Chapter 12. Fitting In

Content warning: Contains sexual content which may not be suitable for readers under the age of 18.

Bucky

It didn't take us long to get settled into a routine at the vacation house. That first week we were there we drove to Bobcaygeon townsite and found some painting supplies for Jane, water colour mostly. We found them in the Home Hardware which seemed to double as the general store for the small town. I found that store to be quite interesting, actually, seeing all sorts of products that were ingenious and showing them to Jane. She would smirk, nod her head and move on to the next thing while I debated actually buying it, thinking of the uses I could make of it back in Brooklyn.

The town itself was bustling, with its mixture of permanent residents, summer residents, and visitors who had booked a rental through those "by owner" vacation rental websites. There was always something going on, a concert, a poetry reading, farmer's markets ... it was a relaxing lifestyle. Experiencing it with Jane was something of a revelation as to how easily we slipped into our relationship, and it was definitely a relationship. Of that, I was sure.

We both said it ... the I love you words. We both meant it as well. It wasn't just said during or after sex either. In fact it was the week after we got there. I was up first and started up the coffee; no matter who was up they would put the filter in the coffee pot, scoop the coffee into it, pour the water in the top and start the machine. That day I started the coffee maker then went over to the living room window and pulled up the blinds to get that first look at the lake. The sky had that misty gold glow to it as the sun had just risen a short time before. I stood there in my T-shirt and sweat pants taking it all in. Behind me I could hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and the pad of Jane's bare feet approaching me. Already, I knew the sound of her. Her arms snaked around my waist from behind and she kissed between my shoulder blades then moved to my side. Putting my arm around her I kissed the side of her head. Neither of us said anything for a while as we just kept looking at the lake.

"I love you," I said, meaning it with all of my being.

"I love you, too," she whispered, then tightened her arm around my waist. "Do you think it's real? Or is it just being here, thrown together so quickly?"

I looked at her, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, her hair tousled, her face still sleepy looking and well before either of us got rid of our morning breath. She was still looking out over the lake then turned her eyes to me and they were so luminous, like they held the mystery of life within them if only I could stare at them long enough.

"Just because we're thrown together doesn't mean it's not real," I replied softly. "My other relationships that fizzled out were all filled with the excitement of new experiences together, typical couple stuff. This, what we have here, it's calm and I feel comfortable with you as if we've known each other forever. There's no need to play at being in love, because I am in love, very much in love with you."

We didn't even kiss; she just rested her head against my shoulder and we kept looking at the lake. The coffee maker beeped to signify it was ready and Jane pulled herself away, poured out two mugs, bringing me my black coffee while she had her double double (that's a Tim Horton's thing, I found out, meaning double cream, double sugar) and we sat curled up on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other and touching only with our toes and feet. It was ridiculously normal.

I loved the look of Jane's hair, the way the humidity of the place seemed to bring out the natural texture in it, which she hated and seemed to spend so much time using a flat iron on. She said the same about me, that the humidity brought out the fluffiness in my hair. Certainly, it was getting longer and I knew I would have to bite the bullet and get it cut soon, once the summer was officially over after the Labour Day weekend. Voicing that intention at the end of August while we were drinking our first coffee of the day was the closest we had come to planning anything.

"What about the beard?" she asked, grinning mischievously at me.

I ran my hand over it. Like always, in just a matter of weeks I had an almost full beard.

"What about it?" I smiled. "You do like it don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," she replied. "But it is scratchy. Maybe we should head into town and get some beard conditioner, to keep it soft."

"I can do that," I said.

She smiled at me and it affected me in a very primal way. Putting my coffee down I crawled over to her, grabbing her mug and putting it on the coffee table before settling myself in between her legs. She looked to the window.

"If Erik comes outside he'll see us," she said, not convincingly.

"He's probably seen it before," I replied, grinding myself into her a little, then I looked to the outside just to make sure which made her giggle.

She tugged on my shirt and I pulled it off, feeling my groin become interested as she smoothed her fingertips over my chest. As my body became more engaged she smiled and raised herself slightly so I could take her shirt off, revealing those beautiful breasts I had committed to memory. Lowering my mouth to them I kissed the skin around her nipples, enjoying the quick intake of her breath as I did it.

