This might be a little confusing to start, but hopefully, there are some clues as to where it's going :)

Un-beta'd, mistakes are mine.

NoTx

Chapter Two: The Message

The first thought that registers in Camille's mind is that death feels a lot like floating. A sort of weightlessness in her limbs and a hollow feeling throughout her body.

She's not sure why she thinks she's dead, but there's something in the back of her mind telling her that she's no longer mortal. She's supine, she thinks, suspended in the air. There's a buzzing in her ears, her brain is racing a hundred miles a minute.

There's a man, but she can't see his face. Does she know him? She's not sure. Another man, this time she sees his mouth moving, but no sound comes out. A flash of red and a sad smile. Sunglasses. Goggles?

Silver speeds past, air whooshing around her as loud as a…train? The buzzing intensifies, swirling around her ears like a swarm of bees. The images collide like a kaleidoscope of colors, as she twists away, trying to cover her ears to shut out the noise. She's breathing hard, almost panting as the maelstrom around her tightens closer and closer.

She's distraught as she attempts to block the commotion, but her hands just won't shift. Her arms are moving away from her face as if being pulled aside by a force stronger than she is.

She hears the first thud. Then another. Then a third. It pulses in her head, like an oncoming migraine. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter to stave off the pain, but it never comes. The beats continue, rhythmically, becoming clearer with each round.

It's a voice. A man's voice. He's saying…her name?

"Camille!"

There it is again. But the men have gone, the ones with the flashes of color and words she can't hear. They're gone.

"Camille!" It's so much clearer this time, so close to her face, as if she opened her eyes he would be right in front of her.

So, she does. And he is. Blue eyes bore in her green ones. Is that empathy? She looks down, the man holding her wrists as she struggles, violently attempting to shift away from him.

"Stop…Camille, stop! You're safe. I won't hurt you."

For some reason, she believes him. As her arms go limp in his grasp, he drops his hands and leans back…but she can't be too careful. At least that's what she tells herself after she winds up and punches him squarely in the jaw. Her arms are weak, it's not the greatest defense, but self-preservation is all she has right now. He reels from the sudden move, but it clearly doesn't register any pain on his face. Perhaps it's impossible to cause pain in the afterlife?

As the man moves back towards her to sit on the edge of the bed - sensibly keeping out of striking distance - Camille takes in his full appearance. Broad-shouldered, with blonde combed-back hair and a matching beard. He's wearing all-black; a fitted t-shirt and cargo pants. He crosses his arms over his chest in what should be an intimidating pose, but his face is soft as he speaks calmly to her.

"Do you know where you are?"

Her voice is hoarse as she replies, "dead." She isn't expecting him to laugh, but a short chuckle escapes him.

Her face is sallow, dark grey forming under her eyes as sweat beads on her forehead. She pulls the blanket up higher around her chest, as if trying to cocoon herself from him. There's something about him she just doesn't trust.

"I can see why you'd think that, but no, you're not dead. You're in a hospital, in Wakanda." He slowly hands her a glass of water, allowing her to soothe her throat as she sips from the straw. Her voice is clearer when she speaks again.

"Wakan-what? Who are you?"

"My name is Steve Rogers," he replies, looking for any signs of recognition in her eyes. He finds it, but not for the obvious reason.

She freezes. Steve Rogers. She knows that name. The man. The goggles. His friend.

Rising to his feet, he asks, "what's the last thing you remember?"

What is her last memory?

"Colors. Noise, so much noise. The people on the street. Stores but no signs, just people." She's not making much sense. He's growing desperate to find out how she knew of Bucky but he's pretty certain if he pushes her too far, she might crack.

"Do you know where you were?"

Images come flooding back. "The men, your friends. They said you were late. You were supposed to meet them, why didn't you meet them?"

Steve stops in his tracks, mid-way to the window. He turns, looking her square in the eye as he asks, no, demands

"What men?"

Camille sips from the warm mug placed into her hands a few moments ago. The drink is red and sweet, some sort of tea, she presumes. She's decided she likes the man who gave it to her much more than that Steve Rogers. His name is Bruce and he hasn't tried to interrogate her with questions, instead treating her like the confused, scared, exhausted woman that she is. He sits in the corner of her room - after confirming that she is in fact in a hospital and really isn't dead - sipping from his own cup. His eyes are gentle and his voice steady, as if he knows a little something of what she's going through.

When he first arrived, she confided in him that she thinks she might be going crazy. She has all these images in her head and it's so difficult to sort the memories from the dreams, reality from fiction. He assures her she's not crazy, but he can see on her face that she's not convinced.

There are little snippets here and there that she knows to be true. Bruce has been helping her talk it out. The silver train was real. She's been to a train station before, she knows that. He mentions a name to her, someone called Bucky and her face lights up in instant recognition.

