History with Mischief

How many secrets can you keep?

'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow

And I play it on repeat till I fall asleep,

Spillin' drinks on my settee.

Do I Wanna Know?

Arctic Monkeys

Chapter 3

Of course he was curious.

Because…

A thick and half-witted creature such as Thor? He had never truly imagined him, of all people, to change.

All because of one mortal.

Yes, of course he was curious.

Observing her in Midgard from where he set out his plans with the Chitauri into fruition was the simplest course of action. His brow would furrow. She would be off for days on end, making do with the limited equations and laws of science that guided her in her research, undeniably and exceptionally brilliant compared to others of her kind. On some days, she would mope about like a love-sick child budding into adolescence, pining over bright eyes and an easy smile that was simply out of her reach. He would hear her utter, or could read her lips, of prayers to Thor, or simply calling out to him. She, a scientist who barely even considered the existence of any god before in her entire life. She, who considered herself to be a woman of modern and logical beliefs. She, one who had "superstitious" at somewhere in the bottom of her immediate vocabulary, was praying? To Thor?

In his mind's eye, he watched as the day came when cracks were starting to creep up her wall of confidence and optimism as she continued on with her search for Thor. A few months had passed since she had last seen or heard of the god of thunder, and though her continuous effort wore her down plenty, she carried on as if her anxiety and growing dread were not there.

He knew it in less than a glance.

One did not need to be a god of lies to be able to see the hope she so desperately tried to cling to.

It was a wall of lies she had put up around her, and it was the invincible truth that was starting to crack through the stubborn rock she keeps on trying to put up.

Days, weeks, months wore on, and the time came that her friend, that intern of hers, had decided to take her out to drink her worries away.

How could he resist an opportunity to play with Thor's mortal pet?

After all, there was one promise he made to him, a promise he was more than happy to fulfil.

•

She really was a fool.

What was she thinking, honestly waiting for him to come back and sweep her off her feet? And now…

Now, there was a specific pair of eyes that seemed to be burned into her mind's eye.

Eyes that were a colour of winter green.

Eyes she could never decipher when they studied her every move.

Eyes that were precise, calculating, deadly.

Eyes cold and burning at the same time.

Eyes that were not Thor's.

Jane sat on a lawn chair outside her trailer, a blanket covering only the lower half of her legs despite the dessert chill and her thin clothes, and she looked up to the constant comfort in her life: the stars.

The embers that were still trying to hold on to their glow continued to burn near her feet, barely reaching the tips of her toes. It was the light of the rest of the cosmos that illuminated her sight and on the barren surroundings that encased her. But right then and there, in all honesty, it didn't really matter. It was as if she couldn't see even the stars, even in all of their brilliance and glory that night, as her mind set off to far off destinations, farther than even the limited numbers of constellations and solar systems that she could see.

She couldn't even remember his eyes.

She remembered how he made her feel. She remembered how he made her laugh and smile when she knew she wasn't the type of person to easily light up. She remembered how a small part of her thought he was just a bit crazy, a bit delusional, when he talked about Yggdrasil, about Midgard and Asgard and the other seven realms with a notebook and a pencil. But for her, it was okay. She was a bit crazy herself, so it all hit right at home.

She remembered how excited she felt when he was around, the shiver that ran down her spine when he looked at her with intrigue and interest and something else in the span of those three days. She remembered…

But she couldn't recall the colour of his eyes, the shape of his face. She couldn't remember the feeling of his arms around her and the way he held her. She couldn't remember the sound of his laugh, of his voice, and she couldn't remember the lines of his mouth and the colour of his hair. She couldn't remember the feel of his lips against hers when he had kissed her, many months ago.

If she was going to be honest, she didn't know how to feel about the situation.

She did know that it terrified her that she didn't know what she felt about it.

Did it matter that she couldn't remember the things that made up Thor to be who he was?

Maybe.

Was it enough that she's left only with the feelings she wasn't sure how to deal with, with a shadow of how she felt many months before?