"Wait a moment," I said and got off the couch, went to the linen closet and grabbed a towel to put underneath her then closed the blinds. "It's his furniture and I don't want him to see us making love on his couch."

I took my sweatpants off, leaving no question about my intentions. Jane began to pull her bottoms off, and I finished the task, dropping them onto the floor beside the couch. She began to laugh, then reached out and caressed me with those soft hands, gently cupping me then running her hands onto my hips to bring me closer. Once I was on top of her, we began kissing and touching each other in earnest. The scent of our arousal was all around us, like an aphrodisiac that spurred us deeper into passion. When I finally got down to tasting her, she was already soaked, and she moaned deeply when I nudged her clitoris, gauging how close she was. Using my tongue on it and my fingers curled against her G spot, I brought her to the edge before pulling away. Jane didn't even complain knowing what normally came next.

"I want to sit on you," she whispered.

Changing so I was sitting on the towel I watched as she repositioned herself onto me, sliding herself onto my cock; both of us moaning at the sensation. Slowly she rocked herself forward and back on me, her eyes boring into mine. With our hands free to touch and explore each other's bodies I revelled in the touch of her skin under my fingertips, the way her nipples pebbled under my thumb, then the quick intake of breath when I mouthed them, swirling my tongue around the sensitive tip. When I lowered my thumb to her clitoris at the same time the sound coming out of her throat was pornographic as her whole body reacted to the stimulation. Leaning back with her hands on my shoulders I pressed and circled my thumb around it, then used my other arm to bring her flush with me, thrusting up into her. A curse erupted from her lips and she focused on me, a sense of longing on her face.

"Are you close?" I asked, knowing damn well she was.

Her mouth opened slightly and I wanted my mouth on hers. As if she read my mind she lunged for me, holding my face in her hands as she thrust her tongue inside my mouth. With my arms wrapped around her I dispensed with gentle and began fucking her hard, as hard as she was riding me. With furious abandon we let go of ourselves and gave in to the moment letting the wave of our climax sweep us both away. As we both came down from our high, slowing our pace then carefully separating we laid down on the couch, with me spooning behind Jane. Outside we heard the slam of Erik's screen door as it closed behind him and we both began to giggle.

"Good call on the blinds," she said. "I don't think I can move."

"We don't have to for a while," I replied, "unless you're cold."

"A little," she admitted, then turned her head to look at me so I kissed her from behind. "Help me to the shower?"

I sat up and looked at her, sprawled out on the edge of the couch. "How did a plan to get a haircut end up like this?"

Neither of us waited for an answer, as I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, both of us giggling like teenagers. While she started her shower I went back out and cleaned up our clothes, picked up the towel and put it in the hamper. Our coffees were cold, no surprise there.

Erik told people that Jane was his niece, and I was her American boyfriend, here to take in the calm healing environment after a PTSD flare up. Her being Canadian meant she was already part of the "club," and I was admitted because of her and because of Erik, a well-respected permanent resident. When we did go out people waved at us, stopping to make small talk.

"How are you liking it here?" was the most common question made to me, which I always answered with the generic response of loving my time in cottage country.

In a way, it was good, being accepted as part of the community, just on our association with him. As for Erik himself we got along very well and spent several evenings around the fire pit talking undercover assignments. I thought I was an experienced officer but I had nothing on Erik Selvig. He had taken part in undercover assignments across the country and into the United States on occasion.

His specialty was the "Mr. Big" operation, something not permitted in American investigations. I never realized it was originally developed as an investigative technique by the RCMP in British Columbia in the 1960s. It basically involved the officer pretending to be the head of a fictitious criminal enterprise. His associates recruited their person of interest, after a long period of surveillance on them, usually someone suspected of murder in a difficult cold case. They would invite the suspect to become involved themselves in their illegal activities (which were actually set up to appear illegal to the suspect). Once he was well ensconced in their activities they invited him to permanently join the organization, kind of offering them a promotion to an executive position. As part of the process he had to come clean to Mr. Big, aka the Boss, aka the police undercover operative who was the prime investigator, and tell him their entire criminal history. It was a sign of trust, as Mr. Big told them his history (all fictitious of course), emphasizing that they were all on the same side, and all had the same things to lose if they were ever ratted out.

