Thank you for the reviews! I am a broken record but I really do enjoy hearing what you think. Chapter 8 was tough getting started, but then kind of poured out quite quickly so here's Chapter 7. These chapters have been kind of a slow spiral bringing these two characters together and that spiral is now picking up speed...
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Beneath
Chapter Seven – Acquaintance
Loki saw the change right away, even with her eyes partially obscured behind those inane white sunglasses. Her lips parted; her brow knitted slightly. She didn't know. She wasn't sure. He was merely familiar to her, in a way she could not immediately place. But that would change. It was changing.
With a flick of his index finger he reached out for all of those earlier images of himself, finding them easily because they were already so close to the surface of her mind. By the time he'd relaxed his finger to join the others in a lightly held fist he had obscured those memories, leaving his remembered self in shadow and blurry motion.
I am protecting myself! he thought – shouted – at the same time, in hopes of convincing Odin and his curses that his motives were pure.
She blinked.
He winced. Either Odin was deaf to him or he simply hadn't been believed. Pain shot up his calf to his knee, a thousand needles pricking him one right after the other in a flash. His leg grew week, gave out for a brief moment in which he leaned heavily on his left leg to steady himself.
The pain receded.
Now was the time to act.
/
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Jane squinted her eyes behind her glasses at the tall, black-haired, pale-skinned man standing beyond her left shoulder and watching her. There was something in the way he looked at her, almost as though he were looking inside her, that made her skin crawl. And there was something…familiar…
She blinked.
He grimaced and nearly stumbled. She looked from his unsteady legs back up to his face. He was approaching her.
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"Dr. Jane Foster?" he asked in a hesitant voice, taking another step closer and inclining his head toward her.
"Yes?" she asked with a frown.
"Ah. Good. I'm Lucas Cane." Now standing right next to her, where she sat on a bench, he thrust out his hand.
She stared at the hand, started to reach for it, then thought better of it and clasped her hands in her lap. Inwardly she cursed SHIELD for making her so paranoid. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
"No. But you should have received an e-mail…?" And indeed she should have. He'd sent it himself. But she wouldn't receive it for another four hours or so. He let his arm drop back to his side.
Jane smiled with one side of her mouth; the other almost managed to curve downward. "I haven't even checked my e-mail in…I've lost track, I guess a day or two. So, I'm sorry, who exactly are you?"
"Ah. Well, this is embarrassing then. You see, SHIELD is sponsoring me. I'm to be your research assistant," he said with an affable, confident smile.
She stared up at him, her brain turned momentarily to mush, and the upward-curved side of her mouth drifted downward. His words repeated in muddy distorted slow motion in her mind. No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no… There was an explanation, there had to be. She misheard. And continued to mishear every time the words replayed…? This guy was looking for a different Jane Foster. Who looked just like her and had long-term research plans and was associated with SHIELD…? She thought of Peter. He would have told her about this if it were true...wouldn't he? Therefore…
"Okay, funny. Who put you up to this?" Jane asked. Not that she actually thought it was funny. Not in the slightest. "Hastings? It had to be Hastings."
"Hastings? I'm afraid I don't know him. I…excuse me, may I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the bench.
Jane regarded him skeptically. This was her bench. Her Sydney. She didn't want to permit this stranger to be a part of it. Her frown deepened and she slid over. She couldn't make him keep standing there either.
He took a seat beside her. "I'm really sorry," he said, putting his hands out, palm up, in what he hoped would be seen as an almost submissive gesture. He clasped his hands over his lap. "I didn't realize you hadn't been told. It was all rather last-minute. A couple of those SHIELD people knocked on my door about a week ago. Well, they didn't say they were with SHIELD at the time. I didn't even know what SHIELD was at the time. They asked me some questions about my research interests, and they asked if I'd be willing to work with you through the winter. And…well, I said yes. It's an honor, actually. Quite a surprise, but an honor."
"So…SHIELD sent you."
"Yes."
"To be my assistant."
"Yes."
"All through the winter."
"Yes."
