I soaked in my surroundings and breathed the fresh air of summer. In the brilliant yellow sunshine the lake was a perfect mirror for the mountains that surrounded it. From above that watery world was so clear and perfect it could be another dimension, waiting for someone to dare enter it. But with each toe dipped into it, the ripples distorted that submerged kingdom, locking me into my own, forbidding me entry. 'I'm Not in Love' by 10cc was playing lightly from somewhere, probably Rusty's new iPod. I smiled and sank down into the dirty floor beside the lake, I saw Rusty, swimming and splashing around in the water.
"They need you, Jennifer." She says and looks towards me with a serious expression and I frown at her, yet smile at the same time. What is she on about? My expression then faltered, after I realised she was in the water.
"Rusty? Since when did you learn to swim?!" I asked shocked by what she was doing. Ever since we were children, Rusty hasn't known how to swim. I waited for her to answer, but she just didn't. She ducked her head under water and wouldn't stop slashing her arms around. Little muffled cries were swallowed by the liquid.
"Rusty?" I asked, my voice suddenly and slowly getting fainter. She was drowning! Her arms were growing more gentle with the passing seconds. Her noises were becoming more quiet, more deadly.
I tried to scream her name one last time, but I was mute. Nothing came out and I strained a second time to get something out and reassure her that she would be okay. Still nothing. Silent tears were beginning to form and roll down my face and I couldn't move my legs to go towards her. I pushed with all my strength to move them but that resulted with nothing but searing pain. Lactic acid coated my muscles and Rusty was now still.
My vision abruptly went black and I couldn't hear the soft rustling of trees, birds chirping, or the music from Rusty's iPod. Nothing. It was deadly quiet and dark. Then an eerie female voice whispered in my ear,
"Look what you've done, Jinx."
"Jennifer! Wake up!"
I wake and sit up as fast as a bolt of lightning. I turn my head wildly around me to see where I was placed-in my bedroom. Nothing had changed except my position; my covers were pushed to the side and my pillow was now knocked onto the floor. I ran the backside of my hand across my forehead and removed it to see beads of sweat streaked across the surface. I realize I was breathing all too rapidly and I force myself to take quick, even, and deep breaths.
Just a dream.
Rusty stands over my bed with her usual worried trademark expression, grasping my arm tightly and breathing almost as heavily as I was. I have to keep reminding myself that she has to stay with me, until her own house is built. Her hair is tied loosely behind her head and she wears a soft pink material. I couldn't banish the thoughts of her drowning out of my head.
"Was it…the same nightmare?" she asked quietly and loosened her grip on my arm, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
I shook my head at her. Every now on then, I happen to have a specific nightmare on the death of my mother, Meredith, and Peter. It starts off in a black room with dim orange lighting. There is a glass table in front of me, and behind it stands my three deceased family members. I can never picture my mother's face in the nightmare, it always changes; blonde hair or brown, tanned skin or fair, tall or short. But I know it was her. Who else could it be anyway? Aunt Meredith and Peter look the same though. They all just stare at me from behind that table, and then out of nowhere bloody wounds appear somewhere on their body and they all start screaming in pure agony. I am forced to watch, and it always frightens me.
"No?" Rusty frowns at me, looking a little surprised. "What was it?"
My cheeks are wet and my body is bathing in a cold sweat. The sheets are twisting around my limbs, probably because I was thrashing in my sleep. My heart pounds heavily against my chest. I tremble. The room is really dark. Not much light anywhere, indicating the time of night. The remnants of my nightmare still cling to my mind, haunting me. Do I tell Rusty about it?
I decide to, and throughout my describing her frown deepens gradually, and she doesn't say anything for a while.
"Go have a shower." She advises quietly, patting her petite hand down on my lap and rising from my bed. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."
I just nod and watch her exit my room. The beat of my heart has reduced to normal pace and I start to calm down. 'They need you, Jennifer' and 'Look what you've done, Jinx' echo throughout my mind and I don't understand. Who needs me? And who was behind that haunting female voice at the end?
I shake my head and glance towards the flashing red digital clock beside my bed: 3 o'clock in the morning.
After my shower, I changed into a pair of ripped jeans and rummaged through my drawers for a loose fitting shirt. I don't usually have loose fitting items, and Rusty always criticizes me about it. Just when I was about to give up, I find an oversized black shirt that I haven't seen in years. It is a sketchy image of Ninja Turtles from the comics I used to read. Luckily that it is oversized, and I can still wear it as a regular shirt.
