{Chapter: 333 Jane in London}
London, England.
Inside a cozy yet stylish restaurant tucked in a quiet corner of Soho, two people sat at a table near the large window. Outside, red buses passed by and pedestrians hustled along, umbrellas in hand against the dreary drizzle. Inside, however, the air was warm with the smell of garlic butter and roasted fish.
A woman sat slumped slightly behind an oversized menu. Only the tips of her fingers were visible along the bottom edge.
"Jane... is there something you're still holding on to?" the man sitting across from her finally asked.
Yes, the woman hiding behind the menu was Jane Foster. And the man was Richard—kind, charming, maybe a little too ordinary for her storm-chasing tastes. They were here because Jane's mother had insisted on setting up the date, practically dragging Jane to the restaurant with the promise that "it wouldn't kill her to talk to someone who actually owns socks."
"I'm fine," Jane said quickly, lowering the menu with a weak smile. Her eyes were tired, the kind of tired that doesn't come from lack of sleep but from long months of hoping for something that never comes back. "Do I look like I have something to let go of?"
Richard arched an eyebrow. "You've been hiding behind a menu for ten minutes. There are only three dishes on it—chicken, fish, or steamed vegetables. It's not like you're analyzing quantum particle variance here. I'm guessing... it's about a guy?"
Jane hesitated, then gave a small shrug. "It's complicated."
"Let me guess—he's still around, sort of? Ghosting you with style?"
Jane's voice dropped a little, bitter. "No. He's gone. Just disappeared. Like a bad dream... only the kind that leaves a crater in your chest."
Richard gave her a sympathetic smile. "Been there. Dated a woman who moved to New York for work. Said we'd make it work long-distance. Turned out 'long-distance' meant 'I'll sleep with anyone within a five-mile radius.'"
Jane looked surprised. "Ouch."
"Yeah. Big ouch."
A third person suddenly walked up to the table. Richard turned his head. "Oh, waiter—can we get a bottle of red wine, please?"
"Perfect," the woman said as she pulled out a chair and plopped down like she owned the place. "That's exactly what I need."
"Darcy?!" Jane blinked as her intern-turned-friend snatched a bread roll from the basket and immediately started devouring it.
"Hiya," Darcy said through a mouthful of carbs. "I swung by the lab—your mom's place. I figured I'd find you lounging around in pajamas, eating straight out of a pint of ice cream, crying about Space Viking 2.0."
Darcy eyed Jane from head to toe. "But nooo, instead you're wearing an actual dress. Your hair's brushed. You even smell like something other than lab chemicals. You showered, didn't you?"
Jane gave her a dry look. "Was there a point to this surprise inspection, or are you just here to ruin my one attempt at being normal for five minutes?"
Darcy grinned and fished a small square device from her oversized bag. "Found this in the box of 'Things Jane Pretends Don't Exist.' Thought you might wanna take another look."
Jane accepted it with a sigh and flipped the tiny screen on. After a moment, her eyes widened. "No... this can't be right. It's been broken for months. This reading—this shouldn't be happening."
She tapped the device a few times. Then slammed it on the table.
"Yeah, I tried that too," Darcy said, chewing thoughtfully. "Very scientific method."
Jane reluctantly handed it back. Her voice was flat. "It's probably just interference. Nothing significant."
Darcy shook her head. "It's almost identical to the data Eric was looking at before—Eric Selvig, you know, the guy who basically wrote the book on wormhole theory? You might've heard of him, Richard."
Richard blinked. "Sure. The name rings a bell."
"Darcy..." Jane's voice was quiet, exhausted. "Drop it. I'm not interested."
Darcy gave her a long, knowing look but didn't push it. Instead, she stood up. "Alright. I'll leave you to your sad fish date. Enjoy."
Jane didn't reply. She stared out the window, the device still resting by her untouched water glass.
After an awkward silence, Richard cleared his throat. "So... should we order? The sea bass looks promising."
"Sea bass... sea bass... sea bass... sea bass... sea bass..." Jane mumbled under her breath, each repetition quieter than the last, her eyes glazed over.
Richard tilted his head. "Are you okay?"
Richard shook his head with a faint smile. "Jane, you'd better stop repeating 'sea bass' like a broken record. Why don't you go with your friends? I'll sit here and contemplate the deep philosophical meaning of perch—alone."
"Thank you very much. I had a lovely lunch," Jane replied, her smile overly polite, eyes already drifting to the door. She stood up almost too quickly. The moment she was out of the chair, it felt like she could breathe again. The date had been agonizing—a well-meaning prison arranged by her mother.
