A/N: Hello, readers! Welcome to an interesting experiment. This idea came to me literally overnight and I want to see if it will actually go somewhere. So feel free to criticize, give me ideas, and share your love for any of the characters! I rely on all the feedback I get! (And if it is criticism, please be courteous and at least be constructive!) I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This story is undergoing revision. Nothing drastic. I just want to improve the early chapters a bit. The chapters that have been edited will not have author's notes, only disclaimers.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel characters. I simply own Charlotte and the plot.

Goodbyes

I suppose you could say that my life has never been easy. I mean, not with the family I've got. But, hey, when you've got a bunch of superheroes as your family, is normal really a part of the equation?

No. No, it isn't.

I try to remember this as I hold the letter in my hand. The one that is going to completely change everything. Well, it already has changed everything.

I mean, it is technically all my fault. I just had to fall for the crazy psycho bent on world domination. Not to mention he actually has the start-up capital to be successful in that endeavor. All he needs is me. Well, I guess I should say that he wants me. Dad is royally pissed. Well, so is Pops and everyone else for that matter. I'm more pissed than all of them. I mean, I'm the one who has to completely uproot her life, abandon all of her research and searching, and move to a freaking alien planet to make sure he doesn't get his hands on me.

I can't help but sit here before Uncle Thor comes to get me and re-read the letter for the umpteenth time. It takes all of my willpower not to set the damn thing on fire. It's a pretty straight-forward threatening letter: generic threat of the city's population and my family's lives, list of demands (well, namely the one thing which is me), and the reassurance of said plans not being carried out if we all give in to the demand. Moron. Did he really think my family would give him what he wants? My family is not the type to give in. Especially my Pops.

Speaking of…

"Hey, sweetie. What are you thinking so intently about?"

I look up from the letter and stare at Pops. He hasn't changed much from when he was pulled from the ice. A little more tired, I guess, but I really wouldn't be able to tell the difference from a few years ago. Not like the rest of my family. His blonde hair is kept military short, big blue eyes shining with worry at the moment, and he's dressed in a simple white shirt and khaki slacks. Over six feet tall and with more muscle than anyone, he would normally be intimidating if it weren't for the fact that he's a giant teddy bear once you get to know him. His hugs are the best—it's easy to forget that he can still bench press a small car if necessary. Being a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers has helped to keep his figure and to keep his mind sharp. Not that the serum doesn't do the majority of the work, but at least it gives him something to do.

Dad trails behind him, the glow from the arc reactor lighting the way in the dimly lit room. Whereas Pops is blonde and blue eyed, showcasing a history of Northern European ancestry, Dad is the exact opposite. I used to call them the ying-yang just to piss them off. Not that it ever worked. His black hair is sticking up in all directions, meaning he's been down in his lab and the new energy project is being difficult again. Or he's worrying about me. Probably both. He has tanned skin that I would give an arm for and he's dressed in jeans and a Beatles t-shirt. His brown eyes take in everything when he walks in: the dim room, the letter in my hand, the bags packed by the door. Dad has always had a way of knowing what's going on in any given situation without needing much verbal input.

I sometimes wonder how these two are even able to get along. One is Captain America: the Golden Boy with the strong reserve and deep-set morals—the soldier out of time with the big heart and his stand-up-to-bullies attitude. Then there is Iron Man: snarky, sarcastic, better with robots than people genius, and oftentimes royal pain in the ass. For all intents and purposes, these two shouldn't be able to work. But they do. And I'm grateful that they do. Otherwise I wouldn't have a family now.

I sigh as they both sit on either side of me on the bed. "What do you think, Papa?" I ask back. I look over at him and all he can do is stare back at me in understanding. Pops and I have the type of relationship where we don't have to verbalize everything. We just get what the other is thinking. Dad and I have yelling bouts. That doesn't mean to say that I love my Papa more than my Dad, it just means we communicate differently to each other. However, even with this, I think Dad knows what's going through my head.

"JARVIS, how long until Thor is scheduled to pick her up?"

"20 minutes, Sir," says the smooth voice of the AI I've grown up with. JARVIS has always been more of my nanny than any actual caretaker that has tried their hand at the job. I'm going to miss hearing his voice.

"This is bullshit," I exclaim, breaking the silence. I stand up and start pacing the floor of my bedroom. "Why is it that I have to do this? I have so much going on right now! I'm on the verge of a breakthrough with my research in Norway and this has to happen now? I don't want to go to Asgard! Lord only knows how long I'll be there and by the time I get back, I may lose everything!" I look back at them with rage shimmering in my eyes. "Why are you making me do this?"