The smells of melting chocolate and toasting waffles swim through the air as I enter the kitchen. Rusty had changed clothes too, into sweatpants, a baggy jumper, and fluffy cat slippers. It was about half past three in the morning, and here we were awake and making breakfast.
"Did you make me hot chocolate?" I ask her.
Rusty shrugs without a smile. Well, we weren't exactly on good terms yesterday. She stirs a spoon around in my favourite mug. It has a daisy on it. She makes a double take at my shirt, and tilts her head. She is probably so familiar with my skin tight tops.
"Thanks." I say, yet make no move to collect the mug she stirred. My mind is busy with its own thoughts. That dream…
I look back up to Rusty, who I caught glaring at me. She makes a stubborn face and stares back down to the bench where she is now preparing toppings for the waffles that are toasting.
"Are you just going to pout all day?" I ask her and fold my arms over my chest.
She raises her eyebrows, continuing to chop up some form of berries. Just when I am about to walk away she speaks. "It's Monday," she says and finally look up to me with a bland expression. "Everybody gets a do-over." she finishes and breaks into a friendly smile.
I grin and go around, wrapping her into a tight hug. "You love me." I say.
"Oh, you know I do." She laughs a little and swats my arms off of her body to continue her cooking.
Suddenly, the annoying buzzer of my phone alerts an incoming call.
"Who could be callin' at this hour?" Rusty murmurs, and I shrug with a frown. She's right. Why is someone calling me now?
I walk around to the other side of the kitchen bench and unplug my phone off its charger. Before I even decide to answer, I attempt to identify the caller id but it is a private number. Typical. It's probably some sort of promotional offer for spa coupons or a foreign telemarketer. I tap the decline button and walk off with a sigh.
"Who was it?" Rusty asks curiously.
"Private number." I answer.
The phone rings again and I growl, beginning to get annoyed. It is the private number again. I just force my phone off, and turn away with a light smile in victory.
But I didn't win.
"Miss Quill, you shouldn't ignore calls like that." A familiar voice speaks from the phone that I had just turned off.
I freeze. I just stare into space, open mouthed. It can't be.
"Coulson." I identify quietly, my blood running cold.
"It's been some time, Jennifer. How's Miss Walker?" Phil says, referring to Rusty, and I slowly shake my head.
"What do you want from me?" I interrupt his easy flow, still facing away from my phone.
There is some silence before he says anything, "We need your help."
"I thought my files were demolished, burned. How did you find me?"
"We never lose our contacts."
"Coulson, first of all I do not live in New York anymore. Second, I quit S.H.I.E.L.D. a while back, and lastly I do not feel in the mood to reunite with any of my co-workers." I tick the excuses off my fingers. I am not happy to be hearing from these people again. I really don't want to look at Rusty.
"Jennifer, this is a crisis that only your expertise can answer." Coulson tries to tell me.
"Well, if this was so incredibly important, why couldn't you come to meet me in person?" I ask with a frown.
"We're not sure what it is first, but it seems…suspicious."
"And why can't you consult someone else. Banner, Stark, Selvig. What's her name…Thor's girlfriend?"
"Jane Foster leans towards more of the physics department. Selvig is a little…off after New York. Banner is noncommunicable. And you know how Stark is." He speaks, and I lean against the kitchen bench, as I continue to listen for once. "It is too dangerous to speak this all over the phone, especially an openly hijacked phone according to Agent Skye, so I will arrange for you to be picked up tomorrow night."
Dangerous? Agent Skye? Tomorrow?!
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Since when did I agree on this?!"
"I will see you soon."
"Coulson. Phil, do not hang up on me! Do not -"
Beep, beep, beep.
I clench my jaw and slowly turn around to Rusty who avoids my gaze. I know she doesn't want me to do it. S.H.I.E.L.D. endangered my life and caused Rusty's fear of basically…everything. I really despise the idea of involving myself with them again, but it's too late.
I tried falling back asleep in bed, and after many unsuccessfully attempts, I finally fell into my usual deep slumber. Snoozing in jeans – ah, five star luxuries.
I could hear the sound of bees, all buzzing together in a union and it sounded quite strange and also irritating. The sound has gotten louder and louder, until then I realise that it is my alarm clock going off. I groan with eyes squeezed shut and whack my hand over to the bedside table, trying to mute the awakening sound but end up slapping the daisy mug of hot chocolate to the floor.
