Rowing in Eden (Thor, Avengers) 2/10

[ancarett]

Jane woke up to an empty bed bathed in bright sunlight. She sighed in resignation as she rolled herself out from under the comforter and sheets.

The clock on the bedside table told her it was mid-morning. Jane sighed as she made her way to the bathroom. Her obsessive work in the lab had led her to a crazy sleep schedule. Likely, Thor had simply let her sleep in when duty had called.

Once she'd showered, dressed and considered, before dismissing, breakfast, Jane logged into the terminal to check on her ongoing data collection and catch up on her communications. While Jane was still plowing through her research information, a video chat request popped up onscreen. She fired up the program and opened the communication from another power-user of SHIELD's research network: Bruce.

Jane smiled as she waited for the software to load: although her studies and Bruce Banner's interests weren't even slightly related, they still shared the common language of academic physics in a way that not even Tony was fluent. The familiar, lean face of the Avengers' powerhouse's alter ego appeared on screen. "Bruce, you're back from Dinosaur Island!" she said cheerily.

He nodded wearily. "I don't much recommend it for a vacation site. I was just checking to see how you're doing."

Jane looked around herself in confusion, wondering if she was looking really worn out from her night-owl schedule in the lab. "How I'm doing? My research's chugging along. A bit frustrating, but fine."

Bruce's brow knit slightly as he leaned closer to the computer screen. "No, I mean you. What with Thor and all."

Jane sucked in her breath, feeling the emptiness of the apartment as not mere brief absence but something more ominous. "Are you saying?"

Bruce ducked his head until his forehead touched his fingers, as if in hopes of draining away his frustration. "I'm sorry, Jane. I thought he told you."

Jane blinked back tears, feeling her heartbeat thundering through her body as her adrenaline levels spiked. With her hands planted heavily on the desk to either side of her keyboard, she managed to choke out a fatalistic question. "Told me what?"

Bruce raised his eyes to meet her sorrowful gaze. "Thor left Avengers HQ this morning and didn't tell any of us where he was going until it was too late. We got word from New Mexico that he showed up at the site, called out to Heimdall and disappeared into the wormhole. He's gone."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Foster," Agent Coulson repeated, as he sat down across the table from Jane, minutely adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt. That small motion was the closest to a fidget the cool-headed operative had betrayed in all the months Jane had known him: she understood it as a sign that he was as thrown by Thor's unpredictable action as anyone. "We had no idea what he was doing until it was too late."

The bright New Mexico sunlight penetrated the wide windows of the SHIELD observation post overlooking the Bifrost site where Thor had first landed and which had, for a period, been restored by the diligence of the SHIELD team that had worked with Jane, Darcy and Erik to rebuild the link from earth after Thor had destroyed the bridge.

Jane stared blankly out the window at the quiet desert landscape. Puente Antiguo had been her home for almost two years and the pale golds of the vista should have been comforting. Instead, the quiet scene left her feeling empty. "He just called out to Heimdall, you say, and was gone?"

Coulson nodded. "When he showed up here, we didn't think anything about it. He stopped by the facility, spoke to a few of the staff members, then out to the site and was gone before anyone could intervene."

Jane forcefully brought her attention back to the quiet SHIELD operative in the room with her. "Did he say anything to the people here?"

"Nothing outside of the ordinary," he answered, a hint of sympathy softening the stern, quiet tones of his voice.

Jane blindly rose from the table. "I need some fresh air."

"Of course," Agent Coulson said, "We'll have the jet ready to take you back to New York and we'll keep you posted."

Jane opened and closed her mouth without being able to formulate any reply. Her instincts shouted for her to stay in New Mexico but the truth was that they didn't know when or if Thor would return, although she refused to entertain the latter idea. And until she could come up with a workable theory to test for, her plans of a road trip weren't any help, either.

"Right," Jane finally managed, heading for the exit and refusing to look back, knowing that she'd see a sort of pity in the quiet man's eye.

The lightning flares that accompanied his landing in the rebuilt Observatory hadn't stilled before Heimdall was stepping aside to let an impatient prince of Asgard make his way back to the city. When Thor found his father, standing quietly on one of the balconies just off of the feasting hall of Asgard, he was greeted before he could say a word.