Loki watched her closely, wishing she would get rid of her "I love Australia" sunglasses. Her face was virtually unreadable now, but it was clear she wasn't nearly as excited about this news as he'd expected. Who wouldn't want an assistant? And what kind of supposedly somewhat intelligent person was she that she seemed to have difficulty comprehending his rather plain language?
Jane blinked heavily, closer to letting her eyes drift closed from time to time than mere blinking. This could not be happening. She resisted the urge to ask again. The answers weren't going to change. She searched for a way out. There was always a way out. "Well…you see…uh, what was your name again?"
"Lucas Cane."
"Mr. Cane-"
"Just Lucas."
"Mr. Cane…the thing is, I don't actually need an assistant. There's just my work, a small, really small project, and a couple of really small, tiny projects for a friend of mine, and I can handle that all by myself. I'll probably be bored, actually. There wouldn't be anything for you to do."
Loki's lips pressed into a thin smile. Call me whatever you like, Jane Foster. That's what everyone else does. "The SHIELD representatives I spoke with said they believed in your work and wanted you to have as much support as possible. And I'm quite excited about the whole thing. I'm sure I can find ways to be useful to you. Perhaps we can even expand your projects in ways you hadn't expected to be able to, now that you'll have help."
"No, I think I've defined the scope of work pretty accurately. Expanding it would be chaotic and risk the integrity of the project."
He just kept looking at her with the same unflappable light smile.
"A week's notice, huh?" she asked.
"That's right."
"Did they tell you where you were going? Because I would think you would need more time to make a decision like that. It's going to be isolated and lonely. You won't see your family at all for nine months or more. It would be really hard on your family, and on you."
"I'm not bothered by isolation and quiet. And my family…we're estranged. I wouldn't see them anyway."
"Estranged?" Jane pursed her lips for a moment. "Maybe you should go back home and work things out with your family. That's much more important than some science project."
"The decision is made. They rushed my medical clearance, paid for my slot…it's all done. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm looking forward to working with you. But…you clearly do not feel the same."
Jane took a quick breath. His expression was guarded, but she could swear she saw pain in his eyes, as though she'd actually hurt his feelings. Maybe she had. She wasn't acting like herself. She was bordering on flat-out mean. Maybe that border was already in her rear-view mirror. And she wouldn't have felt too bad about it if it were at least working. "It's not…look, it's not that. It's nothing personal. It's just…like I said, I don't really need an assistant. And if anybody had asked me about it, I could have told them so."
"Well, you've got one anyway," he said with a warm, friendly smile. "And I promise I shall prove my usefulness to you."
"Okay, we'll see," she said with a smile that didn't quite measure up to his. If she'd had to take on an assistant, she would've brought Darcy along. Darcy would've at least kept things interesting over the long winter, and was highly unlikely to report back to SHIELD on her. Nah, she thought, Darcy would go bonkers. "So, uh, you said you were in school?"
Mr. Cane nodded. "I'm working toward my doctorate in the Astronomy and Astrophysics Department at the University of Toronto." And she could ask him the names of his professors and every class he'd taken there and he would know those too.
Jane's eyebrows shot up. "Astrophysics? Doctorate? Really?"
"Really," he answered with another nod, marveling over how much of their conversation consisted of her asking for repetitious information. Thor probably felt flattered by conversation that would seem to him a stroke of his oversized ego. Loki found it tiresome.
"My last assistant was a political science major undergrad. I guess that's a step up in the world."
"Political science?" Loki laughed. It was the most difficult thing for him to manufacture, though he felt reasonably confident his voice sounded natural, genial. "Doesn't sound like much of an assistant."
Jane frowned but held back the sharp retort that she wanted to unleash on him. "She was pretty good." She sighed and her face relaxed again. "Pretty good" was an exaggeration in some ways. Darcy was clueless about the fundamental principles of physics; she'd taken a forestry class that somehow counted as a science credit to avoid the hard sciences. But she was sharp, when she wanted to be, and she brought a fresh perspective to things even Jane had ceased to question. She'd actually worked out fairly well. And she was fun to have around. Usually. Darcy would have found a way out of this by now.
