Rolling Thunder

This was just written as a brief one-shot that I could publish before college overwhelmed me. I've had the idea for a few weeks, and it was a nice breaking point between writing the massive Hawk/Widow one-shot. It's also part of my on-going project to write in as many fandoms as possible.

Anyways. Enjoy.

-XXX-

She didn't notice it at first. That was typical Jane-like behavior – as Darcy would say, her head is in her ass more often than not. So when a series of storms began around the southwestern area, Jane did not think much of it. The bridge, her calculation and research, took up the majority of her focus. A few raindrops were nothing to her. She paid them no mind.

Then Erik began making note of the storms on average. And Darcy watched the news, and saw that the weatherman was growing concerned with the "abnormal increase in summer showers." The pair started commenting on the oddity.

Regardless of her five years spent in the desertland, Jane simply did not note the strange weather. Not even the evenings she spent on break, sipping lukewarm, creamy coffee before the windows, pulling her cardigan tight 'round her shoulders, with Erik and Darcy hunkered over the TV a room away, watching Wheel of Fortune between flickering lights and near-black outs, as she observes the skies crash and trees thrash, hear the thunder, see the flashes of white electricity. She saw the event, the magnificent glory of the heavens in turmoil. But Jane did not see between the nature and the potential magic. Jane's thoughts were occupied with the bridge. On her path back to Thor.

The god had occupied her thoughts so much in the months following The Event. All of her work and focus went into finding him, finding that bridge. He had not yet returned. Jane didn't know what that meant. But after a considerable amount of consideration, she decided that Thor couldn't be the only one with the ability to zoom through realms. Besides, he couldn't allow her to simply wait around to be "returned for." That wasn't Jane's style.

Therefore she had worked. And consequently ignored the strange weather.

But it could not be ignored when she was ducking in the middle of the cereal aisle because of the threat of severe storms that was threatening the town's sole Walmart. It couldn't be denied when her connection to Dallas was delayed by three hours due to a pair of tornados suddenly cropping up just outside of Baltimore. And it wasn't to be refused when her conference in Geneva was upheld by hail of a magnitude that had not been seen in the country for several decades.

That was about the point where she realized the storms might – possibly – be following her.

It was a ridiculous notion. One with no scientific backing. Perhaps she simply had horrible weather-related luck. Then again, when one's boyfriend was the god of thunder, it was a little silly to rule out the potential of storms stalking you.

But in Geneva, she had to face the possibility. Colleagues remarked on the unusual circumstances as they watched from the glass bridge that connected the conference hall to the offices of the director and the council. Jane, the youngest among them, listened to the blur of French vaguely as she observed the roll of blue-black clouds coming over the hills. She held her breath to see the thick sheets of ice and rain, the iron colour overwhelming the landscape.

"It is unusual," remarked one doctor, joining her, leaning against the railing. "To have weather like this."

"Should we –" Jane stumbled, helplessly looking to the others, "seek shelter?"
None of her companions appeared concerned. Deman, a physicist from Belgium, shook his head, red cheeks merry. "We shall be fine, Dr. Foster. CERN has held up against worse."

Maurice, a chemist and biologist who hailed from Denmark, patted the young woman's shoulder. "Shall we continue our conversation on the merits of nuclear energy? Deman interrupted us during lunch, and you were saying something rather curious about the recent developments in NRC about regulations…."

She allowed herself to be lead away, glancing back once to see the crackle of white electricity set the clouds aglow in the distance. Jane shivered. Her companions took no notice.

Later in the evening, the newscast was rather jittery about the weather of the day, each expressing some kind of apprehension or fear. The forecaster assured his audience that there would be no repeat performance, then when on to show a slideshow of the local damage. Cars with broken windshields, roofs with missing shingles, signs with broken plastic or damaged lights. Several business owners and community members were interviewed. All looked a little shellshocked. The forecaster was very grave in his announcement that no one was injured, just frightened. There had been, he mentioned, an unusual amount of thunder and lightening seen in this storm – not so typical for sleet.

Thunder. Jane, sitting on the bed, leaned back. Thor.

