Hi all! 

Here's another double update.... Hope you like it; it's sort of a filler

no songs this time.... :) 

Edit: Me.

Chapter Five

~Thea's POV~

After Gwen's funeral, we drive silently back to Stark Tower. Nobody talks much, and the radio is turned down. We are not a happy bunch. 

Tony is there, waiting for us. He doesn't even attempt to cheer us up, but grasps Jack's shoulder in what I guess is some sort of male comfort. Jack ignores it. 

We eat lunch separately, and even Jack and I have some space apart. The first person I have a legitimate conversation with is actually Tony. I find him in one of his ten million labs in a tank top and long pants, doing something with fancy pliers on something that resembles half of a giant motor, hanging from the ceiling. It's hot in here, and smells electrical.

"Bored?" he asks me as I let myself in the room. Bruce isn't in here, so I assume he's either in a different lab or not in the building.

"Not as bad as when I get back to Michigan," I reply sullenly. 

"Nah," says Tony, climbing a ladder to get the motor's inner works, "Make your own adventure. I assure you that you get into plenty enough trouble anyway, without even trying." 

There's a pause.
"How's Peter?"

"His girlfriend just died and he feels responsible. How do you think he feels?"

"It was more of a rhetorical question," says Tony. Fingering with about five wires, he adds, "I might try calling the kid. Seems miserable."

"Of course he's miserable. And I doubt he'll answer." 

Tony stops his work to look down at me. "Not to seem, well, rude, but what are you doing here?"

"Yeah, that's not rude at all," I scoff.

"C'mon, Thea, you're not typically one for striking up chatter. What's eating you?"

"Who said I came in here for chatter?"

"Didn't say that," Tony curses as he accidentally snaps his finger with the sharp pliers. "I just asked what you're doing here, period." 

"Where are Natasha and Steve?"

Tony raises his eyebrows, "Eastern Europe. Trying to track down the Winter Soldier."

"The what?"
He puts a screwdriver between his teeth and climbs a little higher. "You know, when you leave New York, you really miss stuff, Thea."

"Yeah, it wasn't my choice," I point out. "So what about this...Winter Soldier?"

"Apparently, it's Steve's reincarnated best friend from 1945, or whenever that is. Soviet assassin."

"Wait, wait, wait, if he's Steve's best friend, then why is-"

"Brainwashed. Something like that. Would you mind handing me that?" Tony points vaguely to the table about ten feet underneath him. 

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're pointing to," I say, my eyes skating over the various unfamiliar tools. "The snappy thing?"

"First of all, that's a wrench, and second of all, no, I was referring to the bag of blueberries." 

I give him a look, but toss the bag up to him; he catches it one hand and resumes conversation while popping a few berries into his mouth, "So yep, Steve's trying to track 'im down, and Natasha went with him. The Falcon is also with them?"

"The Falcon?" I'm confused, seeing as I just saw Clint this morning. 

"Yes, the Falcon, Thea, you really need to catch up," he ignores my eye-rolling, although there's a possibility that he can't see me, seeing as he's concentrating on the underbelly of the motor. "Sam Wilson. Former military dude. Nice guy." 

"Do you think everyone's nice?" I ask.

"Well," says Tony, "Loki's not."

I find myself grinning for the first time all morning, "You're got that right." 

"Of course I do. This is me we're talking about," Tony apparently finds pleasure in my annoyance. "Speaking of reindeer games, have you heard anything from the realm of Asgard?"

Good. Asgard. The conversation is finally heading in the way I want it to.

"A month ago. Nothing new. How about you?"

Tony begins to unscrew something, which makes a very loud, screeching noise. "Well, we've been in contact with Thor for portal purposes, those means of contact strictly confidential, but beyond that, zip, zero. Leah seems fine, by the way. Jane occasionally goes up there to see Thor and all that. Although she hasn't been recently, because Odin isn't exactly happy with all the mortal traffic that's been going on." 

"I know," I say, because Jane usually calls me right after a visit from Asgard to update me and she's been calling me less and less, "So how is this portal thing working, anyway? If you have a way of communicating, then why do you need it?"

"Well, as I just told you, Odin is shutting down how many times people travel in and out of Asgard. Thor, of course, is sorta important with what we do, you know, defend the planet, and we need a way of getting back and forth from there." 

"You seem proud of this portal," I say casually, running my finger over some bits of machinery. 

"Yep, it's gonna be good once it's finished."
"C'mon, Tony, it's just a portal, it can't be that fascinating, can it? I bet you just push a little button or something!" 

Tony looks hurt (score). "It's not everyday that humans create means of transporting themselves to other galaxies, you know. And no, you don't push a button, you also pull some levers and type in codes dictating where you want to go and how long you want the portal to stay open."

"And then get zapped," I say, careful to keep my tone bored. "Fascinating."

