Caffeine Rush (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter 23: Dream of Me

A bright flash of blue light, a sulphuric smell, a terrible scream.

My uncle's bright eyes, my father's smile, not a moment for a goodbye.

I had buried those memories so deep that, before, that was all I remembered of the event. I didn't remember which suit my uncle was wearing, or which shoes my father chose that day. I didn't remember which mountain was destroyed or how many times I circled the planet trying to catch up to my father. It was eighty-one, I know that now because I had time to count it.

Skrull technology was useful in many ways, with the species integration act allowing off-planet aliens residence on Earth, their technology came with them. Skrull memory viewing achievements combined with Stark Industries binarily augmented retro-framing hologram tech made vast improvements in various therapies and mental healthcare.

It also allowed the justice system to recall events of a crime in real time as people remembered it. Between the investigative agents, the lawyers, the SHIELD council, fellow heroes, prison officials, and researchers, I relived that memory in vivid detail hundreds of times over, to the point that I felt like I was stuck in a time loop, helpless to witness their deaths over and over again until I couldn't take it anymore.

I started blocking those memories out in an unconscious but completely purposeful effort to put a balm on a wound that was repeatedly opened, scarring over in an ugly way.

My father's smile, my uncle's eyes, a bright blue light, no time to say goodbye. For a moment, I couldn't hear who was screaming, then, when my throat felt like it was ripping apart from the inside, I realized that it was me who was screaming. I was never screaming only in the memory, but every time I was forced to relive it. Over and over. Pulling me back in just as soon as I escaped it.

When I finally realized that my torment would not stop, not even after the trial when I had been imprisoned, did I decide I'd had enough. They claimed they wanted to know what it was like, to run so fast that the ground quaked beneath your every step. So I showed them.

Breaking out of the prison, after I'd set my mind to it, was a small matter. What could they possibly do against the unstoppable force of a speedster? They wanted to know what it felt like, huh? The rush, the pain, the speed? They could all know what it felt like.

I unleashed my wrath as a speedster upon the planet, setting off earthquakes, tsunamis, toppling mountains, activating dormant volcanoes. Nowhere was safe. Then as if it was a dream in itself, I snapped out of it, preventing the biggest of the natural disasters from impacting any civilians and disappearing through a dimensional rift into the spongy space between universes.

I skipped around universes for a while, got myself in a bit of trouble here and there, lost track of time passing, and finally arrived in the universe I now occupied, one that had space for me to occupy and no expectation on which role I assumed. I discovered coffee, and for two years, that was all I had, until that encounter with Tony, who stuck around and formed a friendship despite no perceived connection keeping him around. It was Tony who led me to the Avengers and the relationships I've formed with them, and it was Tony who led me to my frosty Lokitty. I really should thank him for that.

In the midst of my digression, I noticed a red haze swirling on the border of my mind, no thanks needed. It was Tony's voice but Wanda's touch. But how was she in my head? Sorcerers couldn't get into a speedster's head. Unless I had slowed down enough that she could slip past my defenses, and that really wasn't good. While I was here dreaming, my body was slowing, slowing for anyone was bad, but for speedsters, it was worse.

I had too much to do, too much to say, too many people to care about waiting for my return, if only for an explanation. It was time to wake up.

***

"Wake up, Jesse!"

Who was that? The voice wasn't immediately recognizable for me. They sounded urgent, and scared, not the frightened kind, the concerned kind. I knew that voice, somehow I knew that voice.

"Jesse, please!"

Why did the voice remind me of tea? I didn't drink tea. Who did I know drank tea and why is that the first thing I associated with them? Tea and green, the color, bright verdant green. Who was it?

This was frustrating, why couldn't I place the right name. Did I get hit in the head? No, it was in the gut. But it wasn't a physical blow, I would have healed from that already. Why was I so numb everywhere? Had I been standing in a freezer—oh, yeah, basically. Then what was my injury caused by? I remembered a bony clawed hand reaching out for me and then passing through my body with an icy touch. Ice! No wonder I was in such a state, frost burn was no joke for a speedster.

"Keep fighting, Jesse, you're almost there." A whisper as faint as a kitten purr. Too fast of a jump from one thought to the next, cold to kittens? It made me think of a frosty feline, what was its name? I knew its name, I'd given it to him, why couldn't I think of it? The cat that snored like a hog and had a particular taste in tea and loved books and used magic for the most mundane of things. The cat that was always the perfect temperature to cuddle with and whose smile was either boyish or mischievous and who was endearing in all the things he did. I knew that cat, black fur, green eyes, a mischievous smirk, and a heart of gold. I wanted his name, why wasn't it there? He was my cat, what was his name!?

Lokitty! My Lokitty.

My eyelids struggled open and there was his face, marred with concern, hovering above mine. I jerked at the proximity, my skull crashing into his, why did he have to hover so close? "Ow," I whined, my stomach having made itself known in a sudden and violent flare of pain, forehead throbbing from where we had smashed together.

Loki reeled back, holding his forehead for a moment in strained silence before opening his eyes in a pointed glower, "not exactly the thanks I was expecting." Then after a moment's heavy pause, "I'm waiting."