So many months of searching…while the storms might be frightening to others, Jane had come to see them as some kind of a comfort. A reminder.

Nearly six months had passed since the New Mexico Incident, as SHIELD had titled the event. Six months of research, of study. Six months of the worn volume of Norse myths on her nightstand, the second book beside her laptop on her workdesk (the only item off-limits from Jane's tendency to pile paperwork on top of all flat surfaces). Six months of looking up to the sky with the unbearable urge to smile and laugh and cry all at the same time. And six months of storms.

"You can't just tear up to town because you miss me," Jane whispered to herself, to the room, to no one. Silence answers.

She will make that bridge. With Erik and SHIELD behind her, Jane Foster would find him a way back.

"I will return for you."

Jane rolled away from the TV, closing her eyes.

-XXX-

The conference had been postponed. Jane was frustrated by the lack of organization by SHIELD. They had called her to Europe to confer with a few other astrophysicists on purchasing equipment for the SHIELD Helicarrier labs. Technology leaps, Coulson told her, meant they needed to update the labs, and who better to decide on their needs than the people using the equipment?

Since they'd been virtually confined to the hotel suite (SHIELD did certainly give them "nice digs" as Darcy put it), Jane had holed up in her room, emailing Erik among others, working on an article for the April edition of the American Astrophysics Journal.

Darcy had dragged her away from her emails to plop her before the TV. Jane protested lightly, especially when the wide-eyed Darcy refused to – or possibly couldn't - describe the situation. Which wasn't a Darcy-like thing. The grad student was a fount of talking, especially when it came to witty remarks. But no. The hand that gripped Jane's forearm was quivering.

CNN's entire screen was covered in chaos. The scrolling news was filled with "New York," the anchor's voice was breathless, and the scenes of the city that flashed onto the screen was surreal. Smoke. Fire. Broken concrete and stone. Screams.

Jane could remember 9/11. At the time she'd been living in California, getting her grad degree, living with Max, her third real boyfriend, and his golden retriever. Max had woken her – he'd already been up hours, having made coffee, taken a jog 'round the block, then showered. He held her in his arms, smelling of soap and Starbucks, while they both cried.

This was different. Jane stared blankly into the screen, sinking to her knees, bum hitting the carpet next, hands folded in her lap. And she watched. Behind her, standing next to the couch, was a quiet Darcy. Together, they observed the city that never slept fall apart at the hands of an alien race.

When the camera switched to a view of a blonde man in iron-coloured armor, red cape whipping out behind him as he slammed blow after blow into what Darcy would later call the "massive-freaky-floating-fish" both women would jolt. Darcy would release a small squeak of a cry, stumbling back. But Jane would just stare. When he was pierced with the spear of one creature, the doctor would wince, hearing the god roar, fumble her hands.

After nearly a half-hour, Darcy appeared with a mug of coffee, lightly sweetened, to press into her mentor's hands. Blindly, Jane accepted. And then she went straight back to watching. Eventually, Darcy coaxed her onto the couch. Later, the grad student gave Jane a bowl of some kind of soup – canned, but still good – and they will eat, eyes glued to the TV. The siege stopped around four in the afternoon. But the coverage went on deep into the night. Both women drifted off on their side of the couch, splitting the fuzzy blue throw between them.

Dawn came with the startling sound of a palm hitting glass. They both sat up abruptly, heads swiveling. It was Darcy who saw him on the balcony – bright hair shining in the morning light, just as bright as his eyes. But he didn't smile until he saw Jane. That, that smile. It was brighter than any sun.

Darcy screamed. Jane turned. The god awaiting her outside beamed. And the rest – the rest was indescribable. Somehow Thor made it inside and Jane made it in his arms. The grad student watched, barely suppressing a smile as the pair had their reunion.

"Hello," Jane breathed.

"Hello, Jane Foster," the god replied, eyes crinkling.

"I got your message," she stuttered slightly.

"Oh?" He caressed her arms. "The storms?"

Darcy snorted. "You seriously need to get a cellphone."

But the god just smiled and smiled.

-XXX-

I did a little research on CERN and it's member countries, location, etc. Hopefully this is a little legit. Thank you for reading, and please review!