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Post by Jane Foster on Jun 27, 2012 17:44:36 GMT -5
Location: Brecon Beacons, Wales
Date: October 2012
Time of Day: 11 pm onward* * *Jane had arrived in Wales the previous day, and had stayed at a hotel to recover from jetlag. It hadn’t worked, of course, and by the time breakfast rolled around the next morning, at what would have been midnight for her internal clock, she was off and running, fueled on coffee and toast.
And then more coffee.
By mid-afternoon she was running on pure caffeine and adrenaline, and the mechanics who were constructing her mobile lab probably thought she was a hot mess. But Jane wasn’t bothered; she was too busy drooling over the specs of the transmission electron microscope that was going to be stationed in the mobile lab. The one thing she could say for SHIELD is that they must have great contacts, because even though she’d never heard of them, as soon as she was officially on their payroll it seemed like she couldn’t lose when she applied for grants. The latest had made this little expedition possible, had put her here in the middle of the Brecon Beacons in Wales to run studies on a trace element she'd detected, and she’d been giddy for weeks at the thought of having so many resources onsite in the lab the grants had paid for.
She set about organising everything, a stack of copper mounting plates ready and waiting for her, her telescope mounted and waiting to be calibrated, her weather monitoring equipment up, running, and transmitting to a data program on her laptop. She called it The Brain, and it was her constant companion these days. Since she’d started travelling, she’d realised the notebook she’d favoured wasn’t going to cut it. She still used it to write notes to herself, and to sketch theories, but The Brain was always there as well.
When her mobile quarters arrived, along with her belongings, she was overly grateful, as it was beginning to be apparent how long she’d gone without sleep. And food! When was the last time she’d eaten?
She told herself she’d at least have a granola bar or something right after she got settled in the camper, to tide her over until she could get into town for a proper meal, but the sight of the tiny bed was so distracting that she laid down, promptly falling asleep against the stiff pillow.
She woke up some time later. The numbers on her laptop blinked 11:47, but she didn’t remember if she’d ever corrected it from New Mexico time. Sitting up with a start, she realised what had woken her: her weather monitoring software had recognised the patterns from the events in New Mexico and had sounded the alarm she’d programmed months ago. Blearily, she jammed her reading glasses onto her face, her pulse spiking when she realised the readings were coming from her own site, not from the computers back home.
The camper door banged open, and her hair immediately whipped into her face in the wind that had struck up as she stared up at the sky. The next minute, she was off and running, notebook in hand. * * *
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Post by Thor Odinson on Jun 29, 2012 23:20:08 GMT -5
Overhead, with a crash of thunder that shook the earth, the sky split open. Through the rift could be seen alien stars, glittering like gems scattered across a nebula of soft-glowing purple. For long minutes it yawned wide, a vast gaping hole ringed with storm clouds.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared, and in the midst of it all an indistinct shape circled overhead, drawing closer to the earth with each pass. The thunder and the lightning seemed to follow the shape as it came, slashing into the earth and lashing trees and lightning rods.
"Ho, Tanngrisnir!" a voice thundered above the cacophany. "Ho, Tanngnjóstr! Ride! Ride for Midgard!"
The shape touched down, cantering and rolling across the lightning-scored grass. Absurdly, it appeared to be two goats - goats the size of clydesdales, true, but goats nonetheless - drawing a wooden cart or chariot. Sparks sizzled and snapped from their hooves.
Thor reigned in his chariot, looking about him. Clearly, it was Midgard. The scent of the air, the tug of the gravity, even the colors of the the vegetation and temporary shelters told him that. And now, if he hadn't veered from Heimdall's directions...
Well, he was dressed properly for that occasion. His reinforced leather vest had been oiled and polished until it gleamed, as had his high leather boots. Meginjord girded his hips, bearing the weight of Mjolnir, and Járngreipr glittered dully on his forearms. A cloak of scarlet was about his shulders, pinned with a gold brooch worked with the Thorn rune.