Critics called it entrapment surmising that desperate men would confess to a crime if they wanted the money and protection that being part of a bigger criminal enterprise could give them. The Canadian investigators that used it have statistics showing it cleared a number of suspects when they were unable to recount details which only the killer and the investigators would know. In Canada it secured a high percentage of convictions in those who were arrested as a result of it. Many of those convictions were upheld in the inevitable court challenges that followed. I saw it as a tool, legal in their jurisdiction, and one of many that police have to resort to, to find the actual criminals responsible for a murder. The level of preparation and immersion that those police investigators put into their criminal persona was incredible and I was impressed at the hard investigative work and dedication officers like Erik put into it.

We met Sergeant Cory Mills of the Kawartha Lakes police detachment. He stopped by while I was helping Erik paint to visit him officially but made himself known to us. He was younger than I was expecting, barely into his thirties, although I was only 33 when I passed my sergeant's exam. I mentioned it and he downplayed his accomplishment.

"I come from a long line of police officers," he said. "There was never any doubt of what my career would be. When our oldest sergeant decided to hang up his cap I took the exam and passed it on the first try. They offered it to me and I wasn't going to say no. It's not like a lot goes on here compared to a big city. We deal mostly with domestic violence incidents, drug and weapons offences, with the occasional break and enter."

"Don't sell yourself short, Cory," interrupted Erik. "You're a damn good cop and you have excellent instincts." Erik looked at me. "He busted a child pornography ring last year. Posed as a child online after a parent laid a complaint about someone contacting their son on an online game site and asking to meet them. Agreed to ride his bike to a motel in Lindsay and knock on the door. The guy had ropes, masks, latex gloves and bottles of lubricant. Sick fucker was planning to rape the kid and stream it live for his clients. Before Cory knocked on the door to arrest him they hacked into the guy's computer and found all of his clients IP addresses. How many were arrested around the world?"

"Over a hundred and seventy," replied the young sergeant. "He was my Cub Scout master's son. Always knew there was something wrong with him. He played the defence that he was assaulted as a child, but I grew up with others that were as well, and they would have rather died than inflict that on another kid."

When he left I felt better about him being on our watch with Erik. I thought they were both excellent backup protection. As we continued painting the outside trim on the house Erik asked if I wanted to get some target practice in. I stopped painting and looked at him.

"Handgun practice?" I clarified. "Or with the rifle?"

"Both," he said. "There's a private club not too far from here. I'm friends with the owner and might be able to get some private time on the range for you and Rachel. You don't want to lose your skills." I considered what he said then nodded. What he was proposing was being prepared for an emergency. "I'll give Frank a call, see if he'll let us come during a weekday when it's quieter. It will be after Labour Day anyways."

Labour Day weekend arrived, and the place was packed with people squeezing out the last drop of summer before school started and vacation time disappeared. The lake was full of boaters, their stereos going full blast, many of them water skiing or tubing. We tried going to the farmer's market, but it was so packed that we couldn't even find a parking spot, so we headed back to the house and resigned ourselves to chilling out there. It worked out well because we had a surprise guest that arrived early on the Saturday afternoon, shortly after we returned back from our unsuccessful attempt at the farmer's market.

Erik mentioned that his Jane usually came up for the long weekend. Normally she would arrive Friday night but she was apparently bringing a guest who wouldn't arrive in Peterborough until Saturday morning. When she drove up we were sitting on the deck taking in the sun. She beeped her horn and Erik got up from his chair, walking to the shared parking area. I heard the voice before I saw Thor coming towards Erik's cabin. Standing up I offered my hand and he shook it.

"Thor Odinson," he said. "Jane and I are good friends."

"Paul Ellis," I replied. "My fiancée Rachel Matheson. She's supporting me while I deal with my PTSD."

"Nothing too serious, I hope."

"No, just needed to get away from the city and have some peace and quiet," I smiled.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Erik. "Is that necessary, even here?"

"Dad," warned Jane Foster.

Thor looked at him and lowered his voice. "Unfortunately, yes. I bring some new developments. Perhaps we can go inside and I can enlighten all of you."

