A/N: Hello everyone! My normal routine at this point is to thank everyone for reading and reviewing (Queen of Erebor, candycrum, StarStreamtheKeeper, FaithfulReader92 and the Guest who reviewed are all wonderful, thank you!) on the last chapter. However having reached the penultimate chapter of The Black Swan Theory, I want to extend a much wider thank you, to every last person who has given their time to read and support this story, and who has committed so enthusiastically to my characters! I could not have done this without you, my incredible readership.
As promised Chapter 15- The Final Chapter will definitely be published before Christmas, so I leave you with just one more kinda cliff-hanger (I'm sorry!)
The song in this chapter is The Last Goodbye, by Billy Boyd, please do listen to it, it is ridiculously beautiful and for me it was just too perfect not to include in here somewhere.
Disclaimer:I do not own or make any money out of The Avengers, or The Last Goodbye, only my OCs and their storyline are my own.
As always my friends, please enjoy
Lucksby xx

CHAPTER 14

"I've made my choice, and I choose happiness."

Back at the Avengers tower Ren was quiet, fully planning on spending the evening in her room before leaving for England the next morning and not returning. Yes, that was her choice. She was going to leave for good, go back home to London and disappear forever; no one was going to persuade her otherwise. Not even Coulson and his philosophy about Black Swans.

So she was purposeful as she made her way into the skyscraper, intent on getting to the guest floor unhindered when- "Seren!" It was Barton, accompanied by Agent Romanoff.
She turned plastering a fake smile on her face, "Barton, what's up?"
"Coulson asked us to debrief you on how the interrogation of Bedford went, shall we do this upstairs?"

Well there goes the plan…

"Sure thing."

The pair of assassins explained that Hermann Bedford, far from being the tough nut that they had expected to have to crack, had actually spilled everything rather easily. Though as Romanoff pointed out, it might have had something to do with the rather inventive things she could do with a knife.

"Basically, it turns out that just before Stane's death he placed a bounty on Tony's head- whoever managed to kill him would be rich- Stane was dealing under the table at Stark Industries so it's safe to assume that the money would have been significant. But according to Bedford the pay-out would only happen if Tony's death looked like an accident." Barton explained. His partner picked up where he left off. "The thing is that the bounty on Stark didn't die with Stane; it still stands. There are men loyal to Stane and his ideals even after his death that have been plotting a way of killing Tony off for years, at least that's what Bedford told us. And I can guarantee that he was telling the truth."
Ren nodded, though she didn't want to know why Romanoff was so sure about her last comment. She had a feeling it was probably very painful.

However what Barton said next dropped an unexpected bombshell.
"If Bedford was telling the truth there was a price on Tony's daughter's head too. I guess that's obsolete now, Carenza has been dead for years." The pair both looked suddenly sad. "We were part of the team that was sent to look for her; there was not a trace. She just vanished off the face of the earth and no one is that silent unless they are dead."

Ren was hardly breathing; hearing this from two of her father's closest companions was something else. In truth, the part of her brain that was still functioning wasn't surprised that there had been a reward offered for her death; it was a logical safeguard for Stane. If she had gone to the press and revealed herself to the world, she would have killers after her and would definitely not have survived long.

Outwardly she didn't reveal anything of her thought process, merely nodded. "Sad, especially a kid that young."

The two agents nodded. "Yeah." Barton replied. There was nothing else to say.

Ren sat in her room later that night, surrounded by all the belongings she had brought to America with her. She had packed and unpacked her cases several times already, the decision she had made seemed less of a certainty that she had believed, and in consequence, the room was a mess. What did she do now?

"He'll hate me. They all will." Perhaps vocalising her internal war would make things clearer. "I've lied, hidden and just generally been the cause of tonnes of heartbreak; they have every right to hate me." She sank back into the thick duvet on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Ironic right, the only time he would allow himself to be angry that I'm gone would be when I arrived back." She scrubbed a hand over her face. "You've made a right mess of this Ren."

To distract herself she picked up the TV remote but had only flicked through a few channels before she threw it aside. "For God's sake! Procrastinating doesn't work!" The one thing in life you thought you'd always be able to rely on hey Ren, the power of procrastination…

She closed her eyes, willing the snide voice to go away, and, unbidden, images of sand and the smell of the sea filled her mind…

Flashback…

A small girl with unruly brunette curls scampered through the waves that rushed up to a picturesque golden beach, the sounds of laughter filling the air. Behind her crashed a man in shorts carrying a bucket half-full of water, a man with the same chocolate hair as his daughter.
"I'm coming to get you!" The girl ran faster, giggling all the more as he gained on her, before stopping dead and turning to charge at his legs; sending him sprawling in the surf.
"I got you Daddy!"
An amused female voice carrying a distinct British accent came from a little further up the beach, "Oh dear, been outsmarted by a six year old again have we genius?"
The speaker was a beautiful red-head with curls that bounced down to her waist, sunglasses and a bikini adorning a body that was surprisingly pale for someone who had lived for so many years in California. She scooped the girl up into her arms. "My clever little birdie!"

That had been one of the best days, but what none of them had known was that it would also be one of the last they had together as a family; just two weeks later, the woman with the fiery red hair would be dead, the man would lose his wife before their wedding day, and the girl would have lost both of her parents.

Tears tracked down Ren's face as she let her fear and confusion take her; let herself be vulnerable, turning over to sob into the mountain of pillows. "I miss you Mom!"

It took a long time for her to regain control of her emotions, curling into a ball by the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over New York, cheek pressed into the cool glass. The sun fell as she sat watching, her face still covered in the marks of her grief, the orange hues fading to pink then purple, to blue then black, covering the city in darkness.

"I should write a book." She said after a while, her voice was lighter than someone who had just experienced such a deep emotional purge should have been able to manage. "I could call it The Black Swan: Tony Stark's Prodigal Daughter." She laughed quietly to herself, "I've always wanted to be an author." She let her gaze drop back to the lights dancing dozens of stories below her, "I could go back to London and write a book. That's quite an idea."

She would never be able to remember how long she spent sitting there, contemplating life and love and all the things that might lie ahead, for it was a very long time, and at some point she began to sing, first softly, but growing louder as the pieces of her jigsaw puzzle seemed to fall into place.

I saw the light fade from the sky,
On the wind I heard a sigh.
As the snowflakes cover my fallen brothers
I will say this last goodbye.

Night is now falling, so ends this day.
The road is now calling, and I must away.
Over hill, and under tree,
Through lands where never light has shone,
By silver streams that run down to the sea.

Under cloud, beneath the stars,
Over snow on winter's morn
I turn at last, to paths
That lead home.

And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell.
We came all this way, but now comes the day
To bid you farewell.

Many places I have been,
Many sorrows I have seen,
But I don't regret, nor will I forget
All who took that road with me

Night is now falling, so ends this day.
The road is now calling, and I must away.
Over hill and under tree,
Through lands where never light has shone,
By silver streams that run down to the sea.

To these memories I will hold,
With your blessing I will go,
To turn at last, to paths
That lead home.

And though where the road then takes me,
I cannot tell.
We came all this way, but now comes the day
To bid you farewell.

I bid you all a very fond farewell.

She waited out the rest of the night there, the words that she had sung still floating in the air all about her, and she felt the most at peace she had for years. She knew where she was going.

High in the corner of the ceiling, completely unbeknownst above her, a tiny camera watched silently. Just as it had always been doing.