"I've never been to Australia before, have you?"
"Nope. First time," Jane answered.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? Especially the Opera House. I find the design fascinating."
"Yes, it is."
Loki waited for a moment. When she didn't continue, he took a deep breath and calmed the rising tide of anger within him. "Have you had a chance to see much of the city?"
"Not really. Just…just a couple of places."
So she didn't want to tell him where she'd been. She wasn't even looking at him any longer. Her gaze was back on the Opera House.
"Well…I've heard one can climb that bridge back over there," he said, angling his head off to the left, not that she would see him do it. "Why don't we go give it a try? I was on my way to do that when I saw you here."
At the invitation she turned to face him again. "Why don't you go on? I'm sorry, I'm just not much for company right now. It's my last day in Sydney. I just want to…I don't know…enjoy it on my own. Really, I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound rude…"
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I understand. You need your space, and I've intruded. It's going to get claustrophobic in a few days. I'm glad to have made your acquaintance, though. Are you on the 8:25 flight to Christchurch tomorrow morning?" He already knew that she was.
"Yep." Great. SHIELD probably got him business class too and I'll be sitting right next to him.
"All right then. Please, enjoy the rest of your day. I'll see you at the airport tomorrow morning. And…I think I will go climb the bridge," he said, rising.
"Sounds good. I heard the bridge climb was fun, have a good time."
"Thank you, Dr. Foster." He offered his hand again.
Reluctantly, Jane took it. His hand was pale in hers, which was still tanned from before her two weeks in Tromso, and his fingers were long and slender. She noticed these things in passing, but what really struck her was how smooth and unblemished his skin was. He obviously hadn't spent the last few years building his own electronic equipment and burning himself on shorted-out wires and overloaded circuits. She allowed herself only brief glances at his face, noting only the piercing steel blue eyes and smooth high forehead.
He started to walk away, then turned around and gave her a little wave with his flat palm before continuing on. She returned it weakly, and continued watching him until he faded into the distance among the crowd of pedestrians.
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/
Jane half expected her "assistant" to retrace his steps and ask her some more questions she didn't feel like answering. She wasn't going to share any of this with him. Not her Sydney. Not her Opera House. Not her freedom. Not with some stranger sent to check up on her.
By SHIELD. That's why he'd given her the creeps when she first noticed him there looking at her. Assistant. Codeword for spy. And she would be locked up with him for nine months. What should have been one of the most incredible experiences of her personal and professional life now seemed utterly unbearable. She wondered if it was too late to back out.
And she had wanted to climb the Harbour Bridge. Not now. With a huff she grabbed her package and started off back toward Circular Quay, continuing past it and around to the left, toward the Opera House. She was surprised to reach it and find that the white structure was not white, but rather composed of small off-white or even cream-colored tiles. She started thinking about wavelengths and refraction and what she could recall about rods and cones, but dragged her thoughts away from the science behind color perception and took a picture with her phone. Keeping the phone out, she walked all the way around the Opera House taking pictures from all different angles.
Some kind of park began just to the southeast; she decided to explore that next and try to reclaim her peace of mind.
The park – the Royal Botanic Gardens – was enormous, and Jane lost herself in it for hours, reading about the many varieties of trees cultivated there. She emerged from the gardens as the sun was beginning to set and found her way into a smaller park area, where she stood admiring an elaborate fountain surrounded by paths branching out like spokes on a wheel. The central path was lined with mature fig trees, and continued on as far as she could see, even across a busy street. But that path led further away from her hotel, and it would be getting dark soon. She turned onto Macquarie Street and headed north with two very different Sydneys flanking her; to the left modern office buildings towered over her and to the right were the wide open spaces of the Royal Botanic Gardens.
Along the way she found a Chinese restaurant, and after ordering her vegetable lo mein she wondered what constituted Australian cuisine. Crocodile Dundee was not of much help there, at least not that she could recall. She was fine with the Chinese food, though; really she was just biding her time. By the time she left the restaurant it would be dark.
