Soldier Chapter 1: Bad Dreams and a Mission

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel. Only thing I have any rights over is my OC. Though if anyone knows a way to get a Steve Rogers I would love to hear it.

Secondary Warning: First chapters are rough. This is only my second fanfic and my first attempt at anything Marvel. Critics and praise alike are more than welcome.


Not again, I think as the scene forms once again before my eyes. It's a dream. Just a harmless, little dream. Wake up and it's all gone. I close my eyes and force myself to breath. I ignore the screaming that echoes all around me and blood staining the floor and walls. Come on, this was forever ago. Besides this is a clear exaggeration. This is just your brain being a major drama queen. Wake up and this bad hammer horror film ends.

I pinch myself and open my eyes but the scene remains. Dammit. I quickly close my eyes again. Okay so Plan A failed, what next? More breathing? Try to reach a zen state? Eh, it's the best I got.

With that I focus wholly on my breathing and calming my mind all that stuff, but I only have so much control in my dreams. I still hear the sounds change. The screaming starts to fade and a deadly kind of quiet begins to settle upon the compound. Then comes the pop of explosions. Nononononono…

Usually the only good part of my dreams in the limit it puts on my thoughts; in my dreams my head almost functions like a normal person's. There's no Grand Central Station going on inside my head pulling me in a thousand different directions at once which is usually nice. However, that also means not being able to get literally lost in my thoughts and therefore away from this stupid dream.

Please wake up, I beg myself.

Nothing happens.

The explosions that started in the background are slowly work their way closer, but I don't move. The cement hallway is only a memory in the form of a demented dream. The crumbling ceiling and bullets can't hurt me. The only thing that can hurt me is the mere sight of him. I have to wake up before this scene changes to the next one and he makes his awful appearance.

I take a quick peek at my surroundings to see how far the dream has progressed. I see the hallway slowly start to melt away…. Oh no. The dark room that lurks just below my subconsciousness starts to form in it's place. I squeeze my eyes back shut and put my hands over my ears on a childish and naive attempt to block out what happens next.

WAKE UP DAMMIT!


I wake with a jolt and sit straight up. My eyes adjust to the grey of dawn to see that I am, indeed, in my own room and far from the past. I suck in a deep breath and fall back on my pillow. Damn that dream. It's said that recurring dreams are a sign of unresolved or persistent conflict in a person's life, but it's been two years. I've done my mourning. Embracing your past and mistakes and all that yada yada. I don't understand why this dream persists in tormenting me. The shrink I got sent to to be cleared for active duty declared me perfectly fine. Functioning properly and as emotionally stable as normal people, even. Maybe I should go see her again…

Suddenly the Looney Tunes theme begins to blast from my bluetooth speakers as my alarm tells me that it's time to get my ass out of bed. I groan as I pull back the covers and sit back up. I grab my phone to shut it up and force myself to stand. I make myself get ready like a normal person. Jogging pants, tank top, running shoes, and one Ipod later and I'm ready for my morning. I take all my pills and chug a glass of water before getting a leash on Dog, my German Shepherd, and heading out.

As we run our usual route I blast my music to ignore my thoughts. Brains are notoriously wily things. They enjoy thinking about exactly what you don't want to think about and I sure as hell don't want to think about him. At least not as that dream makes me think of him. I want to remember the fun times, not the bad ones. I sigh as we come to a stop at a crosswalk.

"Dog, did you know that I'm far too sentimental for the life that I lead," I ask him. He just looks up at me as if to remind me that I named him Dog. My mom always wanted a dog named Dog, just like John Wayne in that one movie. I wonder if her wish has been granted yet. It's been 10 years so that's more than enough time for it to have happened. I smile to myself as the light changes and we continue back to our temporary abode.

My neighbors are starting to get going for the day as we climb the stairs to the third floor. I send them my usual (but very fake cause honestly if it weren't for the dream I would love to be asleep right now) I'm-a-morning-person smiles and say hi. I'm opening my door when one of my neighbors exits the door across the hall. She smiles when she sees me.

"Hey, Eve. Up before the rest of the world as usual," she greets pleasantly.

"Afternoon neighbor! Up as late as usual I see," I reply with a grin.

"Seven thirty is not late," she defends as she starts heading down the hallway.

"Tell that to the sun," I call after her. She just laughs at me as she gets on the elevator with a wave. Honestly that conversation accounts for about half my average daily human interaction.

*le sigh* If only I had more than like four friends and if only they didn't all spend their time trapezing around the world while Nick keeps me trapped here like Rapunzel in her tower. Oooooooh I can start calling him Mother Gothel now.

I walk into my apartment and immediately start my Good Morning playlist. While rocking out to some of the cheesiest music ever I feed Dog, shower, get dressed, clean everything up, and start breakfast. I'm scabbling some eggs when the music stops and is replaced by an instrumental version of the United State's national anthem. Phil is calling! I run for my phone and pick it up.

"What's up, Phil," I greet cheerily.

"We need you to come in early," is his cryptic reply.

"You know that's not how I work, Phil. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't own me. I need details if you want me to come in." I hear him sigh before he answers.

"We found something at the crash site."

"What'd you find?"

"We think…," he pauses briefly, "We think it's Steve Rogers and, surprisingly, he's alive. He's been frozen in the ice."

"NO SHIT?!" I practically scream and almost drop the phone into my eggs.

"Ms. Greene, would you please mind your language," Phil retaliates exasperatedly.

"Oh stuff it, Phil. I'm sure your reaction was hysterical! Tell me, just how much did you fanboy? I'm guessing a solid 15 on a ten-point scale," I tease. "Anyway, I'm assuming you're unfreezing him. Why do you need me?"

"Fury wants you here."

"He didn't happen to tell you why, did he?"

"You can ask him yourself when you get here."

"Fine. You win, Phil. I'll be there in a hour."

"We need you now."

"Are you seriously defrosting Captain America at eight in the morning?"

"Now, Ms. Greene."

"Ugh, fine! Give me ten minutes."

"See you then," he replies before hanging up.

I stare at my phone for a second. This. Is. So. Fricking. Cool.

"Well, Dog, looks like you're getting my eggs, you lucky duck. I have to run, but I'll be back. I have a meeting with Captain America!"

This is going to be sooooo awesome.