I curse groggily under my breath and squint my eyes open so I could actually switch that ridiculous alarm off. I yawn loudly and stretch, finding it difficult to do in tough denim. I really shouldn't have slept like this. What is the time anyway?
10:00am.
OH MY GOD. I'm super late for work! I widen my eyes open and run into the bathroom, ripping the hairbrush through my tangled blonde hair and splashing water up at my face. I squeeze the tube of mint toothpaste into my mouth and gurgle with a mouthful of cold water. Makeup? No time!
I run out the bathroom. Pull on some boots, spray perfume, grab my handbag, and run some more. My hand reaches the doorknob and I pause, look back. Waffles. There is always time for waffles. I fling open the fridge and hastily throw a bunch inside my handbag.
And Rusty! I rip a page from a sporting catalogue from the kitchen bench and fetch a red lipstick tube from my handbag, writing on the blank side of the page,
"WENT TO WORK. ATE ALL THE WAFFLES. SORRY. – LOVE JINXY XOX"
I'm so fired!
I drive to work in a rush, almost hitting a few cars, while I attempt to eat several waffles. Finally, I pull up in the familiar street, lock the car, and run out. Maybe my boss won't notice I'm late, but the jingle of chimes alerts every one of my presence. It's as if everyone stops talking and they all stare at me.
"You're late, Quill." My boss appears in front of me looking very displeased.
"I'm so sorry, it won't happen again Adrian." I plead.
"That's what you have been telling me for the last month. And it's Mr Armando to you, got it?" he says sternly and raises a brow.
I nod quickly, and he stares at me for a moment before tossing a blue apron to my face. "I don't even know how long I'm going to keep your pretty face in this business anymore. But for now, get to work." Mr Armando tells me and walks off to complete some other errands. Pretty face?
I sigh in relief. It could have been worse. I've already been through five jobs tops after S.H.I.E.L.D. but I swear it's not my freakin' fault!
I tie the apron around my waist tightly and straighten my posture. All I need to do is focus on work, taking orders and wiping benches. Not nightmares, hijacked phones, or arranged meetings. I collect a cleaning spray and cloth from the supply closet and begin scrubbing a vacant table. I pretend to be really interested in cleaning this one table, which actually isn't dirty at all.
"Did you hear on the news dude?"
"Nah, what?"
I find myself listening in to a group of customer's conversation, having reached that level of boredom.
"It was like a plane, or rocket crash. Something to do with aliens, I think, I wasn't paying much attention."
"No way. Where abouts?"
"Here. Missouri, man."
I pause 'cleaning' this table in my circular motions and look up to the two guys talking about plane crashes and aliens. They look over to me too, I quickly return back to work. Their eyes are trained on me for a few lingering seconds before they begin speaking again, about football and other sports, so I blur out of ears dropping.
Aliens, huh? They don't know what they're talking about. I already had my fair share of the Chitauri two years ago and I would definitely not like a repeat.
The jingle of the bell indicates a new customer and I look up to find a man wearing foreign clothing walk into the café. He wears a red leather coat, a black shirt, and dark pants. The man walks in looking almost fascinated by surroundings, studying the ceiling and atmosphere of the store. He must be from another country.
"Hello sir, would you like a table?" I approach the man kindly, holding the spray and cloth in my hands still.
The man seems to be staring at a Nicki Minaj poster taped to the window, and then quickly looks over to me, looking me up and down before considering his words. Does he speak English?
"Uh, no." he says and clears his throat. He does speak English, and sounds perfectly American. I tilt my head at him. "Actually, I was looking for directions."
"Ah." I nod my head. I'm okay with giving directions, considering I grew up here for a majority of my life. "Do you know where the nearest…gas station is?" he asks me, almost being cautious with his words.
I process where the nearest gas station is and form it into a set of directions, "Okay, so you turn left down this road here, and then keep on following the road until you get to the second round-a-bout. There you turn right, follow that road, and there is like a set of shops there. Gas station will be next to Burger King, you won't miss it." I explain as best as I possibly can and try to point and gesture to the different roads.
The man looks confused, but thanks me anyway. I think I explained it a little too fast.
"You know your way around here." The man says.
"Yeah, born and raised." I nod and smile a little, and he smiles back. "What's your name?" I wonder curiously.
"Peter, Peter Quill." He answers and holds out a hand to shake. "People call me Star-Lord."