Alright, so I've been experimenting with writing styles. I was trying to do a mainly dialogue chapter last time. I'm thinking that didn't really work out so great for me, so I'm changing it up. Still trying to work on my dialogue, though, so if you catch anything, please let me know.

Chapter Four. Sound of Disorder. [February 2012 CE]

One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

The shrill buzz of the alarm clock pierced through Jane's consciousness, and she scowled into her pillow. She reached out from beneath the duvet and smacked at her clock, her hand landing heavily before sliding down to hang in the space between the night stand and bed. She nuzzed her face further into the slick, cool material of the pillow case. She was on the cusp of sleep when the buzzing returned. Groaning, she swatted at the clock repeatedly.

The clock hit the nearby wall and crashed to the floor with a dull thump.

Jane tossed back the duvet and glared in the general direction of the foul device. She fell out of the bed, muttering about indestructible clocks and inconvenient alien invasions, and shuffled over to the kitchenette. When the coffee was done brewing, she stood at the small kitchen island and inhaled the cup. The alarm's auto-snooze kicked in. After pouring another cup, she sank down onto one of the barstools with a sigh.

Mornings were the worst part of the day, but she'd made the awful mistake of staying up far too late with Darcy the night before. It had almost felt like there'd been no threat of grand-scale invasion of Earth looming in the backdrop of everyone's consciousness once they'd moved past that drama with Thor. Until Darcy had asked why they'd even come to stay in Stark Tower in the first place

When she'd gotten the call from Tony, she'd packed the essentials and hurried to New York, and Darcy had followed along without any intense probing into the reasons. Jane had dismissed it as Darcy's innate sense of self-preservation: who better to defend you than Earth's superheros, and where better for them to protect you than where they were amassed? What was becoming readily apparent, however, was that Darcy's main interest was her loyalty to Jane. A loyalty that Jane wasn't entirely certain that she deserved.

After the second cup of coffee was drained, she rinsed her cup out in the sink and looked at the clock on the ground. 9:30. Wonderful. She was already late. Natasha was probably leaning against a wall somewhere with a deeper than normal scowl on her face.

When she'd arrived, she'd been under the misguided impression that there would be a relatively swift resolution. There was no way she'd ever see any sort of combat, right? Why would she need to fight while under the protection of Iron Man? Unfortunately, that dream had come crashing down after a week of working on a piece of a "Top Secret" project with Tony and Bruce. She still had no idea what the projects were; they only gave her pieces to work on, never revealing to her the ultimate goal. It was no wonder that her equations weren't coming out properly. How did they expect her to be able to work in conditions where she was half blind?

Natasha had pulled her away one evening after dinner to discuss Jane's "options" in the event of an attack on Stark Tower. It wasn't difficult to pull her away, given her growing frustration over Tony's refusal to answer her questions.

"There is a 'safe room' for the scientists; if you are in the labs, it is relatively easy to get to. Once the alarm is triggered, there is a 10 minute window before the room is locked down and can only be opened from the inside. If you are out in the rest of the Tower, you may not get there in time."

Under the weight of the Russian woman's stare, all Jane could do was nod along dumbly. Natasha's gaze had assessed Jane a few times, and she had the distinct feeling that she now knew what it was like to be an amoeba under a microscope. Natasha's lips had pulled together in a tight line.

"You will meet me in the training room on Saturday at 9 am. Do not be late."

That had been two weeks before Thor and his entourage had arrived. After that first Saturday, she and Natasha had added Tuesdays and Thursdays to their meeting time, and Jane thought she was progressing rather nicely.

She walked into the training area to find that, yes, Natasha did look more irritated than usual.

"You're late," the redhead informed her, turning away and pulling a handgun out of its holster.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Natasha's version of a "warm-up," now that Jane had mastered the very basics, was to send her through the obstacle course - because of course Tony Stark would put a freaking obstacle course in his home - and then have her practice anything that she'd messed up. Today, though, Natasha stopped her after the first run-through.

