.8.
Her first two days on the road, Jane drove with a single-minded purpose. She needed to put as much distance as possible between herself and the last place Loki had been. It was imperative. Never mind that Loki with all his powers returned was likely able to appear anywhere and anytime he felt like it. Never mind that he seemed to be able to travel between realms with intrinsic ease. If she remained constantly on the move, he would have a harder time finding her—or so she hoped. Because she didn't doubt the certainty, not one bit, in his last words to her.
So she drove and kept on driving, heading east. Despite her heightened state of distress, she did so carefully. She was a cautious driver though not so much so as to be the slowest one on the road. She stopped regularly for breaks. When it came time to eat, she grabbed food from convenience stores or fast food restaurants, choosing swift convenience over nutrition. Outwardly, her manner was calm and collected. Inwardly she was a complete mess, a muddled mess of fears and desires.
The third day of her trip found her driving through Saskatchewan, a province that was as much at winter's mercy as Alberta had been. She'd heard the jokes about Saskatchewan's terrain, that it was so flat that you could watch your dog run away for days. It didn't seem much that way to her initially, her route taking her through country that gently rose and fell without great variation.
She didn't like driving at night. So every evening when weariness began to drag at her senses she'd look for a place to stay. The first night it had been a roadside motel that was part of large, busy truck stop. She'd done the same the second night. The third night, however, she found herself in the city of Saskatoon. She navigated the streets carefully, aided by the GPS on the dash, finally pulling into the nearly full parking lot of a Super 8. The roadside sign indicated there was still vacancy, though judging from the amount of vehicles parked outside the motel they were very close to being at capacity. She could have chosen a lesser known motel with fewer guests but the truth was that she wanted to be surrounded by people even though she'd be staying alone. A part of her hoped that staying in crowded places would diminish the chances of Loki finding her.
A larger part of her, scornful and skeptical, was almost positive that no matter where chose to hide Loki would always be able to find her.
.x.
Her room was on the third floor. She'd forgone the elevator to take the stairs, climbing them quickly despite the weight of her purse and bag. Once in her room she secured both locks, crossed the room to the single bed, and dropped her luggage onto it. Her eyes went immediately to the phone on the bedside table and for a long moment she stood still, rendered indecisive by inward conflict. Finally she released out a loud, long sigh before moving to the head of the bed and sinking down onto it. It was another moment's hesitation before she reached out and picked up the phone receiver, slowly dialing the number by heart.
"It's Jane," she said in reply to Bruce's guarded one word greeting, no doubt brought on by the unfamiliar number she was calling from.
There was a moment of silence. "Where are you?"
Jane swallowed hard. Despite her resolution that this was the correct path to take, despite her resolve to make right all the wrongs she'd brought into existence by sheltering Loki, she was still fighting a near overpowering sense of uncertainty. Dragging Bruce into this couldn't rectify what she'd done. In fact, dragging Bruce into this could lead to an entirely new chapter of Bad Things. But she had no other option. Alone, against Loki the demi-god, she was absolutely powerless.
"… Jane?" Bruce's voice, suddenly concerned, prompted her to clear her throat and speak.
"I'm … on the road." Her words were husky; she hadn't spoken much in the last three days.
"Where? You didn't say anything about taking a trip when I was there."
I should have. "Bruce …" She swallowed again, a painful reflex against the knot of fear in her throat that had taken up permanent residency after Loki's most recent declaration. "There's something I didn't tell you. There's a lot of things I didn't tell you. About … about Thor. About Asgard and—and Loki."
His name fell hard and heavy from her lips. In that instant she saw him again, his fingers on her skin, his breath on her lips and she could picture perfectly the heat that had flickered and flamed in the glacial blue of his eyes. She shook her head, banishing the vision. Tried unsuccessfully to banish the surge of emotions—panic, terror, desire—that accompanied it.
Bruce, knowing instantly that something of grave circumstance had transpired, said only, "Tell me."
