Dangerous Waters (also, a ring)

The candlelight flickered softly in the dining room. There was warm laughter, and even, one might say, some mirth.

Jane was astounded at the generosity of Loki…for though she knew him to be generally speaking, kind, he wasn't particularly open. Yet here he was, entertaining her father, Fandral, and Martha Durlish.

…and he was smiling…

"Dr Foster, you must forgive my man Fandral here. He is not terribly delicate when speaking. Everything that enters his mind is immediately expressed," he sipped his wine.

"Well, Loki. It is fortunate that you don't suffer from such a malady as that. Imagine, revealing your heart to Jane months ago when I guessed it," and Fandral winked a the lady.

And she blushed deeply. "Oh, I don't know, Fandral. You seem to suggest that I wouldn't have received his attentions happily."

"You would not have, I assure you."

Jane's brow furrowed. "No. Perhaps not. I very well may have laughed at him, and then believing him to be making a mockery of me, tossed him from the shop," she laughed and nudged Loki's foot with her own, as he was sitting opposite her.

Loki swallowed…had he really been so absurdly cruel? In his attempts to conceal his attraction for her, had he been unnecessarily severe? "I should hope that you wouldn't laugh, Jane," was all he said.

Her countenance softened. "Of course not, not now…but you must allow that you were…well…playful to a fault around me."

His gaze fell and he nodded. Perhaps that was fair. But Jane was as well…and he couldn't help but think that he was encouraged by her own playful nature responding to his.

"Well, since we are all of us tucked safely in the arms of Mr. Odinson, what can we say about the villain who brought us here?" Dr. Foster was a to-the-point fellow. And it wasn't lost on him that there was a vicious murderer at large.

"A poor sod, I reckon," observed Fandral…Fandral, whose face was lined with worry and sadness.

"Hardly. He is at large, and poor or not, that does not excuse him from the atrocities performed at his hand," and Loki sipped.

"Never said it was. I have been touched by his insanity and poverty more than anyone here, but I know that he was likely working toward a goal of financial security. Though he is a murderer, we can safely presume that he is poor."

Loki swallowed his emotion. "I am sorry, Fandral," and he turned to Jane. "Would you say that he was financially…disadvantaged, Jane? You are the only person present who actually spoke with him."

Jane looked around at the company, all eyeing her expectantly. "He had an accent…he spoke well…" she turned to her fiancee. "You saw the conditions he lived in. He could not have had money."

"He spoke well…" Loki nodded. "As though he might have been educated…"

"Perhaps," Jane shrugged. "Though I'd guess more like he had been trained deliberately. He was not English. He had perhaps studied voraciously and then moved here."

"Tell me, Fandral," Loki held Jane's gaze a moment then turned to him. "What sort of business does Wesley Durlish operate? I know him to be generally unpleasant…"

"He has his hand in all sorts of things," observed Martha. "I never know. He spends his money with abandon."

Jane was ruminating hard on what she was hearing…she hadn't considered the position she was in, save the fact that she was in danger…would she be able to pick out the killer's voice in a crowd? Unlikely. But she was the only person she knew of who possibly had the means to identify him.

He was desperate, but he never sounded that way to her in the few minutes of the interaction with him.

He sounded calm.

Determined.

Unaffected.

What that all meant, she hardly knew. It was as though he was insane, but not…

"I'm tired," she announced.

"Apologies, Miss Foster," began Fandral. "I never adequately inquired after you."

"Do not think of it, Fandral. I am only so happy that you and your mother are safe," she rose. "Will Lizzie be cleaning up, too, Loki?" Lizzie was the cook he occasionally brought in for meals.

"She will, yes," he appeared to be slightly concerned. "Can I get you anything?"

She was standing. "No, I am well. Just sleepy…" she pecked her father's cheek. "Goodnight, all," and Jane went upstairs.

Loki watched her ascend the stairs.

"I should be going as well," Dr Foster announced. "Pleasure, Miss Durlish, Fandral." He stood uneasily. "Goodnight, Loki."

Loki's eyes fell to his lap. He wondered what could be bothering Jane…

"Why don't you join me for some port, Loki," Fandral said, standing. "Mother, will you head up, then?"

Martha nodded, and went over to Loki. "Thank you," she breathed. "We are very much indebted to you," she kissed his cheek.

"There is no debt," he replied, blushing. "You are very welcome here."

She patted his hand and went up to the room she was now sharing with her son.

"Come, Loki…" and Fandral went to the sitting room and lit a fire.

Loki made his way in, a bit distracted. He sat, and poured out some port for them both. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, apart from a broken heart, a devastated mind, and a numb feeling seeping through my entire being, fine," he sipped.

Loki smiled and lowered his gaze. "I am so very sorry, Fandral. I can only imagine…and actually, I did," he thought about a few nights ago when roaming the streets…"And it was torturous."

"It won't do to dwell on it. She is dead. There's nothing that will bring her back."

