📍BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
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She had to do this. She had to lose whatever was holding her back and move forward. She wouldn't be able to do so if she didn't do this. Years had gone by, agonizing and eternal years, yet (Y/N) lost count of all that time. She stared at the wooden door in front of her and internally hyped herself up time and time again in order to knock on it.
(Y/N) didn't remove her gaze from the door, ignoring the wind that blew through her jacket every now and then. The wind chimes dangling from the roof of the porch were tempting her, as if doubting she'd take another step further with their melodies in the background. The plaque plastered beside the doorframe was staring at her, and she was staring right back. The letters spelling out Vaughn Family were dirty and rusted, yet they were still readable.
(Y/N) inhaled a sharp breath and let go, cracking her knuckles and muttering a short 'let's do this' under her breath to to hype herself up. With a raised hand, she knocked on the door with a rhythm before pulling back, waiting for any type of response. She hoped someone at least would open the door; there was a car parked right in the driveway, so that meant someone was inside.
The clicking sound of a lock alerted her, and she looked up just in time to see a woman open the door all the way through. The sight of the woman made (Y/N) freeze in her spot. She was slightly identical to her, though there were grey streaks on the woman's hair and lines of old in her skin.
"Sorry, we don't want any of your cookies," the woman firstly said, her gaze distracted on something behind the door. When she didn't receive any answer to her words, she grew annoyed, still a bit distracted. "Can I help you?"
(Y/N) didn't know what to say, so she cleared her throat in response. The woman was finally able to look up, and when she did, she turned into a statue. Her eyes widened like saucers, her jaw almost hit the floor and all color had flushed from her face. The elderly woman could only gasp and reach out for her dangling glasses resting on her chest to get a clearer image of the person in front of her.
"(Y/N)?" the woman cried out, bony hands shaking. "Is that really you?"
(Y/N) gulped down her nerves and nodded. "Yes, Mom. It's me."
The woman let out a strangled noise between a laugh of relief and a sob, her shaking hands reaching out to grasp onto her daughter. (Y/N) allowed the woman to embrace her, cringing when the grip got too tight, though she partly enjoyed being hugged by her mother again.
"I — I can't believe it," the woman said, grasping onto her daughter's clothes. "It's been so long, I — "
"I know, mom," (Y/N) apologized, smoothing a hand up and down her back. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."
"Ingrid!" Another voice yelled from the inside of the house, masculine, and impatient. "What's taking you so long out there?"
(Y/N) tensed under her mother's hold and tried to remove her grip away out of pure instinct. Ingrid, however, looked partly confused at her daughter's actions. She flickered her gaze between the door and (Y/N) before deciding what to respond to the voice calling out for her.
Firstly, she whispered so only (Y/N) could hear it. "Don't worry about him, dear. He's changed."
(Y/N) wanted to believe her, she truly did.
Then, Ingrid raised her tone of voice to call out to the person inside the house, her hand never leaving (Y/N)'s. "Gary, come out here!"
There was an annoyed grunt in response from inside the house, but loud footsteps approaching followed behind it. The door had been slightly moved due to the wind, so when a bulky hand reached out for it to open it much further and let himself go through, (Y/N) took a visible step back. However, the man, also known as Gary, walked outside to the porch and all the visible signs of annoyance vanished from his face. (Y/N) didn't know if he was faking or not.
"(Y/N)," he muttered, as if he didn't believe she was standing right in front of him. "My little baby girl. . .you're here."
"Hi, Dad," she responded, trying to hide the dryness in her tone. If he noticed it, he didn't show or say anything about it.
"Now, don't you just stand there," Gary told her, urging her to take a step further. "Give your old man a hug!"
(Y/N) bit on the inside of her cheek to stop herself of saying something and walked toward his arms. He embraced her and she couldn't help but feel like she was betraying everything she stood for while being in his embrace. All those years, all those arguments. . .she shook her head and tried to forget them.
A pleased laugh escaped Gary's lips, and he let go of (Y/N) to embrace his wife in a victorious hug. They were crying tears of joy, muttering on how they finally got their baby girl back after all this time. She couldn't help but feel guilty at the thought of not searching for them earlier, but (Y/N) internally admitted she was afraid things hadn't changed. Until now, everything seemed normal, so she just had to wait and see if there were any noticiable changes.
