Behind Locked Doors

Chapter One

A/N: This is written from the point of view of my OFC, Sage Rowena Stark. I know this isn't exactly how The Avengers happened, but I changed the plot so the reader can meet Loki properly.
*Trigger warning for depression issues.*
(By the way, I'm starting to publish the sequel, it's called 'Demons'.)
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"Sage?" Your dad, Tony Stark, asked, poking his head into your room. "I've got to go to work tomorrow. The Avengers apparently need me."

You looked up from your laptop, lying on your bed. "Okay... How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," he said with a sigh. "You've heard of Loki, yeah?"

"Loki, as in, Norse god of mischief?" Your eyes widened. "You're not dealing with the actual god, are you?"

"Yeah, he's causing some serious problems. Sorry, I would talk more, but I have a lot of research to do before tomorrow morning." He walked over and bent down to eye level. "Are you going to be okay?" He asked softly.

You knew immediately what he was referring to. Yesterday he'd come home from a meeting earlier than you'd expected, and found you cutting your wrists in the bathroom.

You'd had depression issues for months, and had started cutting a few weeks ago. You'd tried to hide your wrists as soon as he walked in, but he'd known immediately from the blood in the sink that something was wrong. He'd grabbed your wrists and looked them over, not saying anything, just in shock. He asked you if there was anything you'd like to tell him, but you wouldn't say anything. He treated and wrapped your wrists, and you had gone straight to bed without saying anything. This was the first time he'd talked to you since then.

"I'll be fine," you replied, keeping your face totally emotionless.

He frowned slightly, then stood up and walked out to the living room. He had a lot of work to do.

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The next day, you didn't see your father at all. Apparently he was busy being Iron Man. You didn't really care.

You weren't really sure how you felt about your dad. Part of you wanted to act like the "bad girl" that you had always been. Not wanting or accepting help or pity from anyone.

But the other half of you wanted help, and love, and encouragement. It wanted more attention from your dad. It wanted to know why he was never there for you. Where was he when you needed him? Always off at meetings, always busy, always working. Maybe you just weren't important enough for him. Maybe he didn't care about you.

And that was how your depression cycles had started.