I nodded. "Come on in," I said, starting back to the house. "I have some beers in the fridge. Erik's too grumpy to fight the crowds at the liquor store."

We headed into the house and Thor made a big deal of closing the doors and the windows. I did pull out a beer, offering him one. He shook his head.

"We may have to move you," he said outright. "Heimdall has been monitoring social media and someone on a White Sword militia account mentioned they heard a certain witness was moved to Canada. They didn't name names or specify what trial the witness was for, but Rachel is the only witness we have in this country at the moment."

"Do they know who the person behind the account was?" I asked.

"It's an anonymous account," he replied. "But we've tracked it's source to New York. It's possible that it's one of the NYPD officers I had under surveillance. Neither of them are based in your precinct anymore but both Sam and Joaquin have confirmed there are a couple of officers there who have remained friendly with them. They suspect something was said about you taking personal leave and they may have put two and two together."

"Doesn't your coming here kind of confirm that?" asked my Jane. "They know who you are, don't they?"

"No, they don't," he replied. "Plus, I've been coming here every Labour Day weekend for three years to see my good friends Jane and her father Erik. There's more."

Of course, just before things take a turn for the worse, there's always more. I looked at him somewhat exasperated.

"Cheer up, Paul," said Thor. "It means we go undercover sooner. Loki and Sylvie have found out some things and we're going to begin the final training in two weeks. I want you both in Quantico by then. It's a secure facility and I think we need Rachel's expertise on the scope of the hack. Who better than the person who wrote the initial code?"

"You know that coding isn't my thing?" she stated. "I'm self taught, I don't really like coding and what John wrote to turn it into the security hack is something that I don't understand other than to recognize it's dangerous."

"I understand that," he smiled. "But you won't be alone. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner are both onboard. They're going to be part of the team. They asked that you be there. I think they care very much for your safety and want to see for themselves that you're kept safe. There's no place safer than FBI headquarters."

My Jane and I looked at each other, somewhat sad that our bubble of tranquility seemed about to burst from the realities of the case. She stood close enough for me to put my arm around her and draw her close. Thor seemed sympathetic.

"We do have married quarters and I'll arrange for you to stay there before our assignment starts," he said.

"And after?" I asked. "Who's going to make sure she stays safe then?"

Once again he was sympathetic. "I'm exploring several options. We won't let them get to her. I promise you that, man to man."

What choice did we have? It was his operation, his timeline, and his responsibility to arrange for security for Jane. That evening, after dinner, we sat outside around the fire pit watching the flames together and I looked at how Thor seemed around Jane Foster and Erik. There was something going on between them. It was obvious by the looks between them. My Jane had already told me about Jane Foster confirming it. As the fire died down, we stood up and said our good nights to the others. Foster and Odinson did the same. Erik put another log on.

"I'm going to stay up for a while," he said, looking at his daughter and Thor. "Let you two get your reunion over and done with."

The couple grinned but didn't contradict him and headed inside the cabin.

Sunday morning was incredibly gorgeous, with the promise of a hot day. After breakfast Thor stopped by, knocking on the door.

"Jane and I are going for a long drive," he said. "There are some scenic views that are pleasant. We'll probably stop for lunch. You're welcome to come with us. Erik is just going to continue working on maintenance."

"I wouldn't mind taking some pictures for those art projects I planned to do," said my Jane. "It's beautiful country and I can work from a picture."

We agreed to meet beside the car in twenty minutes. Thor drove Foster's car while we sat in the back. With a wave to Erik we headed out west towards a place called Fenelon Falls. The Falls themselves were a low man-made affair meant to provide hydroelectric power but when we walked along the river it was still pretty and we took several pictures of it. From there we drove north towards Elliot Falls, passing some locks along the way that connected the various lakes. Many of the locks had been built in the mid to late 1800s as part of a navigation system for industry to get raw materials to ports. It was picturesque and we both took lots of pictures. While we were eating Jane Foster received a phone call and her face dropped, as she turned to Thor.

"We have to go back," she said, her voice beginning to break. "Dad's been shot. He's been airlifted to Toronto."

