Alright, so, I've been trying to build more character into Jane. As far as the MCU is concerned, I believe that she's tragically underdeveloped. Also, you should note that, in my Universe, the Battle of New York didn't happen. Somehow, behind the scenes, conveniently, there was some Deus ex machina going on, and Thor rescued Loki from Thanos, Loki mayor may not have wanted to be saved initially, but the power of Thor's love (is a curious thing) is a force to be reckoned with, etc., etc., there are still issues with Odin. Maybe I'll explore it in-depth later.

Chapter Five. Sound of Discontent. [March 2012 CE]

"A weed is but an unloved flower."

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Jane stared at the piece of paper in front of her, grinding her molars together and fighting the urge to crumple Director Fury's "directive" down Agent Ganza's stupid secret agent throat.

"You can't be serious. There's no way they expect me to waste my time on this."

Bruce shot her a look from across the lab.

She recognized that she was nowhere near the most vital member of the team. It was difficult to have illusions of grandeur when you were bunking in Stark Tower with scores of highly trained agents, a handful of Asgardians, and a Hulk. She was developing a sneaking suspicion, however, that her decision to join the team had been less her decision and more of a way for Fury to make sure that Thor had no reason to fly off when he may be needed here. After her long conversation with Darcy, she found that she couldn't be upset with the sentiment, but the least that they could do was give her something to work on that justified those student loans she still had to pay back.

"There's no reason. An intern could do this work. Any intern." She flexed her hand, and the offending document crumpled under the pressure.

Agent Ganza, however, was unaffected by Jane's ire.

"I'm not going to work on this." She tossed the crumpled wad at Ganza's head; it fell short and bounced off of his shoe. She could have sworn the corner of his mouth wavered for a moment.

"That's none of my concern, Doctor Foster.. My job was to pass these along. You'll have to take your concerns up with the Director."

She glared at the agent's back as he walked away, and she was vaguely disappointed when nothing jumped into his way for him to trip over. Bruce's boots thumped conspicuously against the tile as he made his way over to her desk. She glared down at her desk.

"This is ridiculous, Bruce. I'm worth more to this effort than this," she waved her hand ineffectually around in front of her, "absolute garbage."

"I'm sure that Fury didn't intend it as an insult."

Jane sank down into her chair, leaned her elbow on the armrest, giving an incredulous humph, and put her face in her hand.

"I'm sure it wasn't intended that way," she said through her fingers, her voice muffled. "But he damn sure succeeded."

A large hand patted her shoulder awkwardly, and she took a deep breath, reigning in her emotions.

"I'll be alright," she muttered after counting to ten (five times). "I've just been a little irritable lately."

"It's just the cabin fever setting in. Everyone's a bit on edge right now."

"Are you?" She turned her head slightly and studied him from the corner of her eye. He had the same wary, edgy look that she was sure others saw on her own face.

"A little." He chuckled darkly. "The Other Guy could certainly use some action."

"They've cut power to New York City."

"No, Director, they've cut power to all major cities."

"Where do you need the most assistance? I can have an Avenger there in a few hours."

"We do not need your help for damage control."

"Then I'm afraid I fail to see the point in my attending this meeting in the first place."

"Expect a military movement in New York. Do not interfere."

"You're going to mount an attack on alien crafts we still know nothing about."

"We must go on the offensive. This has drug on for too long. We must end this swiftly."

"We have no idea what we're up against. Earth's militaries can only withstand so much. I've spoken again with the Asgardians-"

"We do not care for the opinions of your alien 'royalty.' They may have been gods in antiquity, but we are no longer a primitive people in need of their guidance."

"They have more experience with these scenarios. We are new players on this field. We would be wise to heed their counsel and exercise caution."

"We do not suggest sending basic military teams. Our most skilled units will attack in tandem on all ships."

"That's bound to fail! They will die! We have no idea-"

"We will learn. Casualties are the unfortunate price of war."

Even Jane understood that the plan was doomed. The alien ships had been hovering above Earth for months now; the people of Earth still knew nothing of their invaders - their identities or their firepower. Her first inclination was to hide in her rooms while the fighting was going on, but Natasha was nothing if not a good teacher, and Jane's newly developing "warrior side" was itching to survey the damage and learn what she might end up pitted against. Good scientists know that adaptability is crucial for a species' survival.

So she found herself once again on the roof of Stark Tower, the one building in New York that still had power thanks to Tony's brilliant work, staring up at the alien ships, trying to find that fatal flaw that would help ensure the survival of her planet. Fitting for the somber mood of the day, she could see storm clouds moving in, dark and angry, full of rain that might turn into an icy slush. The only things that Jane could hope was that the aliens were as vulnerable to it as humans were, if they ever came out of those damnable ships.