And so she did, the words spilling from her mouth disjointedly, detailing to him all that had happened to her since that day the conduit had touched down in the woods outside her home. She said nothing of what she felt for Loki, omitting his offer, his declaration, the ways he'd touched her. Bruce listened in complete silence, not interjecting or posing a question, until she finally stopped speaking.
"Why wouldn't you tell me this, Jane?"
That was a question she couldn't even answer to herself. "I don't know," was all she could say.
"You realize what this means? You know Fury will want you here immediately? Loki's a war criminal, Jane. I understand why you did what you did. It was for Thor. But you already know you don't owe him anything. Especially not if what Loki said is true. If he knew what happened to you and left you there …"
"Yeah," Jane said heavily, knowing exactly where his train of thought was going.
For long moments neither of them said anything. It was Bruce who spoke next. "Where are you, exactly? I'll have to alert S.H.I.E.L.D. They'll want to bring you here, which is a good idea if you think Loki will return."
"He will."
"Where, Jane?"
"Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Super 8 motel."
"You need to stay there. Don't leave. Once Fury knows he'll send people for you as soon as he can."
Jane was shaking her head. "I can't stay. I need to keep moving."
"If Loki can travel at will between realms, don't you think he'll be able to find you just as easily?"
"I know that," Jane whispered, willing Bruce to understand just how terrified she was, how disturbingly disconcerting it was to fear a man but crave his touch and his words despite that fact. "But I can't stay. I have my mobile. You can reach me with it, okay?"
"Jane, please—"
"Call me after you tell Fury. Okay?"
She heard Bruce sigh, a sound of helpless frustration. She knew he was angry with her, had fully expected him to be. What she hadn't told him wasn't just an omission. It was a transgression that could result in dire ramifications not only for her, but for all of Earth as well. After all, Loki had tried to conquer the planet once before. Now that he'd regained his powers, what was to stop him from trying again? Yes, there were the Avengers, but Loki was nothing if not exceedingly clever. Jane was certain he could ascertain anyone's weakness given even half a chance.
"I'll call. Jane, be careful. Call me whenever you can. Keep me updated, please?"
"I will. I promise. Good night, Bruce."
She hung up before he could say anything else. His voice pained her, the disappointment and the anxiety it housed within it. She was the direct cause. Bruce was one of the only people she held close to her now, for good reason. He'd saved her life. Afterward he'd held her together while she'd fallen apart. And then she'd gone out of her way to deceive him, to hide Loki's presence. It was not a good feeling.
Nothing much of what she felt anymore was good.
.x.
She was on the road early the next morning, having checked out of her room before the sun had fully risen. Navigating her truck back out onto the streets of Saskatoon, she used her GPS to calculate a route out of the city. She'd been pushing east since leaving her house, switching to southeast after leaving Alberta. She planned on continuing in that trend. She didn't have any idea where she was going. All she knew was that remaining stationary, sitting still, would drive her insane. It gave her too much time to think about Loki. It gave her too much time to reflect on the fact that she didn't hate his touch and his words nearly as much as she should have.
She drove for hours in this new direction, altering her course only when the road design dictated she had to. Near sundown she switched directions again, heading east once more. She'd literally driven herself into a predicament. With the sun below the horizon there was no sign of a substantial urban center, meaning that her options were to keep driving through the night until she found a motel, or to pull over and try to sleep that way. She chose to keep going.
In an attempt to get back to a main highway, Jane decided to pull onto a network of back roads. Her GPS unit assured her repeatedly that this was the quickest way to get back to one of the central roads. Driving down a snowy gravel road in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere, Jane was not so sure. The moon was full and shone brightly overhead with a cold light. The austere lunar glow graced the thick and forbidding ranks of trees that lined either side of the road and hinted at the forested, gently rolling hills beyond.
