Music is "Life and Death" by Paul Cardall from the Lost OST.

Picture is Tate Donovan as Roosevelt Northern.

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"what made her strong was
despite the million things
that hurt her
she spoke of nothing
nothing
but happiness."

- j.a.

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This chapter is dedicated to @WhovianHorseLover , who came up with the cast idea of Tate Donovan for Roosevelt Northern. Thank you! :)

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CHAPTER NINE

{Glory's P.O.V.}

[Several Hours Earlier]

This is it. This is the moment where everything changes. Everything I had promised myself I'd never do, everyone I swore I'd never speak to again, it's all right in front of me.

My father still lives in the same damn house. Outside Norfolk, Virginia, a farmhouse much like Clint's. White brick, green shutters, rolling hills that climb to mountains, fields of golden crops swaying in the breeze. Though he lives only ten miles from town, I could swear that we're in another realm.

I take Pietro's hand, holding onto it like a lifeline. "We can still go home," he whispers to me before we step off the Quinjet.

I shake my head no. "No, I'm great. I'm really good." I turn to Clint and smile. "Thanks for the ride, Clint."

Clint comes over to us and swings his arm around my shoulder, leaning in closely. "You know, as an expert at dealing with annoying in-laws, if you need an emergency evacuation, I'm just a bird call away."

Laughing, we step off the plane, waving as it lifts off. Pietro is the first to turn and tug me towards the house. "Come on, little warrior. It is not going anywhere."

When we reach the door, he knocks. "Oh shit!" I whipser to myself. "Should we have brought something for the cookout? I feel like I should have brought something."

Pietro rolls his eyes and tries to not laugh. "And you say you do not care how today goes."

I punch his arm. "You know, you can be a real as-"

The door opens, and standing in behind the screen door is my five years older sister, Rebecca Marie Northern, or just Bex. She hasn't changed hardly at all, still a pale redhead like me, still a cigarette in hand like she has since she was fifteen and threatened me within an inch of my life not to tell our father, and probably still living off our father's couch like she has for years.

I try to force a smile. Maybe some part of me misses her. "Hey, Bex."

She takes a long drag from her cigarette, blowing it out to the side. "What's up, Sis? Long time, no see."

"Rebecca, who is that?" a man's voice shouts, my father.

"It's Gloria!" she shouts back. Her eyes drift hazily from me to Pietro, eyeing him in a way she always did to my boyfriends. "And some sexy guy she picked up."

"For God's sakes, Rebecca! Let them in!"

She then glances down to my stomach, as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh lookie here! You made a mini-you!"

I chuckle. "I might've forgot to mention that." I pause. "May we come in?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure, c'mon in. Ain't my house." She opens the door and lets us both walk through, her eyes again glued to Pietro.

"Thanks," I whisper, walking down the halls of my childhood home. Something in my chest siezes up, remembering all I went through here. I brace myself on the wall as Bex pushes by us, not caring or not noticing my hitching breath. Gold sparks fly from the air coming out my lungs.

"Glory, breathe," Pietro whispers. "The moment you need to leave, just say so. Barton can be here in twenty minutes."

I nod, attempting a smile. Just as he leans down to place a kiss to my lips, my father comes around the corner. "Hey, none of that in my house." Some part of my wonders if he's joking or not.

I blush and pull away, much to Pietro's surprise. "Sorry, Roosevelt."

My father, Roosevelt Northern, is an average looking man. Not buff, but not overweight. Not overly handsome, but not ugly. His age shows through excess stress lines and dark grey hair.

Roosevelt, a man who wouldn't stop worrying to enjoy the small things in life. He was always so concerned about money, or the state of the government, or his church, or other people's business to see that his life was great. He couldn't see it, and he lost his family for that. First my mother, then me, and Bex was falling apart from an early age.

"Who's this?" he asks in a stern voice. His eyes are the same; they show no love, only disdain and distance.

My voice is almost a whisper. I learned to be seen and not heard in this house. "This is Pietro Maximoff, my fiancee."

Roosevelt looks him over, which doesn't phase Pietro at all like I thought it would. My father can make anyone uncomfortable or guilty with just a look. "You're pregnant," he states flatly. "Is it his?"

I nod. "Yes, they are. They're twins."

Roosevelt gives his famous disapproving look, looking down his nose at us. He just nods once, barely uttering a, "Huh," letting us know that this will be talked about later. "Your mother didn't tell me you were bringing a fiancee. Truth be told, she didn't even tell me you were coming until this morning, or that you were engaged at all."

I sigh. "She hasn't changed much, has she?"

