Chapter Text
"Ladies and gentlemen, live from New York, it's Christine!"
That obnoxious yet catchy bumper music was going to be in Jane's head for weeks. She checked one more time that her hair was in place and her strangely tight designer jacket was clean. Eating a biscuit backstage five minutes before they went live was a bad idea, and she knew that when she crammed it into her mouth and dropped crumbs everywhere. She also knew she'd skipped breakfast this morning and barely had any time for lunch as the producers dragged her around backstage showing her the motions.
"When your name is called, walk on stage from the left. You may wave at the studio audience as you see fit but do not stop until you have reached your seat. When Christine greets you, please remember to make eye contact and smile with your teeth showing. Remember to look directly at the camera periodically, it makes you seem approachable and friendly."
There was probably more to the bloated man's briefing, but Jane couldn't be bothered to remember what it was. Probably nothing important anyway. At least nothing she'd care to ask about.
Why did she have to do these stupid daytime talk shows in the first place? That was the real question.
Pushing aside all negative thoughts ('Try not to frown on stage, it looks bad.'), Jane found a small mirror nailed to the back wall and practiced her smile. Two hours in the stylist's chair had left her looking more like a glamorous celebrity than the dowdy scientist she'd always known herself to be. Her hair was layered and unknotted for once. Her makeup was neatly applied and made her skin shine like never before. If she was honest, that was the only part of this whole 'publicity tour' thing she didn't hate. Too bad the only time the PR guys cared about her appearance was when they needed her to smile for the camera.
On the overhead monitor, Christine Everheart had taken the stage. In what had to be some Italian designer's dress and shoes that cost more than her student loans, she traipsed across the chic living room set and took her place on the red plush chair to the left. Jane mouthed along as she went through the usual talk show host spiel. Thank you all for coming, what a wonderful audience, we have a great show for you tonight and all that jazz.
"Our first guest is a pioneer of astrophysics and the creator of the now legendary F-22 Bridge. She's in the studio tonight to discuss all the juicy details of her research process."
The audience oohed and aahed as Jane straightened her spine and steeled her resolve. She could do this. She wasn't an astrophysicist about to go on a talk show with middling ratings, she was a soldier marching into battle at the head of a battalion.
"All right, let's have a big round of applause for Jane Foster!"
'Doctor Jane Foster' she thought belligerently as she plastered her on her smile and entered stage left.
The lights were harsh on her skin, burning through the layers of foundation and blush. Christine stood to shake her hand, the two of them faking pleasantries under the music. They'd chosen Barracuda by Heart as her intro song. Jane had never really liked that one before she was famous. Now it was like nails hammered into her skull.
"Thank you so much for coming, Jane, it's an honor to have you on my show," Christine chirped.
"The honor is all mine, Christine," Jane trilled.
Two days ago, when they first met, Christine had 'politely' demanded Jane get her a water bottle and then asked when 'her boss' was supposed to show up. Now it was like they were old pals. Ah, the magic of television.
"So, Jane, you've made some amazing leaps and bounds in the world of astrophysics over the last few years. What can you tell us about it?"
Jane shot a glance at the audience. She had to see how many eyes were on her. The answer was 'a lot'.
"Well Christine," Jane cleared her throat, "it was a lot of trial and error. I was working under unique circumstances that required me to think outside the box more than most. Modern scientists typically have the discoveries of their forefathers to work off and develop new ideas around. When you're running purely on theoretical concepts, it takes a lot of improvisation to get you where you need to go."
Christine nodded, her smile fading into a non-committal line as she moved her head in time with Jane's words. Maybe she was even listening a little. At the very least, she hadn't interrupted yet.
"I'll be the first to admit, it's not the most exciting job," Jane went on. "Nothing happened for me overnight. It took years of hard work, perseverance, and a heck of a lot of coffee."
To Jane's relief, the audience laughed.
"That's amazing," Christine said, "but it didn't leave much room for a social life, did it?"
Jane coughed again. It stung her throat. "No, not really. At the time, that wasn't my main concern."
"Hey, no time like the present," Christine said before addressing the audience. "What do you think, fellas? She's single!"