She did a bit of people-watching in the restaurant, then when her meal came she pulled out her phone and began flipping back through her pictures as she ate. They brought a smile to her face. She'd seen a lot for such a short time. She got back to the pictures she'd taken as the trawlers brought in the catch at the Sydney Fish Market. The goofy one she'd taken with Young-Soo, both of them making faces at the camera. Then a few she'd taken in various airports along the way, nothing so special about the pictures themselves, just proof she'd been there. Then the picture of that green and gold sofa. It seemed unimaginably far away now…and yet it was a stone's throw compared to where the man who'd sat beside her on it was. She thumbed over to her texts, found the pictures Hastings had sent. She sighed and shook her head. It already seemed like a dream. She reminded herself to upload these pictures in particular onto her laptop first chance she got.
Jane paid for her meal and headed back out toward the little bay, keeping her head down and glancing around her from time to time, just in case the "assistant" was around. She didn't see him, and kept going until she reached that same circular observation area she'd stood in the night before. Hat and sunglasses long since put away in her bag, she looked up. Her eyes snapped to the Southern Cross. Young-Soo had warned her of what she already knew, that the stars would be less brilliant here in sprawling Sydney than outside the city, but the skies were clear and the Southern Cross easily recognizable. She extended her right arm and drew an invisible line connecting the stars. Gacrux to Acrux. Becrux to Delta Crucis. Epsilon Crucis, she added, reaching toward a fainter star just inside the cross and "touching" it gently. She gave a light laugh, little more than a rapid exhale through her nose and over a contented smile.
A chill went up the back of her neck and she whipped her head around. She'd lost all awareness of her surroundings. A dozen or so tourists milled about, talking, taking photos, a few looking up at the sky as she had been. None paid any attention to her. None looked familiar.
She gazed back up at the Southern Cross, but her concerted efforts to force the afternoon encounter out of her thoughts had crumbled. She had been so excited to be able to see it, even before she got here. The stars now blurred before her eyes and she pictured Thor shooting up into the sky above Norway and disappearing into those green folds of light. If she called, could he hear her? Would he come back for her? Give her a second chance at that trip to Asgard? Calgon, take me away, she thought sarcastically.
She thought his name with all her might, but she knew she would never actually say it, just in case he could somehow hear. That would be childish. She'd been ecstatic over this opportunity. Thanked everyone involved too many times to count. Imagined herself finally being able to have a real career. To earn a little respect from her peers. Pulling out now would be humiliating. Stupid Jane Foster. First chance she gets to do any real work and she can't take the heat and runs scurrying home.
No. Not an option. So this Lucas Cane was her assistant. That's what he thought. She could tell him to assist by running spurious computer simulations while she did the real work. Maybe she could get him assigned to kitchen duty. She grinned at that thought. So, Lucas, what's Jane been up to today? I don't know, sir, I've been peeling potatoes all afternoon. It could work. It would work. She would make it work.
Suck it up, Jane. You're doing this.
/
/
Loki held a non-functioning camera – no more than a discarded soda can he'd transformed to look like a camera – in front of his right eye. His left eye was fixed on Jane. Suddenly her posture changed, straightening up stiffly. He knew what was about to happen, but he wasn't concerned. He merely shifted his gaze for a moment. Her head whipped around and her eyes swept over his face but continued right past him. She settled down a bit, angled her head upward again. He lowered the false camera, moved a few feet away from her, and took a seat on a bench that allowed him to keep her in view. He released an unavoidable sigh of relief.
Loki had walked away from Jane that afternoon without looking back, for he knew there was a good chance she would be watching. For some reason she did not want him around, and he needed her to believe she had gotten what she wanted.
