A/N: This will be loosely based on Jane Eyre…one of my favorite books, like, ever. Loosely, mind you. Very AU (none of the established films are assumed here, one might say that this is pre-Thor 1)…some OOC…bear with me here, I think that this will be fun.

I've had this idea for a while…but cannot flesh it out properly without writing it out.

This tale takes place now, that is, in the 21st century, just for clarification purposes.

Jane Foster was an orphan. An orphan is a sad thing, everyone can agree to that much. But Jane's sad tale of woe was especially so. She had lost both of her parents to cancer, within months of each other, and though her legal guardian, Erik Selvig was a kind and gentle man, his wife was not. She hated Jane, she resented her presence in the household, taking the attention away from her own two children.

It was a fine house they lived in, grand and large, and Jane would sneak off to read. But her real zeal was experienced when, in the quiet of night, when the house was asleep, she would creep into the large garden and gaze at the stars. What magnificence was behind them? What held their dark truths? How could she reach them? For Jane longed for escape, she despaired at the thought of being captive to Mrs. Selvig and her anger and resentment.

There was a room…in the higher part of the house. It was painted red, there was chaos in the paint, and Jane feared it for it was rumored to be haunted.

Her cousin (for lack of a better term), John, was especially cruel to Jane. He would pull her long hair, he would laugh at her fanciful tendencies. And somehow, Jane would always be the one who got into trouble. When John would be a touch late for dinner, he would claim it was because Jane had neglected to attend to her chores, and so he was left to see to them, but Jane knew that John was actually playing his video games with the neighbor children. Jane would be sent to her room without dinner. If one of the younger children were hurt, he would say that Jane used her age to defeat them in a game, or her strength to overcome them in a wrestling match.

And no matter what Jane would do or say, Sarah Selvig would not yield. John ever in favor, Jane always wrong.

It was a day in early autumn. The air was clear, the trees turning color. John's video game was broken, and so he decided to take out his frustration on Jane.

Jane was reading by a window.

John came over to her, and grabbed her book.

"Give it back," Jane said.

"No. Why are you reading this rubbish, anyway?"

"I enjoy it. Give it back, now!"

And John laughed, and began to page through the book…"Oooohh…a romance…. little Jane Foster likes romances…don't you know, Jane, no one will ever love you. You are ugly, stupid, and no one likes you!"

While Jane didn't care about John or his stupid lies, she had had enough, since he began tearing out the pages very slowly in front of her.

Jane yelled, and pounced on him, beating his face repeatedly.

"Give it back! It's mine! Give it back now!" she screamed.

Sarah and Erik came in, and dragged Jane off of their son.

Sarah was livid. "You, Jane Foster, are a terrible wretch of a girl! And at twelve, you'd think that you would behave like a proper girl."

Erik was less inclined to such vitriol. "Now, Jane. What caused this?"

"He…" she began, sobbing. "He took my book. Began to tear it apart…"

'Over a book! You dare to hit my John over a stupid book!" she screamed, and took Jane's hand, dragging her to the dreaded red room.

"No no no no! Please, Aunt Sarah…please…don't put me in there!" Jane pleaded.

"You shall go in there, and remain there until morning…you disgusting child!"

And she threw Jane into the room without ceremony, and Jane's breath stopped.

A noise was heard.

She turned slowly around.

It was heard once more, and though she couldn't discern the source, it was definitely from inside the room.

She screamed, and banged on the door. "Let me out! Let me out! There's something in here!"

And a bang, and a thrash, and in her panic, she ran to the door, hitting her head, and knocking herself unconscious.

Blood was on the child's face. Erik was over her…he brought her to her room, and checked for a concussion.

"Poor dear child…I work so much, I never knew the extent to what you suffer…" and he mopped the blood from her forehead. "It might be better if we took you elsewhere…someplace away from the house…Sarah wasn't always this way, dear heart…and I am so very sorry that you have not known happiness here."

Jane was smiling at him in her confusion. "Uncle Erik? You want me to go away?"

"I want you to be happy, child…and I am not convinced that you can find it here…perhaps another environment would be best in this case."

Jane sighed. No one wanted her.

And the next day Mr. Brocklehurst came to retrieve her.