Even more laughter and applause. Jane tried to join in, but the most she could manage was a broken half-smile and a single, tiny guffaw. "Yeah, well, I guess we'll see. Anyway, proving my hypothesis was definitely a big moment for me. Once the pieces start falling into place, it's like a whole new world unfurling before you-"
"Okay, that's awesome!" Christine said. So there was the interrupting. "Now, I think we all know how incredible your work is. The video of your first successful test went live a month ago, it received seventy million views in the first two days alone, and it was just announced that you're being considered for a Nobel Prize. How about that?" She was speaking to the audience again. Jane braced herself for impact. "But what if I told you that Jane is about to reach another milestone? That's right, the rumors are true. Bridgemaker: the Jane Foster Story hits theaters next summer!"
"Well, that's just a working title," Jane would've said if not for the cheering and the stamping of feet and the fact that the producer didn't want to overcomplicate things for the viewers at home. Instead, she went on smiling like a Barbie doll until everyone had shut up and they turned off that stupid Heart song.
"Now, I for one am so excited to see this movie." Jane had watched a few episodes of the show to prepare for today. Christine always said that. "To be a woman in a male-dominated field can't be easy. Are you hoping the film will emphasize your struggle?"
"Er- to an extent I suppose," Jane uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "It was certainly an uphill battle, but I did have plenty of support. Like my godfather, Dr. Erik Selvig. He opened so many doors for me and I know I wouldn't be here today without him. My hope is to show the world the true beauty of scientific advancement. If this movie can accomplish that, then I think it'll be worth putting my name on."
More laughter. She was two for two. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
"And when you say support, was there anyone else helping you along?"
"Well, I had plenty of friends and my mom. She used to say I'd be like my dad someday and I guess she was right. Then there's my best friend, Darcy. She's been invaluable-"
"No boyfriends?"
The way Christine posed the question was clearly meant to get a reaction out of the audience, and boy did it ever. Cheering, whooping, howling for details. Jane chuckled because she was supposed to. If she played it off like the massive joke it was, maybe then she wouldn't have to answer the question.
Except when the cheering ceased, Christine did not move on.
"I… I mean, I dated here and there," Jane stared at her lap and folded her arms exactly like she was told not to do. "I didn't have a boyfriend per se, but… you know, when you're working on something as time-consuming as I was, you have to make a few sacrifices. Things tend to fall by the wayside, but I certainly don't regret anything."
"Ah, it's funny you should say that," Christine grinned. It looked vaguely evil. "Because word on the street is that Loki Odinson has been cast in an undisclosed role-"
She had to stop, her voice had risen near the end of that statement as the crowd collectively lost their minds. Men and women alike were on their feet, jumping up and down and screaming. One woman appeared to have fainted. Her friend was fanning her while mugging it for the camera. Not for the first time, Jane wondered how much they'd been paid to be here.
"Yeah, give it up for Loki!" Christine egged them on before turning back to Jane. "You know, we had him on the show a few weeks ago and he was hinting at a new project he couldn't talk about yet."
"Oh yeah?" Jane muttered.
"I'm sure you've had plenty of time to get to know him since then, am I right?"
A few people oohed. Jane refused to look at them.
"I mean, there are still a lot of details to iron out with the movie. I can't really say anything either, but it's possible Loki Odinson will be in it. I've heard the name tossed around a few times, and there are some minor roles I think he could play."
"Like a boyfriend?"
She really had to keep going back to this. "Well, this movie is meant to be as true to life as possible, so there really wouldn't be any place for a romantic storyline."
"Hey, you never know," said Christine. "You might be seeing a lot more of Loki Odinson sooner than you think. Makes you wish you could play yourself, huh?"
More oohs and ahs. Also, the camera was zooming in on her now. Was it supposed to do that?
"Trust me, I'm no actress," Jane said. "I have faith in the production company to tell my story as respectfully and accurately as possible. There definitely won't be a love interest."
"I cannot have a love interest!"
Kevin Branson was the world-renowned director of three Academy Award nominated films. He was a respected Shakespearean actor and had apparently directed one of Darcy's favorite comic book movies. Jane couldn't remember which one. She wasn't much of a superhero fan.
