Alright, so this baby's just a filler. The exciting stuff happens next chapter and it'll just keep rolling from there. Tell me what you think!
I had never been so thankful in my life. Even in my dream I was thankful.
No, the dream was pretty much the same, but it just ended differently. Instead of being frozen, looking at the blue eyes, I was pulled out. Warmth enveloped me as my world got lighter.
'Ma'am?' A calm voice asked me. 'Are you alright?'
I cracked my eyes open, only to be met by blue eyes again. Only, these eyes were different. Instead of being the icy blue of the man on the meteor, they were bright blue, like the American flag.
I shot up in bed, my heart beating erratically. Who was he? Now I had even more questions about my dreams. So I found myself sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Smith, Clinical Psychiatrist. I was reading an article about bipolar disorder, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Hopefully he wouldn't think I was crazy and lock me up.
I about had a heart attack and died when his door opened.
"Miss Stark, I am Dr. Smith. Pleased to meet you."
I stood up, shaking his hand. He didn't look anything like a psychiatrist. He looked more like a football player. We walked into his office which was full of books and leather furniture. "Please, have a seat."
The leather chair was more comfortable than I thought. He sat across from me, pulling out a file.
"Your doctor told me you were having recurrent dreams."
"Yes."
"And he thought it might be a symptom of PTSD. He had mentioned you've been through quite the...ordeal over the past year. Why don't you tell me everything that's happened."
So I did. I started at the beginning when my dad disappeared clear to a couple months ago when I had the fit on the rooftop and ended up in the hospital. He just sat there, nodding his head and occasionally writing on his notepad. When I finished, he looked back over his notes for a second.
"Well, you have been through an ordeal. Your doctor sent over your lab results and they found traces of phencyclidine in your blood."
"What's that?"
"PCP. A hallucinogenic drug."
"What?"
"Your memories of being in Hammer Industries are rather scrambled, some blurry to you. This leads me to believe most of what you experienced on the rooftop was a hallucination. Which explains, in part, the dreams. Your mind's defence to everything that's happened. Your doctor was right when he linked it to PTSD. I'm going to prescribe you some sleeping pills. It'll take a day or so for them to really work but they should put you in a deep enough REM state that you won't dream." He wrote something on a piece of paper before handing it to me. "If the dreams don't stop within a week, call me and we'll try a different route."
He stood up and led me out of the office.
"Remember, give it a week or so."
"Yes, thank you."
I went out to the Rolls, climbing in the back.
"Where to now?"
"Walgreens." I pulled out my beanie, slipping it on my head. I didn't need to be noticed right now.
...
It had been a week and a day now. The sleeping pills put me to sleep, but they did nothing for the dream. I was beginning to think Thanos had been right. Which meant he really was real. He said my body was asleep, but my mind was awake, and travelling places. I didn't think the therapist could help with that. That might get me in a loony-bin in a room next to my mother.
My dad had almost finished Stark Tower, all that was left was setting up the arc reactor and actually getting it to run correctly. On the other hand, I had received, well more like my dad had received an invitation to a gala in Stuttgart in a couple days. I had tried calling him, but he chose now to completely ignore his phone. So I decided to take matters into my own hands, as I usually had to in times like these. I had made arrangements to fly commercially to Germany to attend the gala on behalf of my absent father.
On the flight, I made the mistake of falling asleep. It seemed like my dreams were really happening now.
This time in the dream, my mystery icy blue-eyed man was in pain.
How did I know this?
He was being tortured. This was the first time I'd ever seen all of him. He was tall, lanky, yet there was an air of strength around him. His hair was black and slicked back down his neck. His skin was pale, almost white. He was staring right at me, jaw clenched, his eyes screaming in pain. He was being tortured...at least on the inside.
I jolted in my seat, a fine layer of sweat covering my brow. That was the most real my dream had been, and the first time I'd ever seen the rest of the blue eyed man.
I wondered why I had woken up, only to realize we were landing in Stuttgart.
I taxied my way to my hotel, hopping in the shower before getting ready for the gala.
As I finished my makeup and adjusted my dress, I had little idea how exciting this night was going to get.
...
From where I stood while the curator gave his speech, I could see him come down the stairs. I tried not to stare at him because I could feel something off about him. Something almost familiar as well.
As he neared the bottom of the stairs, one of the guards tried to stop him, but the man whacked him in the face with his cane, drawing the crowds attention to him. He grabbed the curator, dragging him to a piece of art shaped like a lion in the middle of the room before flipping him onto the top. He then took a piece of equipment and began, what looked like, digging out his eyeball. The crowd began running and screaming but I stayed where I was, knowing going outside would be the worst idea.
I watched as the man strode calmly outside, his suit melting away to gold armor, a helmet with horns on the top adorning his head. His cane grew to a wicked looking staff. I followed slowly behind him, outside to the panic ridden streets. I hid behind one of the flower pots near the entrance, was watching as a blue light shot out of the staff, flipping the oncoming police car.
The man seemed to multiply and surround a crowd of people, trapping them in a circle.
"I said, kneel!" The man shouted and everyone dropped to their knees on the pavement. I knew making a run for it would just draw attention to myself and that was the last thing I needed to do right now, so I stayed put. He began walking among the crowd of kneeling people. "Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy, a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."
One brave man stood up, turning to the psychopathic man.
"Not to men like you."
"There are no men like me."
"There are always men like you."
The psychotic one lifted his spear. "Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example."
I held my breath, knowing the older man was going to die.
But something jumped in front of him, blocking the blast, sending it right back to the psychotic man. I watched as a man wearing red white and blue with a shield stood up. I knew immediately who he was.
Captain America.
"You know, the last time I was in Germany, and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing."
I knew that voice. Oh god, I had dreamed of Captain America. But I thought he was dead...
"The soldier. The man out of time."
The psychotic man got back to his feet. "I'm not the one who's out of time."
A jet suddenly flew into the square, a gun dropping out of the bottom.
"Loki, drop the weapon and stand down." A female voice said.
Loki. So that was the guys name.
Loki shot at the jet but it avoided the blast and Captain America threw his shield at Loki. The crowd dispersed as the two went at it. I knew could've run at that moment. I could've made it back to the hotel safely, but I was transfixed by watching Loki and Captain America fight.
I had just got it in me to make a run for it when Shoot to Thrill began to play. I stopped in my tracks.
My dad flew out of the sky, blasting Loki back into the stairs before landing on the ground, leaving a small crater in the brick. Always one to make a big entrance.
He held his hands up, several types of blasters popping out of his armor.
"Make your move, Reindeer Games." Loki held his hands up, his armor disappearing. "Good move."
I walked closer to my dad and Captain America.
"Mr. Stark."
"Captain."
"Dad?"