She wasn't tired. She wasn't drunk. She was intently focused on the task of driving. The deer that leapt up from the ditch on the passenger side took her by surprise anyways. She yelped in panic, instinctively doing what you shouldn't do on roads covered in snow and ice, slamming her foot on the brake. For one split second the deer was a silhouette in the headlights. In the dissection of the next second it was an object rolling over her hood, flying upward to strike her windshield—
—and then it was over, a dreadful cacophony of thumps before sliding over the top of the cab, hitting the side of the truck box and tumbling out of sight. She had screamed when her truck collided with the animal, when first the realization struck her that impact was inevitable. Screamed still when it was over, a breathless cry, the blood of the doe an intricate road map lining the spider web of broken glass she stared unseeing out of. Sucked in a fast, panicked breath as the truck lost all traction on the icy road, its trajectory wavering badly. Struggled to breathe as the vehicle, carried now beyond forces Jane could control, careened perilously close to the ditch, found she couldn't breathe.
Jane's pounded on the brake with her foot. It was something she knew not to do, having learned as much by reading up on common driving hazards in winter climates such as this. Applying the brake only sent her truck into a dizzying, terrifying spin. The truck entered the ditch rear wheels first. And then the world came to an abruptly forceful halt before Jane was thrown forward hard and jerked back again as everything began to tilt swiftly to the right.
Time evaded her. When next she was aware she was on the road walking, unable, in a mockery of her vehicle, to maintain a straight line. She felt no pain. She knew she should and it bothered her on some level not crucial enough to matter. What mattered was to keep walking, to keep moving, to keep putting one unsteady foot in front of the other. She did feel the cold, the wind biting with vicious ease even through the liners of her winter jacket. The tips of her fingers ached and tingled in the frigid air. She had gloves, but they were somewhere in the crumpled cab of the truck. She felt something hot trickling down her face, marking a wet trail through the creases near the corner of her eye. She knew it for what it was but pushed that knowledge aside and concentrated only on propelling herself ahead. Bloodied, torn, she trudged on with a focus that went beyond single-minded, a tatterdemalion beneath the unforgiving light of the moon.
Awareness of just why she had to keep moving returned suddenly, dazing her with its urgency. She stumbled as she moved, the world around her suddenly unwilling to stop its spiteful spinning. She hit her knees a heartbeat later, the gravel biting into her flesh through her clothing, and pitching to the side she retched, an agonizing, spasmodic emptying of her stomach. Closing her eyes she heard a sound, a faint feminine whimper, and realized long moments later that the helpless, pathetic noise was coming from her. Her head ached with a violence she'd never known, a steady torturous pounding centered behind her right eye. Hesitantly, experimentally, she reached up to touch her forehead, wondering at the strange sensation she felt there. That one feather light touch polarized the pain in her head with vicious force and she was blinded by a surge of white so painful that she was retching again, over and over until she began to choke on the dryness in her own throat.
She remained on her knees, hunched over, until the agony in her head subsided enough that she could actually string thoughts together. Loki, her brain kept reminding her. It took her two tries to get to her feet. Standing straight was a lot harder. Every time she blinked the world swam around her and nausea roiled in her stomach.
She became aware gradually of the fact that she couldn't move her right arm. That it was broken was obvious. By the light of the moon she tried to see if there was any blood but couldn't discern any dripping from her fingers or staining through the lining of her coat. That's good, she told herself, and determinedly took a step forward with the intention of going anywhere that wasn't here.
The ground beneath her feet heaved. The sky realigned itself, the stars spinning into an intricate, circular blur. Jane felt disorienting waves battering her brain and tried hard, so hard, to keep upright. She couldn't battle Fate. She couldn't stop the will of the universe. With a last, desperate little cry, she dropped to her knees and pitched over into the snow.
The last thing she saw, the last thing she was able to comprehend, was the twin glow of headlights drawing near in the dark.
.x.
She'd heard people talk about the smell of a hospital, about how it was easily identifiable. She didn't agree. The first few deep breaths she took as awareness returned to her didn't alert her to her location. She remained oblivious until the moment her eyes opened to take in her surroundings.
She knew why she was here. She recalled fighting to regain control of her truck as it spun rapidly into the ditch. She remembered too, in bits and pieces, the struggle to get out of the vehicle after it had finally stopped moving. It had rolled once, landing back on its wheels, the cab crumpled and the passenger window broken. She remembered pain and confusion and panic. She remembered headlights.