Loki looked at him with tears welling. "If I could take your pain away…"

Fandral shrugged. "You have done much. The fact that you aren't allowing mother or I to be alone while Durlish remains here means so much to us both."

Loki took a long draught of wine. "Jane is still suffering the aftereffects, I think."

"Poor girl," but he smiled. "Tell me, Loki…have the two of you…?"

His gaze snapped to Fandral's. "What?"

"Come, man. Out with it!"

"I…" he stammered.

"And therein says it all," he smiled deeply and sat back.

"I'll not allow you to judge us. We are grown adults, and this is perfectly…"

"Stop there," he smiled. "I am in absolutely no position to judge you, nor would I dream of it, really. I loved a prostitute!"

"Fandral…have some care…" he chided.

"It was what she was, and I loved her regardless. So, you and Jane can have at it. More power to you," he tipped his glass. "But don't forget that it was I who first took note of your fancy, and I daresay caused you to reflect upon it."

"Ah. Yes. This was all your doing, Fandral," he gulped the rest and stood.

"Glad you see sense. You're very welcome for your present happiness, and I hope that you and Jane remember when she is expecting your first son, and name him accordingly."

"You desire our son to be your namesake?" he asked with some incredulity.

"It really is the least you could do, considering," he laughed.

"The least I could do was offer you my home, which I have done. But if you aren't careful, your mother will be enjoying the room for herself," and he left the sitting room to ascend the stairs.

"You love it, Loki!" called Fandral. "You wouldn't know what to do without me!"

At this, he stopped, and looked at him. "Quite right. Now, don't give me reason to discover it," and he winked and continued upstairs.

Jane was sitting by the window.

She wiped the glass with the sleeve of her robe, trying to peer out into the night, but to no avail. The street lamps' glow was causing the glass to reflect the inside, and Jane wished to see the stars.

Loki lived in a quiet section of London, and she enjoyed the peacefulness much more so than the constant hum of Algate; or, indeed, the occasional scream.

She wanted to read, but she wanted more to take herself back to the tiny black room…

…she thought that she might be able to discover something in her reverie…

But she enjoyed no success. Her emotional side demanded that she remember as little as possible, despite the protests of her reason.

She sighed heavily, and laid her head back…

…closed her eyes…

"Oh no, deary….Don't do that…"

She felt herself on the cold floor…bound, helpless…

"I thought that it was you, that night in the alley. They thought you were doing the killing. What a laugh."

….the killer…

"And all the while, the Yard couldn't catch me, but you, a little woman, an apothecary…and your beau…came the closest. Poor Miss Mary…"

…he knew Mary…or maybe he was just using a common name…

"Now now, Miss. Don't make yourself sick. It'll be over right quick…"

…he was going to kill her…

"Fucking fools," he said. "Well…no matter," he muttered. "I can come back for you. It's not like you can get anywhere. And right now, I've got other more pressing matters…" and he left via a door at the back wall.

…he had meant to return…

"Jane?"

Her eyes flew open, her breath came fast, her heart pounding. She swallowed, seeing Loki closing the door behind him.

"Are you all right?" he went over and pulled another chair to sit opposite her.

Jane nodded. "I was just thinking about his voice…what he had said…"

He had never asked her directly what had transpired between them. He was fearful that she would react badly. "Would you like to tell me?"

Jane rubbed her palms on her lap…her left hand still smarting, though not as potent. "He called me 'deary'. He knew that I was a suspect…and that I was in the alley that night I hurt my ankle. It was him, Loki," she looked at him. "He has known me all along," she swallowed, dropped her gaze once more. "He said that you and I had come the closest…he said 'Poor Miss Mary'…and he told me not to worry, it would be quick…" she swallowed again, then looked at him. "And he meant to return. He said that he could come back for me. Do you think he's dead, Loki?"

He let out a stuttering breath, shaking his head, long black locks falling into his face. "I don't know…I don't know…" This was all very upsetting, for it said that the killer was much more onto them than they had been on him. He knew things about them, they knew next to nothing about him.

This was unsettling, to say the very least. They were all in much more danger than he had originally supposed.

Not that he wasn't keenly aware that they all were in grave danger…

"Jane?"

"Hm?" she looked at him quizzically.

"We need to leave here. This place. I can pester Odin a bit more to see that we have a suitable home sooner."

"Don't be silly," she dismissed. "I won't live in fear."

"It simply isn't a matter of being fearful, Jane. It's good sense."

"Loki, everything is all right. I can live here with you and father until your father arranges for a house, and I'll work at the apothecary with Darcy until we can leave."

"Darcy?"

"The lady who helps father."

Loki sat back, smiling. "And what will she do? Fix him dinner? Oh, yes. Capital idea. 'No no, Mister Insane Murderer, allow me to cook you a stew. Please, do put that knife away…' Really, Jane."

