trigger warning: death
Sometimes she had dreams.
They were pleasant dreams, normally featuring a Bruce and Alex Excursion in which they have a picnic without one S.H.I.E.L.D. interruption. Whenever she mentioned these dreams to Bruce, he would joke about private time without S.H.I.E.L.D. interference only existing in dreams, something that they all knew was painfully true.
Or sometimes, she'd have dreams about the team actually bonding - a time in which they're not afraid to leave New York lest they be called to assemble. They'd go to zoos, where Natasha would drag Clint to the insect hut only under the condition that she go with him to see the hawks. Tony would tease Steve about going to see the bald eagles, only to end up sighing and dragging him along when the soldier's eyes light up at the idea of seeing his great nation's bird. Thor would bring Jane, of course, and the two of them would wander off to see the big cats, Thor booming and questioning about how "large these felines could get compared to those on Asgard."
That would leave Alex and Bruce alone - the moments that she adored, the ones she clung onto even though they were only dreams. They would go to the African animals, the sight of the savanna and the call of tropical birds relaxing her tense little doctor.
"You know," Bruce mused one day, after she had told him about that particular dream, "the director owes us a day off. A trip to the zoo would be nice."
That trip would never happen. Fury didn't believe in vacation time.
Unfortunately, where there are dreams, there are nightmares. She couldn't escape them, none of her teammates could, but hers haunted her like the plague.
She would see Natasha, red hair haloed around her gorgeous ivory face, shot with her own gun, stabbed with her own knife; the red of blood mingling with her beautiful hair. The agent would look so peaceful in these dreams that Alex would pray to the powers that be that Natasha could look like that all the time, under the conditions that she were alive.
She would see Clint, propped up in a corner, one of his own arrows jabbed through his eye socket. It was particularly chilling - whereas Natasha had looked peaceful, Clint looked hollow, as though his soul had been ripped from him before he was brutally murdered. If it even was murder, but she restrained any thought of her pseudo-family ending it themselves if they had so much to live for.
After Clint would be Steve, decapitated by his own shield. The captain loved that shield like one would love a child, but once all the friends and family you once had were gone, what else would you have? The headless body's shoulders were slumped, so very un-Steve that she would feel the urge to arrange him so that his chest still puffed out and his shoulders still bent back - the way a soldier should look.
The nightmare about Thor had come to her after a discussion about Mjolnir and its powers. According to the god, he could lose his power whenever the powers that be felt it was alright - and so Alex envisioned him trapped under his beloved hammer, struggling for breath, as it finally collapsed his ribcage. It was the most brutal one to watch, but he certainly still looked the part of a god even in death. His blonde hair still shone, his blue eyes glimmered, but there was no mirth in his face.
Bruce's was the scariest. He had let the Hulk consume him, years of walking on eggshells forgotten and the sweet, gentle man she had fallen in love with consumed by the beast they all tried so hard to forget. He didn't die in this dream - at least, as far as she knew - but he had left them. Knowingly left them. He was their sweet, calm doctor on the outside, but on the inside (and with a slight green tinge to his skin) he was the Other Guy through and through; a single path mind set on destruction.
The one she had woken up crying from was, obviously, her father's. She had wandered into his lab and found him sprawled across the floor, skin white and chest cavity empty. His fingers were outstretched, reaching for the arc reactor that was only centimeters away. His chocolate eyes, normally filled with depth and every emotion known to man, were as empty as the canister in his torso. She would swear to herself and push the reactor back in and do everything she could to revive him, but he was gone, just like everyone else.
She had told these dreams to two people, Bruce and Steve.
Bruce was her compassionate ear and her shoulder to cry on, the one who convinced her everything would be alright and shh honey everyone's okay just sleep here tonight.
Steve was the creative outlet. For all the gory details she described, he would draw them for her; they hoped it would give the dreams closure. But even as she saw the peaceful Natasha; the hollow shell that was Clint; the tragedy that was Steve; Thor, looking regal even in death; Bruce, grimacing at her through charcoal; and finally Tony, spread-eagled on his own floor; she felt a pit in her heart.
"There's got to be one more dream!" she said to Bruce one day after staring at Steve's pictures.
"You're just psyching yourself out," Bruce soothed, rubbing the small of her back. Alex merely sighed in response.
That night, she had the nightmare she was waiting for - herself.
The dark circles around her eyes and the fragile shell of a girl she seemed to be was evidence that, in dream world, the rest of the team had been dead for a while. The dream Alex was in the lab, which was looking horribly run down. She plucked out her arc reactor and placed it on the table beside her - right next to where she had placed her father's. Though the words she said next came out raspy, they still echoed through the room.
"I'll see you soon, dad."
Before she knew it, the sleeping pills and scotch were in her system. She felt warm and fuzzy and the white light surrounded her and there was her father and Bruce and Steve and Thor and Clint and Natasha and oh how she wanted to go to them and
She snapped herself awake. The bright light was gone; her face was sticky with tears. "JARVIS," she called out meekly, "can you tell Bruce to come to my room, please?"
Certainly, Miss Stark. Anything else?
"No, but... thank you, JARVIS. For everything."
Of course, miss.
Only seconds after, Bruce joined her on the bed and held her as tight as he could.
"That zoo trip sounds real nice right now."