knees.

"Are you all right?"

She was shaking…she looked up to see a tall man looking down at her and offering a hand. "No," she said, her voice unsteady.

"I saw it from a distance," and he helped her up, noting that she was covered in blood. "He's dead, then?"

"Dunno," she swallowed, careful to not look at her assailant. "Why didn't you help?"

"I ran down…I yelled at one point. It happened quite quickly," he looked at her. She was lovely.

And there was a disturbance not far from where they were standing.

"Come," he took her elbow. "I'll take you someplace safe."

Jane couldn't think, so she followed.

He kept his head low, thinking of the voices and the anticipated screams that would surely be filling the night. He wasn't sure what he was doing, or why he was doing it; he had no plan of action. His ideas of securing land in the north was dashed…he had this woman…this murderer…on his hands now. And he was tethered to her now.

He hadn't realized just how far he had walked, and since he had no idea what he was doing with her, he had landed on his family's home. He glanced back at her, noticing how she quaked, and how the blood had dried in the frigid air. "Here," he said, handing her his overcoat.

Jane took it. It was lovely not to think. To have someone else instructing her. Every since father had died…"What's your name?" she asked. It was exceedingly presumptuous, but she had nothing left to fear. He was likely taking her to the authorities, and she would be placed in a home or else in jail, where she would await execution.

"Loki," he saw no reason to lie. "Yours?"

"Jane."

"Well, Jane. Just a bit further then."

She followed him still, his overcoat large on her. And up to a lovely place with a huge gated garden they went. This did not look like Bow Street. "Where…?"

"Just here," he opened the gate and allowed her to pass him.

In she followed. "Is this your house?"

Loki was leading her through to the sitting room. "It is, in a manner of speaking," and he took the coat from her.

"Which way is that, then?"

"It's my family's."

"Are they here?" her heart sped up.

"No. And are not expected for at least a fortnight," he gestured for her to sit. "Now. You are rather a mess, aren't you?"

She looked at her hands. "Pardon me, sir. But I am a bit confused."

"About what?"

"Why am I here?"

He cleared his throat, and sat down. "Well, I saw much of what transpired in that alley. And I think that we should think about what to do about it."

She shifted. This sounded…suspect. "What do you mean, we? I'm the one they're going to be looking for."

"Yes, but I have made myself your accomplice," he smiled.

She paled. "What do you want?" it suddenly occurred to her that being in some strange man's house probably wasn't the wisest thing.

"What happened?"

"He attacked me."

"Did you know him?"

"I …" no. She hadn't gotten a proper look at him. "No."

A thin breath escaped his nose. He leaned back in the chair. "And whom do you live with?"

…there it was. Jane stood abruptly. "I should go."

"Why?" he stood too.

"Because this isn't my house, sir. And I do not know you."

"We are as good as friends, for I daresay that was one of the most precarious positions you've been in in your young life."

"Begging your pardon, but I've been in worse," that wasn't entirely true. But she had been in comparably bad situations.

"Then you should stay. Jane…you just murdered a man…" he smiled at her.

"And why would you be harborin' a murderer, unless you had somethin' villainous in mind yourself?" she spat.

This stopped him, and he blanched, his face falling. "Jane, I promise you, as a gentleman, that no harm will come to you here," why he said this, he wasn't sure. Except he knew it was true. He felt compelled to help her…almost as though there were unknown factors acting against her.

She swallowed. "I …" she looked around. "Is there someplace I can clean myself up?"

"Of course," and he led her to the back of the house where the barrel of water sat.

It was freezing, but she wanted to get the caked on blood off, so she took a brush and began to scrub. Loki left her there.

He went in and poured some wine…two glasses. He sat down, wondering what he was doing. This was so unlike him…he didn't get involved in the common peoples' issues. They stayed on their side, he stayed on his.
But he had wandered into their space this evening. Perhaps this is what he gets for nosing where he doesn't belong.

Loki sat and sighed, sipping wine. Something about this woman…he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something…alluring about her.

He wasn't often moved in such a way, so this all gave him pause.

Loki swallowed, thinking about the situation he found himself in. He was harboring a murderer. He was the only eye witness. He had no idea who this person was, or if she had meant to kill him.

He heard her close the back door and come in…the house wasn't a huge place, so in a few seconds she was in the sitting room with him.

"Thank you."

He smiled. She was standing opposite him on the other side of the room. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I am."

"Sit."

She hesitated, but then sat in an arm chair. "Are you going to the authorities?"

"I haven't decided."

She shifted. "This really is intolerable, sir."

"You're the one who committed murder, Jane."

"And I'd rather you just get on with it."

He stood, hands in pockets. "What is your story?"

"My story?" she repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. Everyone has one."

"I …work at the docks."

"So you have gainful employment," he fold his hands behind his back and walked to the window.

"Yes. Well, in a matter of speaking. Life is not kind to women who work an honest job."

"As opposed to?"

"Walking the streets."

He nodded. She was very blunt. "And you live alone?"

How could he know that? "I'm sorry?"

"I'm assuming you're not married. You would not need to work if you had a husband."

"What makes you say that, Loki? Plenty of men can't earn enough to keep a family. And with rich French overrunning the place…"

…but he had smiled when she said his name. "So you have a husband?"

"No," but she was not shy nor hesitant. Who was he to hold her hostage, drilling her with questions? Was he a detective?

"No," and he went back to his chair in a few graceful steps, sitting down. "Were you afraid of that man?"

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Of course I was."

"Everyone is off…worried about Paris, when there's this right here, women being attacked in the streets."

"I …"

"And my brother is like them all. He cannot see what he is about."

"What is he about, Loki?"

"Showing off," he muttered.