She wasn't in a room. She lay in a bed shuttered on all sides by a pale lavender curtain. From without she could hear movement, people moving to and fro and their voices as they conversed. She surmised she was in the emergency room. Her eyes dropped down, found that her right arm lay across her chest in a dark cast. She remembered parts of that, too, of a doctor telling her the break wasn't bad but it still needed a cast. The doctor hadn't let her sleep, either, insistent upon keeping her awake.
But she had slept, obviously. They'd let her drift off so apparently she'd be okay. She felt okay, surprisingly. She suspected she'd been given something for the pain. She also suspected that without that particular something, she'd be in a world of hurt.
The curtain where it hung near the foot of the bed was suddenly pushed aside. A tall, blonde woman in colorful scrubs stepped into the makeshift room, closing the curtain behind her.
"Awake, are we? I was just coming to get you up."
Jane, still rendered off kilter by the events of the night, only nodded. The nurse approached the head of the bed with brisk efficiency, bending down to hold up a light into Jane's right eye and then her left.
"Looks good," she remarked. "How do you feel?"
"Probably better than I should," Jane replied slowly. Her mouth felt odd, the words coming out stilted.
"You're going to be uncomfortable for a few days, yes, but we'll get you a prescription so it won't be too bad."
"Who brought me in?"
"A married couple driving home found you unconscious in the road. They said you'd rolled your truck. They didn't want to move you and make it worse so they called for an ambulance."
"My truck …"
The nurse's tone became sympathetic. "Totalled, they said. The wife grabbed your bag and your purse from the cab, though, so at least you have that. We'll get them to you before you leave."
Jane did feel a little better for that fact tiny fact. She watched as the nurse moved to foot of the bed again, grabbed the clipboard that hung there, and began writing quickly with a pen that hung from a lanyard around her neck.
"Now—Jill?—do you have any family here in Regina? Any friends?"
Jane wondered briefly as to how the nurse knew her assumed name and then remembered that her purse had been brought in with her. She then focused on the rest of what had been said and felt an odd sense of mingled relief and irony. Regina had been the destination she'd decided on earlier that evening before everything had gone to hell.
"No, I don't."
"Hmm. Well, we can't let you go on your own unsupervised. Need to make sure that you're not concussed too bad. You'll have to stay here overnight until it's safe to let you go."
Dread flowed through Jane, replacing everything else she felt. Staying here meant staying stationary. Which meant she'd be a lot easier to find. A protest rose in her throat. The nurse, glancing up and reading her expression, adopted an inquiring frown.
"I can't stay here," Jane said quietly, willing the nurse to understand the urgency and panic she felt.
"Sweetie, we can't let you go unsupervised. Someone has to watch you the next few hours."
"I won't sleep," Jane said with no small amount of desperation. "I'll stay awake."
The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jill."
Jane took a deep breath and held it for a long moment, focusing on bringing her emotions under control. Falling prey to blind panic wouldn't help her. It never had before. Freaking out in the emergency room and fighting with staff would only draw attention to her. She needed above all other things to be inconsequential, to be inconspicuous. When she could think again without feeling smothered beneath fear and alarm, she let out her breath slowly.
The nurse was still watching her. There was now a grim set to her mouth. She said, "Sweetie … is there—are you … we saw evidence of past breaks in your X-rays. You've got a lot of scar tissue as well. Are things okay for you at home? Is someone hurting you? Is that why you don't want to stay here?"
Jane should have expected the deduction. Her body had in fact been broken and scarred. Swallowing thickly, she said, "No. I'm just running behind schedule. I need to be somewhere by morning."
"Oh." She could tell by that one word that the nurse didn't believe her. "Well, where were you headed?"
Jane brought up a rough map of Saskatchewan in her mind, recalling what she'd seen from her road map. "Estevan. Down into North Dakota."
"Well, you're a few hours away yet. Why don't you just relax? You can't go anywhere without a vehicle, anyway. And you'll need to iron out insurance and all that before you leave, too."