On paper, he was an ideal choice for writer and director of the Bridgemaker movie. Even though he'd never worked on a biopic and Jane still wasn't sold on that title, early drafts of the script had quelled most of her initial fears. Mr. Branson wrote her as an intelligent, strong-willed woman who wouldn't take no for an answer, but who still had a shade of softness to her. Several scenes had been derived from personal anecdotes Jane had told him over coffee. All of the supporting characters (the ones who didn't get amalgamated anyway) were as true to life as Jane remembered them being. When she read the last draft, she couldn't stop smiling. Never before had she been more confident in Mr. Branson's ability to bring her story to life.
And now this.
"Jane, I understand how you feel," he said, which was complete bullshit because if he had even an inkling of what Jane was thinking right now, he'd throw his notes in the fire and prostrate himself before her. "Trust me, if it were up to me, we wouldn't be having this conversation, but the studio heads aren't convinced that the movie will turn a profit in its current form. They're putting a lot of money into this, you know."
"But don't you see how ridiculous this is?" Jane pulled at her hair until a few strands came out. "This isn't like when we cut the high school scenes to save time, this is literally creating a human being out of smoke! It'd be like… like… making a revolutionary war movie where they use guns!"
"They did use guns."
"Yeah, but not our kind of guns. Not like grenades or AK-47s. That's what you're doing here, Kevin. You're putting an AK-47 where it doesn't belong!"
"You tell him, Jane!" Darcy shouted from outside. Jane and Mr. Branson both glared at the door, where Darcy's black-rimmed glasses peaked through the blinds. As soon as they turned their heads, she slunk out of sight. "I mean… I'm not here! Ignore me."
Mr. Branson sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Look, it's going to be one subplot out of several, and not even the most important one. The studio heads think you need more personal relationships for the audience to relate to."
"That sounds like a fancy way to say a woman's story isn't worth telling if there isn't a man in it!"
"It's not like that," Mr. Branson said. "If they thought this project wasn't worth their time, they wouldn't have greenlit it. They just want a more human component. We can't just have you sitting in your lab all the time."
"So add more of my friends!" Jane shouted. "I can give you a whole list of people I knew in college and during my internships. I also taught for a few years and I had plenty of colleagues back then you could work with."
"You weren't close to them, though. You told me so yourself. Plus, they'd have to agree to the use of their names and images. That's easier said than done."
"So instead of taking a person who actually existed and giving them more screen time, you're just going to make one up."
"We're going to extrapolate from what we know of your time in college and create a character based on that. It'll be easy to integrate him into your social circle because he'll already be in the same field as you. From there, a romance can develop naturally."
"How about not at all?" Jane paced around the room, shoving her hands in her pockets so she didn't hit anything. "I'm not some misanthropic shut-in you know. I've seen my fair share of movies. I know what's popular and what isn't, and if there's one thing moviegoers hate, it's unnecessary romantic arcs. You can't get more unnecessary than this!"
"They hate romantic arcs that overshadow the main story," Mr. Branson said. "I'm not going to let that happen. I'm still the one writing the script, so I'll make sure this remains as unobtrusive as possible."
"If you can keep it unobtrusive, why can't you just keep it out entirely?"
"Because it's not up to me." He snapped. He was fast losing patience with her, and she wished she cared enough not to push him. "I'm not an auteur, Jane. I don't have carte blanche to do whatever I want. In this business, if you want something done, you have to play by the rules."
"Even if they're stupid?" She grumbled.
"Yes, Jane, even if they're stupid." Mr. Branson met her accusing stare and didn't falter. "Look, why don't we go over the new draft. If anything is inconsistent with the tone of the film, we'll work on it. Sounds good?"
'Sounds like I'm being handled,' Jane thought. It was pointless to keep arguing, though. Once he played the 'studio executives' card, it was all over. Her inspirational tale of triumph was about to be marred by a random generic love interest. All she could do was nod along while her body broke out in hives. Someday, she'd walk past the five-dollar DVD rack at Targets and see twenty copies of her tarnished life story sitting near the top, alone and forgotten. For now, she put on a brave face as Mr. Branson pulled up the script on his laptop.
"Okay, so I'm thinking we can introduce him during the first college class scene." Mr. Branson tapped on the keys. "Jane enters in the middle of class and is lectured by the professor. You've already seen that part, and for the moment, it will remain the same. However, now we're going to have her sit in the back of the room instead of the front-"
"I always sat at the front," Jane whined.
