Barry gives her three warnings: don't let go; don't threaten; and don't move if it asks you to stand still.
If I ignore them?
Barry's smile is a grimace. He reaches up unconsciously to rub his left shoulder. "It, uh. Takes to it – unkindly." His smile softens as he adds, "Don't worry. It's friendly. With strangers. It's less reserved with – friends." He drops his hand gradually, like he can't erase the ache.
Jesse swallows. "All right. Cool. Don't piss off the almighty ruler of the universe. Anything else?"
"If you want to call it a name, it prefers 'Speed Force' to 'Almighty Ruler of the Universe.'" Dropping his voice, he leans in and adds in a hush, "That seat belongs to something else. It's kind of a sore spot."
Curiosity drizzles across the grasslands of her thoughts. "Who is the Almighty Ruler of the Universe?"
"No idea," Barry admits. Cracking his knuckles, he adds, "Anything else?"
"If I let go—" She releases the side of his suit experimentally. They're still standing in the speed cannon room, so nothing happens, but Barry's grimace returns.
"Can you just – promise you won't? I mean, I'm pretty sure I can find you, but—" He trails off and Jesse has the sudden, arresting sense of supersession. Of a shadow over his shoulder watching them both. Very, very closely. And she can almost see its hand clamp down on Barry's shoulder, a watch-it tone that hangs between them.
"Noted," she says, and takes a hold of his sleeve. "Why isn't Wally here?"
"Easier to keep track of one speedster," Barry explains, looking at the doorway. "You ready, Cisco?"
"Caitlin's going to kill me," Cisco says, donning his goggles and stepping up to them. "She is so going to kill me."
"That's the spirit." Barry smiles at her and reaches out, clasping Cisco's hand.
The world fractures, letting an alternate reality seep into the spaces in between. A storm vortexes around them, full of red and yellow lightning. A riptide pulls at her feet; she tightens her grip on Barry's arm. He doesn't panic, looking at Cisco with fondness and promise. "We're coming back," he tells him, and at the same moment he and Cisco let go.
Instantly, the world goes dark. Not night-dark, Void-dark. Jesse's breath comes quick in her chest, pressing against Barry as she feels the thunder emerge from nothing. "It's okay," Barry says, from very, very far away, the opposite side of the world, it feels like. A tunnel. An ether. "I'm right here."
And slowly, she sees his golden light seep into the space, a shadow in reverse, rippling from his head to his heels. It breaks free, walking forward even though Barry doesn't take a step. The golden shadow coalesces into an exact replica of Barry's shape, standing at attention, and then it compresses to a point of light. Barry reaches out with his free hand and closes his fist around it.
The darkness is firefly-complete, almost but not perfect, and Jesse looks down and sees herself glowing light and golden. A shivering, relieved laugh builds in her. "This is trippy," she says, holding onto his sleeve with numb fingers.
"It's about to get worse," Barry tells her, again from the end of a long radio connection, and then Jesse sees the bird alight in the sand, each step leaving an imprint of red claws. Terrestrial giant, it looms nearly eight feet, sauntering towards them with idle ease. Unblinking red eyes glue her to the floor of the earth; she cannot move. Heeding Barry's warning is effortlessly easy. His voice drifts towards her. "This … is the Speed Force. It won't hurt you."
The raven halts six feet away from them. Were it to lean forward and straighten its beak, it could touch her. Jesse takes half a step behind Barry. He encourages, "Say hello, Jesse Quick."
Something about the name gives her strength. She steps forward, and forward again, sand tumbling lazily underneath her. Barry's arm becomes a tether behind her, holding her to the Earth, but suddenly she doesn't want it, wants to let go and wrap her arms around the Speed Force's great and terrible head, so huge relative to her that its length stretches her torso. It watches her, makes no move, and she reaches the end of the line, the human extent of Barry's all-too-real limits, and the Speed Force watches her, make a move.
Don't let go.
Her grip is slipping, her feet aching to proceed, one-more-step.
Don't threaten.
She stares at those red eyes fearlessly, a wonder approaching pride that it is here before her, unbidden, unmasked, a creature too awesome to understand in context.
Don't move if it asks you to stay still.
She waits for it to ask, but it stays, and leans back, deliberately, provocatively, Come Here Jesse Quick, and with one last thought to sanity she lets go.