Jane, resigned, leaned her head back against the pillow as the nurse finished writing on the clipboard. Everything she'd said was true. Jane was effectively stranded here. All it would take was one call to Bruce and she was certain S.H.I.E.L.D would be here within hours to take her into protective custody. Although, considering what she'd done, she wasn't all that sure "protective" would really play a part. Fury would consider her to be as much a criminal as Loki was.
The kicker was, sometimes she felt that way herself.
Jane closed her eyes. She was tired. She felt … battered. Not in pain—at least not yet—but in every extremity and along every nerve there was a sensation that let her know that when the painkillers wore off, she'd regret it intensely. She heard the nurse open the curtain to leave and then shut it again behind her. She shifted a little, finding a position that was comfortable, and ran her left hand over the cast on her right arm. She was effectively stuck. She had money, yes. She could call a cab and leave the hospital, but after that her options were non-existent. If the truck was a write-off insurance might cover it, but that process would take far more time than she had. Her only real way out was through S.H.I.E.L.D, as much as she hated to admit it.
She drifted for a time, her slumber uninterrupted by dreams. Every hour the nurse returned to rouse her and check her eyes. Jane said little during these visits and was always grateful to allow her eyes fall slowly shut again. In sleep she was free from all of things she had been so busy running from.
And so the night passed slowly. The fifth time Jane heard the telltale rustle of the curtain, she came slowly awake. She was thirsty and had already finished the water in the plastic cup on the rolling table beside her bed. She heard the nurse grab the clipboard at the foot of the bed. Jane willed her tired eyes to open.
To find that it wasn't the nurse. It was Loki.
Disguises, she remembered then, were something he excelled at. He could wear another's face or another's body with the greatest of ease. He wore his own face now, though he was clad in light blue scrubs. Jane didn't have to fight with grogginess or confusion to understand what this meant. The moment recognition jolted through her she knew with precise, pointed clarity what was about to happen.
He kept her waiting. She watched his eyes move as he read every piece of information in her charts. When finally he placed the clipboard back where it belonged every nerve in her body was singing with tension. His eyes made their way up her blanketed body, lingered on the cast encasing her arm before finally alighting on her face. She found she couldn't speak. She could only swallow slowly, thickly, and wonder with the utmost trepidation what would happen next.
"You will always fight, won't you, Jane?"
She wished she could say no. She wished life hadn't made it necessary that she do so in order to survive. She said nothing, however.
"It could have been easy." He walked around the foot of the bed, keeping one hand flat upon the sheet next to her leg. He stopped there, staring down at her with an expression that was alarmingly impassive. "You could have given way. I know what hushed desires you have immured away from all other thoughts. But even in this—which could be blissful, a release, a haven—you continue to fight."
"Leave me here," she implored him in a whisper that was nearly inaudible.
"There is some part of you that wishes me too, I know." He took the two steps he needed to be standing at the head of the bed. He reached for her. She didn't move away. Told herself she couldn't, transfixed by his gaze as she was. He cut through that particular form of denial that she threw up as a late, flimsy barrier between him and her heart and her soul and her mind. "The rest of you, though …"
That touch again. Fingers brushing feather soft over the line of her jaw, thumb following in the slowest, gentlest caress over her lower lip. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, positioning himself carefully as not to jostle her. Placed his hands flat on the mattress, effectively imprisoning her where she lay, though he was mindful not to touch her injured arm. She contemplated for the fleetest of moments crying out for help and knew that it wouldn't matter. Loki had found her. And she had a suspicion that bordered on certainty that he meant to keep her away from all others.
"The rest of you craves what you know I can give." His head dropped. Freed from the hypnotic pull of his gaze she inhaled sharply as she became aware again of the world without. Gasped again in sudden shock as she felt his lips on her skin just below her ear, that faintest of kisses nearly debilitating in what it did to her.
She remembered her courage, then. Reached up with her good hand—which, ironically, was the one that was missing the two smallest fingers—and shoved him in the chest with all the force she could muster. It was like trying to dislodge a boulder. He raised his head again and fastened his gaze upon hers once more. He shifted his weight, removing his hand from the bed and reaching for hers where it was centered on his chest. She let it fall swiftly, dodging his touch. In the next suspended moments between them she tried desperately to remember that he was the enemy, the villain, the monster.