For all of that, he still couldn't suppress the thunder of his pulse and the flutter of anxiety in his chest. What if she wasn't here? What if he had gone astray. He simply did not relish the thought of tracking down Fury and...
There she was, notebook in hand, staring in... shock? Surprise? You could almost believe she had never seen a Tordenvogn before. The thought made him laugh, once, absently.
And then he was off the chariot, sweeping her into his arms. "Jane!" he cried aloud, unable to contain himself. "Many and bitter have been the hours since last I beheld you, and long have I yearned for this day!"
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Post by Jane Foster on Jun 30, 2012 15:49:23 GMT -5
* * *One hand shielded her eyes from the bright flashes of lightening and the flying grit, the rational part of her brain telling her that perhaps it wasn’t the wisest thing to run out into the middle of an unpredictable atmospheric phenomenon. But the rest of her brain – or perhaps it was her heart speaking over her mind – argued that this could be it. This could be a bridge of the most colourful kind, the kind she had been waiting on for the past half a year.
And then there he was, moving faster than her synapses could relay signals to her brain, pulled along by… were those goats? He looked as foreign as ever, the obtrusive fashion as attractive as it was unbelievable, and she stood there in shock, short fingernails digging into the cover of her notebook as she clutched it like a lifeline.
Her feet didn’t touch the ground. The metal of his armour – chainmail? On closer inspection, not quite – was cool against her hands as she was swept up and held on by instinct, not realising that she was in no danger of falling from his arms. The cadence of his words hit her before the meaning, and she was still paralysed, grinning like an idiot in his embrace. A slender hand, looking smaller in comparison against his bulk, pushed his hair unceremoniously from his face, her eyes searching his.
“It is you,” she breathed. She had thought about the theoretical aspects of his return every day, the physics and the chemistry behind the actual event, but rarely had she allowed herself to think about this part. Now, she was happy to distract herself with the reality of his return for days and days.
And then, as if it were the most important of her discoveries to date:
“I didn’t hit you with my car!”
It was part glee, part self-congratulations, part disbelief. * * *
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Post by Thor Odinson on Jul 2, 2012 14:28:57 GMT -5
A slender hand, looking smaller in comparison against his bulk, pushed his hair unceremoniously from his face, her eyes searching his. “It is you,” she breathed.
"Aye, Jane," he rumbled, leaning his face slightly into her hand. "It is."
He lowered her to the ground again, reluctantly, and brushed his thumb ovr her cheekbone. "Although, I suspect that I could be mistaken for none other on Midgard," he added with a sly grin and a wink.
Thor started to lean forward, face just starting to lower to hers, when a gleeful cry erupted from her. “I didn’t hit you with my car!”
He laughed, a booming sound that challenged the dying fury of the storm generated by the Bifrost. "And little good it would have done if you had, Jane Foster. Your car would be signficiantly the worse for wear!"
He paused, drinking in her features, then hooked one finger under her chin and raised her face slightly. Leaning down, he kissed her. Gently at first, put with increasing passion, until he felt as if he could lose himself in her. Finally he drew back, allowing her to breathe. "And a car is far more than you needed to knock me from my feet," he whispered.
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Post by Jane Foster on Jul 2, 2012 20:27:59 GMT -5
* * *"And little good it would have done if you had, Jane Foster. Your car would be significantly the worse for wear!"
Ah, male ego. One of the most reliable constants of existence that she knew of. Apparently Asgard wasn’t so different after all.
“I seem to remember the van fared just fine last time,” she teased.
The rake of significant stubble against her palm reminded her of exactly what she’d been missing these past long months, and she brooked no argument as he tilted her chin up, claiming her lips. She held onto him as if she could feel the Earth turning in space as they kissed, and when he pulled back to speak, she knew better than to let go, resting against him as she processed his words. Normally, she would have been appalled at a line like that, but her brain was still reeling from that kiss, and she only managed a dazed “uhhh” in response. Fingers threaded through her own loose hair, expecting it to part like water as she pulled it back from her face and instead realising what the wind conditions had done to it. Extricating her digits from its unruly mass, she instead held onto it, her hand a makeshift elastic as the wind continued to die down.
