Author's Note: I dislike Jane Foster. A lot. I think Thor made the wrong decision to be with Jane at the end of Thor: The Dark World. And since I love modern AUs, I decided to make myself happy by writing this piece. Inspired by Taylor Swift's 'All Too Well', and if you squint you can see an echo of 'Begin Again' somewhere towards the end.

Disclaimer: None of the characters of Thor belong to me. If they did, well. Sif and Thor would be happily married. Or at least, together.

Remembering. It's all Sif's been doing these few days. It's been nearly a week but the memories aren't abating their furious assault on her tired mind. If anything, they seem to be battering all the more relentlessly at the already shattered pieces of what remained of her heart.

She remembered how it was numbingly cold the day he brought her to meet his family. Not that she didn't already know them; the two of them did grow up together, after all. But it was the first time she'd be meeting them as his lover. She smiled a bit; he always hated the word "girlfriend", said it degraded her significance to him, made her seem like someone he could live without. She had rolled her eyes then and sniped playfully at him.

"I suppose you sprout that line to every woman that you date."

His eyes, frosty blue in the cold mist of the day, twinkled as he dropped a kiss onto her tousled dark hair. She snuggled halfway into his jacket, her slim form molding perfectly against him. It was like thunder rumbling, as he spoke to her in that quietly dignified voice of his.

"You're the only woman worthy of my devotion, Sif."

She remembered how she felt like a giddy school girl then, thrilled by this declaration of his that was as good as saying "I love you", with Thor.

She shivered in the cold of the air. Funny, she used to hate the chill of the cold, but then learned to love it, because the cold wind meant that she could cuddle closer to him, and that his strong arm would wrap around her, pulling her in close to his now cold days meant shivering in her jacket and huddling by the fire at home, alone. It meant burrowing beneath the covers and remembering a time when a pair of warm arms encircled her and warm breath blew on the base of her neck. Black leather gloves found their way onto her numbing fingers; all the more reason to hate the cold.

Her day had been ruined even before it had begun, with her waking up to an inconspicuous package sitting on her doorstep, not even a note giving her an inkling of what it could be. Tearing the brown paper apart, her heart dropped when she caught sight of the familiar black material of the jacket she left at his home. He mailed back her things, every little bit that was previously hers. She could still see the jacket draped carelessly over the couch, with his leather jacket next to it. They never bothered with a coat rack; neither thought it particularly important that their coats be hung properly.

It was tempting to think about whether his new love has already started redecorating his apartment, and for a minute Sif lets her mind torture her for a second more. She snorted; Jane was probably in the process of colour-coordinating every item of clothing and shoes, destroying the slight mess so prevalent in his home. She probably even got him to buy a bloody coat rack.

She felt a sharp sting straight to the core of her heart. Thor would never have let her change him so; hell, getting him to change his mind about what they would be having for dinner was already a Sisyphean task and she'd be proud to even get him to change out of his tattered jeans. Her fist had found its way to the cold stone walls of her home and curses spewed from her lips as she damned the mousy woman who had such sway over the man she loved, and damned herself for loving him so.

She nearly faltered when she saw the promise ring he gave to her, slipped in so carelessly at the bottom of the box, as if it was just another piece of meaningless trinket that once adorned someone's hand. They had exchanged the rings after dating for two years and he'd sworn he'd wear the ring forever even as he pulled her in for a kiss. It was stupid of her to think that they'd be eternal and Sif ranted and raved at her guile for believing his pretty words of faith and love. She always thought they would get married one day and have a family and they'd love each other till their hair turned white and eyes grew grey and dim with age.

Spent, she left everything scattered in the doorway of her house. It wasn't as if anyone would come by anyway, especially not him. A lonely giggle escaped from her and she thought she sounded a little hysterical. She supposed she was entitled to that bit of insanity, seeing as how the man who just a week ago told her he loved her couldn't even be bothered to send her things back to her when he lived just down the bloody street. She giggled once more, pushing her usually neat hair away from her face. He was probably too preoccupied in proclaiming his love for Jane, as it was.