His other hand had begun to move and trailed downward, curving deliberately, possessively around the column of her neck. His thumb rested where her pulse beat a frantic staccato, conveying to him the depth of everything she felt. She'd tried then to avoid his gaze, afraid and unwilling to see what was housed there. The allure was too great. When his eyes captured and held hers again she found that she could scarcely breathe beneath their intensity.
She found her mind again, with great force of effort. Marshalled her resolve and corralled her thoughts into some semblance of normalcy. Found too her voice and mustered it, used it as the only tired, weary weapon she had left. "If I take what you give, what then? We use each other until we grow tired? Cast each other off and go our separate ways? The problem, Loki, is that I'm human. I'm mortal, as you've been so fond of reminding me. Once you're done with me and me with you, I can't just transport myself to another realm and forget about it all."
"And I don't know," she finished in a voice that was soft and badly wavering as his head dropped again, as his lips hovered above her own, "if I could survive you."
She'd made a concession of sorts. She'd finally given voice to what he'd already known, to what she'd tried to hide from him, from herself.
"There is much, so much, you do not know about me, Jane. I never relinquish that which I want, that which belongs to me."
She almost said, I've heard something similar from Thor. She swallowed the words, forced them back—too late. He read it in her eyes. He straightened, lips twisting into a mirthless smile. She'd been afraid of his mercurial transition in moods before. She was terrified of them now.
"And still I'm living in the shadow of my great and glorious brother."
She recognized the venom in his tone. Pitching her tone to supplicate, she entreated, "Loki, please, go. S.H.I.E.L.D knows you've been here—"
"Do they? Splendid. I have no wish to disappoint their expectations." His smile had become viciously wolfish.
"Leave me and go."
He shook his head, rearing back, raising his arms so that she was free again. "No, Jane. What's written next involves both you and I. And I do not so easily concede defeat."
She knew what he was referring to. Felt it roll through her in waves of anticipation mixed with alarm. Jane fumbled for the call button that hung at the side of the bed her free hand. Loki watched her unsuccessful attempts with an expression of cold amusement before he placed one hand on her shoulder.
The hospital vanished. Light enveloped them both, prismatic sprays silhouetting their forms. And between one blink and the next they'd both been transported. When the light faded and the world came into focus around her, she realized they were back in her house. It was dark. They both stood before the wood stove in the living room. The stove itself was dark, the fire long dead. Loki stood before her, his hand still on her shoulder. Without moving he was somehow able to bring the lights on. Jane blinked under the glare.
He let his hand fall. She took a step back and then another, stopping only when she felt the couch brushing against the back of her knees. She sank down onto it slowly, keeping her eyes on Loki, who'd watched her retreat without expression. He was garbed again in gold and green. He approached after a long moment and she watched warily as he knelt before her.
He said, "You will not run from me again."
"If I do?"
"I will find you. Always."
She glanced away, shook her head, confusion and frustration warring within her. She forced all her uncertainties and fears into one single word, "Why?"
"That," he replied softly with a smile that was almost unhappy, "is an answer I do not readily have."
"It doesn't have to be this way."
"It does."
"Why?"
His expression altered. For the first time since knowing him, she recognized something other than imperiousness and self-assurance in his bearing. She saw uncertainty in his eyes. Swiftly he banished it, the flicker dying away almost as quickly as it had appeared. "You are mine, Jane. Mine to safeguard."
He read easily the fears that swept over her, the way they touched her eyes and the lines of her face. "No, never will I be that. I would never take by force what I know you wish to give. What you still may give, in time. Despicable as you think me to be, I am not that."
His words brought some measure of relief. His next erased that relief from existence. "I must go. I will return as soon as I can."