She rolled her eyes. "The point is is that I won't be alone. The killer won't attack a woman in company."

"Even if said woman is of dubious intelligence?"

"You don't even know her. That's hardly fair," she sat back, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Apologies, Jane," and he smiled. "I actually have a much better idea…" and he knelt before her, and placed his hands on her knees, running them slowly up her thighs.

"Have you?" she grinned, her arms falling to the armrest.

"Indeed, yes…" he moved closer to her, his hands on her hips now, his mouth inches from hers. His hands went up her torso, caressing her breasts softly, and Jane issued a soft moan at the contact.

And just then, he stopped. Keeping his face close to hers, he reached for his pocket, and pulled out a small box. "Here," he handed it to her, and pulled slightly away, leaning on the armrest, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

"What's this?" she looked at it crookedly.

"It's a box."

"Thank you," she sighed. "But…I don't understand…"

"Well, generally speaking, a box is used to house something, usually a desirable something, and when one is presented with such a thing as a box, one must open it in order to discover the contents."

"At this moment I loathe you almost as much as I love you."

"Just open it, Jane," he said.

Jane took the lid off, and discovered a blue silk inside. She unwrapped the silk, and there, in the middle, was a small ring. She picked it up, and looked at him.

"You don't like it," he sat back on his haunches.

She furrowed her brow, and slipped it on her finger.

It was a silver setting, with small carvings along the band. In the center sat a small ruby.

"I don't like it," she said, looking at him. "Not at all," she smiled.

"Well, if you allow me to…"

"I love it," she whispered, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly, knocking them both to the floor. Jane kissed him with purpose and want, and began to tear open his shirt.

"Just a moment, Jane…" his breath was heavy, his arousal pulsing…"Allow me…" and he undid his shirt as she lifted her blouse over her head. "I take it you like your trinket," he smirked.

"Trinket," she whispered, and she pushed him onto his back. "'Tis no trinket…" she ran her tongue over his chest…down…and undid his pants. "It is the most wondrous of things…" and she eyed his throbbing member, and straddled him. "To think, I had spied it weeks ago, in the jeweler's window, lamenting it…something I never do…thinking how I have but little in terms of jewelry, but if I were to have anything," she leaned down, her nipples brushing his erection with her movement, "It would be this," and she took him in her mouth hungrily.

Loki had been watching her avidly, astounded at her dynamism, the manner in which she directed him…and he moaned audibly when she took him. Her tongue was dexterous, her need acute, and she siphoned him with ease; and though her technique was immature, she made up for it in her zeal.

He came, hard, and she took the whole of it. Jane sat up to find an astounded fiancee looking at her. "What are you about, Jane Foster?" he heaved. "You pleasure me on the floor of your bedroom, as though…" he paused. "Had you done that before?"

"Of course not," and suddenly aware, took her blouse and wrapped it around her. "I had," she said softly, "…heard of it being spoken of…and I always wondered about it."

Loki sat up fully now, and took his pants around his waist. "Jane…" he wasn't certain how to broach this. "…your desire…was it fueled only by the ring?" he was loathe to admit it, but he was concerned that possessions were on her mind. Especially after having seen his home.

"No," she sounded offended. "It was the fact that you knew me well enough to recognize something that I would like. I don't give a toss for these things, and had it not been this particular thing, might have suggested we forget the ring business altogether."

He nodded, and smiled. "I love you," he stood, and offered her a hand.

Jane took it, and he led her to her bed, where he undressed her deliberately, and made love to her softly.

The day ended with a tangle, and a lament of the moon…

…The waters were dirty blue.

And he had just made it out in time.

He had no idea that there were actual murders taking place! He had no intention of being a party to such a thing. What would his father say!

Tony, as he liked to be called, was watching the water at the helm of the ship en route to America.

"Mr Stark?"

He turned. "Yes?" he didn't recognize the man in front of him, though he was dressed as though he worked on board.

"A letter, sir," he bowed.

"What is your name, my man?" Tony liked the man's stature.

"I am called Mr. Jarvis by those whom I am employed by."

"Jarvis," he repeated. "I like that," he nodded to him and turned away. He might just offer this man a job when they arrive state side.

Tony opened the letter…

Mr Stark.

I wish you did not leve London Sor. I am in need of mony. This place is Hell.

Things are bad and I do not now when I will be well. I can not think that I will be. I have yer things you wanted. Plese, I need yer help Hell is hot and cold and I need to leve.

signed

miserable and cold and hungre Mishter Stark

Tony read and reread it…

He looked around him frantically.

Then he swallowed, and ripped the paper, sending it into the ocean.

A/N: So...apologies for the late update, I had some unfortunate business going on in my life; and to that end, I might point out that this week is National Mental Health Week (for my USA readers). Do, please, if you are feeling at all depressed or fatalistic about your life, seek help. There are people who care about you.

I care about you! If nothing else, take comfort in that.

Thank you for reading!