Once he'd melted into the crowd, he did turn back, but by then he was no longer Loki, or Lucas Cane. He'd taken on the rounder, mustached face of Mohsin Tarkani and darkened his hands – the only other visible part of him – to match Mohsin's skin tone. The color and cut of his clothing was transformed as well, but his shoes he left the same; after the incident in Melfort he had forgotten to test whether or not he could manipulate the appearance of his right foot. No harm befell him from this use of magic, and while he was still at a loss to understand Odin's rules, he suspected that so long as he did not interact with anyone as Mohsin, he would not be considered to be causing mischief.
So he'd followed. Followed her to the Opera House and watched as she reached out to touch its tiles only a few feet away from where he had earlier. Followed her as she entered the Royal Botanical Gardens and meandered her way through its grounds. He lingered in the same places she did, read the signs posted to provide information on each specimen of tree. He was a master of surveillance and was confident she never suspected anyone was following her at all – he kept his distance, never looked directly at her, and varied his position with respect to hers. He let the distance grow too great and almost lost her just once, when he was distracted by a strangler fig. According to the sign, it was essentially a parasitic species, starting life on an established tree and sending down roots all around its host until it enveloped it, ultimately starving the host of sunlight and nutrients and killing it. It was ingenious, really. After all, the parasite needed to survive as well.
He followed her out of the gardens and into Hyde Park, watched her as she stared at a fountain and at the tree-lined path leading away from it. In exasperation and out of reflex he formulated a thought to slip into her mind, a simple suggestion that she has done enough walking for the day, but he caught himself before sending it. That kind of manipulation would likely do more harm than good to his aching foot.
Luckily she was also disinclined to continue further, and while she did not take advantage of any of the benches in the area, she at least turned back toward Circular Quay. When she paused outside a restaurant then entered it, he decided not to follow but to instead wait outside. He found a bench across the street but in view of the restaurant's entrance and dropped himself gratefully onto it. When he was certain no one was looking his way, he drew his hand lightly across his body and watched as his newly purchased clothes appeared again, then flexed his jaw and let his face and hands shift back to their natural state. To the unnatural state Odin had created, the state that existed through no effort of his own whatsoever.
Not for the first time he stared at his pale hands and wondered how Odin had done it. Loki could not change his form indefinitely; manipulation of matter and energy took a certain amount of effort, a certain amount of concentration. Through study and natural ability it took Loki far less effort and concentration than perhaps anyone else who dabbled in such magic, but he like everyone else – including Odin – had his limits.
He crossed his right leg over his left, so that not even the tiniest amount of weight pressed against his foot. It was a relief.
He turned his attention back to the restaurant, as though he could see Jane inside. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He'd planned well for this encounter. He'd made himself the perfect assistant, the perfect person to win her trust. Made himself close to her, but not so close that they would know the same people and he would risk exposure. Bridged their contact with SHIELD to gain her acceptance of him. Smiled at her with all the charm he could muster, despite the exceedingly awkward situation her unexpected reaction created.
Why did she apparently welcome Thor with open arms but want nothing to do with him?
Anger flared in him. Even here, worlds away from his supposed brother, in a new identity, he was still in Thor's shadow.
He had offered himself up as an inferior, a lesser to her greater, a student to her teacher. And still she rejected him, making him feel less than inferior, less than even a shadow. An unwanted tag-along to be cast off at the first opportunity.
He pictured Jane telling him he should go home, and realized Jane's face had partly morphed into someone else's, someone he hadn't thought about in many centuries. He could barely remember what she looked like, and so her face blurred with Jane's.
Her name was Birna, and she was the first person Loki had ever truly hated.
She had started off as little more than a pest. She had been the unwanted tag-along, and Loki and Thor both had cast her off again and again. But she kept at it, showing up wherever the brothers went. Late one afternoon they had repurposed a park for a battleground and were practicing their swordsmanship lessons with each other; they were very young men, little more than boys, still receiving their training. Something distracted Thor, and he missed the warning signs – the slight change in posture, the tensing of Loki's hands and shoulders. Loki did not anticipate Thor's failure to anticipate and block him, and he was unable to sufficiently adjust the arc of his blade before he had sliced into Thor's left arm. They had long since graduated from wooden training swords, and blood poured from the deep wound made even by these slightly blunted swords. Thor stood in shock for a moment, then opened his mouth to yell. Loki cringed away from him ready to beg for his brother's forgiveness, but Thor was looking over his shoulder.