Quickly paying we ran to the car and sped towards Bobcaygeon with Thor driving. Foster stayed on the phone with Cory Mills learning that they didn't have suspects yet but a couple of unknown men were in town showing pictures of my Jane and myself, asking where we could be found. They presented themselves as RCMP police officers. Eventually, someone must have said they were living in Erik's vacation house. As we got closer to the house we could see the police perimeter set up. When Thor pulled up they weren't going to let him enter at first but when they saw Jane we were allowed to go to the house. Cory was there and he hugged Foster then noted we were okay.

"I'm waiting on printouts from security cameras in town," he said then looked at Erik's daughter. "Do you know the password for your dad's computer? There should be footage from the security cameras he installed on there."

"Yeah, I know it," she said, hurrying into the cabin.

She entered the password and brought up the software for the new security cameras. We all looked as she brought up that day's images. Both Thor and I swore, as one of them was Brock Rumlow, currently assigned to the security detail with the assistant police commissioner of New York City, Alexander Pierce. The other man was unknown to either of us, but they printed off both pictures. Immediately, he got on his phone to call Regina Frigg and gave her the information. Cory also called it in, and an All-Points Bulletin was issued for the province of Ontario. There was also a video file and Foster wanted to play it, but Thor put his hand on hers.

"Let me, Cory, and Buck see it," he insisted. "Please."

The fact he used my real name wasn't lost on her and she stepped aside. She was too close to this, being Erik's daughter. My Jane drew Foster away and they watched us as we watched the video taken by the camera mounted on Erik's cabin. The two men could be seen getting out of their vehicle and stepping up to the house then being challenged by Erik, as it had sound as well. Erik was being thorough when he mounted that video camera. They said they were RCMP serving a warrant.

"Bullshit," he said. "The RCMP would turn that over to the local police department as they don't have jurisdiction here."

The two men looked at each other then came towards Erik. "Where are they?" asked Rumlow. "Barnes and his girlfriend?"

"I don't know who you mean," replied Erik, standing his ground. "There's no Barnes staying here."

"Old man, you don't know who you're dealing with," replied Rumlow. "You have one more chance to tell me where they are."

"Fuck you, now get off my property," said Erik.

That was when the other man shot him. Rumlow was angry and yelled at the man, then noticed the camera and they both ran to their vehicle. Cory froze the image as the front licence plate came into view and he went on his shoulder microphone to provide that information as part of the APB. After an angry breath he looked at all of us.

"Well, I guess your cover is blown. Jane, Chief MacDonald has already offered to provide a helicopter to get you to Toronto. I would suggest Agent Odinson, and your two guests also take advantage of the ride and get on a flight out of here."

"I'll arrange for a private flight from there," said Thor. He looked at Foster. "I'm so sorry. How they tracked them here after all the false trails we laid..."

"I don't blame you," she said. "But if you find leaks you prosecute them, promise?" He nodded. She looked at me. "It's okay. It's like he said, he's still a police officer at heart. He wouldn't give you up."

I took her hands in mine. "I promise, we'll take all of them down, from the assistant police commissioner to the guy who serves them beer. They won't get away with this."

We quickly packed, as did Thor and Jane. A couple of police cruisers took us to an open space where a Peterborough Police Service helicopter arrived shortly after. We all got on and it lifted off. When we arrived in Toronto, we said goodbye to Jane Foster and she let Thor go, even though he wanted to stay, because he had a job to do. After being whisked through U.S. Customs and Border Protection in the Toronto Airport we bordered a private jet and flew directly to the airbase near Quantico. Regina Frigg herself met us with the news that Erik Selvig was in a coma, in critical condition. An APB had been issued in the U.S. on both Rumlow and the shooter, identified as a known mercenary with direct ties to the White Sword militia. The assistant police commissioner, Alexander Pierce, claimed to have no knowledge of Rumlow's activities but was placed on administrative leave, his access to classified files suspended.

We never did get to see the fall colours in Bobcaygeon. But we did find something else in our time there, something wonderful. Jane Peterson and I learned that what we had going between us was the real thing. I planned to make damn sure that no one was going to come between us. Not her ex-husband, not a bunch of misguided militants, and not our own fears. She was it for me and I hoped she felt the same. Being with her was worth it.