When one first met Thor, the word "sweet" really is never the first word to come to mind. Intimidating, certainly, and handsome, electrifying. But not sweet. In fact, the tall, muscular blonde would be quite mortified if someone called him sweet save for Sif. Because he was sweet to her; she could see flashes of them out of the corner of her eyes as she trudged through the piles of snow covering the streets like some winter wonderland that's supposed to be romantic. The times he shrugged off his heavy jacket and placed it over her shoulders, the times he grinned like a schoolboy and kissed her cheek fondly just because, the times he took her out to that secret glade only the two of them knew about, where they danced underneath the stars. Tripping over some hardened chunk of snow, she cursed at nature and the silly tears blurring her vision. He would probably bring Jane out there, and it wouldn't ever be that sacred place she loved. Wiping angrily at her eyes, she thought she wouldn't ever go back there again, alone and surrounded by memories of them happy and together.

The loud blare of a car's horn gave her a much needed reprieve from the taunting of her mind, and she smiled ruefully at the young couple laughing as they sped by. She yearned to be as happy as that young girl again, and mused over the fact that she seemed so old all of a sudden. Being in love and having your heart broken would do that to a person.

"Thor, slow down!" Laughter. Loud singing. The slight tugging of their consciousness by the alcohol they consumed as he yelled declarations of loving her to the sleeping world. "Red light, you oaf! You just ran a red light!" More laughter and kisses sneaked in between and she tasted of rum and cherries and he couldn't get enough of her.

It was weeks before they met again, after the break. They were at a party for Fandral's sister and the lights are dim and the music is loud. She was sitting in the corner of the room, dark hair curled behind her as usual. She wanted to wear red but holding that red silk dress in her hands, she remembered how he loved seeing her in that vibrant colour. The dress fell to the floor, crumpled even as she chose somber black and grey. Colours for mourning, he once said in distaste. She had no need of pleasing him anymore; that choice, privilege even, was no longer hers to claim.

She could have sworn the air turned to ice as he walked uncertainly to her. This wasn't how she wanted to meet with him for the first time since their breakup. Starting to stand on shaky legs, she managed to take one step in her futile attempt to escape before his large hand caught her arm gently. Her dark hair curtaining her face, she tugged furiously at his grasp but the stubborn man refused to let her go. Sif stopped struggling, and the two just stood there, frozen in their movements.

Thor never wanted to see her so broken, so unlike the fiery lioness he knew her to be. Then again, he only had himself to blame. He loved Sif, truly he did, but Jane Foster called to him as a Siren does a foolish sailor. And he supposed he was foolish to let go of such a brave and beautiful woman who shined like a star just for him, and burnt out fast for him as well. But words are words and they can either be powerful enough to make or break a person, or they can be utterly useless no matter how many times you say them over and over again.

She let out something akin to a whimper and the large part of his heart that still loved her cracked all the more but she turned away from him even as his hand moved to cup her face, just like old times. She pulled again, and this time he let her go, her name a quiet breath of regret on his wind chapped lips. He loved, and perhaps always will love Sif, and she will always be the one constant forever waiting for his love, and they could have had paradise together if it weren't for him.

Night swooped in and it's past midnight but sleep still won't come to her. She tried to convince herself that it's the cold that's causing her insomnia but her mind begged to differ, supplying her with images of her sleeping in one of his faded plaid shirts that she stole from him even before they started dating. The warm apparel, mixed with his musky scent often lulled her to sleep even on the coldest of nights, and her body remembered how it felt to have his warmth cocooned against her, pulling her close to him and enveloping within the safety of his arms. The sighing wind became his hot breath whispering in her ear, telling her how much he loved her as he made love to her and she clung to him and found her home with him. The empty spot next to her was a cold greeting to her sleepless night, and she wearily went about her day, thinking she needed to find a way for her to fall asleep without his presence.

