AN: Just wanna say thank you to those that have reviewed (✿◠‿◠) I really appreciate the feedback (no pressure to readers who don't feel the need to review, I just wanted to voice my gratitude).

Also, Disclaimer: ...[Yeah, we all know what goes here.]

Chapter Four

"Miss? Miss, are you all right?"

I seem to have gone into shock for some time. To be honest, I'm really not sure. All I know is that after a long moment of silence, I was finally able to respond with, "This isn't real."

"Excuse me?" Steve asks.

"This isn't real, you're not real, none of this is real," I say, and repeat over and over again (or some variation of those phrases), as I rise. Before he can attempt to stop me from leaving, I sprint off in a random direction, shoving past whoever I needed to to get away from this. What 'this' is, I'm not exactly sure.

Someone is shouting in the distance, and I think it's Steve or Chris or whoever he really is, calling after me, but I don't stop, and when I do, I've managed to run all the way to Battery Park. I would've kept going if it weren't for—

"Alice Little?"

"Y-yeah? Th-that's me."

"I'm Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division; also known as SHIELD. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

"I-I, uh, I…w-why?"

"We have evidence that has led us to believe you might be a threat to society."

"A threat to—I—what?"

"Please follow me."

I don't budge. I am physically incapable of moving. This isn't—there's no way this is—

"Ma'am," says 'Agent Coulson'.

I glance around the area of the park we're standing in and see that we're surrounded by shiny black government vehicles. The logical thing to do would e to follow this man, but I'm having trouble wrapping my head around what's happening. My state of utter bewilderment allows me to relax—or something similar—enough or 'Agent Coulson' to take me by the arm and haul me over to one of the SUVs.

He starts asking me questions as we drive off to who knows where, but the questions are…they're difficult to answer.

"This year on the night of April 16th, where were you?"

"I was at home. I spend the whole day in bed, on Netflix. I mean, a friend told me otherwise, but I really have no idea what he—"

"What friend? What did he say happened that night?"

"Gage. His name is Gage Brooks. He told me I had been out with another friend, Lainey. She's kind of…well, honesty is the best policy, right? She's…she's sort of an addict. But I would never do the kind of stuff she does…sorry, I'm rambling. According to Gage, Lainey was tripping on acid and called him for help, saying that I…what was it? I think it was that I turned to stone and somehow ended up in Lower Manhattan."

"And you have no memory of this?"

"Well, duh! It didn't happen! I mean, I can think of many ways through which it could be possible for that to happen, but when I recall what I know I did last night, nothing adds up!"

'Agent Coulson' looks at me skeptically. As far as I'm concerned, I'm telling the truth, but something tells me that that doesn't matter to him.

After a long pause, during which he makes a not-so-brief phone call, he tells me, "We're in the middle of a crisis right now, but I've just been informed that we do need to take you in for further questioning."

"Take me in…where?"

"I'm afraid you don't have the clearance to know that."

And with that, the conversation is over. This can't be happening. There's no way any of this is real. It's all a dream. That is the only possible conclusion; this is all a dream, all of this is happening inside my head. I've had dreams like this before. Not this vivid, but my dreams often take place in fictional worlds, usually the MCU or the Harry Potter universe. This isn't even all that weird now that I know it's a dream. It's just the vividness that's throwing me off.

Agent Coulson pulls over in front of Stark Tower and tells me to wait here. Not that I have a choice, as I'm shackled to the inside of the car. Hm…if this is a dream…couldn't I just zap myself out of the cuffs?

Okay…let's concentrate here…concentrate on what, though? Um…hm…the cuffs aren't there…my hands are free…I feel like an idiot…

The cuffs are gone. Huh. All right, so this is a dream. That helps my anxiety. Somewhat.

Immediately, I look up to try and formulate some sort of 'escape' route, the cuffs suddenly reform around my hands, slowly being uncovered by wisps of glittering teal and grey smoke.

Well, that as weird.

I try again, meditating on the cuffs disappearing, and they do. This time I move my hands around to make sure I'm actually free and that the cuffs aren't just invisible. They aren't, and I am free, but when Agent Coulson re-enters the car, it scares me, and either due to his presence or to the break in my concentration, the shackles reappear and I am once again restrained. I guess I haven't quite mastered lucid dreaming yet.

Coulson decides to attempt questioning me a gain. "SHIELD has two complications concerning you. One is the 0-8-4 that we are positive you had encountered two weeks ago. The second is that we have been keeping an eye on Steve Rogers, and you mentioned a few things that you shouldn't have knowledge of when you met with him earlier today."

"Oh?" was all I could think to say. I don't usually converse with the people in my dreams, not to this extent. In my dreams I'm some kind of spy or assassin. There's typically just lots of death in my dreams. I hope that doesn't mean anything bad…

Coulson continues, "Though Captain America is a household name, and history enthusiasts are familiar with HYDRA's participation in the second World War, anything to do with the Tesseract is classified information."