Maybe… not.

Was it natural? Was it okay that maybe it wasn't enough?

She really didn't know.

With her feelings for Thor fading, why would she need to look through the entirety of the universe? For him? Why was it she who has been looking for him? When it's she who barely has the means to go to him? Why hasn't she seen him, or at least heard of him?

Anger once more started to swell in her chest as she glared up at the night sky, her nostrils flaring and her fingers digging into her palms into tight fists. She felt forgotten, betrayed, so puny and unimportant and insignificant to have been cast aside by the god of thunder. After all, what was she to him? She was only human. The whole span of her life would have passed like a blink of an eye to him. She was weak, she held no power…if she actually thought about it, he had no reason to come back to her.

But she couldn't stop herself from feeling the pang in her chest, the burning behind her eyes, because she believed in him. She had faith in him to come back, to sweep her off her feet and to…to bring her closer to the stars. At that point, she had no idea if she was being selfish or being too hopeful.

Jane couldn't stop the tear that rolled down her cheek.

She shook violently, from the cold or from her grief, she couldn't tell.

She couldn't decide on her thoughts like she used to, not since several weeks ago.

Since meeting him.

Him, with those eyes.

Those eyes that froze and burned.

Eyes she couldn't read, couldn't place anything that he held within his icy orbs.

What did he mean when he asked her that?

What she wanted?

He talked as if she didn't know what she wanted. He spoke as if she was an undecided little girl who didn't know any better. Even though…

Well…

What if he was right?

Jane gritted her teeth, and she let out a frustrated sigh as she remembered how he looked at her. It infuriated her how mocking the quirk of his lips was. There was a look in his eyes that made her think that he knew so much more about her than she's ever thought she let him see, and it aggravated her. It made her feel vulnerable, exposed. Terrified.

She felt terrified of him, and yet, she never gave her self the chance to back down when the tilt of his chin challenged her. The truth of it was, he was bringing out a side of her she wasn't totally conscious of having.

Jane started nodding off. The cold, instead of making her uneasy and uncomfortable, made her drowsy and sleepy, and under the starry night sky, she began to nod off into sleep. In the middle of her slumber, she kicked off the flimsy blanket from her body, falling to the dry ground, leaving her to shiver in the cold as the tongues of fire were reduced to the glow of embers, and the embers to ash.

Sometime before the glow of the first rays of sunrise start to line the horizon with silver, the blanket lifts from the soil, slowly creeping up to cover Jane's body. Fire erupts from the ashes, casting a golden glow on her thinly covered skin, the tremors that ran over her body steadily lessening into hushed breathing.

And just before the sun peeks over the jagged line between the lightening sky and heating ground, a shadow that stood a little ways from Jane's sleeping form trembled and drifted slightly, disappearing before the light touches it.

•

It was Erik who woke her up the next morning.

He shook her awake with a slight urgency, and she groaned as the bright late morning sunshine threatened to blind her through her closed eyes.

"Oh Jane, how could you have fallen asleep here? It's freezing at night in these damned deserts—"

"Hi," Jane interrupted him as she lightly laid her hand on his arm, her eyes squeezing even tighter while trying to sit up. "Uhm, Erik, what time is it?"

"It's damn well past six in the morning, and we better get you in before you start to cook out here."

Jane experimentally opened one eye, groaning again at the bright light, and rubbed her other eyelid before squinting up at Erik. When she saw the expression on his face, she cringed, and looked down at her feet that were dangling off her lawn chair.

"Jane," he said, his tone stern.

When she didn't acknowledge him, he called her again, this time, more scolding.

Hesitantly, slowly, she looked up to meet his eyes, and saw in them what she tried to avoid so desperately.

"You have to stop this."

The look in Erik's eyes was one of such pity, worry, frustration, and…she hated it. She wanted to scream at him, tell him that she knew, she wasn't an idiot, that it was she who was experiencing every emotion and every thought went through her head, and it was she who knew and felthow painful it all was and how it was all killing her. Of course she knew. She didn't need anyone to spell it out for her.