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
It was an understatement, truth be told. He hadn’t been on vacation; she’d spent every day of the past 5 months wondering which would be the day she saw him again, and wondering if she was, in fact, crazy to hope for it. After all, she’d only technically known him for a handful of days. A sudden sense of practicality hit her at the thought.
“Darcy!” The word popped out of her mouth as a lightbulb went off in her head. “Ah, I mean, Darcy’s cabin. She’s not here yet – she said she’s stationed with SHIELD, but the last time she said that, I think she was really holed up in Mexico with some guy named Thom…” She realised she was rambling awkwardly, and blew a stray piece of fringe from her eyes. “What I mean is: you can have Darcy’s cabin. She won’t be here for a few days still.”
Shifting her focus slightly, she found that in the face of what had just happened, she couldn’t make herself process what to do with the goats. After a moment of staring, Jane gave up. They were Asgardian. She trusted they were smart enough to figure it out. * * *
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Post by Thor Odinson on Jul 7, 2012 22:10:47 GMT -5
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
"And I am glad that I was able to return," Thor answered, easing his embrace but not releasing her. "Long we sought a way to repair the Bifrost. And then, when it was ready, I was first called upon to return my brother to Asgard to face justice." He smiled gently. "Believe me when I say that only an alien invasion would have kept me from your side."
“Darcy!”
The thunder god blinked in surprise. That was not the response he had expected.
“Ah, I mean, Darcy’s cabin."
Still he stared at her, not quite certain where this was going.
"She’s not here yet – she said she’s stationed with SHIELD, but the last time she said that, I think she was really holed up in Mexico with some guy named Thom…” She realised she was rambling awkwardly, and blew a stray piece of fringe from her eyes. “What I mean is: you can have Darcy’s cabin. She won’t be here for a few days still.”
"Ah, yes. I see now." He laughed, grinning. "I shall be grateful for her - unknowing - hospitality."
But now, Jane was staring past him, looking uncertain. It took Thor a moment to realize she was staring at his chariot. He laughed again. "Fear not. I shall send them home." A pause. "Unless... if you have not eaten yet, we could slaughter them and dine on mutton. Then, I shall send them home in the morning."
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Post by Jane Foster on Jul 11, 2012 0:35:31 GMT -5
* * *Her eyes went wide, and she laughed shortly.
“Seriously?”
At the look on his face, she promptly bit down on her lip to keep any more giggles from spilling forth; it seemed impolite. Instead, she shook her head “no” rather vehemently.
“No, no, I’m fine. I had some Poptarts…” she looked at her watch, its digital face glowing back at her with a time that couldn’t possibly be local. “…Uh, a while ago.” The edges of her smile quirked as she remembered how he’d decimated Darcy’s stash in New Mexico. “They’re s’mores, if you’re interested.”
Her forehead furrowed as she thought. Maybe the trip from Asgard to Earth was a long one? He didn’t look tired. He’d never looked tired. Still, her manners were beginning to seep through the haze of elation at having him back. Awkwardness quickly trailed, but she supposed that was to be expected; it was the middle of the night, in Wales, in the arms of a Norse god.
Her life was so good.
With another glance at the goats to make sure they didn’t stray too near her telescope, she consulted her watch again, trying to remember the time difference.
“It’s late…” She was drawing a blank. “…ish. I’m happy to make up the trailer for you, if you want.” Stretching on tiptoe, she couldn’t help another quick kiss. Or, it was supposed to be a quick kiss. Before she lost her train of thought, she rocked back down onto her heels. “I can arrange for another trailer tomorrow, it should get here before Darcy does, especially if she’s enjoying Mexico or wherever. That way, you can just stay in that one.”
Actually, that was probably putting the cart before the horse. Er, goats. She turned inquisitive brown eyes up at him.
“Uh, are you staying awhile, d’you think…” * * *
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