It is a few months before they meet, albeit briefly, for the second time and the emptiness is still apparent in the way she moves and talks and stares emptily over her daily cup of coffee. Her friends worry but she shrugs their concern off with the usual "I'll be fine". She doesn't know who she's trying to convince. He's walking down the street with his new love when they catch sight of each other, and she only has enough strength to offer him a distant smile and he thinks she looks so fragile and just not Sif. Jane sees how he stares at her from afar and comments quietly, as a scientist would make a simple observation, of how his gaze is wistful and full of yearning. He reluctantly looks away and wraps an arm around Jane as they continue down the street because she's his world and present now, and Sif is his past. Somehow the thought doesn't make him feel lightheaded and whatever you're supposed to feel when you're in love.

It's a year before Sif feels like she's finally found herself again, and she's smiling more and going out for drinks and telling Fandral he's a lousy flirt. She still has a hooded look in her eyes, and she doesn't give any other man that's approached her a second glance, but she likes to think that she's finally healing and she's not scattered on the ground like crumpled pieces of paper. She doesn't jump like a startled animal whenever his name is brought up in their mutual circle of friends and she's fine with laughing off any concerns her girlfriends have for her whenever they see each other. She does still feel some pain when she sees him with his arm over Jane's shoulder and holding her tight and close, dropping kisses on her head and staring at her so adoringly, but it's numbed and feels more distant, and Sif can pretend that the pain doesn't belong to her.

He's pleasantly surprised when he sees her flash a brilliant smile at him across the bar, even raising a hand in friendly greeting. He realizes how much he's missed the way she tosses her mane of hair behind her when she laughs whole-heartedly, or the way she dances like a muse with her lithe limbs and graceful movements. If he's honest with himself, he'll admit that he doesn't love her any less even after getting together with Jane, and he thinks he could fall in love with her hazel eyes over and over again. He sees her being dragged reluctantly to the dance floor by an enthusiastic Vosltagg, and his feet try to maneuver him to where she sways to the music but the slightly cold hand resting next to his stops him, and he just knocks back the remainder of his drink and smiles at Jane. If his smile looks somewhat hapless and forced Jane doesn't comment on it; she's never commented on anything related to how he reacts to Sif as if they don't concern her.

They see each other sporadically throughout the months, and he still sends her little gifts for her birthday to which she sends neat little notes thanking him. It's 2 years before he calls her up one day, asking to meet her at the café they used to love and she would never admit to anyone that she checked the mirror again and again to make sure she doesn't look too goofy in her outfit, or that her hair doesn't look like she just went to the salon after receiving his call. Sif doesn't know what she expected, meeting Thor on a Wednesday out of the blue, but she knows she definitely didn't expect his normally loud voice quietly telling her he and Jane have broken up.

She doesn't ask him why, nor does she tell him she's sorry. She just holds his large hand in hers and gives him a small smile; she's not all that sure why he's telling her the latest development in his relationship with the scientist but at that very moment, when he's looking at her like she's the most precious thing in the world (or at least, his world), it doesn't really matter if they've not been a couple for 3 years now. Her love for him hasn't diminished one bit, and as he makes her laugh like he used to, she thinks maybe his love for her isn't as lost as she once thought.

Thor chuckles when thunder rumbles in the skies and rain starts to fall on a day when it was supposed to be a fine day, and Sif shoots a playful glare at him. They've had this inside joke that he really is the Norse God of Thunder, and she his faithful consort and comrade in arms. He looks at her bright eyes and marvels unabashedly at her unending beauty and falls in love all over again. He smiles when he raises her slightly calloused hand to his lips and she blushes prettily and promptly smacks his muscled arm lightly, calling him a flirt and his laughter booms throughout the café as they begin to talk as before, and perhaps back to being as they were.

Whenever people they aren't that acquainted with who like to think of themselves as their friends ask Sif if she's not concerned Thor would hurt her again, she would laugh and brush them off, because they didn't understand. Their love is ageless; it isn't the fleeting, fiery passion Thor felt for Jane or for Lorelai, nor is it the dramatic tales that tell of triumphant love over the ages. It's quiet and a steadily growing fire that loses neither its spark nor brilliance, and it is in the gentle breeze that carries the secrets of the world that their love is made known, and blessed by the ancient entities that perhaps, still look down from their gleaming fortresses and cities high in the sky at the fleeting lives of mortals, and smile at the one constant spark of love that has remained throughout.