"My son, I trust I find you well?" Odin turned slowly to face his son. The two Asgardians regarded each other levelly. Thor's throat worked, once, twice, against words he swallowed down. The prince still struggled with the art of self-control but his father proudly noted that his tall, blond son could master himself if given the opportunity.

"Yes, father, I am well," Thor finally managed. He stepped forward onto the balcony so that he could lean against the sturdy railing and look out over the vistas of the realm, still, in part, rebuilding from the catastrophes of the Bifrost backlash. These were scars in the city that Thor keenly felt because he had inflicted them and even though many of them had been rectified by his own hand, still much remained to be done.

"You, father?" Thor asked, as he regarded the unearthly vista before him. "All is not well with you, I assume."

Odin joined him with forearms braced against the broad balcony rail. His one eye followed Thor's quick-moving gaze across the quiet cityscape. "Why?" Odin asked.

Thor faced his father directly. "In the storm you brought down upon Midgard, I heard your call. You summoned me home to Asgard. I can only assume you needed me. Must you lie in the Odinsleep again?"

Odin smiled without shifting his gaze from the buildings of Asgard. "You think like a king: strategically. But, no, I am not yet in need of the Odinsleep. Asgard rebuilds apace but all contribute to the task, especially your brother-"

Thor moved sharply at the last and Odin turned slowly to regard the younger man who glowered but held his tongue.

"As I was saying, especially your brother, under the terms of our agreement for his return. No, I called you here because of the problems with the Bifrost." The king of Asgard flexed his hands carefully on the railings of his balcony, then turned to walk back into the great hall. Thor quietly followed as Odin led the way to a great fire blazing in a grand hearth, somewhat isolated from the crowds gathering in preparation for the evening's feast.

Thor waited until they had greeted and passed all of the Asgardians. "What problems?" he asked in a carefully measured voice, once they stood on the flagstones.

Odin sighed. "Sif came to me upon her return from Midgard. She explained how far afield she had landed. She also said that this was a problem with the Bifrost more serious than you had suggested in the past. Heimdall confirmed her words. The connection with Midgard is in jeopardy."

The king steeled his shoulders. Appearing all affability outwardly, he nevertheless radiated firm decision and command. "Such an instability is dangerous, Thor, you know it. Very likely, the repairs made to the Bifrost were inadequate and the link between the realms is faltering. We must stop all travel to this realm of the humans until the problem can be studied and stabilized."

Thor shifted impatiently, running one hand along the polished stonework surrounding the great fireplace while the other rested on Mjolnir's haft. "Fine! I will return to Midgard after I have assisted further with the rebuilding here. You can have the seers and crafters working on the Bifrost. It might even been resolved before I leave!"

Odin rested one hand on Thor's shoulder. "My son, you do not understand. I would not have you travel to Midgard while the Bifrost's link there is so uncertain. You must remain here until we can be assured that Yggdrasil is truly restored in all her parts. This problem could spread and affect all the realms if we are not careful!"

Thor spun on his heel. "Father," he protested, "I cannot. I have made commitments, promises, to the people of Midgard. There are dangers there, many that we unleashed when the links between the realms were reforged during the time of my banishment and as a result of my brother's intervention. I owe it to them and to my honour to return."

Odin had let his hand drop when Thor turned to confront him. With perfect composure, the one-eyed king folded his hands before him and matched his son's impassioned regard with studied calm. "And so you shall, in good time. But you are my heir and Asgard is your primary responsibility. We cannot risk you being lost between the realms should something go awry. You have not your brother's way with magic, after all."

"Father!" Thor exclaimed angrily but before a conflict could begin, Frigga was there, to lay one hand on her husband's arm and the other on her son's chest. Her intervention diminished, if not dissipated, the tension between the two.

"My son, it is good to have you back in Asgard again," Frigga said, stepping forward to leave a gentle, cool kiss on Thor's jawline before stepping back to slip her hand into the crook of Odin's elbow.

"Mother," Thor replied with a genuine, relaxed smile directed at the elegant queen. She extended her free hand for his chaste salute, then turned to regard her husband. "It is time for us to greet our people, my husband."