"I know him. He told me that he and the goggle man were waiting for Steve Rogers. Apparently, he's a 'punk', always getting lost. I imagine that's why he was late."

"Can you remember where you spoke to Bucky?"

"At the cafe. They were sitting outside on the street, waiting...there was no sign on the front of it. The window was blurry, too. Just tables outside a gray building. Maybe it wasn't even a cafe."

"What was the street like?"

"They were all the same. No signs, no cars, just people. Lots of people. And they were loud, all talking at the same time. I had to shout to talk to anyone. Oh!" Bruce says nothing, afraid to interrupt her train of thought. She needs to be able to remember by herself.

"The man in the cape. He said he 'picked me' for his message, but I can't remember it. Do you know what happened?" He can tell she's still disoriented, but that she's trying her hardest to remember.

"I don't, Camille, but it sounds pretty confusing." He's aware that his tone is veering on the edge of condescending, but he doesn't mean to be. It's just a lot to take in and he really does want to help her.

"I'm going to talk to some friends, they're going to help us figure this all out. Is it okay if I bring them to talk to you sometime?"

"I guess so. Just not the Steve Rogers man."

"I'll be back soon. Try and get some rest, okay?"

She shrugs and scoffs a little, but doesn't say any more.

As Bruce slips out into the hallway, shutting the door to the room with a soft click, he shakes his head. Camille's worried they all think she's lost it, but with his growing theory, there's a good chance the team will end up thinking he's crazy.

Okoye and Rocket are nowhere to be found, so the group re-assembles without them; just the remaining Avengers, plus Shuri and Ramonda. As Bruce predicted, it was always going to be a struggle to convey his argument to one person in particular. After all, Natasha liked weapons and fights; real things she can get her hands on. Real enemies she can defeat.

"Trapped in a pocket dimension?" Nat's perched on the edge of the conference-style table. Everything about her face screams skeptical. She trusts Bruce - to an extent, anyway - but alternate realities might just be a little too far-fetched this time.

Thor leans back in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him, fingers steepled as he thinks. He's been reticent during his time in Wakanda, the burning need to exact revenge for his losses battles constantly with his morality - perhaps the only thing which keeps him present.

"On Asgard, we knew little of the Soul Stone. There is a long-held belief that the Stone is sentient, able to manifest a will of its own. Souls can be siphoned into the Soulworld - the pocket dimension Dr Banner speaks of."

Steve briefly considers whether to ask his next question, unsure if he wants to hear the answer.

"Do they know they're in this Soulworld?"

"No. They live a relatively idyllic, surreal life, with no awareness of their current state."

Idyllic. Surreal. If Banner is right - Steve isn't entirely sure he is, but it's the most they have to go on right now - he's not sure which idea is harder to face. Bucky actually being dead, or him living his dream life, only to have it ripped away from him once they find out how to get their people back. Because they will bring them back. He will bring them back.

"She's traumatized. How do we know she didn't hit her head, or this isn't some kind of psychotic break?" Bruce can't help but laugh a little at that. She's always the devil's advocate.

"She knows things, Nat. She knew Bucky's name. She mentioned a 'goggle man' and a 'man with a cape' - that's got to be Sam and Dr Strange, right? She talks about the place like it's a dreamscape. Endless city streets, buildings without names, no cars, just people. And we know she...disintegrated during the snap. She was gone, but now she's back. How else could she have disappeared, met Bucky, Sam and Strange, then returned to this dimension? It's something to do with that stone."

A silence descends over the room as the Doctors' words sink in.

Ramonda's sadness is profound, evident from the day T'Chaka passed away, growing with each loss she faces. As she looks to Bruce, he realizes it is not just pain she feels, but sorrow.

"How is she? If what you speak is true, she must have had quite the ordeal, Doctor."

"Physically she's fine, but she's confused. It's obvious in the way she speaks. She doesn't make sense a lot of the time like she's trying to vocalize every thought she's having, every memory lodged in her brain, this need to say them all out loud." His hands are almost claw-like in front of him, as he tries to emphasize the situation. "She's lost."

Ramonda rises to her feet, her dress sweeping around her legs as she moves towards the door. Shuri is quick to follow her, seemingly sharing her mother's distress for the situation. As they reach the exit, where Steve idles with his arms crossed, Ramonda levels him with a hard stare.

"Then, we will take care of her. It is our way." With that, the royal duo is gone.

Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding; Ramonda's contempt for him is obvious. He throws his next question out to the room.

"She asked Okoye if Bucky had found me. That has to mean something, right? That's how she's ended up here, looking for me?"

Bruce shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I'm not so sure, Captain."

"Go on."

"Camille says the man in the cape told her he 'picked her'. We know that's Strange - he chose Camille to be the one to relay his message. I think he sent her back here, to find you." His face is stern, mouth twisted into a slight grimace.

"Now we just need to know what his message is."

TBC.