"What are you doing, Jane?"

From a question with an answer so blood-curdlingly and painfully obvious, came a question with an answer that induced within her a blinding frustration and paralysing cluelessness.

But if she started asking herself the same questions, over and over again, she…she would…

"This isn't you, Jane. You've turned into something else since that Thor came around, and left you without even a glance back. What's happened to you, Jane?" Erik kept on probing her with questions she didn't want to answer, didn't know the answer to, and sat beside her. He took her hands into his own, looking over at her with the care and worry of a father over his daughter, trying to catch her eyes as she flitted her gaze at everywhere but his imploring look. "Where's the strong Jane that I know is in there somewhere, stubborn and unstoppable in following her dream to explore and know the universe?"

Jane stood up, not meeting Erik's stare, ignoring his questions and everything he said that just hurt or plain irritated her.

"He's a god, Jane. I'm not trying to put you down or anything, but, let's be realistic…"

"What happened to your dreams?..."

"Has there been something going on you're not telling me about?..."

"Darcy and I have been worried about you…"

"I don't really think he's just going to come back for…"

"What have you been thinking about, Jane?..."

"Is this really about Thor?..."

"Why are you being this way, Jane?..."

"What's this really about, huh?..."

What did she really want?

She'd had enough.

Jane stood from her seat on the lawn chair beside Erik, and started to walk back into her trailer, her home, to her bed.

"Jane!"

She stopped, but didn't turn around. She waited for him to speak, keeping her eyes locked on the door of the trailer.

"Why won't you talk to me, Jane?"

She knew. She knew the answers to his questions. She just couldn't bear to…

How could she make him understand?

Jane mumbled under her breath, "You wouldn't understand."

But he didn't hear her.

"What?" he asked her, rising in his seat and leaning over his waist to hear her clearer.

She wanted to just scream. She wanted to…to…

What did she want?

Surprisingly, a trembling smile made to her lips, and any urge to just snarl and snap at him melted away.

She turned and faced Erik, smile still in place to meet his still concerned frown. "I'm fine, Erik," she said, acting more like the Jane she used to be, but the emotions and thoughts inside her were telling a different story. "Really, I'm just fine."

•

Erik took her to dinner that night.

Not far from her home, actually. Just cheap food, just to get her out.

Not far at all. Very near, in fact. Somewhere she's been to quite a couple of times.

He took her to where she fed him enough to fill the bellies of five, and where she took him to demand and pry for answers.

But even though memories of them were lurking at the back of her mind, she pushed those thoughts even further away, and she's left with just…

Erik, and cheap food. Bitter coffee in her mouth, the neon lights casting cheap colours on any surface within their reach, mutterings of the locals buzzing around her. Her ham and eggs, in front of her, barely touched.

But as opposed to a usual night of inexpensive supper and tacky walls, she knew he was here.

After weeks.

Hell, she could feel him sit somewhere behind her, almost feeling every movement he made.

And she could feel how his eyes bore into the back of her neck. Those icy eyes, piercing and calculating, as if they were cut and carved from glaciers.

She plastered on a smile as relaxed as she could, listening to Erik's voice without really thinking about what he was saying, her thoughts elsewhere, somewhere behind her…

"Jane?"

Her head snapped up, having looked down at the rim of her mug while barely registering much except for…

"Huh?"

Jane saw the furrow on his forehead and she smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Erik. What were you saying?

It was so forced, and so wrong. She's been pushed to the limits on how unfair it all was to her, and until now, she wears a mask. She wore it even in front of those closest to her, even in front of one as dear to her as Erik.

Erik shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, until he glanced down to her plate of food, and he closed his mouth again.

He let out a sigh.

"At least you seem to be acting more like yourself now, Jane." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, resting limply near her coffee. She could barely look him in the eye, but tried to smile a little convincingly.

