Thor's Lieutenant

"Is she your wife?"

"Have you considered joining the Avengers?" a dark man with one exposed eye had her pulling out her gun quicker than a human could see.

With a click, the safety was turned off.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house?" Azai's low growling added to her intimidation level. The man looked unfazed as he stood, walking towards her slowly. Her chest tightened, glaring intently at him.

"Fury. The name's Nick Fury," the stranger introduced himself. "I'm–"

"The Director of Shield, I know. I didn't think you'd be making house calls. Why are you in my home?" She cut him off. Her dog circled Fury, ears pinned.

"Odinson was quite upset when you vanished." He stopped around six feet from her, guessing correctly she would shoot him if he got too close. "He nearly turned New York upside down to find you. You're a Lieutenant General–"

Again, she cut him off. "Retired," she corrected, tightening the grip on her gun. Fury's gaze flickered down to the black weapon. Cold waves washed over her. Invisible needles pricked at her skin, indicating her anxiety had risen.

"You know what you're doing. The entire team has PTSD, you wouldn't be alone. Listen, Miss Kennedy, you would be a valuable asset to the team. I believe your skills would be better put to use with the Avengers. You could also remain close to Thor.." Fury suggested.

Just like that, her anxiety left.

She lowered her gun, eyeing Fury distrustfully. "Azai, alert."

The German Shepherd's aggressive stance disappeared. He stalked over to Alora and sat down beside her, ears pricked.

Fury smirked fractionally. "Funny how just hearing Thor's name will calm you."

Alora glared at him, clicking the safety on and putting her weapon away. "I can have you arrested for breaking and entering, bloke."

"But you won't," he countered, "because you want to be on the team."
She rolled her eyes. "How do you know I have PTSD?"

"You survived World War Two," Fury shrugged. "It would be a miracle if you didn't."

"I'm not selling my house," she warned him.

He chuckled. "Of course not. You can move in Stark's tower. We'll keep the place for you."

"My kid comes before missions," the woman added.

"As she should." Fury agreed.

"My room is ombre yellow."

"Why?" Fury leaned towards her.

"White room torture," Alora shrugged. "Yes or no?"

"You can decorate it yourself for all I care." He nodded. It was incredibly surprising that her sanity was so in tact after that type of torture.

"I want a light in my room."

"Why?" the director tilted his head.

"Nyctophobia."

"Ah. I'm sure that can be arranged."

❃

Fury and Alora walked into the press room side by side. Alora was wearing black combat boots, blue skinny jeans, and a Shield sweatshirt. Her hair was tied into a fluffy ponytail, dog tags shimmering in the artificial light. Sunglasses hid her stormy eyes.

Her head was held high, walking with confidence she didn't feel.

Bright flashes were muffled by the dark glasses she wore. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Loki, Clint, Steve, Bruce, and Sam were all professionally shocked to see Alora at a press conference.