"I'm sure it must be terribly vexing for you, knowing that this could mark the end of your kind."

She scowled. (Of course, he would pick now to instigate her.) She'd barely heard or seen Loki in the last few weeks. They'd only spoken twice in the time since his arrival, and the first time, when she'd smacked him soundly across the mouth "for New York," most likely didn't count.

"This doesn't 'mark the end of my kind,'" she said, turning so that she could see him in her periphery. Even the rebuttal tasted sour in her mouth, as though they knew themselves to be not quite truths.

Loki chuckled. "Now, now. You should know better than to lie to me. Your Eric Selvig must have told you something of me, Jane Foster, even in Thor would not."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Why would Eric tell me anything about you?"

Loki tsk'd at her. "Is he not your resident scholar on Norse myth?"

"Oh."

"Have you taken the time to consult Selvig about Midgard's latest Asgandian visitors?"

She scoffed. "I've had more important things to worry about than stroking Asgardian egos."

"I believe you may be mistaken."

When she looked back over her shoulder to shoot him a disbelieving look, his slight grin split open. For a moment Jane thought she was in front of the crazed Loki that she'd heard about: the Loki who followed Thor into every battle without fail; who relished the heat of battle; who basked in the nuances of war beside his fair haired older brother, taking glee from doling out the All-Father's "justice."

"Oh, my dear Doctor Foster," he tutted, his expression adjusting to show what could have passed for sympathy on anyone else's face. His eyes, however, sparked with delight. "It is such a good thing we are alone, you and I; I imagine it would be unfortunate were anyone to realize that you are without any sense of self preservation."

"I think the fact that we're all here says plenty about my dedication to the preservation of life."

"To the detriment of your own, perhaps?" He made a sound in the back of his throat - something not quite a scoff, not quite a chuckle.

Sure, something might happen to her. But if she could help keep humanity at large alive, that was more important than one person. Perhaps it had less to do with morality and more to do with the survival of the species.

She worried at her bottom lip and stared at him. It was so easy to forget the vast differences in life expectancy. It was easy to overlook the aged warriors' eyes and focus solely on the youthful, stupidly good-looking appearances. How could you possibly describe a biological imperative to people who were theoretically immortal?

"I am called the God of Mischief and Lies."

She blinked and shook her head, cheeks flushing as she realized she'd been staring silently at him. Like a creep. She cursed to herself.

"Oh. Yeah. I knew that much. I didn't want to assume, though..."

"Most of your manuscripts are wrong, of course, but it seems the basics were not lost."

"So, is the same true of the other myths around the world?"

He stared down at her for a moment, as though he was expecting she'd say something else.

"Actually,-"

The sound of a fighter jet ripped through the air. She tore her eyes away to watch it rip across the sky, swiftly followed by four others. Her hands bunched in fists as they flew in formation up to and around the much larger alien vessel, obviously looking for the same weaknesses she'd been searching for. They seemed to regroup some ways away from the ship, before heading directly back. The jets each fired a missile several seconds before they all made an abrupt turn to avoid the blast radius. Jane's jaw dropped as the missiles hit what appeared to be thin air several feet away from the ship. Second later, the ship turned in the direction of the jets and a panel on the hull shifted to reveal a dark, empty space.

Energy cracked through the air, and she wasn't certain if it was from the ship or the incoming storm until the first hit struck home. Her hands balled up into fists and covered her mouth. As the sound of the second strike cracked through the air, she closed her eyes and turned away. The face full of leather was a surprise, but a more welcome surprise than it may have otherwise been. After a moment's pause, his arms wrapped around her frame smoothly, and she allowed herself to bury her face in the leather, taking the small measure of comfort in the knowledge that there was someone who could (though most likely wouldn't) protect her from this.

"It is not so bad, Jane Foster," she heard above her, followed by the distinct sound of another blast of energy. She struggled to block out the sound of the explosions and pay attention to what it was he was saying.

"They fight with honor and will be well received in Valhalla."

She felt a rumble run through his chest, something like a hum. She focused on it as the last two strikes hit in quick succession.

"We should all hope to be so lucky."

There were no more strikes against the ship that day. Jane heard whip-cracks in the background and felt worn leather in her hands until she fell asleep.

So, I hope that you guys see what I'm doing with Jane and Loki, and you don't think I'm going to be rushing into things too quickly for it to be natural. I have a plan. It's subject to being altered, but it's a plan. The big thing here, though, is that I think Jane is more naive than anything - not "holier-than-thou." I have a really hard time finding someone that intelligent unwilling to even comprehend a darker side to people and yet coexist in the same space as Tony Stark. Unlikely and unrealistic. Oh, and the timeline puts us around the time that the Battle of New York happens in canon.

I know it's slow going. Once it picks up, though, it'll probably move pretty quickly. This is a war, people.