Lies.

"Maybe we should head back now, before it gets too late. I think you should get some rest. We can talk tomorrow."

Erik stood from his seat, putting on his jacket that was slung over the back of his chair, and looked expectantly at Jane.

But she could barely feel Erik's waiting look. All she could feel was the burning of his gaze into her back.

Jane straightened her back a little and looked up at him, forcing any amount of innocence to paint her features. "I think I'll stay here a little bit longer. I'll just finish my coffee and food, and then head back." She leaned back against her chair and took a sip of her cooling beverage, smiling at Erik a little through the ceramic as she tried to reassure his worried look.

"I'll be fine, Erik. I promise."

Erik watched her for a moment before he stepped forward and his arms squeezed her frailer body to his own with her still being seated. She felt his lips press against the crown of her head, her cheek against the cotton of his shirt, and Jane felt her hand rise to clutch at the back of his jacket. Suddenly, the scientist was replaced and she was a child once more in his arms, ridiculous and lost as she gripped at his jacket. Her eyes drifted shut as Erik kissed the top of her head, and a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She could still feel his eyes on her, several tables away, but ignored how his stare made her skin prickle, how she felt her breath quicken and become shallower as Erik held her like she was a little girl, ignored how his presence made her heart thump wildly against her ribcage.

"Be careful, you hear me? Don't stay out too late," whispered Erik into her hair.

She felt her self nod slightly at his words, and he pulled away, reaching into his pocket to put several bills on the table. Jane almost reached back out once his arms were gone, wanting to feel safer and dependent on something or someone again, only to catch herself before doing so. She couldn't do that, especially with him watching everything that she did.

Jane didn't watch him leave, her eyes stuck on a point on the table, but listened to Erik's footsteps as he walked away and exited the diner.

When he was gone, Jane felt as if she was attuned to every sound in the diner as she listened for him behind her.

One second. Two.

A minute. Three.

Each second, each minute that stretched on as if they would go on forever was making her on edge, and he knew exactly what it was doing to her.

A three grumbling old men walked out of the diner a few minutes later, into the world of dust and night of Puente Antiguo with only their caps and jackets to go against it, leaving her alone with her food.

Alone, with him.

The news blared on the television screen, and Jane focused on its sound, or on the bustling of the waiter as he walked around the counter to wipe imaginary stains on its surface, or, or…

Anything. Anything to keep her mind off of him, even if just for a second longer.

Suddenly, all too soon, she heard the scraping of the legs of a chair being pushed back.

She heard the double doors that led to the kitchens open and swing shut, heavy feet padding over the worn dirty white tiles of the floor.

The next footsteps she heard were so light and soft; she almost couldn't make them out. Jane gritted her teeth with anticipation, and a feeling she couldn't understand was stirring in her belly.

She could see his dark grey suit and even darker coat from the corner of her eye as she refused to remove her sights from that particular spot on the table, and she saw him take what was Erik's seat, plopping down on it gracefully. She felt him watch her, and from her peripheral vision, she could swear that there was a small smirk twitching up the corner of his mouth with almost a knowing and devilish intent.

They both let the silence fill the space between them, and he merely watched her as Jane continued to watch the food in front of her, the table, anything but him.

But Jane had waited too long. And she would have no silence any longer. If she needed to swallow down her emotions, she would.

She would have to listen to her gut this time.

She let her eyes meet his, looking up with a new determination and confidence she didn't think she felt, and they were met with the twinkle of his emerald depths.

He was almost laughing at her.

"Would you," she started with a weak voice, and she hated how it sounded, "at least tell me who you are?"

His smirk stayed in place, and he his mouth kept silent, but it was as if his eyes told everything his lips wanted to utter. He simply watched her, and she felt ridiculous. It made an anger boil within her, and she just wanted to reach over the table and wipe his smile off his face.

Jane narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest in her insecurity. "I will not trust someone I don't know," she growled.

