Ariel here.

You know, Miranda and I were talking the other day, and she pointed ouy my life is kind of like a fairytale.

It follows the same basic structure, anyway. Random girl, something happens to her, does things she shouldn't do – like get too curious and investigate something she shouldn't – get rewarded for it, marries the prince, lives happily ever after. The prince, in my case, is a deformed teacher who I didn't actually marry, but whatever. I've heard people compare me to Cinderella before. Unnoticed until she was given a chance to shine.

That's how you all probably think of fairytales. That's how I thought of fairytales until Miranda pointed that out and I laughed. I was raised on Disney, she was raised on the real thing. She lent me a book of Grimm's fairytales to prove the point.

Turns out, fairytales are dark. And disgusting. You know Cinderella's sisters cut off pieces of their feet in the original story?

That's a pretty good way to describe the last few years, really. Dark. Grim.

And the thing they never show in the Disney movies is that the princesses often have problems after they find their princes. Like one was accused of being a witch and burned at the stake. And one had her husband stolen by an ogre. I think there's an alternate ending to Cinderella where one of the stepsisters tried to kill her.

Wow, I got off track there. Anyhow, long and the short of it is that dark, kind of depressing things keep happening to me.

Like, oh, I don't know, my brother not letting me in on the little detail that he had a wife and two kids.

Yeah. No, he's not off the hook for that yet.

No one's off the hook yet. Especially you, Edward.

They stopped a couple miles from the farm. Where they got the address from, I don't know. They're Jack and Miranda, they know everything. (I bet Ivy told them).

We had to walk the whole way – and I was wearing heels. I'm used to them, but seriously?

"Why couldn't you just pull up to the house?" I demanded. I stopped and yanked the shoes off. It hurt too much to continue.

Jack shrugged. "It was too much of a risk. Besides, we need a reason to be there. For the ones I have, pulling up wouldn't work."

"So they don't know we're coming?"

"They also don't know who we are."

I groaned aloud.

I know now that they were attempting to prolong the reaction from me.

We eventually turned down a long dirt road, walking through a gate and through trees.

"So what's the story?" asked Edward.

"Easy. We just say the car broke down and we're waiting for help, and could we please wait a few hours until our ride comes. That should be enough time."

That made no sense, but I don't argue with them anymore.

The house was a picturesque little farmhouse. Everything perfectly normal.

Jack knocked on the door.

It was opened by a woman with brown hair.

Jack gave her story about the car breaking down. "Our friend is coming to pick us up. I'm awfully sorry, but do you mind if we step inside? It's very hot outside."

"Yes, of course." She swung the door open wide. Her eyes widened at the sight of me. "Aren't you –"

"Ariel Dalton, yes. Nice to meet you..." I'm rather recognizable, with my waist length long brown hair and lack of height. There are ten year old boys taller than me.

"Laura. Laura Barton."

I'm pretty sure that if a pin had dropped, it would have made an enormous clanging, banging sound in the absolute stillness.

Miranda, Jack, and Edward all stared at me.

They'd known.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Barton." I gave her a warm smile, the one I give to my fans when I decide I like the person. "Are you familiar with my work?"

"Who isn't? What are you doing here?"

"Getting away for a little while. I sprained my ankle and I can't really perform on it right now. It's nearly better, but every once in a while it's nice to be away from the public eye."

I turned slightly to my friends.

They shrank back several feet. Edward cowered behind Miranda. Yes, I am dead serious. Cowered behind her.

I smiled, I answered questions and asked all the expected ones. Miranda and Jack eventually sat down, but Edward stayed in the corner.

Then the kids came in from outside. My niece and my nephew. Lovely kids, both wide eyed at the sight of someone they'd seen on TV.

My dear brother was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

It was two hours before he showed up.

He came into the house and around the corner, greeting his wife.

He stopped short at the sight of me.

"Ariel..."

"Yes, we have a visitor." Mrs. Barton was completely unaware.

