Clint sighed as his sister left the room. Sometimes, when he watched her, he saw himself. This presented a problem whenever they had an argument. They were just too much alike, and it was pretty much inevitable that heads would roll. 

He turned the TV back on and watched Tony Stark and Pepper Potts talk in glowing terms about the new Stark Tower they were building in New York City. Just another skyscraper, he thought changing the channel. He glanced towards his cell phone, lying on the coffee table.

Picking it up, he dialed Tasha's number without a second thought.

"Tasha here," said Tasha's voice, muffled by static.

"Hey Tasha, this is Clint."

"Hey Clint," she replied. "What do you need from me this time?"

"You act as though I call you all the time, asking for petty little favors."

"No, that would be Fury." Clint managed to keep from chuckling at her words.

"What I really want to know is why you've been training my sister without my knowledge." He said, his voice openly accusing. He could almost see her reaction.

"She said you knew," she stated, her tone cold as ice. "I didn't think she was doing anything wrong."

"She was going behind my back! You could have at least told me! I trust you Natasha. I would think that you of all people would tell me, at least that you were training with her. We've not exactly kept secrets since those days in Russia." He could guess what his words had inflicted upon her: a barrage of memories of her days as an assassin. She had once confided to him that she still occasionally had nightmares due to all of the memories. The silence on the other end of the phone was interminable.

"I trusted your sister to do the right thing. If she didn't, it's not exactly my fault. You can't really pin it on me, you know."

"Well, I know that...But I still don't see why you didn't mention it! You know how I would feel if anything happened to Christina."

"Look Clint, I know. But if you're looking for someone to stick the whole issue to, then don't look at me." The buzz of static filled his ear. Tasha had hung up.

Natasha Romanov slammed her cell phone shut indignantly, somewhat angry. Yes, she had actually agreed to the training thing, but no, she had not agreed that Christina should keep it from Clint. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, finally gaining her composure. She had had some inclination that Christina had not been telling the full truth when she said she had told Clint. During the past weeks, however, she had pushed any doubts from her mind and went on with her SHIELD duties and her now secret weekly ritual of training Clint's little sister to be an agent.

Of course, she reflected, that was not exactly how she'd planned it. She could have been doing other things at SHIELD rather than playing nursemaid to the little sister of one of her most trusted confidants. Don't kid yourself Tasha. If not that, you would have been at home, stuck with only memories of the past for your comfort. Better to be doing something worthwhile than to be dwelling on things that couldn't be changed.

Nat sighed and focused on the mission ahead. The line in front of her seemed unending and she checked her phone once more for the time, gritting her teeth in apprehension as the deadline for her plane's takeoff neared. She would be spending a week or so in Russia, collecting information on illegal dealings of several magnates there, who were making a profit off of illicit goods. Walk in the park, she thought. Somehow, she would much rather be doing that than trying to explain to one of the few people she considered a friend, her reasons for training their little sister.

Finally the line dwindled, and she neared the front. Glancing behind her, she realized that a man had been following her for quite some time, being careful to keep his distance. He was clad in a brown suit, casually raising a newspaper to shield his eyes as he watched her. 

Why didn't you notice him before! Natasha gently chided herself. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. Great! We're going to play a warm-up before the real game begins! She thought. This day just gets better and better.

Moments later, her ticket was punched and she was in her seat in first class, waiting for the plane to take off. She saw the man take a seat a few rows behind her. In mere minutes, the plane was in the air and gaining altitude fast. She glanced quickly behind her, her heart beating faster and faster in anticipation of her next move. As soon as the "fasten seatbelts" light blinked off and the Captain's voice came over the intercom confirming a successful takeoff, Natasha stood covertly and walked at a casual pace right past the man and into the second class passageway between the two different sections of plane seating. She ducked behind a corner and pressed herself to the wall.

Just as she had guessed he would, her tail calmly entered soon after. In fact, that was faster than I expected! She thought as she peeked out from the shadows. He must think I'm in the restroom, she mused. Stepping softly out of her hiding place, she crept up behind him.

"Excuse me, big boy," she whispered in his ear. "But I do believe I'll take care of this little problem now, before it gets too out of hand. I'm honored that you're following me and all, but I have no interest in games." As she talked, she trailed her finger down his jawline, turning him towards her. His eyes lit with anger when he saw she was right behind him, but she punched him hard in the face, before he could react. She barely caught him as he slumped to the floor. 