"That's enough. We will work on hand-to-hand now."

"Hand-to-hand? Why would I-"

"Sometimes subtlety has its advantages."

Jane watched as Natasha started to walk in circles around her, and she adjusted her footing to keep her eyes on the redhead. "Subtlety? Why would I need to be subtle if there's fighting going on?"

She stumbled back when Natasha stopped and swiftly moved toward her. She stopped when her back met the wall.

"Guns are a ranged weapon," Natasha began, stopping a hairsbreadth away from Jane. "In situations with less room, they are worth little more than any other blunt force object. There is very little chance that you will be able to outmanuever an opponent in a tight situation, especially with your small stature and lack of experience." Jane wondered if Natasha knew just how alarmingly blue her eyes were. "However, there are ways in which subtlety can gain you the advantage."

Jane swore she saw Natasha wink at her, and the next thing she knew, the world was upside down. Blinking a few times, she realized that she was on her back on the carpeted training room floor. Natasha came into view over her.

"You have to be able to find the right moment. Then, you strike."

She reached out a hand to Jane, and Jane grimaced as she grasped the hand and pulled herself up. She dusted herself off and followed along as Natasha started taking her through basic self-defense moves.

Jane flopped back down on the bed. She stared at the canopy above her, and she thought about how she'd stared up at it the night before with Darcy.

After the Thor discussion, they'd come to an unspoken agreement to stay away from topics relating to current events. They'd been virtually trapped in Stark Tower for a little over eight weeks, and the atmosphere in the building was becoming palpably tense. Everyone was anxious, unsettled by Earth's lack of responsiveness to an impending crisis and the non-movement of the UFOs. If something didn't happen soon, Jane was fairly certain it was bound become some sort of demented Lord of the Flies situation, with superheroes instead of schoolboys. So, instead of feeding into that anxiety together, they'd sprawled out across Jane's bed and talked about the mundane. Mellow and comfortably numb from the wine and the atmosphere created by the low lighting and the decorative fireplace, their conversation had become more intimate as the evening progressed. Jane'd recounted her exciting academic career and not so exciting romantic history; Darcy'd reciprocated with a brief recollection of her longer love life. After a while, they'd fallen into silence, both staring up into the canopy above the bed. After a while of rooting around in her own head, Jane'd rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Darcy.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

Darcy'd worried at her bottom lip and continued staring up at the canopy. After a moment, she'd breathed out a half chuckle.

"When I was 13, I set my house on fire." She'd let out another breathy chuckle and turned to face Jane. The ambient lighting and the wine cast a rosy glow across her skin. Jane's words caught in her throat.

"You did what?" The words had come out in a hoarse whisper. She'd cringed and cleared her throat.

"It was an accident." Darcy'd interlocked her fingers behind her head and her gaze had focused on a point over Jane's shoulder. "I was big into incense and candles at the time, and my parents were pretty lax. It'd never been a problem before. That time, though, I left them unattended with the window open. They said that some burning ash was probably knocked into my trash can. It was like a perfect storm. Everything aligned in just the right way..."

She'd taken a deep breath and held the air in her chest for a prolonged moment before exhaling.

"The organized chaos was magnificent."

Jane'd suppressed a shiver at Darcy's hushed tone. She could understand the sentiment. That was the very basis of her work, wasn't it?

The universe was filled with an infinite number of planetary bodies who owed their very existence to those magnificently perfect chaotic alignments.

Okay, so, I think that this one is slightly longer than the rest of them, which I am glad for, but hot damn this one was not easy to pull from my brain. I've revised like no less than 10 times.

So, this Jane has a lot of growing up to do, socially, romantically, etc., even without any apocalypse. So, she's got some changing to do, as well. Darcy, well, I think it'll be fun for Darcy to have a slightly dark side, you know? Whatever, I love antiheros and antivillians, whatever you want to call them. I'll go somewhere now. Lol.

Now, I see that this is getting a pretty decent number of readers, but I've got four chapters up and only nine reviews. That makes me a sad panda... :(