Pops shakes his head gently. "Sweetie, you know we are doing this to keep you safe."

"Safe?" I repeat at him. "Safe from what? He's not going to hurt me! He said so in this stupid letter!" I shake the letter before throwing it in their general direction. If I don't let go of it, I might just set it on fire. It sails in their direction before losing momentum and fluttering down to rest a couple feet in front of them. "And besides, it's not like I can't protect myself! I've only been trained by some of the best fighters in the world for the majority of my life!"

"Charlie, that's not the point and you know it." Dad stands up and comes to a stop in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders to look me directly in the eye. "We're sending you to Asgard to keep you safe. We've failed to protect you in the past when this sort of thing has happened. You may be older and can protect yourself more successfully now, but we are not taking the chance of that happening again. Do you understand?"

I deflate at the raw pain in his eyes and nod. I do understand. I just wish he would stop beating himself up for something that wasn't his fault. I wish they all would. "This just royally sucks, Dad."

He gives me his half-smile and pulls me in for a close hug. "I know it does. But if we have anything to say about it, you won't be gone for long. Besides, with my tech, it shouldn't take long to find the bastard and then we can destroy him. Easy peasy."

"Please say that's a promise," I mumble against his shoulder, before pulling away to look into his eyes. "I don't think I can handle it if I'm gone from my work for longer than a month."

"Be careful, sweetie," Papa playfully warns, coming over to the two of us. I move away fully from my Dad so I can wrap myself in my Pops's arms. "You're starting to sound like your father."

"Le gasp!" I whisper in mock fright. My dad's workaholic tendencies are well known throughout the Tower and outside it, too. My dad gives a short "hey!" in retaliation. I grin for the first time all day. I pull away from Pops to look around. "Hey, where's Peter? I wanted to give him a goodbye hug before I left."

A third person walks into the room carrying what looks suspiciously like a giant cookie. I didn't hear the elevator ding, but I've been a little lost in my own world so I suppose that's not a surprise. He is tall, almost as tall as Pops, with brown hair and brown eyes. He's in his thirties but he doesn't look a day older than 25. You can attribute his freaky anti-aging and physical dexterity to a radioactive spider that bit him when he was a teenager. With it came a physical transformation that is only rivaled by our Pops. Except, instead of becoming freakishly strong (even though that was one of the gifts), he received many powers that resemble that of a spider. He is known as Spiderman by the public. But to me he is Peter, the goofy genius who is my older brother.

When he was fourteen, his aunt and uncle, who were his legal guardians at the time, died at the hand of a random shooting. Peter fell into the foster system because he didn't have any living relatives. Peter was adopted by Dad a few months after the shooting due to Peter's submission for a clean energy project for a Stark Industries scholarship. The winner got to meet with the Tony Stark and they kind of just hit it off. Dad didn't want him to get lost in the system, so he decided the best course of action would be to adopt him and have him come live in the Tower with the rest of our crazy family. The rest is history.

I roll my eyes at him and move forward to take a giant bite out of the cookie. He pouts at me before engulfing me in a giant hug. "I'm going to miss you, brat."

"I'm not a brat, jerk," I respond. This is our usual exchange. After I was adopted, he took to calling me brat. Being the snarky little thing that I was, I just called him a jerk in response. Let's just say it stuck. "And besides, I won't be gone that long if Dad has anything to do with it. So don't get too comfortable."

"Aw, man. And to think, I was going to have the movie room all to myself."

I punch his shoulder before grinning up at him. "You have to share that room with five superheroes and your three kids, Peter. Trust me, you won't be getting it all to yourself."

"Sir, Thor will be arriving in five minutes."

I sigh and look over to my bags. Guess it's now or never. Dad and Pops both take a bag—Pops the heavier one, of course—and Peter takes my arm, leading me to the elevator. I hear my floor shut down as I walk into the lift, all the electronics shutting off and the blinds closing over the wall of windows to shroud it in darkness. We go up the lift to the roof of the Tower where I will meet my uncle. The city's lights shine out over the pre-dawn. The sky is just now starting to light up with the coming sunrise. The rest of the family is waiting when we step out of the elevator. Aunt 'Tasha is standing with her back to the city, arms crossed across her chest, red shoulder-length hair blowing gently around her. She may not be an active member of S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, but she's the one who has trained me since the day I stepped into the Tower. Well, her and Uncle Clint. She's been my role model and one of my best friends for years. Uncle Clint is standing next to her in a similar position. I'm pretty sure I got his sense of humor more than anyone else. Both of them are retired from active duty, but they're both still signed on as advisors and always go in when the Avengers are called into action. And they can still kick anyone's ass. Uncle Bruce's glasses reflect the lights from the city. He is standing a few paces behind Aunt 'Tasha. I spent a lot of my time in his lab growing up. Between him and Dad, I was always exposed to some sort of lab experiment. I think they were trying to nurture a scientific brain in me. Unfortunately, it didn't work. I was always more like Pops in that regard.