She smiled in spite of herself. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing. I …mean to try to help. It's all how you present something. How it's said. Language," and he stood. "Is the greatest weapon man ever created," he walked toward her. "And with that weapon, we can bottle that rage that killed that man, and perhaps…" he kneeled in front of her. "Create a revolution of our own…"

Jane swallowed, and nodded.

What else could she do?
She was at his mercy.

"She murdered him!"

"Detective Inspector. I witnessed the entire thing. Jane Foster was acting in self defense. Are we not a reasonable country? Are we not more civilized than the French, who slaughter without conscience? Jane was defending herself and her virtue. She was behaving in a fashion that any reasonable person would," Loki finished.

Jane was sitting, hands folded, eyes down.

"Yes, but Lord Odinson, John Williams is dead."

"And Mr Williams tried to ensure that Jane here was."

"What would you have me do?" Detective Foley leaned back. He appeared to be ruminating a bit. "Well, there's frightful things happening every which where. We cannot allow people to murder without consequence."

"Women are angry. Women are afraid. If you don't start addressing that fact, we will have a revolution of our own in England."

This stopped him. "What do you mean?"

Loki leaned onto the table the Detective was sitting at. "Begin a patrol. Start having a unit every few blocks. Give people the sense that they are being watched."

"No one wants that."

"They may not have a choice," he stood upright.

"It'll be like having a Royal Artillery in the streets."

"Only if you're very lazy. They can walk, keep an eye on things. Give people a job."

The constable appeared to be unconvinced.

Jane rose. "We live in fear."

Loki stood aside looking at her.

"Begging your pardon, miss. But it's scary times."

"No. But for women…we live in constant fear of men's anger. And something must be done. I was almost killed last evening," Jane went to him. "And my rage saved me."

He swallowed.

"Well, Detective Foley?"

"I'll bring it to the home office."

Loki nodded. "Come, Jane. Let's leave him to his thoughts."

She was shaking somewhat, but followed.

Out into the chill of the morning air she went…many things were running through her head. She wasn't sure that she could fully believe Detective Foley, but Loki seemed to be on her side, and he was wealthy.

Truly, that had to count for something.

"Loki?"

"Hm?" he had fallen into step next to her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's an interesting question, Jane," he shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "I don't really know."

"How can you not know? You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart…"

He snickered. "No. In fact, I've been told that I have no heart."

"Then…"

"I'm not sure, but I think that I see something of myself in you, Jane."

They reached the house after a few minutes silence. "I'm not a project, Loki," she took her wrap off and walked to the sitting room. There was a chair right by the doorway, and she leaned a bit on the back. "I really should get home."

"To what?" he came in behind her and sat down.

"To my…life. I have a home and a…" she swallowed. "A father."

"You don't."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You have no father. Well…you have no father who is currently living with you."

"How dare you!"

"Jane…"

"No! Who are you anyway?" She began to pace. "I'm alone in the world, it's true. But I need to lie to keep my life. If I were a man, I could do as I pleased, and people would leave me alone. If I were a man, I could keep my money and not worry about having enough to ensure I was off the streets. If I were a man…" she screamed. "No one would need to keep me so that I was safe. I'd be able to do it without assistance," she growled. "There is no freedom for women. We are held hostage by the whim of men," she felt her anger brimming and she fought to regain control of herself, for she was shaking.

"Jane. No one will harm you here."

"No. Because you are here."

"Yesss…where else should I be?" he smiled very slightly.

"This is my life, sir. It's not a matter to laugh at."

"I fail to see the problem, Jane."

"Of course you do. Because you're like all the rest."

He smiled slightly. "And there's where you're wrong. No one is like me," he ended in a whisper.

It made her shake somewhat. She couldn't decide if she was afraid or not. "I imagine that's true."

He nodded. "Jane."

"Yes?"

"Are you…" he swallowed. "Are you planning on returning home?"

She blushed and her head fell…

So it was for the next week, the pair lived in the Odinson home in London. Jane had Loki's rooms, and he stayed in Thor's quarters. He hadn't heard from his brother.

And for her part, Jane had learned to be at ease. There was an adrenalin that had accompanied her life in East London. She hand't returned home, and she wasn't sorry. She had no idea what would become of her now, but she had settled in to a sort of routine. She cooked, and Loki ordered servants about, all the while they would look at her crookedly. They mistrusted her.

And she thought that of course they should.

"Jane?" Loki had been out for a while. She hadn't known where he was, though she supposed that he had gone to market to buy her more clothes.

She had gone the first time, but he seemed unsatisfied with the amount she bought. He had threatened to go again without her.

"Hm?" she was sewing his shirt.

"Look," and he handed her a leaflet.

She blushed and blushed again. "You read it to me."

He pulled a chair over and sat across from her. "Can't you read?"

Jane swallowed. "Why would I? I've worked the docks for three years gone now."

He sat back. "I'll teach you. You're bright," he smiled.

"Oh, go on."

"Well. It says that there is a movement to open a department which would house a fleet of officers. Current situations with the French, and it says, other undesirable events, have prompted such a move. It's to be named Scotland Yard."

Jane pulled the stitch through. "That's nice."

"Jane!" he grabbed her hand. "This is your doing. You reported it, and you touched Detective Foley's mind. You told him that women lived in fear."

She stared at him. "Loki…"

He sat back. "Yes?"

And her work fell in her lap, and tears welled. "What's to become of me?"

"I …"

"I'm tired. And I'm not that old. And here we are, playing house. And your parents aren't that far away, but I'll just be going back to my life…but how can I? And …" she looked at him. "And I think that I might be falling in love with you."

And his heart soared…"Do not worry, Jane. While your anger saved you, my heart will save us both."