"If you're standing ten feet from the beam ray, then yes, you get 'zapped'," Tony uses air quotes, which doesn't even sway his balance, "And five out of ten times, you end up going the place you want to go. Although it's a prototype of course, and Big Green and I'll have it working full blast soon enough."

"Where have you been?" I ask curiously, just trying to keep the conversation casual. 

"If I'm pronouncing them correctly, Alfheim, Muspelheim (and I'm warning you right now, those fire demons are nasty) and several places on earth. And once on Asgard." Tony finishes the blueberries and drops the bag back onto the floor. "Mostly, we go to different places on earth because the problem is the range of the beam- Asgard is the farthest away." 

I keep talking to Tony for a couple more minutes, and then leave. I have all the information I need. I'm sure Natasha would be very proud of me.

*

The next day, the day before I leave to go back to Michigan, is a Saturday, which is good because that means Jack can spend the day with me. And by day, we have in mind sneaking into the portal. It's my only chance before I leave New York. 

Before we start our mischief, we make sure there isn't anyone in the way. As it turns out, it's almost too easy: Bruce isn't even here today, Tony is still fixated on his motor two floors above us, and Kyle and Max are doing something spy-ish with Clint and Charles Barton. Our only concerns are Pepper and Agent Coulson, the latter who is in the building today. But he's supposed to be with Pepper only, and we doubt he will be much of a problem. 

It's not that hard to break into the portal's room, mainly because it's unlocked and that means there is no breaking-in required. 

The portal is a hexagonal base in the ground, with ridged sides. About ten feet above it is a cylindrical tube, which we automatically assume is the beam. Surrounding the structure are metal vests, similar to those worn when you get an x-ray done and, as Tony had mentioned earlier, various levers and buttons, plus a giant screen. 

"Alrighty," says Jack, rubbing his hands together. If what Clint had said was true, Jack has been mischief-less for four months, and I can tell that he's eager for action. "Let's get started."

We've both agreed to let me go first, and by myself. In case anything goes wrong, we want Jack here to be able to fix it and- if necessary- run for Tony. 

In his hand, he has his cell phone, with the HP number that Peter had sent us. Walking over to the screen, he presses it. 

A message flashes across the screen: WELCOME, VISITOR. 

"Well thank you," Jack says to the inanimate object. I don't exactly see what he is doing, but after a few lever pushes, he calls to me, "Will you press in that HP number, Thea?"

I'm standing in the middle of the portal, looking up at the beam thingy that doesn't have a beam currently. "Yep, yep," I say, wandering over. Unlocking my phone, I go to my messages, looking for Peter's icon. Eventually, I find the message and, double-checking as I go, I punch in:

19860-8899-24616

After triple checking to make sure that the numbers line up to those that Peter had sent me, I press the large green ENTER button on the screen. Immediately, the machine whirs to life, and I can practically smell the energy that's shooting around us. 

"Oh....kay..." says Jack, who is going through all of the steps again, just to make sure he's doing it right- apparently Peter had sent him some steps to follow, like Beaming 101 or something- and then he grins at me. "That should do it. You ready?" 

I've brought my dagger with me, as usual, just in case. I also have my phone, of course, but Peter and I aren't completely sure I'm going to be getting much cell service from Asgard, but we're not positive. "And if something goes wrong...?"

"According to Peter," Jack uses the name with care, as if afraid that Peter might be in the room, "The portal is going to stay open for a good hour. So worst case scenario, you have an hour to get back. If you're not back in an hour and fifteen, I either try to fix it- which probably won't work- or go grab Tony and get my arse kicked." 

"Right," I say, trying not to appear a tiny bit frightened. "Perfect. Perfect plan." 

"Well," says Jack cheerfully, "Good luck! Grab me a souvenir from Asgard, will you?" 

I make a face at him as I step onto the portal's base. With a quick wave in my direction, Jack jabs  at a rather large, imposing button, and I'm suddenly shot forward, upward, downward, anywhere in space. 

The feeling is a bit different than when I had travelled in the Bifrost before; it's faster, and I feel more of a tightness around me, as if I'm shooting through a steadily shrinking tunnel. 

And then it stops. I stumble to the ground, and my body hits a dusty wood floor. I moan slightly; the dagger had cut my neck slightly, drawing a few beads of blood. I'm an idiot for not sheathing it before...

Wait. 

Wood floor in Asgard?

Panicking, I stand up. I'm sitting in front of a mirror, and I can see my frightened, wide eyes staring back, back behind my reflection. 

There are three bodies behind me. Bloodied, emaciated, twisted, and white. Two women and a man. I feel bile rising in my throat at the horror. 

Just as I can't get any more frightened, a shadow rises from the pile of corpses, shifting into that of a startlingly beautiful young man. Lanky and feline, with amber eyes. My gaze is drawn away from his eyes to his lips, full and touched with...

I scream. 

Blood. 

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