"We saw what you did a few years back in New York," Ingrid told her, returning to her husband's side. "We weren't exactly sure if it was you, but when we saw your picture in the news, we knew it was you."
Gary rubbed Ingrid's shoulders in reassurance. "We thought we were going crazy. 'How could she survive?', we asked ourselves. But after we heard it had been an alien attack on the city, everything was possible."
(Y/N) uncomfortably laughed at the mention of the Battle of New York, though she still kept her smile intact. If they had any questions on how she got here, she'd have to tell them the truth.
Ingrid looked back at her daughter. "Please come inside, sweetheart. I'll prepare some tea."
Ingrid gestured for her to enter the house first, and (Y/N) was hit by an intense wave of nostalgia once she crossed the threshold. The house remained exactly the way she remembered it (or as she tried to remember it). The wallpapers were old and the edges were tearing down, but other than that they looked decent. (Y/N) walked through the hallway that led to the living room, passing by the shelves with several old trophies of her father's old days in high school and others that she tried to ignore. There were pictures everywhere in the house; from the shelves to the walls. Some photographs were of the entire family, others were just of her parents, and some were individual pictures.
While Ingrid left for the kitchen to start the teapot, Gary joined (Y/N) in the living room. He caught her looking at all the pictures, and he nervously smiled at her.
"We never took them down," he began, drawing the attention to him. She sat down on the couch and he joined her by sitting across from her. "Even after you. . .we decided to keep them all up. Preserve your memory."
(Y/N) didn't know if she was being petty or not, though she decided to comment on it. "But you took down all my sports trophies, what's up with that?"
Gary pretended to be fazed by that. "Oh, well. Those were from the juvenile leagues, it's — "
"All of Charlie's trophies are up," (Y/N) remarked, noticing it on her way to the living room. She couldn't stop the anger in her tone. "Including the ones from the juvenile leagues. What a surprise, huh?"
"Don't bring your brother into this," Gary warned in a scarily calm tone.
Ingrid decided to leave the preparing tea and rushed to the scene, already feeling the tension. She grabbed onto Gary's shoulder to smooth things down and stop him from saying anything else. (Y/N) couldn't help but scoff at this.
"Come on, (Y/N)," Ingrid cooed, her hand rubbing up and down her husband's arm. "You know how your father and I felt about you joining those teams."
(Y/N) gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. How could she forget? It was the only thing she could ever remember from them.
"Those were not the right places for a girl to be in," Gary finally retorted, crossing his arms. He then shook his head in disapproval, just like he was used to do so a long time ago. "But you insisted. And you made us look ridiculous in front of the whole neighborhood when you decided to join a boy's baseball team."
(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, crossing her arms in a defensive matter. Ingrid did her quiet attempts in shutting her husband down, but none of them worked.
"And when you decided to enlist on the Air Force after leaving MIT, we thought you had officially lost your mind."
She froze, and even Ingrid looked at Gary with a sharp look, as if that was a secret they were hoping to take to the grave. (Y/N) had never heard them actually say it out loud, but she got all those hints from the hidden insults, the mean comments, or the sexist 'statistics' they claimed to have.
Before she could retort, there was a thumping noise from the staircase. Footsteps were heard rushing down the stairs and into the first floor of the house, and (Y/N) wished it wasn't who she thought it was. But unfortunately the universe wasn't on her side. A man, approximately a few years older than her, entered the living room with furrowed brows, gaze flickering between the elderly couple before they finally fell on (Y/N). He stood still at the sight of her and debated on whatever he was planning on saying to her, but he didn't get the chance to.
"Oh, but if that been your dear Charlie," The last string of patience had finally snapped inside of (Y/N). "You'd be showering him with praise and flowers, hell, you'd be building him an altar. 'Our little Charlie, joining the army. We're so proud of him'. All I got were cold shoulders and insults!"
"Charlie followed our expectations, you disappointed every single one of them!" Gary stood up from the couch, rising his tone.
"I apologize for not just marrying some guy and becoming a housewife like you wanted to!" (Y/N) bit back, and she felt bad at the way her mother winced at the loud tones in the house. "I wanted something more out of my life!"