He was going to leave her here, injured and alone? "Why?" She demanded, "Where?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead he reached up and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, too quickly for her to react. His head dropped, the long strands of his dark hair falling forward over his shoulders, obscuring his face from her view. She opened her mouth to question but stopped as she felt a faint sensation build from the point of contact beneath his hands. It was warmth, soothing waves of heat that radiated outward and down along her arms, through her torso, along the length of each leg. He was healing her, she realized as her broken arm began to tingle in a manner that was almost painful.
Seconds later he removed his hands. He looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze. "I've healed as much as I could. I must keep some power in reserve for my return."
"Why? Why do you need it? What's happening in Asgard?"
"War. I am needed. I searched for you in a lull between attacks, but I must return now."
"Wait, Loki—"
"Are your concerns for Thor, Jane?" His smile was brittle, angry. The swiftness with which he altered moods was dizzying. "Does your heart ache to know he might be dead?"
All the panic, fear, and desperation she'd been feeling morphed into her own anger at his pointed attack. Because she hadn't asked the right question he'd decided to turn on her, to batter her with the brunt of his own insecurities.
"Thor," she said tightly, "is no longer a concern of mine."
His bark of laughter was mirthless, biting. "There is wondrous irony in that you mean what you say."
He was confusing her. He was also pissing her off. She got to her feet, rising into his space, forcing him to retreat a step, matching his glare with one of her own. She snapped, "I notified S.H.I.E.L.D. They'll be coming for me. They'll be coming for you."
"That is utterly unsurprising. You put in a call to dear Bruce, did you?"
"Damnit, why, Loki? Why all of this?"
But he was shaking his head, still smiling that brilliant, bitter smile. "Time enough later for the hard answers, Jane. But I really must be going. I've an entire world to defend, armies to marshal, brothers to save …"
She was brimming with more questions, more concerns, with things she wanted to say but knew she couldn't. She never had the opportunity to voice any of them, however. He took two steps back. She saw the same golden glow creep over his form as before. He said nothing this time in the seconds before he vanished. He didn't need to. He'd already made clear his intentions. He'd come for her unerringly, no matter where she went.
She sank back down on the couch. She raised her injured arm experimentally and moved it in the manner the nurse had explicitly instructed her not to. She felt no pain, no sense of discomfort. It was if the injury had never happened. She'd have to find a way to remove the cast, somehow. But that was an inconsequential non-issue in comparison to the monumental repercussions of all that had just transpired and all that had just been said.
S.H.I.E.L.D would be here soon, of that she had no doubt. She considered rising and walking to the phone in order to call Bruce. He'd be beyond worried being as she hadn't checked in like she'd promised she would. S.H.I.E.L.D would look for her here first before tracing her path as best they could using the information she'd given Bruce. She didn't want them to come. She fervently wanted life to reset, to go back to the days before Loki had been sent to Earth, when she'd quietly and comfortably been enjoying a new life.
And even if S.H.I.E.L.D got to her first, Loki would find her again.
Would it be so bad? she asked herself. Would it truly be so bad if she were to succumb to what she felt? She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She could admit this now, though it was an admission accompanied by no small amounts of shame, regret, and fear. But was it truly Loki she wanted or merely physical contact, pleasure and comfort and reassurance? It had been more than a year, nearing two, since last she'd seen Thor. She'd been alone for most of the time since.
But he was Loki. By his own admission he was a murderer. He'd brought the power of a hostile alien army to bear on Earth. He'd killed numerous people without discretion. That she would fall for the promise of his words, that she'd crave what he offered … what did that say about her? Had she truly changed that much? Was she willing to forsake values and morals she'd once held to firmly just to know the trickster's touch?
Jane had been changed, irrevocably and severely, by what she'd endured at the hands of Thor's enemy. She'd known it as it was happening. She'd known it afterwards. She'd lamented the loss of self she'd experienced. She'd mourned the way old familiarities had shifted, becoming elements strange and frightening. She'd regretted intensely that she came to view old joys as trivial things, things that couldn't keep her safe. Jane Foster had emerged from the chrysalis of strife and suffering a different woman.
She'd only just come to realize, in the aftermath of Loki's words and touch and kiss, how very different that woman was.
.x.