"Get out of here right now, Birna!" he bellowed.
Loki spun around in time to see the girl land hard on the ground beneath a tree and take off racing out of the park, her skirts and long dark hair billowing out behind her. He turned back to Thor whose eyes followed her all the way out. His breath came in heavy puffs full of rage and pain.
"Thor…"
"It's not your fault, Loki. It's mine. It's hers. I know you didn't mean to do it. Just…will you go get the healing stones?"
Loki dropped his bloody sword and raced off to the edge of the park where they'd deposited their books, two additional swords, a canister of water, and, most importantly, a small bag of healing stones in case of any accident. When he returned, Thor was sitting on a small curved bench under another tree.
"Give me your arm." Thor grunted as he lifted his arm. Loki grasped the elbow with his left hand and with his right he withdrew a stone and crushed it slowly over the gash. Thor's arm twitched – he'd always found the sensation of the healing stones working their magic to be uncomfortable – and Loki looked up from his work to see Thor's eyes on the path Birna had taken out of the park.
For the next few weeks, neither brother saw Birna at all. Thor began to feel guilty about how he had shouted at her; what happened in the park had been entirely an accident. He tried to seek her out, and failed many times before showing up at her home and demanding to speak with her; the prince and heir's demand was met.
Things changed rapidly after that. The tag-along was invited to join them at times, but she was an awkward third wheel that Loki wished would go away. Thor got annoyed with him when he tried to talk him out of bringing her along on their activities, so he gave up and grudgingly accepted her presence. Then one day as the three of them hiked along a forest stream, Thor and Birna chatting about some dull thing while Loki sulked a few paces behind them, he realized for the first time that something fundamental had changed.
Loki was now the tag-along.
He halted, fell still. Thor and Birna kept going. He waited, testing, and before long they were so far ahead of him he could no longer see them. He felt tears well up in eyes. That stupid girl was stealing his brother and his best friend.
Misery and self-pity soon quickly folded over into anger. He would make her pay for this. And more importantly he would make Thor regret ignoring him and leaving him behind. He took a few steps out into the stream, the shallow water darkening the leather of his boots. He found a suitably large rock and worked his foot tightly underneath it, then added another rock to the side, pinning his foot in place. Gritting his teeth, he twisted and yanked his body around to the right with as much force and velocity as he could, crying out in pain as he both felt and heard something snap. He lost his balance and fell backward as fire burned up his leg. Unable to break his fall, he slammed into the rocks and pebbles that littered the streambed; pain exploded through his head in particular. He stopped screaming – without realizing he'd ever started – when Thor suddenly appeared above him, the horror on his face unmistakable.
"Brother! What happened! Are you all right?"
He might have had something sharp-tongued to say, perhaps something about brothers sticking together, but the words died on his lips and all he could think was that this was the dumbest idea he'd ever had in his life. Then the world with Thor at its center faded to black, and he would remember nothing else from the rest of the day except for a moment's consciousness while being carried over Thor's shoulder.
His body too young and weak to withstand such abuse, Loki had received an ankle fracture, a torn ligament, and a skull fracture for his impromptu efforts. And it hadn't even worked. The first time he woke in the Healing Room, his family had been sitting around him full of worry, and Thor's hand had been gripping Loki's arm so tightly it hurt. The second time he woke, Thor and Birna were chatting and sitting together against the wall several feet away, and did not notice him awake and watching them for several minutes. They were holding hands.
Jane appeared at the restaurant door, wresting Loki from his memories.
He quickly shifted back to his disguise, and once her back was to him he stood to follow. He noticed how she kept her eyes turned downward, as if afraid she would trip and fall. He shook his head at her. Her posture invited attack, and this city surely had its share of violent criminals like any other. He briefly considered what he would do if she were attacked. If Lucas Cane saved her, that could actually work out quite well…until she asked herself how he happened to be there at just the right time. He decided he would do nothing unless there was a risk of her death; in that case Mohsin Tarkani would save her. For now she was his only beacon on this wretched planet, and he was not willing to let her die.