He laughs once, walking to the back door. "Neither have you, I see."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Still doing whatever you please," he motions to Pietro. "He didn't ask for my permission, did he?"

"Roosevelt, please," I groan, closing my eyes. "Let's not get into this."

"And you're pregnant... outside of marriage," he mumbles, walking out the door.

I turn to Pietro, and whisper, "I'm sorry about that, about him."

Pietro's gaze is burning a hole through the back door. "He has no right to any of those thing's in your life. Since when has he cared?"

"Oh, he cares. Just about the wrong things. Who I'm dating, who I'm intimate with, religion, sexuality, political party, but he doesn't care about me. Not really. He just wants me in his cookie cutter mold. This is part of the reason why I left in the first place. This happened every night."

"Why are we here then?" Pietro whisper-shouts, looking almost angry, and I have to put a finger to his lips to keep his voice down.

"I don't know," I sigh. "I came for Rebecca, not him. Where is she?" I turn to Bex, who is sitting at the bar drinking something that is definitely not apple juice. "Where is Rebecca?"

"She's at the market," Bex says, motioning towards the road through the open window. "She'll be back soon... ish."

"Ish?" I raise my eyebrows. "Ish. That's great."

Pietro places his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "Shhh, calm down, Возлюбленная."

"See, this is why I wanted you to come," I whisper shout. "I would've killed him right then and there. I didn't bring you to deal with my shit family."

"You would not have killed him," he says, partly concerned he's wrong.

I hold my hands up, palms facing the ceiling. Golden light is illuminating from my palms. "Wanna bet?"

The front door opens, the bell on the doorknob jingling like a funeral procession. I peak around the wall to see a woman with red hair, slightly dulled by time, carrying bags of groceries in her frail looking arms. "Rebecca?" I ask, slowly walking towards her.

She turns suddenly, a shocked look on her face. "Damn it! You're here already? I have only just begun on the meal!"

I smile slightly and grab a bag or two from her heavy load. "Pietro, help?"

Pietro grabs the rest of the bags from her arms. Rebecca turns to me, tears in her eyes. "My God, ladybug. How much you've grown! You look absolutely stunning."

I blush and chuckle, taken back by her kind words. "Thank you. You look really good too."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I'm a frail old woman who can't even carry her own groceries." She turns to Pietro. "Speaking of which, thank you, young man. Who might you be?"

"Pietro Maximoff," he says, his Sokovian accent strong as he places the groceries in the table.

"You must be the fiancee," she assumes, smiling at him. Turning to me, she whispers, "You did good, ladybug. He's a looker."

I roll my eyes, but inwardly, I can't help but agree. My Pietro is very, very handsome. "So, can we help you with the meal? Pietro has become something of an expert chef since my strange food cravings had started."

"Yes, help would be amazing, but I forgot to welcome two new members!" She leans down to look at my tummy. "Have you decided on names? Do you know the genders?"

"We have certain names picked out, but we haven't been able to find the genders. How did you know-?"

"-That there were two?" she asks, and I nod. Rebecca chuckles. "Ladybug, I remember being pregnant. Twice. Trust me, that's not something you forget. You have either a very big baby, or two, and since you're so petite, I figured the latter."

I give a polite nod and smile to her answer, still amazed. "What are we making? Please, tell me it's not burgers," I say, laughing at the memory of Rebecca trying to cook hamburgers on our large grill, ending up burning them to a crisp.

Rebecca laughs quietly as she opens her grocery bags, pulling out vegetables, fruits, and odd spices I'd never heard of. "I'll never make another hamburger again, will I?"

Pietro raises an eyebrow at the two of us, obviously concerned about our laughter. "Inside joke, babe," I tell him, waving his concern away. He nods and goes to aid my mother.

"No, this time, we're making vegetable kabobs, grilled corn on the cob, and spicy rice."

"No meat? In this house?" I ask, surprised. "I didn't think I'd see the day Roosevelt ate a meal without meat."

"He is a carnivore, isn't he? No, he makes small sacrifices for me. Since... since I saw you last, I've changed my diet to become vegan."

Pietro pipes up, "Glory is vegetarian now."

"Is that so?" Rebecca asks, turning to me as she peels the husks off the corn.

I come to her aid as I answer, "Yes. One of my best friends introduced me to the lifestyle. After her passing... I picked up the habits from the cookbooks she left behind." I swallow hard, thinking of Aspen and how much she loved animals that she wouldn't even eat them. "I guess it's my way of honoring her memory."

Rebecca smiles sadly at me. "I understand the feeling, Gloria, and I'm sorry for your loss. What was her name?"

We continue preparing the meal as we talk, cutting zucchini, squash, peppers, tomatoes, and onions, and rolling the corn in delicious spices as Pietro stirs the rice. "You knew her, I think. Aspen Penrose?"