"And how did that work out for you?" Gary snapped back, in his usual icy tone.
"Gary!"
"Dad!"
Were the yells of protests he got after saying those last words. (Y/N)'s mouth closed at that comment and she felt like she'd been hit by a thousand ice shards all at once. If looks could kill, her father would be six feet underground. Her lip wobbled and she bit on it so hard it was probably drawing blood. She could not let him see her cry; she'd promised to never cry in front of him.
Gary didn't think it was enough. He kept going with his sharp words. "I'm sure that Stark punk convinced you to fight in that battle," He said, sounding absolutely convinced in his theory. "I never liked him, he was always encouraging your stupid — "
At the mention of Tony, (Y/N) broke her silence. "Don't. Don't you dare say a word against him."
"He wrapped you in this mess! A woman shouldn't have to be out there."
"I don't care," (Y/N) retorted, walking closer to him and make eye contact with her father. "He didn't 'convince' me to do anything. I made my choice to go out there. I make that decision every day. And for the record, he's played a bigger part in being my family that you ever had."
(Y/N) dropped eye contact and began walking out of the living room, hoping to leave the place as soon as possible. She ignored the calls for her name from her brother and mother, adding speed to her steps. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, and if she didn't make it to the outside, she'd be trapped inside forever. She avoided looking at the pictures on her way out, pushing through the wooden door and walking out the front porch. She felt stupid for coming here. How could she think that her father's insane ideals had changed? How could she expect someone so cruel to change?
(Y/N) stepped into the sidewalk and noticed the sun was already setting, which meant she'd have to return back home soon. She searched for her car keys on the pockets of her jacket and was already making her way toward it when she felt a slight tap to her shoulder.
She jumped, yet she looked back to see who it was. Charlie. Due to the argument back inside, she hadn't been able to see how much he'd changed. He still looked similar to her, their hair being in identical shades, though he decided to let his grey streaks pop through.
"Hey," he nervously said. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. I should've said something."
(Y/N) shook her head in order to dismiss him. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."
"Well, you shouldn't have to," Charlie stopped in front of her to prevent her from moving. "I've always thought you were awesome, remember?"
"I remember," she did her best to lie. She felt bad for not having a clear memory of that.
"Besides," Charlie kept on talking. "You've certainly passed the record now. I mean, you're an Avenger! How cool is that?"
(Y/N) smiled at her brother, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I guess it's pretty cool."
"You guess? It's so cool," Charlie exclaimed full of enthusiasm. "I heard they even gave you a name. What was it? The 'Marvelette'? It's badass."
"Thank you, came up with it by myself," (Y/N) recalled that memory.
"Shut up, you did not," Charlie scoffed with a playful tone. (Y/N) only flashed him a grin, which let him in the dark with that mystery. He had to guess he'd have to find out by his own.
All the playfulness from the conversation washed away, and it was left with a tense atmosphere. Charlie stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.
"Again, I'm sorry you had to go through that again," he honestly said. "I'll do my best to defend you if they say something out of line."
(Y/N) let out an emotional laugh at that. "Thank you."
"Oh, I almost forgot," Charlie jumped in his spot, reaching for his jean pocket to pull something out. He held in his hands a small piece of paper and handed it to (Y/N), who took it with a questioning glance. "It's my cellphone. So we can see each other without you coming back here."
"I appreciate it, Charlie," (Y/N) stuffed the paper in her pocket and opened her arms to hug her brother.
Charlie pulled away first and gave her a shrug. "No problem. Hope to see you again."
(Y/N) gave him a smile in response and he moved out of her way to head over her car. She pressed a button and unlocked it, opening the driver's door and stepping in. She could still see Charlie's figure standing on the sidewalk, as if he was waiting for her to get in her car safely and drive off. It was disappointing how much she hadn't realized how much she missed him.
Maybe this visit didn't turn out the way she planned, but hopefully she'd be able to reconnect with the only family she had left.
here you go people. we are starting act five strongly lmaoo. prepare yourselves for the angst that's coming your way.
what are your thoughts on this chapter? i'd like to see if you'd want me to bring charlie back in another chapter of this book. tell me what you think !!
-see you soon, bex :)