She did not need any saving, it turned out, and before long Loki found himself sitting on that bench in the little round viewing area jutting out into Sydney Cove, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she stared up at the stars. He found himself looking up at them too. They were different from the ones he'd seen in Canada and the United States. Perhaps that was what she found so intriguing about them; it wasn't as though they were moving or doing anything else interesting, not to the naked eye at least.
Jane moved to a bench herself, thankfully not the one he was on. He allowed himself to relax again; if she was sitting she wasn't going anywhere for a while.
He thought back to Birna, whose name still rankled him after so many years. He had learned from that painful debacle. First, that hurting himself was a terrible solution to a problem. Second, that all problems should be treated the same, regardless of emotional involvement. They should be properly identified then analyzed, sifted from hand to hand to separate out all their elements, possible solutions weighed and compared, possible reactions considered and planned for. He'd played pranks with his nascent magic and his own physical hands, he'd manipulated through clever lies and half-truths. And that worked. Of course, there had been another girl not long after Birna, and not long after that Loki discovered his own interest in the fairer sex, which to Loki's secret delight had made Thor jealous, not that Loki spent much time thinking about Thor at that time. His relationship with Thor stabilized as they both learned that giving each other space for other relationships did not diminish who they were to each other as brothers and best friends, bound as they were to each other with "invisible thread."
So Birna, in the end, was inconsequential, a tiny blip on the long timeline of his life. Except that in some ways, this was Birna all over again. A problem to be solved like any other, despite its personal connection to him. Just as it had been then, magic would be of limited use. He would have to find another way.
Jane had opened herself up to Thor, but had rejected him. What had drawn her to Thor? He had watched through the eyes of the Destroyer, seen how she stayed in that town when she should have left for her own safety, how concerned for him she was, how she ran to his side when the Destroyer dealt him what should have been a fatal blow. Loki thought of the ways he differed from Thor, the surface-level things which she had already observed. Thor's brawn and bulk; Loki's leaner, slighter build. Thor's gregarious, infectious zest for life; Loki's quieter contemplative nature. Thor's blond hair and tanned skin; Loki's black hair and paler skin. He had no way of knowing whether any of these things mattered to her, and he couldn't change them, not easily anyway, not now that he'd already met her and set plans in motion.
He thought about the circumstances of Thor's arrival. He would have been weakened. He would have felt sad, abandoned, alone. Perhaps she was the type who liked to fix broken things? Thor was certainly broken after he'd visited him in that New Mexico SHEILD facility. Loki could be broken; the thought that he was broken was there at the back of his consciousness but he pushed it away before it could fully emerge. Instead, his thoughts raced back through what he'd learned of her during his own time on Midgard. He'd hoped to encounter her, but they'd hidden her away from him and he'd had no time to pursue her. So he'd searched computer records and questioned Erik Selvig, who'd been happy to tell him anything he asked. Still, he'd absorbed mountains of information during that time, and many of those memories were fleeting, a wisp here and there among countless such wisps. He collected a few of them, put them together like pieces of a puzzle. Too many pieces were missing to perceive a complete picture, but not too many to conceive an initial plan.
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Although it has nothing in particular to do with the mood of the chapter, I'll confess to having listened to Slim Dusty's "Waltzing Mathilda" (from 2003 Very Best of album) quite a few times while writing & researching for this chapter and previous. Mostly because the chorus is fun to sing along to. And, like Jane, just in case I would forget I was "in Australia." The flashback also made me recall a song I hadn't heard in ages, ABBA's "Susie Hangaround." I won't mention music much in here. I tend to sing along which tends to result in my having lots of fun but not actually writing anything.
In the next chapter there's a glimpse of Asgard; things have gotten tense there. And Loki begins to re-evaluate his approach to Jane.