"The elf-girl?" Rebecca chuckles, and I nod, laughing with her at her description. "I do remember her. She always had the hair by her face in those tiny braids, and it was the most beautiful color, too. Like a dark auburn, almost brown but there was just a hint of red."

I place the ready kabobs on the tray, asking if Pietro could carry it for my mother to Roosevelt outside for grilling. "Does he still have the outdoor set up?" I ask, referring to the large seating and eating area outside the back door. I had spent many nights with my friends out there, and many more nights under the stars, trying to get away from the constant yelling and screaming of my parents and the always present aura of disapproval from my father even after Rebecca left.

"Pietro, put that tray down," my mother demands, pointing her finger to the table. Though small and fragile in appearance, my mother is as stubborn and commanding as I am. "Thank you, but I am not so fragile that I can't carry a tray outside. You and Gloria have a seat in the den while I help Roosevelt outside." She turns, grabs the pan from Pietro gently, and waltzs outside to join her ex-husband.

Pietro turns his head towards me, eyes wide. "Now I know where you received your bossy attitude."

"When men are bossy, they're assertive. When women are bossy, they're a bitch," I reply, as I always do.

He comes closer, chuckling at me. "Your mother seems nice enough."

I sigh, a small smile threatening to come across my face. "Yeah, she is. I'm pleasantly surprised, but don't get your hopes up. I have a feeling Roosevelt isn't done insulting my life's choices yet."

Pietro leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips, then cheek, then nose. "I do not care what he says. He can go to h-"

"-Would you guys quit it with the PDA? Jeez, it's like being in high school all over again."

I turn around to face my sister, slightly annoyed. "You didn't even finish high school, Rebecca."

She waves her hand at me, sending another puff of smoke my way. "I got my GED. No harm done."

I shake my head. "When you get arrested for manslaughter or something, I'm not being your lawyer."

"How could you? You're a damn comic nerd-"

"-It's a saying, Bex?" I reply, rolling my eyes. "Let's go sit outside," I whisper to Pietro. "Too much smoke in here. It isn't good for the babies."

Pietro nods and we walk outside, breathing in a grateful breath of fresh air. The sunlight is warm, the air isn't humid, and there's a slight breeze from the west. An almost perfect day, if it weren't in the presence of people who hurt me so deeply.

Roosevelt is at the grill, silent and oblivious to our entrance to his right, even though the grill is up against the house not three feet from us. He studies the vegetables intently, a scowl on his wrinkly face, as if the vegetables have said something that offended him. Or perhaps their mere existence insults him, or the lack of meat accompanying them.

Rebecca is seated in one of the comfortable deck chairs, playing soft jazz music from her iPhone, multitasking pouring spices into a full bowl of while rice and pouring ice-cold lemonade from the pitcher. I hope and pray it's her homemade lemonade. When I was a child, I missed it more than her.

"May I help?" Pietro asks, walking to my mother and smiling at her.

Rebecca looks up at him, her eyes straining as the low sun behind him. "That would be lovely. Stir the rice so I can finish the drinks. Gloria, would you be a dear and get some ice from the freezer? The one in the garage, though. Your father has procrastinated getting that damn thing fixed since I was living here." She hands me a small bowl.

"Oh, Rebecca," Roosevelt scolds.

"Don't 'Oh Rebecca' me, you old geezer," she laughs. "You know I'm right."

I head for the freezer in the garage in the back of the rear yard. It's really a shed, but we call it the garage. I hear my mother yell for Bex that it's time to eat as I fill the small bowl with ice.

Once we're seated, Roosevelt starts dishing out his food, much to my surprise. "You're not going to pray over dinner?" I ask. When I was a child, it was a tradition in the house to pray at every meal, something that I had come to love and still do to myself.

Roosevelt shrugs, continuing to dish out rice on his plate. "I figured you aren't much of the praying type anymore."

"Wellc that's what you get for assuming." I fold my napkin on my lap. "Why do you say that?"

"You obviously have no room for God or church in your life," he retorts.

Rebecca groans. "Please," she begs him. "Please, not this again."

I stare intently at Roosevelt. "I pray every day and every night. It's the first thing I do when I wake up, and it's the first thing I do when I go to bed. I read one chapter of the Bible every day, and even though I don't go to church, I prefer sitting in nature and communing there."

My words shut Roosevelt up, as he passes the rice dish to Bex, who sits on his left. She then passes it to Pietro, then to me, then to Rebecca. "So, Gloria," Bex says, "Tell us about your job."

