The Seventh Avenger: Playing With Fire

Chapter 6: Dream

          So damn tired...

          One after another her feet lift before dropping and sinking into the grains of sand beneath her boots, the hot ball of fire blazing high above her in the sky radiating light for as far as she can see. Its rays scorch her skin in a torturous manner, and the thick layer of sweat coating every square inch of her body causes her SHIELD uniform to stick to her most uncomfortably. Her breathing is ragged, her throat as rough as sandpaper, and her lips are cracked and peeling, desperate for even just a drop of water to bring them back to life. There's not even a damn breeze to save her from the heat. Her skin feels as if it's on fire, and when she brushes a hand against her forehead, it's scalding hot to the touch.

          So damn tired...

          Her bones ache. Her legs feel as heavy as lead- she must have been walking for hours now. Lifting her neck, she comes to a halt so that she can take in her surroundings. Nothing but blue skies and yellow sand, flat and boring stretching for miles greets her. There's not a hill or ditch in sight. She slowly turns on the spot, not understanding how she got here in the first place. Where had she come from? And, more importantly, where is she going? There's nothing pointing her in the right direction. Is she even going the right way?

          So damn tired...

          Legs collapse. Knees sink into the sand. Hands hang uselessly by her side. Eyes close to ward off the bright light streaming from above, and the nothingness that surrounds her. Just five minutes. A small break- it wouldn't do her any harm to stop for just a short while.

          So damn tired...

          "Lydia."

          She knows that voice. Her eyes peel open, and she slowly lifts her head. Squinting, it takes her eyes a few moments to fixate on the seven figures standing in the distance, and it takes her even longer to recognise the short, red curls. The glow of an arc reactor in the middle of a chest piece. The flowing trenchcoat. The green figure looming over the others, and the cracks of lightning around the hammer that the God holds. The red, white and blue shield, the bow and arrow poised high towards the sky.

          The team; her team. Her friends.

          They're dressed in the same armour and tactical gear that they had worn during the Battle of New York, and the same abrasions and bruises decorate their skin in ugly patterns and colours. Even Tony's Ironman armour is scratched and bent, his face mask ripped off just as it had been after he-

           No.

          Now she sees it. The wormhole, seeping through the clouds high above them, the empty space beyond it dark and terrifying. The moment she gasps with fear, the chitauri swarm from it like thousands of ants crawling out of a small anthill. There's so many. There's too many. How are they going to stop this?

          "Lydia, c'mon!" It's Ava calling to her, but her words are garbled. Muffled. Slow. She can barely make them out. "We need you!"

          They need me.

          Her mouth parts and the words of reassurance ready themselves on her tongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic wheeze that is easily lost in the thousands of battle cries echoing from the alien army as they continue to fly towards the team.

          Water. She needs water.

          She bends right over so that she can dig her fingers into the sand, and she is quick to drag it back and push it forward until she has made a small opening. But, to her dismay, the more that she digs, the more that her SHIELD uniform begins to fade away, disappearing before her very eyes until she is left sitting in the sand wearing jeans and a white shirt; her civilian clothes. Her pale skin is now exposed and left unprotected against the harsh weapons of the chitauri army, who will undoubtedly harm her with them.