"So it is," Odin agreed. Father and son parted ways, Frigga's intervention preserving the fragile peace.

With the sounds of the gathering crowds echoing in his ears, Thor turned to join his friends already waiting by one of the great tables in the dining hall. "Volstagg feared the food would all be gone if we weren't here first," Fandral loudly proclaimed, then had to duck as the other Asgardian tried to clout him for his impudence.

Hogun sighed wearily as he sidestepped his friends' slapstick scuffle to grab a tankard. Thor joined him several steps back from the table which appeared in imminent danger from Fandral and Volstagg's mock scuffle until Sif strolled by and loudly cleared her throat. Fandral disengaged, all chivalric attention while Volstagg turned to the table already groaning with food. He picked up a joint of meat and bit in happily before stepping over to wave it at Thor, "Fighting's hungry work, you know!"

It was Thor's turn to sigh at Volstagg's antics. As Sif deftly rebuffed Fandral's advances, the blond dandy soon joined his friends to the one side of the feasting hall, watching the rest of Asgard's many residents and visitors who were enjoying royal hospitality. "One day that'll be you," Fandral warned with a casual wave to where Odin and Frigga were engaging the visitors from Alfheim.

Thor nodded glumly and his friends regarded each other with some concern. Fandral tilted his head significantly at Hogun's tankard and the silent warrior slipped away from their small group. Volstagg gnawed the last of the meat off of the joint and swallowed it quickly.

"So, Thor, how have the folk of Midgard treated you?" Volstagg winced when Fandral backhanded him for asking precisely the wrong question.

"Never mind our fat friend," Fandral interjected, "I want to know if you'll go hunting with us tomorrow!"

Thor lifted his gaze from his clasped hands to soberly consider his friend's request. "Forgive me," he said, "I had not thought on staying here past the feast or, in any case, long enough to join you hunting."

Volstagg and Fandral shared surprised looks. "But Heimdall has already been ordered to close down the access to Midgard and let no one travel to there until the problems," Fandral waved his hands expressively and expansively, "have been addressed."

It was a sign of their boon companion's recent maturation that Thor's only response to what was clearly unexpected and undesirable news was a wordless clenching and unclenching of his fists and a dark look directed at his father. Hogun's silent return with a tankard of mead for the prince was a welcome distraction.

Jane found comfort in neither the lab nor their apartment when she was back in New York. Ignoring concerned messages and rebuffing chat requests, she paused only long enough to snag a warmer jacket and made her way out into the city streets. It was evening rush hour in Manhattan and nearby Times Square was buzzing with shoppers, tourists and show-goers. Jane shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her tan jacket and concentrated only on navigating the hustle and bustle of the crowds.

When she came out of her funk, Jane was on a slightly quieter street and, spotting a couple exiting a bar, ducked in there herself. Pausing to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Jane clambered onto a stool.

"Whaddall ya have?" asked the grim-faced, flinty-looking bartender, barely lifting his eyes from the till where he was sorting out the change.

"Um, how about a boilermaker?" Jane responded uncertainly.

That got the burly man's attention. "You sure? You don't look like the kind o' gal who drinks boilermakers."

Jane laughed involuntarily, settling onto the stool with a wiggle. "I guess not, but it's my boyfriend's drink and I'm kind of missing him."

The grey-haired bartender nodded with sudden understanding. "We get that with the deployments. This place is as busy after Fleet Week as durin', only it's the girlfriends and boyfriends. Your guy off to Iraq?"

As she took the stein and shot glass, Jane sighed. "Even farther away," she answered.

"That's too bad," the barkeep commiserated. "Just watch it. These things pack a wallop and you don't look like you can take too many."

Jane ruefully shook her head as she poured the shot into the beer. She'd fled the Avengers' building in hopes of losing herself in the soulless city only to remind herself that it really wasn't. New York might still be more noise and light pollution than she appreciated, but the people were just as kind as her friends in Culver City or away in Puente Antiguo.