"To which are you referring?" I ask with eyebrow raised. Bex has forever had a crush on Tony Stark. Of course I know which job she's referring to.

"The Avengers, of course!" She seems so excited, a huge smile on her face. "Is Tony Stark really as handsome as his pictures make him out to be? How old is Hawkeye anyways? What is the Vision? Human? He doesn't look human to m-"

"-Stop," I say, interrupting her. "Just to be clear, this night is not able me being an Avenger. This is about us as a semi-functional, or at least trying to be functional, family getting together for the first time in almost two decades." I sigh. "But, yes. Tony is handsome, Clint is old enough to be a father, and Vision is both human and machine."

"Cyborg?"

"More like android," I reply. "Any other questions?"

"What's your job, handsome?" She turns to Pietro. "You seem like a real hands on guy." She wiggles her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Pietro doesn't reply to her inappropriateness. He simply says, "I protect people who can't protect themselves."

"And you, Gloria?" Rebecca asks. "I was actually wondering what you did... when you're not pregnant, of course."

"I'm a fighter," I say. "I'm a warrior. I use my powers to help people, like Pietro said. We fight evil and evil-doers."

"What, like Black Death?" Roosevelt asks. "You guys did a splendid job with him."

"Roosevelt!"

"Two million dead? Another million injured and missing?"

"That wasn't our fault-" I start to say.

"-And now we have another two thousand freaks running around-"

"-Shut up!" I shout, bringing my fist down on the table, and it's glowing golden.

Pietro places his hand over my clenched fist. "Возлюбленная..."

I take a deep breath. "None of those people are freaks. They are gifted. Special. Unique. They are going to change the world-"

"-Oh, yeah," Roosevelt says, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. "Destroy it. That is changing it, I suppose."

"I am one of them!" I shout back at him, my anger from all these years coming out. "I have always been one of them."

"Glory, should we go?" Pietro asks, turning my face towards him.

I take another deep breath, closing my eyes and focusing. "No. I'm fine. No more questions about work, politics, or my life. None." We continue eating in almost dead silence, only the occasional bout of small talk, which I gladly accept.

When we finish, I help the rest of the family take the dishes inside, placing them in the sink. While Roosevelt goes to sit on the sofa, relaxing, my mother is up at the sink, washing the dishes. I go to help her, drying them as she finishes washing. "Why did you want me to come over?" I ask in a whisper. "Dinner was amazing, but he ruined it." I motion towards Roosevelt a room away.

Rebecca smiles a bit sadly at me. "I have something I want to give you, ladybug." She turns off the lights in the kitchen and leads me towards her old bedroom that she used to sleep in when she and Roosevelt would have fights bad enough.

It still looks the same, just older. The walls are still peachy pink, for this used to be my nursery. There are still glow in the dark stars glued to the ceiling, the closet door still won't shut properly, and there's only a small bed and dresser furnishing the space.

She goes over to the dresser, opens the top drawer, and pulls out a soft looking, blue and pink blanket. Unfolding it, one half is equally pink while the other is blue. You can tell it's a masterpiece that was handmade.

"Who made this?" I gasp, reaching out tentatively to touch the fabric.

She smiles. "I did. I made it for you and your new little one, well, ones, but I didn't know that at the time. I learned to knit some years ago as a hobby, and when I saw you were pregnant on the news, I thought I'd make you something and send it to you anonymously." She tears up a little bit. "But here you are. I actually get to give it to you in person."

I smile softly as she hands me the quilt. "I love it." I look up at her. "Thank you. This is amazing. I'm sure they'll love it." I pause, then sigh. "Rebecca, I have to ask, why now?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, her smile falling away.

"Why contact me now? You said over the phone you regretted a lot, but that's not good enough." I let a moment pass while I collect my thoughts. "You left me and Bex alone with this man for years. I cried myself to sleep so many nights because of his harsh demeanor. You dropped out of my life for good at sixteen. I haven't seen you since. That's ten years. Now that I'm fairly well off, comic writer and artist and Avenger, I have to ask what you want. Money? Power? Fame? Why are you being so nice?"

"Why do you doubt me?" Rebecca asks, sitting down on her bed. "I missed you. Isn't that enough?"

I shake my head, folding my arms. "No, it's not. Tell me why, or I won't come back."

She sighs deeply. "As I said before, I regret what I did when I was younger. I regret leaving you and Bex here with that man. If I divorced him, I should have taken you girls with me. I should've fought for you." She tears up. "But I didn't. I can't change the past, but I can change the future. I don't want you to think of me badly when I'm gone. I want to heal what damage I did."

"Can you heal that much damage?" I whisper.