"Well then maybe they shouldn't have made two movies about it," I mumble, mostly as a should've-been-inner musing rather than a response.

"Excuse me?" Coulson asks.

"What I mean is there's a not-so-magical world where you, all your super-spy friends, and all super-powered and other-worldly beings are fictional characters," I reply casually. Of all the characters I could be interacting with right now, my subconscious just had to throw Agent Coulson at me. He was never a favorite of mine, though I don't actively dislike him. It's just that his scary-calm demeanor freaks me out a bit.

"Ms. Little, you need to understand that this is a very serious situation. Worst case scenario, SHIELD will want to have you terminated. It's likely you will be contained for quite some time until we can prove you're no threat to society."

I simply look at him and raise an eyebrow. I know from experience that when I try to assert dominance over passive characters in the dream world, they focus on the task at hand and let me mind my own business (yes, that's right, I am one of those people; the kind that try lucid dreaming and stuff—don't judge me). However, instead of doing that, Coulson looks back at me and asks, "Is there a problem?"

"Hm," I reply. "Yes, actually. This dream is boring and I have a better idea than whatever we're doing right now."

Coulson frowns, trying to decipher what I just said to him as if I was speaking in some strange code. Clearly, I'm not. Maybe this is like those dreams in the movie Inception, where if you focus too much on a passive character, they think you're violating their habitat or something like that. Oh my god, am I being Inception-ed right now?

"We're going to the Helicarrier," I say to him, looking him dead in the eye, using the same voice my aunt uses to train her dog. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, he'll listen to me.

"How did you know that?" asks Coulson, suspiciously.

"I didn't, but that's where I want to go, so that's where you should take me. I mean, it's a dream, I'm sure if you ditched me or shot me here, I'd just end up teleporting up there somehow. There's a chance I'll forget this ever happened," I answer. I take my earlier statement back; this is a very weird dream. Maybe it really is like Inception and it's not even my dream. Shit, I really hope I'm not plugged into someone else's brain right now.

"Miss…" Coulson says, very slowly. "What exactly do you think is happening right now?"

"Why does that matter? Why does it even matter to me why you think it matters? What I think is happening—no—what is happening right now is that I am in a deep sleep, maybe even a coma considering how long it's been, who knows, and everything happening is all in my head. Or someone else's, I'm not sure yet. I can't expect you to understand, though. After all, you're part of the dream. All I have to do is concentrate really hard on you disappearing and you will. Be glad I have a really shitty attention span."

As expected, Coulson has no idea what I'm talking about. Again, not that it matters; none of this is actually happening. However, this dream feels so real that I would be stupid not to take advantage of it. The first chance I get, I'm ditching Coulson and then I'll get to have fun. I just have to wait out whatever this idle, boring period is.

We arrive at what in reality is the Morgan Stanley Building on Broadway, but apparently in my dream it's some SHIELD office. Jesus, what kind of dream is this? My brain's going way too into detail with this universe. And isn't time supposed to feel slower in dreams? In the sense that a minute in the real world can feel like hours in the dream world, I mean. This dream is moving in what feels like regular time and I can remember everything that's happened since I ran into Steve Rogers the first time. It's been nearly two weeks! Am I in a coma? Oh god…am I in a coma?

Coulson unlocks the shackles, keeping me from leaving the vehicle and replaces them with regular handcuffs before leading me into the building and up to the roof. There's a jet there, ready to take us to the Helicarrier, and can you guess who's waiting in it?

"'Sup Rogers," I say upon boarding the jet.

He's clearly surprised to see me here and immediately stands up and asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, apparently, I intercepted some eighty-fucking-something and SHIELD wants my head for it. Also, I guess some of the stuff I told you is classified?" I answer. "But yeah, that guy arrested me and now I'm here."

"You seemed pretty shaken up back there," he remarks, and still, with suspicion.

I shrug, "It's all good now that I know it's just a dream."

Coulson then butts into the conversation and starts discussing work with Steve, handing him a tablet and filling him in on the other people SHIELD is bringing in to find the Tesseract and stop Loki. As Steve scrolls through the files, Coulson turns to me again. I'm told to stay in my seat for the remainder of the ride and not to speak unless spoken to.

"Wow," I say, when he's done ordering me around. "What makes you think you can tell me what to do?"

Coulson pauses. "You do understand that you're currently in SHIELD's custody?" he says. "You were arrested in Central Park, not six hours ago. By me."

I sigh, "Whatever."

"Miss, some of the things you said on the drive here were very concerning," says Coulson. Looks like he's incapable of accepting anything I say as a normal response. How rude. Well, I know who I'm not saving later on if I get the chance. Is that unnecessarily cruel? Probably, but you can get away with anything in the dream world.