Closing the gap, she wraps both arms around its head, holding the light feathery tufts near its inverted ears on either side of its head. It presses its beak against her chest, breathing in tandem, perfectly synchronous. Jesse Quick, it says, and her name is not a voice but a feeling, like the ocean, or the beginning. Jesse Quick.
"I'm here," she tells it, pressing her forehead against its. "I'm here."
The raven lets her hold on, its warmth palpable, affectionate and infinitely patient. She could stay here forever, starve to death ensconced in its embrace, totally free and utterly helpless. Then it steps away and she follows it, a slow, ponderous waltz across sand that yields to overlapping red footprints, her own golden steps small next to it.
From the distance, she hears a soft, forewarning voice, "Jesse."
She follows the Speed Force into the darkness, until even its claws cannot illuminate the pitch-colored sand, and it pauses and closes those magnificent red eyes.
Abruptly, the world materializes, her world, the speed cannon visible at the opposite side of the room. Tears slip down her cheeks. "It's beautiful," she says, and Barry places a hand on her shoulder, exhaling for the first time in hours. "It's beautiful."
In his eyes there's a hint of the red raven, a spark of that shadowy something as he lets go of her.
. o .
Hours later, she persuades a half-catatonic Barry to take her back. You don't actually need me, he reminds, tired but compliant.
You're my tether, she reminds him, and he closes his eyes with a slow nod. The nine-year gap between them shows: he's approaching thirty, she's nineteen. She doesn't need adult supervision, it's true, but he's the Speed Force, too; when he looks in a mirror, the raven looks back. And she can't deny that she feels safer with him.
So they haul out Cisco and convince him to open a breach. He Vibes them into the Speed Force and releases Barry in almost the same instant, leaving them alone. It's not dark this time, Jesse notices immediately: there's a familiar bluish glow to the surrounding walls, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. "Jesse?" Barry asks, far, far away.
Her heartbeat picks up, and when she says, "We need to get out of here," she feels Barry squeeze her hand.
A cage materializes around them. Without his mask, Hunter Zolomon looks almost human – almost. "This is my home," he says, somehow directing the statement both of them individually, simultaneously. "Why are you here?"
Jesse can't move. Can't breathe. Barry holds his own, but she can feel the tension in his shoulders independent of the distant breath of his voice. "Hunter Zolomon. Didn't think we'd meet again."
"Pleasure's all mine," Zolomon replies caustically, resting an arm against the glass wall of the cage. "Tell me, Flash: how's dear old dad? Still dead?"
Barry's a live wire, but he leashes it; she is absolutely certain that if he struck out now, he would kill her. "Go to hell," he breathes.
"Can't. Already here." Smiling, he gestures grandiosely over his shoulder. "Nice gig, though. Quiet neighbors. Lots of space." Effortlessly, he phases through the carbine cell wall. "Just two speedsters who don't belong here." His gaze shifts, pins Jesse, and Barry steps forward, blocking her with his body. "Aw. I hate killing the young ones." Claws extend menacingly from his hands. "Oh well. They've all gotta learn sometime."
Barry steps forward. No claws, no armor other than the suit. Jesse keeps a hand on the back of his suit, terrified to let go. Zolomon says, "Gonna fight me, Flash?"
Barry reaches the end of his own tether, Jesse refusing to move. Zolomon intercedes, setting forward, and Jesse sees his clawed hands dig in under Barry's ribcage, not deep but deep enough, a shallow groan of pain punching out of him. "Yeah, that stings," Zolomon sneers. "God, you think you're invulnerable. You actually think—"
He swears loudly and steps back, and Barry pursues, and Jesse has no choice but to follow or be left behind. Pressing Zolomon against the glass wall, Barry holds him there with a hand on his throat, and for a moment Jesse can see his eyes, pure red, demonic. "I don't need to fight you," he snarls, and flings Zolomon through the wall, shattering it.
They crash back into their own world, staggering. Barry takes three steps and collapses, panting, and Jesse is shaking too hard to move. Cisco jerks upright, glancing between them, shooting Jesse a concerned look as he crouches beside Barry, talking in a low voice. Barry waves him impatiently off, an arm around his stomach, and after a few more tense moments Barry snaps Cisco and he backs off.