As she exited the restaurant, the cool London air hit her face like a small slap, grounding her. She walked briskly toward the car parked nearby. Darcy was already in the driver's seat, tapping on her phone and munching on something that looked suspiciously like cold chips.
"I knew you'd bail early," Darcy said through a mouthful. "By the way, who was that well-groomed, extremely polite gentleman?"
Jane slid into the passenger seat with a sigh. "A matchmaking gift from my mother. His name's Richard. Definitely not my type."
"Really? He seemed…stable. A working jawline. Employed. That's already three steps up from your last guy."
"Don't," Jane said sharply, her tone cracking slightly. She gripped the armrest. "Don't mention him. That... super liar."
"Yikes. Okay. Noted. No Mjölnir-sized wounds reopened today." Darcy backed out of the spot. "But you do know about the insane headlines, right? Like, presidential-level insane?"
Jane raised an eyebrow.
Darcy nodded emphatically. "The President of the United States—boom. Gone. Dead. Vaporized. Biggest suspect? Your ex, William. You really know how to pick them. I mean, who is this guy? One minute he's a total dreamboat, the next he's on the FBI's 'Do Not Ever Date' list."
"I know," Jane said quietly. Her fingers curled inward, almost subconsciously. "I know… William is really… something else."
A voice piped up from the back seat. "You're talking about William? He's amazing."
Jane twisted around, startled. There was a young man with an enthusiastic grin and a bag of equipment.
"Who is this?" she asked, blinking.
"My intern," Darcy said casually, gesturing with her thumb. "Every brilliant woman needs a slightly clueless sidekick. Ian, meet the famous Dr. Jane Foster."
"Hi, Dr. Foster! It's such an honor to work with you," Ian gushed, nearly tripping over his words. "Seriously, huge fan. Your work on Einstein-Rosen bridges is legendary."
Jane managed a small nod, but her gaze had already shifted to the cloudy sky outside.
Ian leaned forward. "And about William? He's kinda… iconic. My friends at uni say he's like a mythic anti-hero. Doesn't care about the rules, does what he wants, owns it. Totally unstoppable. Unapologetic. He's like—like a cosmic outlaw."
"You're worshipping a terrorist," Darcy muttered, reaching back to lightly smack Ian on the head.
"Of course I know he's a terrorist," Ian said, rubbing his head. "But he's still…well…legendary."
"There are really people who still idolize him," Jane muttered to herself, lips twisting slightly. "This world is upside down."
Darcy laughed. "What's really strange is that someone still loves him."
Jane turned her head away, her eyes glazing over as if she were watching something only she could see—a different time, a golden sky, a red cape. Her fingers trembled slightly on her lap.
Darcy cleared her throat and nudged the gear stick. "Alright then. Off we go! Hold on to your scientific instruments."
"Drive," Jane mumbled, her voice far away. "Just drive."
---
Outside an abandoned, crumbling factory on the edge of the city...
A small red car pulled up, its engine sputtering before going silent. Jane stepped out first, wrapping her coat tighter around her as if shielding herself from more than just the wind. The area was bleak and cold—concrete overgrown with ivy, metal rusted with time.
"This is it," Jane said, almost to herself. "Looks like the right place."
Darcy jumped out with a bit more enthusiasm, holding up a tablet. "It's so thrilling, isn't it? Abandoned buildings, mysterious readings, potential danger. Real superhero-adjacent vibes. Intern! You brought the phase table?"
"My name is Ian," he reminded with a half-smile, unloading the gear from the trunk.
The trio cautiously stepped inside the shadowed factory. Their footsteps echoed eerily across the cracked floor. Sunlight filtered weakly through broken windows, casting lines like prison bars across the dust-laden space. A sudden flutter—pigeons burst out from a beam above, scattering into the air.
Then, a shadow darted past.
The group froze.
Jane narrowed her eyes. "Okay, I am not in the mood to get murdered while doing science."
"Agreed. If we die, I'm going to haunt whoever set off the motion sensor," Darcy said, raising both hands. "Hello? Just some harmless Americans here! Unarmed! Possibly underpaid!"
"You really think that's going to help?" Jane asked, glancing sideways at her with a faint, tired smile.
From behind a stack of abandoned crates, three small figures emerged—children. Two boys and a girl, no older than ten or eleven.
Darcy blinked. "Okay. Plot twist. This is turning into a Spielberg movie."
Jane stepped forward slowly, still half-lost in her own head. Even as she studied the kids, her mind flickered back to a man with storm in his eyes and thunder in his blood. She wasn't here—not entirely. Not yet.
Darcy looked at her. "Jane, you alright?"
"I'm here," Jane whispered. "I'm trying."
And she meant it.