While Coulson continues a very awkward, fanboy-feels driven conversation with Steve, I decide to go over what happens in the movie in my head. Or in my head's self's head. Wait, I'm confused.

Anyway, let's let the record show that my reason for doing this is so that my brain knows not to throw in any surprises for the rest of this dream. So…

We're heading to the Helicarrier, which means the rest of the Avengers are being recruited. Loki is in the sewers somewhere and is going to be in Stuttgart…tomorrow night? Well, 'tomorrow' night. Hm…what time is it now? Hell, what day is it? Who knows, man…who knows…

Anyways, back to business; Loki is going to be in Stuttgart, we'll say tomorrow night. Captain America and the Black Widow will be on their way to Germany to capture him and will soon be joined by Iron Man. Hawkeye is poorly underused for the entirety of the film and the Avengers never use any opportunity to properly disarm Loki because Fury wants his weapon back.

Not that any of that actually matters anyway. If I focus really, really hard, I could fix everything. The question is, do I want to? Because I went extreme-fangirl when I saw the Avengers movie trailer. Imagine what happened when I saw the actual movie. Despite all its flaws, that movie will always hold a special place in my fangirl-trash heart, which I'm not sure is strong enough to mess with the storyline.

Back to the movie/dream thing that's still ongoing.

We finally arrive at the Helicarrier, and Agent Coulson is the first to exit the jet. He has a brief conversation with Agent Romanoff, who had been waiting to greet him and Steve, then he leaves. I'm left still handcuffed, standing awkwardly next to the Black Widow and Captain America.

"There was quite the buzz around here when they found you in the ice," Natasha says to Steve. "I thought Coulson was going to swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

"Trading cards?" Steve asks.

"They're vintage, he's very proud," Natasha explains with a smirk. Something catches their attention a few feet away. Someone, actually. It's Dr. Banner, who's looking quite antsy and out of place. Steve takes the opportunity to meet one of the men he's supposed to be working with on the mission.

"Alice Little, I presume?" says Natasha. "I'm Agent Romanoff."

"I know," I respond absentmindedly, my attention divided between, well, everything around me. Being in the presence of several superheroes—as well as a secret government division that deals with all things otherworldly and outright strange—can do that to you.

If Agent Romanoff is even the slightest bit surprised by my strange response to her introduction, it doesn't show. Of course, it doesn't show; the Black Widow is good at what she does.

"Follow me, please," she says. She steps forward momentarily, behind Steve and Dr. Banner, saying, "Gentlemen, you may want to step inside in a minute. It's going to get a little hard to breathe."

And she was right. However, I'm the only one that looked visibly affected by it. I had to actually sit down and take a few minutes to recover afterwards. Everyone else seems like they don't even realize we're currently being lifted storeys into the air. Then again, this might just mean that I'm strangling myself in my sleep with all the blankets I insist on burying myself under.

This is all so surreal, not to mention ridiculously vivid. It almost feels real.

Almost. I'm smart enough to know none of this is real. Again, that would be impossible. All I can do from this point is wait for the movie to end, or to wake up.

oOoOoOo

Getting interrogated is not fun. Especially not by an angry Nick Fury.

"Okay, this isn't the least bit amusing," I say. "Why are you mad? You're not even real," I turn to Agent Hill, who had just entered this tiny chrome honeycomb-looking room, "You're not real, either. None of you are real and I'm not sure what's going on, but this dream sucks. All you're doing is getting mad at me."

Agent Hill looks at Fury, "Her phone was searched thoroughly then confiscated. The drug test came back clean, although we did find a joint on her person upon entry. She's definitely sober. I don't know what's happening with this one."

"Mental health screening?" Fury asks.

"Old records show a history of PTSD, but she's been relatively stable since 2010, and she hasn't actually exhibited any symptoms of PTSD."

"And the lie detector tests?"

"Nothing. She's certain that she's told us the truth."

"Finally!" I interject. "Now take these freaking wires off me or I will do so myself."

And, eventually, I did. But, as I stand to leave the room, I notice that the door doesn't have a handle and there's a keypad next to the spot where one should be.

"We can't let you go," says Fury. "Not with what you know and what you've seen."

Agent Hill, however, decides to speak up, "I hate to say this, sir, but we don't have a good enough reason to lock her up."

Fury sighs irritably. I glance back at him, eyebrow raised. Soon, I hear the door behind me slide open and I finally get to leave.

But, as I'm leaving the room, I hear Fury say this: "Make sure someone's keeping an eye on her at all times. I'm not about to make the same mistake twice."

oOo

Alice can be a cocky little shit, can't she, I mean goddamn... well [reference to a future X-Men fic that I fully intend to post] Alice's attitude does run in the family...that could mean a number of things and it's too early in this little serial to make any sense, so that just sounded really stupid—I apologize. I have a tendency to get way ahead of myself, I really need to work on that.