The other Avengers walked in behind him.

The silence was spectacular, really. Dead stillness.

"Was there something you forgot to tell me, Clint?"

It took him a moment to stop staring open mouthed. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, apparently." I stood up.

"Wait..." Mrs. Barton looked between the two of us. "What's going on?"

"Can I talk to you outside, Ariel?" Clint's face was expressionless.

"If you wish."

I'll spare you the details. Because some things are too personal to put online.

Let's just say there was yelling, screaming, crying, and a lot of things said on both sides that neither of us actually meant. I'm not proud.

Carmen here.

There was quiet on the way to Korea. I sat in one of the seats that lined the walls of the tiny aircraft.

Wanda sat in the corner with Ultron, conversing quietly.

Pietro walked over to me and sat down, but said nothing for a while.

I leaned back. My bun squished against the wall of the cabin. I leaned forward again and began to remove the pins, dropping them on the seat next to me. My little sister Pia had done it for me, and she had been rather... overzealous with the bobby pins and hairspray. She cosplays a lot, I don't know what I was thinking letting her do it. Several of the pins had sparkles on them – had she put glitter in my hair?

I looked like a mess. I hadn't showered in way too long, my hair was greasy and full of hairspray. Gross. My dress was a dirty mess too.

Pietro scooped up the pins for me.

"So, you're from Sokovia?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes. And you're from Germany?"

He had such a nice accent. Quite handsome, too. I could talk with him all day and not care what he said. "Originally, yes, though now we live here. I suppose you've heard of my family."

"Who hasn't?"

"You'd be surprised, in the States. No one cares about history there, at least – well, there's one or two girls I know who are fairly knowledgable about it, but my name is only ever associated with the part of my family who was involved in the Nazi party."

"Your friend, the one who has this power... how long have you know her?"

"I've known her since I was seven. We took ballet together and classes together. She was physically a lot stronger than I was. We had to take French together when we were twelve. Neither of us had any knack and we would study together. Then we went on a retreat with our choir and someone assaulted her and her friend in the woods. She ran inside the place we were staying in, screaming. I went to find help. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, poor thing. They got her friend back, but neither of them were the same. Then more stuff started happening. Then she told me she needed some kind of relaxation hobby and I taught her to knit. We hung out, but we were never particularly close."

I tugged my hair down out of the position Pia had coaxed it into. It sprang back up. I ran my fingers through it, yanking at tangles and wishing for a hairbrush.

Pietro watched me for several moments, obviously amused. My cheeks burned.

I eventually managed to push it down. Lesson learned: never let a cosplayer style your hair. What I wouldn't have given for a shower to get rid of all the gel and spray.

Pietro stuffed the pins into his pocket. "I'll keep these for you."

"Thank you." She had put tiny snowflakes in my hair. Snowflakes. Who does that? She'd joked I look like Elsa in my blue dress, but seriously? Only Pia would have the gall to actually do something like that. Why had no one pointed it out? Even my date hadn't noticed.

"Did you have a boyfriend to go with?"

What an odd question. "Oh, no. I just went with a boy who's going to my ballet school. Nice guy, but not one I want to go out with on a regular basis."

He picked up the sparkly, sticky snowflakes as well. "What's the other world like?"

"About the same as this one, except without superheroes. A mixed blessing, I suppose." I shrugged. "Also, there's no super powers. And the technology is more limited. Not terribly, but we don't have the holoscreens and whatnot that you have here. Everything you have here like that exists in movies and comic books." Apparently, it was okay to tell them this.

Ivy had probably done something. What, I don't know, since I didn't remember it, but it must have been Ivy. She knew people who could do this sort of thing. She knew all kinds of people. She knew the Doctor. It wasn't surprising at all that she would have made these kinds of arrangements, with her ability to time travel. Which meant she would survive past the end of this.

Time is, however, kind of flexible. Particularly when something hasn't been done yet, and the person changing it is already on the edge.