He let out a breath through his nose in derision, almost like a snort. "I do not recall asking you for your trust, Jane," he said in a low and relaxed voice.

She shivered as her name rolled off of his tongue, and her teeth gritted against it. She would not let him affect her as much as he did the last times they met. She did not need to chalk up any more breakdowns.

"You expect me to follow you around like a little lost lamb? What the hell do you want from me?" Jane hissed at him. "What do you get out of all this?"

In each passing moment, he looked more and more bored, his fine brow arching as he looked at her. "Questioning anything and everything will not get us anywhere, dear Jane." He sat a little straighter, his dark slicked back hair gleaming slightly under the bad lighting and his pale skin almost too white, but his eyes shone infinitely brighter. The grin that grew on his face put her on edge. "You must risk things in order to attain what you want. Fate will not let you go without a fair trade," he leaned forward and wove his fingers together, setting them on the table, looking like he was imparting a wicked secret to her.

"How do you even know what I want? You'd just spoon-feed it to me without me knowing what's going on?" Jane probed further, not going down without a fight.

He pretended to think about what she said. "Well, I am quite certain that spoon-feeding had not been a part of my plan."

Jane narrowed her eyes at the man, fighting the urge to tear all of her hair off of her head and then strangling him afterwards. Scared or not, she was surprised at how he infuriated her.

"You can't make me consent to anything with just that."

"Then you will spend your life regretting that you denied the opportunity I offer you now."

He abruptly stood up, looking down on her as he refused to tilt his head down. Her eyes widened at the sudden movement, but the growing frown on her brow still in place. She hated how small she must have looked to him, hated the expression on his noble features.

"I have said that I will not tolerate you lying to yourself. I offer you only the doors to the universe, and it shall be your doing if you lock them from yourself forever." He bent over his waist and looked her in the eye, his face mere inches from hers after just one moment and his thumb and forefinger holding her chin in place. His expression was harder than it was the previous second, but there was something in those eyes of his that she simply couldn't read.

"I do not offer you pity or kindness or any sort of comfort, and I did not ask to handle a petulant child. I hold your place in the stars in the palm of my hand, Jane Foster, and you know that once I have gone, you would have thrown it away until the end of your days."

He let go of her just then, his mouth crooked for a reason she couldn't place, and he stood straighter. He looked powerful as he was standing before her, his fine clothes perfect and his aristocratic features out of place in this diner, in this town, in her life, and he walked.

He walked away from her without turning to look back.

Jane couldn't take her eyes off the space he had been in mere seconds before, her eyes wide and her jaw slack, and as soon as the ring of the bell above the glass doors of the diner reached her ears, something in her snapped.

And so she ran.

She ran after him without holding back, chasing after him for the third time in each of their three meagre meetings, and set out of the diner, leaving her barely touched food and Erik's money on the table.

Jane was just in time to catch sight of his back before he left the front of the establishment. He stopped and turned over his shoulder, looking down but showing he was listening, and on his face was a mischievous grin, as if he knew.

She, too, looked down, but for different reasons as she felt shame course through her veins. Because, though she loathed admitting it, she knew, as well.

He won.

When she looked back up at him to open her mouth, green eyes that held a world of ice within them looked back at her. His smile was wild, and she could feel her throat constrict as she felt herself gulp.

Her stomach plummeted as a thought she had long ago realised verbalised itself in her head at that moment.

She just sold her soul to the devil.

AN: Ii'm not really sure where I'm going with this story, but...gah. LOL. I know I said I'd write this chapter in Loki's perspective, but I liked the idea of keeping it more or less a mystery.

Okay, first of all, I'm sorry for the long-ish wait. I've been writing this ever since I posted the second chapter, but I could never get any more than a couple of lines at a time. But I found the time now! And if you felt like these past few chapters have been a tad too long, I apologise. But. Well. Yeah. And so. the story gets more interesting from here on out. :)

Please leave reviews and criticisms, they would be much appreciated and would be motivation for me. :)