A bright rush of energy and light signals the arrival of Uncle Thor. He walks out of the bifrost, golden hair and red cape flowing behind him from the winds the rainbow bridge had caused. He still looks magnificent as he always has. He engulfs me (literally) in a bear hug. I was always his favorite. Probably because I begged him to tell me all about Asgard when I was a kid until he decided to take me there when I was eight. I've always been fascinated by it and the discrepancies between actual Asgardian history and the mythologies that evolved over the years here on Earth.

"Good morning, little one," he greets in my ear. I've been "little one" for as long as I can remember. He knows my name is Charlie, but I don't think he has ever actually called me by that name. I don't mind. He lets go after a moment and turns to greet the rest of his fellow warriors. I smile slightly and turn to Aunt 'Tasha.

"Remember your fighting abilities. Asgardians value warriors and you have those skills. If you have to stay for a long time, that is how you will gain respect. Just keep yourself safe." I nod in understanding before attacking her with a hug. Her tough disposition leaves in an instant. She is tough inside and out, but not when it comes to us. She kisses the side of my head and pushes me towards Uncle Clint.

"Be safe, kiddo. And if you come across Thor's brother, put an arrow in him for me." I smile and nod. While I've never met Loki myself, Uncle Clint's (and well, everyone else's too) dislike of him is legendary. Not that I can blame him. I would be pissed if someone rooted around in my head too. I give him a hug and promise to keep practicing with the bow. He only just recently taught me how to use one. I'm a really shitty shot though.

I walk over to Uncle Bruce who just gives me his characteristic small smile. He's always had a special place in my heart since I was little. Hell, he's had a special place in my heart since before I was adopted. I give him a hug as well. "Be safe," he says. "We'll get you home soon." I nod and let go.

I walk back over to my parents and Uncle Thor. Peter breaks off half of the cookie and gives it to me. I smile before taking a large bite. I break off half of it and give it to Uncle Thor. He was eyeing it out of the corner of his eye. He smiles and kisses my cheek as thanks. I munch on my half while looking at my parents while Uncle Thor wanders off to everyone else. "I guess this is goodbye for now."

"Yup." Dad comes over and gives me one more hug. I feel the arc reactor humming against my chest.

When he pulls away I put my hand over it. "Make sure to take care of this, okay? I don't want to come back to find my Dad was an idiot and didn't keep an extra close by during battle."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirks at me and moves aside so my Papa can give me one last hug.

"I know you're nervous. You don't have to say it out loud, but you are." I look up into his blue eyes and allow my carefully won mask to leave my face. I only allow my mask to fall when I'm around my family. Only they can see the real me. And right now, the real me is scared. Very scared. I'm just glad that my Papa knows without me having to say it out loud. Probably because I've been calling him Papa instead of Pops. That is my usual indicator of nerves. "I don't want you to be scared, okay?" he continues. "Just be yourself. Everyone there already loves you from your last visit, remember?"

"But, Papa, I was eight. I barely remember that trip. I'm twenty-four now. Some things have changed."

"Not everything." He kisses my forehead and lets go. "Now go have an adventure." Before he walks completely back to Dad and Peter he turns back and looks at me. "One more thing: be careful around Loki. I know Thor has said that he's different than when we last saw him, but just be careful, okay?"

I roll my eyes at him. "I know, Pops. I've heard all of your stories about him. And my specialty is mythology. I know enough about him to be completely wary of the guy."

He smiles. "Good. Now go." He turns and walks back to my Dad, wrapping his arms around his chest from behind. I smile and turn around to Uncle Thor. He finishes speaking with everyone and walks over to me, my bags in tow.

"Ready, little one?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I relieve him of one of my bags and step closer. I don't really remember how this goes. Uncle Thor just makes it seem like he's walking.

Hoisting my duffel bag onto his back, he spreads his extra arm towards me. I walk into his outstretched arm. "Hold onto me." I wrap my arm around his torso and look up. He is also looking up into the sky. "Heimdall, whenever you're ready." I look back towards my family gathered on the roof and realize this will be the last time I see them for maybe a long while. Tears spring to my eyes as I whisper a final farewell as the bright lights engulf me and I'm whisked through the stars towards a whole new world.