Mr. Branson ignored her. "Enter Donald Blake, who is impressed by Jane's gall in talking back to a tenured professor. He's going to speak to her but she brushes him off. This perturbs him, but there's a sense that he hasn't given up on befriending her yet. What do you think?"
'I think we'll have a great premiere on Netflix.' "It's fine, I guess. So this Donald Blake is the guy?"
"Funnily enough, we did find a student by that name who went to your university," Mr. Branson said. "However, he was pre-med and a few years ahead of you. So no harm done."
When he said that, Jane felt a twinge of recognition. Had she known that guy? Maybe he was a friend of a friend or something.
Before they could go one, there was a knock on the door. Darcy exclaimed, "Hey, watch it!" before it creaked open and a long, black shadow fell over the office.
"Pardon me, Mr. Branson. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
There he was. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself (or so the star stuck teenybopper magazines said). He wore a fitted black suit with a green and gold silk tie tucked carefully into his lapel. His hair was slicked back and fell past his shoulders. The few loose strands over his eyes were a casual reminder that it hadn't been a perfect job and he was still at least somewhat human. One could easily mistake him for something otherworldly from those sharp, flawless facial features alone. Quite a few articles Jane had come across theorized that he was an alien, descended from a god, or both. His name only fanned the flames of the meme. Forget Ted Cruz the Zodiac Killer, get a load of Actual Trickster God Loki Odinson.
He was accompanied by a man Jane didn't know, but guessed was a bodyguard. Shorter, but more muscular than Loki and handsome in a rough and tumble way that would probably do more for Darcy than for her. Indeed, when her friend peeked in, it wasn't to berate the intruders for barging in but to ogle the man's backside. He stopped three steps behind Loki, arms crossed intimidatingly as Loki approached the desk.
"I see you were looking over the script," he said, eyeing the laptop. "What a coincidence. That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"How about 'wait your turn?'" Darcy said to the bodyguard's ass.
Jane resisted the urge to agree with her. "I'm sure Mr. Branson would be happy to speak to you once our meeting is over. For now, if you don't mind…"
She let it linger, hoping he'd get the point. Looking down at her with his cool blue eyes (which were not cerulean pools no matter what the articles said) Loki gasped. "Oh, Dr. Foster, how good to see you. If I'd known you were visiting, I would've come by sooner."
He was so full of shit she could smell it. Just about the only saving grace was that he always remembered to call her 'doctor', but it was hardly any consolation now.
"Thank you, but we really do need to finish up," Jane said.
She looked to Mr. Branson, who up until now, had watched them with an almost bored expression. His fingers curled as if around a pen. God only knows what kind of bullshit 'drama' he could extrapolate from the last twenty seconds alone.
"I do need to see you, Mr. Odinson," he said, "but I'd like to finish going over your introductory scene with Dr. Foster first. If you wouldn't mind waiting outside?"
'Yeah, Loki, wait outside,' Jane thought vindictively. The moment of catharsis, however, was short-lived. "Wait, his intro scene?"
Mr. Branson looked at her. "Yes, his intro scene."
"You're saying he's Donald Blake." Jane slid forward in her seat. "He's playing the love interest."
"Indeed I am," Loki said, masking his evil grin with a low bow. "And let me just say how honored I am to be a part of this most esteemed project. I will do everything in my power to help bring your fascinating story to life."
That was rich coming from a guy playing what was essentially an OC self-insert. Jane sucked on her teeth, careful not to show any outrage while the bodyguard was watching. Somehow, her lips found their way into a hellish mockup of a smile just in time for him to lift his head and take her hand.
"I have been told I am a caring lover," he said, kissing her knuckles.
Jane ripped her hand away. "What the-"
Loki and the bodyguard laughed. "On camera, of course. It is a favorite character archetype of mine. Fear not, I'm certain you'll be satisfied with my performance. Until then, my dear Doctor."
The two men walked past a dumbstruck Darcy, who didn't seem to care that she was on her hands and knees in the hallway and people were staring at her. The bodyguard closed the door behind him with a final nod to Jane. Now it was just her and Mr. Branson, who cleared his throat and started talking about transitional scenes like nothing was wrong. Jane did her best to listen and not rub the hand Loki had touched. It should've throbbed with pain from her embedded nails. Instead, it only tingled.