She took a swig of the boilermaker and frowned in distaste. It was a mystery to her what Erik and Thor had found so appealing about the mix of beer and hard liquor, but it was, right now, the only link she could feel with the man she loved. Bravely lifting the mug to her lips, she swallowed another mouthful, then placed the glass back on the stained bar top. With a free finger, Jane traced a complicated pattern in the condensation collecting around the cold glass.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Jane sighed. It hadn't taken long for one of the team to find her. "Hey there, Clint," she said, looking up to see the dark-haired man grab the stool beside her, point to her glass and slide some money across the bar.

The sceptical bartender drew his beer, poured the whiskey shot and slid the glasses over to Clint's perch. "You're not her boyfriend," the suddenly protective stranger announced, then shot a glance at Jane. "You know this guy?"

Jane smiled lightly at Hawkeye's assumed look of chastised alarm. "Yeah, he's a friend of ours. I expect he's come to make sure I don't drink myself under the table."

"Kind of hard to do when you're not sitting at one," Clint pointed out drily. "But it does make my job easier."

"Sure does," the barkeep agreed. "How's about some food for the little lady? I don't think she's gonna be able to walk out of here after that if she's on an empty stomach."

Jane stared indignantly at the two men, suddenly deciding matters for her. "Excuse me! Don't I have a say?"

"Not when it comes between my stomach and dinner," Clint answered. "I come here for lunch sometimes. Grub's pretty good."

"Ah, you're one of Michael's regulars, are you?" The bartender leaned one elbow on the scarred wooden bar surface and fished a couple of laminated menus from underneath. "Lemme know what you want and I'll get the cook on it. But, word to the wise?, the salads are all crap."

With that, he was off to draw a couple of more beers for one of the waitresses. Clint shoved a menu over to Jane. "I always get the roast beef sandwich. Don't know what you'll want but he's right, you should eat something."

"I thought Steve was the mother hen," Jane commented as she reluctantly accepted the menu. Clint just angled one eyebrow ironically and sipped his beer, turning to watch the rugby highlights on the nearby flatscreen.

Jane scanned the offerings. Nothing looked particularly appealing but she realized she'd eaten nothing since getting the news about Thor's disappearance, so she ended up ordering the same as Clint. They spoke only occasionally and of nothing much - traffic, the weather, the latest sports scandal - while they waited for the food. Then when the heavy china plates, loaded with thick sandwiches and fries, were laid before them, they dropped all pretense at conversation.

Clint finished his beer and the whiskey chaser. He ordered another beer for him and a water for Jane who demurred with a renewed flare of annoyance. "Okay," her companion conceded with an aggravated roll of his eyes, "make it two."

He turned to face Jane directly, slouching against the bar. "Don't blame me if you wake up with a hangover. More importantly, don't let your assistant blame me, either. She's scary."

Jane chuckled and agreed. "Lucky for you, Darcy's still off at school. But thanks for not being a pain about this."

Clint regarded her steadily. "I've had worse work and, really, you're almost family."

Their beers were served up and he took a long swig of his. Jane made a face as she tried to do the same and settled for a small sip.

"What's important," Clint said, out of nowhere, "is not to give up hope." His gaze never moved from the glass before him. After a long, wordless contemplation, he lifted it to his lips and finished it off.

Jane shot a glance over to her taciturn companion who put the mug back down on the bar and seemed to be looking into some impossible distance ahead of them. "I'm not," she said. "I'm not giving up hope."

"That's good," Hawkeye observed, "because you gotta know a guy like that won't give up." The smile that followed that pronouncement was startlingly brilliant.

Jane couldn't help smiling in return. Clint's comments reminded her of how hard it had been the first time she'd thought she'd lost Thor. She'd thrown herself into her work to cope with the uncertainty and to give her purpose. But, truth be told, it was also what she was here to do. The others might fight their wars in unearthly combat. Jane Foster fought with her brain and her hands-on fieldwork.

"You're right about that," she said grimly. "Thor doesn't give up and I don't give up either."

Jane tapped Clint's glass with her own, still half-full. "Time to wrap it up. Looks like I've got to fix that damned bridge again."

Clint grinned as he followed Jane's orders. "Yes, ma'am." Slapping some money on the bar, he sketched a salute to the bartender and scrambled to join Jane, already halfway out the door.

Chapter Three

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