Quickly, she shoved him into the restroom and, taking a glance around to make sure no one was watching, ducked inside. She quickly tied his hands and feet, as well as made a methodical search of his pockets for any information. Bingo! She thought, as she pulled out several wads of shipping papers for goods that had been stolen on the market. She stuffed him in a supply closet and exited the small bathroom, leaving the occupied light on as she went.

Making it back to her seat, she slumped down and pulled out her phone, checking her email like many other passengers, busy on a routine business trip.

Christina jumped slightly at the knock on her door, quickly hiding that fact that she'd been staring through a scrapbook of pictures of her parents. She sat up straight and wiped all emotion from her face.

"What," she snapped. The door opened and Clint entered the room. She frowned, the feelings inside her coming to an angry boil. "What do you want?"

"Hey Chris," he said, shutting the door behind him. "I was thinking... I know it's not my decision whether or not you join SHIELD. You're old enough that it is yours and yours only. I can't exactly stop you, you know. I wanted you to know that you can join, and whether I approve or not is not really a major factor."

"I know that, Clint. I would rather do it with your approval than without, however. You're my only family. But...I will join...whether you give your blessing or not."

"You always were stubborn," he said, smirking at her.

"So are you, you know. I suppose we got it from our parents. Remember how stubborn dad was?"

"I remember," laughed Clint. "Like the time he insisted that he could install the new furnace all by himself and almost set the house on fire." They shared a laugh. Clint crossed the space between them and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. "I think you'll make a good agent, Christina. Just... promise me this one thing..."

"What Clint?" she asked softly.

"Try your very hardest to keep yourself safe. If there is ever a situation where it comes down to saving me or yourself...Save yourself."

"But Clint..."

"Promise me, Christina!" She was startled by the intensity in his voice. "Promise." His eyes bored through her almost, his gaze held hers and she could not look away.

"I... promise Clint," she said, secretly vowing that she would try her hardest to save him if she was there and it was possible. She did not want to let her brother go.

Thor Odinson looked over his shoulder to see if Sif and Fandrel were following. They were. He turned back towards the front and urged his horse onward. They soon reached the newly constructed globe at the end of the Bifrost.

"Everything is back in its rightful place," stated Fandrel. 

Not everything, thought Thor. He brought his mount just a bit closer to the edge and peered down into the dark, dark void.

"You miss him, do you not?" a voice whispered behind him. Thor turned. Sif was looking at him with concern etched on her features.

"Yes," he stated simply. "He should not have done what he did, that much is true, but he has saddened everyone with his decision to let himself fall away. We loved him. I loved him... still."

"Loki made his decision, Thor. Though it saddens us all deeply, we must learn to move on and leave the past behind us." Something in Sif's words angered Thor, though he knew it was not meant to be so.

"Do you mean to act as though my brother's death matters not at all?" 

Sif stiffened, and anxiety flashed across her features for a brief moment before her gaze hardened. "That is not what I meant!" she stated, determinably. "Do not twist my words."

"Maybe Loki was right. Maybe none of you care about him." He wheeled around on his horse, and began on his way back to the palace.

"Thor!" called the Lady Sif. "Thor, you know that we do! You know that we care about you as well! Come back! We can talk about this in a rational manner!" He ignored her, straightened his back, and continued on.

"Now look what you did, Sif!" said Fandrel. "You made him upset." Sif shot him a withering look and swung herself onto her horse, riding swiftly after Thor.

Loki wandered over the barren stone, hugging himself to keep warm, though it was not doing a thing. The wind blew fierce and hard, and the snow raged about him.

Cold, so cold.

He thought about the recent events. It felt like a millennium had passed since he had fallen- no, let go- of the scepter and fallen into the abyss. He continued walking, before finding a small face of rock that offered slight shelter from the wind. He sat down behind it, drawing himself into it as closely as possible. You are frost giant scum, he told himself. You are meant to live with nothing more than cold and snow. Pain.

He did not know when he fell asleep, and could distinguish no passing of time as panicked and rushed dreams flitted across his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he was awakened by voices. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, thinking that he must have imagined the voices. But no, moments later, their soft whisper started up again. There was something strange about their voices, and Loki could not distinguish which dialogue they were using. Their voice had a hissing quality to it that sent shivers up his spine.

He flattened himself to the rock, and edged closer and closer to the edge, where he peered around and was greeted by the sight of... nothing. Only barren whiteness and swirling snow. He stood, convinced for a moment that someone was there, but then his shoulders slumped as he realized that he must have been wrong. There was no life here. None other than him.

He turned back towards the rock once more, ready to sit there alone for an interminable time, and jumped when he saw a strange creature standing there, flanked by hundreds of other odd beings.

"Welcome, son of Laufey," it said. "We knew you would come."