"What happened?" he asks her, stepping up and taking both of her arms gently, and she shakes her head, shaking, and cannot explain.
When Barry pries himself off the floor, there are no puncture marks in his suit, but she can feel the angry Speed-wounds deep under his skin.
For the first time, she understands what it truly means to fear the Speed Force.
. o .
Like getting back on a bucking horse, Jesse insists.
It surprises her when Barry, with a silent tip of his head, agrees. Cisco insists on attaching more bio-monitors and a panic button to both of their suits. "Cisco," Barry says, pained and exhausted.
Cisco squeezes Barry's wrist just above the panic button. "Use it," he instructs.
It's only been an hour, and she's still scared, afraid that Zolomon will be waiting for them. Her grip reflects her panic, but Barry doesn't say anything, and Cisco lingers with them in the Speed storm for a long moment, as if he can somehow see what's coming. Jesse wishes they could, wishes she could decide if it's safe enough to let go, and then Cisco says, "I'll see you soon" and they're plunged underwater.
Jesse kicks, frantic and surprised, but Barry says in that now-familiar radio-distant voice, "It's okay. I promise." He squeezes her hand and she aches for those nine extra years that make him that much more confident. She majored in five subjects, adjusted to life in an alternate universe, became a speedster, but still she longs for the steadiness in his voice and grip. She turns to him and his eyes are almost blue, almost fond, and something settles in her.
This time, the Speed Force doesn't approach; it simply glides past her, a heavy polar weight, and before she can gasp it rounds and hovers in front of them, an ordinary polar bear – but for its glowing blue eyes. Barry's relief is palpable as he reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder. "It's you," he says softly. The fondness is religious; Jesse has a compelling and irresistible urge to kneel. But she can't, not here, so she hovers, feeling intrusive, until the polar bear lets the full weight of its gaze fall on her.
It swims closer and she doesn't shy back. When its blue eyes are all she can see, all she can focus on, the weight around her disappears, a shore emerging around them, waves tumbling idly in the distance. A starry sky emerges overhead. The Speed polar bear shakes out, scattering cerulean droplets across the stony shore. Barry still has a hand on her shoulder, but it's more perfunctory than restrictive. When she tugs a little, he looks at her, and the Speed Force, and says in that infinitely soft tone, "Go."
He lets go and she sees him vanish, the starry night hanging in the air between her and the bear alone, and it exhales deeply and saunters forward. It sits; she follows, leaning her hip against its.
The Speed Force says, Cherished One.
Tears well in her eyes; she can't look at it.
I Am Sorry, the Speed Force admits without regret. She rests her head against its side. It is very, very warm. Fisting its fur, she buries her face in its coat. She can almost feel its heartbeat – her own. We Are Too Alike To Fight.
The tension eases from her shoulders, her spine, her soul. Looking up at the Speed Force, she feels its deep blue gaze on her, searching, knowing. Always a little distant, she realizes. Like she's an enigma to it, too.
Looking skyward, the Speed Force says, I Made All And None Of This. I Made Your Gift; I Did Not Make You.
Jesse holds onto its fur when it stands, letting go after she follows suit. Together they stare at the rocks, the unreachable horizon, and Jesse feels its strength and hers, too, and it is that awareness that she is not helpless here, she is powerful here that floods her with joy.
When it runs, she keeps pace, prevailing, abandoned, free.
. o .
She chases the polar bear to sunrise and back, and when the world blurs into unreadable colors, she finds herself not in the speed cannon room but in an open field. She gazes at the glowing horizon like she'll find the Speed Force waiting for her there, but it's gone. The delight does not recede. When she Flashes into the speed cannon room, an anxious Barry relaxes and an even more anxious Cisco clasps both hands together in an oh, thank god gesture.
"Don't scare me like that," Cisco says sternly. "Your monitors cut out, I thought—"
Barry steps forward and there's blue in his eyes, an unmistakable glint of mischief, wonder. "Trippy, right?" he says, and she wonders if he's looked in a mirror lately.
She hugs him . "Trippy," she agrees, and aches and fears the Speed Force which did not make her, which owns him, which draws them both inexorably closer.
Without resentment, she realizes it's addictive; she'll spend the rest of her life chasing it.
And she isn't okay with it; she's overjoyed.