"Can you give me the chance to try? That's all I ask." She waits for my answer with eager eyes. "Please, ladybug. We don't have to come back here. We can go to my place. You don't have to see Roosevelt again."

"He was an ass tonight."

"Damn right he was," she says. "Inexcusable behavior. Let me make up for it."

I smile at her after a moment of thought. A moment of hope. Maybe it's possible... "Okay."

She hops up with achy bones. "Okay? Really?"

I laugh, holding her baby blanket close. "Really."

She leans in, as if to hug me, then backs up. "Is a hug okay...?"

I reach out and hug her to me, glad to see her so excited about our semi-functional family.

We leave soon after; Pietro had called Clint for our pickup while Rebecca and I were talking. Once we thank Rebecca for the meal and say our goodbyes, we head out to the field over to the side of the house to wait for our pickup.

"Sis!" Bex's voice shouts.

Pietro looks at me, silently asking me if he should stay. "Go," I whisper to him. "I got this." I turn to see Bex running out to us, her red unruly hair flying in the sift breezy night. She holds a small item in her hand. "What is it, Bex?"

She smiles awkwardly at me, and replies, "I was an ass at dinner. I'm sorry. I got too excited, 'cause you know, Tony fucking Stark."

I laugh at that part. "That's okay. Trust me, we've all been there."

"I found these at the store the other day, after Mom told me you were coming, and bought them for you. I didn't know what you were having, so I bought both. Turns out it's a good thing I did!" She holds up two pairs of baby booties, one pair is pink with blue bows and the other is blue with pink bows.

"Oh my gosh, Bex," I say, laughing happily at the thought she must've put into this gift. "These are amazing! They're absolutely perfect."

"Forgive me for tonight?" she asks, shrugging her shoulders up. "Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime? I don't... um... I don't really have any other friends to hang out with..." Bex's eyes start to tear up as she looks away.

I grab her in a hug. "Of course. Coffee sounds great. Mom had my number if you wanna get a hold of me."

She pulls back and smiles eagerly. "Awesome! I'll see you... soon?"

"Soon," I reply, turning back towards the plane and waving. "Bye, Bex!"

"Bye!"

I practically skip over to where Pietro stands in the dimly lit field of grain, a huge smile on my face ad I carry the baby blanket and booties. "You did amazing tonight," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"I did, didn't I?" I laugh to myself. "You did good, too. Surprised you didn't hit my father once."

"Tempted, but..." He shakes his head. "Not worth it."

We wait about ten minutes over what Clint's normal flying time should be before we start to worry. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"I knew Barton was slow, but this, this is definitely odd." Pietro pulls out his cell phone and dials the Tower's number, only for the call to be cut off and said out of service. "That is odd." Just as he reaches to try the number again, a incoming call comes through. Pietro's body language completely changes from slight worry to rigid and almost angry.

"Who is it?" I ask

He doesn't answer, but he answers the phone call. "What do you want, Stark?" He pauses, and his face changes once again to fear and confusion. "Wait, what? Hold on. You are not making any sense. Say it again. I am putting you on speakerphone for Glory."

Pietro hits a button and suddenly I hear Tony's panicked voice. "Thank God I found you two!" he shouts. "I've tried all the others, Widow, Cap, Hawkeye, even Thor, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Next Gen. Mutnats,but no one is picking up!"

"Tony, what's wrong?" I ask.

"I kinda did exactly what you told me not to. Glory, I met with Senator Kelly."

"You did what-!"

"-Not now! Long story short, they know of a plot against the Avengers from Magneto and his Brotherhood. They think that he's gathering an army and he plans to take you all out. The government isn't going to do a damn thing because it will be the perfect excuse for the Superhuman Registration Act to be passed. Where are you now?"

"In the middle of rural Virginia, why?"

"They're going to the Tower, and they're probably there right now since I can't contact anyone. Friday can't even get inside."

"What do we do?" Pietro asks.

"Run. Run as fast as you can. As soon as they find out you're not there, they'll be after you."

"Running isn't an option. Those are our friends! Our family!"

"Wait for my backup then," Tony replies. "I'll have Rhodey, Carol, Sam, and myself their in fifteen minutes. Find somewhere safe, and destroy this phone and any others you have after this call so you won't be traced."

"No," I reply. "Go for the Tower. Forget us. We'll get there on our own. They need the most help. Get everyone you can to their location."

"But Glory-"

"-Just do it, Tony!"

He sighs heavily. "Yes, Ma'am. Stay safe, kids. Stark out."

Once the call has ended, Pietro takes his and my phone and throws them to the ground, stomping on them, completely destroying them. He turns to me. "Run?"

I nod. "Run."

END CHAPTER NINE.