Après moi le déluge

Have you ever have a dream that was so vivid, so extraordinarily detailed that, despite the fact it was also so utterly absurd, it somehow didn't make it seem any less real? That's what Tabula Rasa was for me. Months of memories and experiences...all of it the result of a knock to the head.

I never left the invasion.

All around me is chaos. Skrulls and heroes and villains alike, all fighting for control of the planet, and the sound -- oh my God, the sound -- is deafening. I wince as I pull myself up from the ground, absently noting that I'm in full uniform. And why shouldn't I be? I never left the invasion. And so all those people I knew...they were all figments of my imagination. Nate, Serena, Alice, Mikal, Yorick, Remy... I always assumed Felix wasn't real, anyway, so he doesn't come as much of a surprise, but it makes perfect sense, now, how there could possibly be a Tony Stark who hadn't betrayed everyo--

"HAWKEYE, LOOK OUT!" yells Patriot -- Eli -- and he's already running towards me before I have a chance to react. In what feels like slow motion, I turn to see what I'm supposed to be looking out for, but I don't register what it is until after he's shoved me out of the way, and the ground behind us is engulfed in fire, courtesy of a Skrull Human Torch. "What the hell's wrong with you?!" he asks, though the edge of panic in his voice is all too clear, and he grabs me by the shoulders. "Now's not the time to get PTSD -- we haven't even gotten to the 'post' part yet!"

I nod mutely. A few seconds pass before I find my voice again. "I'm fine."

"You don't look it," he says.

A Skrull falls dead beside us. We both turn to see who's responsible, and we're greeted with a loud whoop as a grinning Bullseye pumps his fist in the air and dives back into the fray. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Instead I clear my throat and stand up straight, shoulders back. "I'm fine."

The corners of his mouth quirk upwards in a smile, and he nods approvingly. Well, at least one of us is convinced. I guess that's better than nothing, right? Giving my shoulders one last squeeze, he then takes a step back and nods towards the fight. "Let's get to work."

"Yeah," I say, reaching into my quiver to draw an arrow. "Let's."

Everywhere I went, people stared; I could feel their eyes trailing me all day long, as though they were paparazzi for the utterly unimportant. Much to my chagrin, changing into an unassuming outfit of a purple plaid shirt and a pair of ratty jeans hadn't convinced a single person to look elsewhere. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and, as the day dragged slowly on, I wondered how I ever could have gone around in head-to-toe purple Kevlar. I was a freak among freaks.

I left Geometry in a hurry, my notes and things hugged tightly to my chest. My cheeks flushed a light pink as I walked past Ryan Atwood, and I gladly hid behind my curtain of dull black hair as to avoid making eye contact. I'd sat in stony silence for the duration of the lecture, replaying the stupid fight I'd picked with him only a few weeks prior. Luckily it was the only class I shared with him, which meant I wouldn't have to see him again until at least Saturday. I had never been more grateful to have class on the weekend.

Though it was well past six o'clock when class ended, I couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Compound for supper. The kitchen was always crowded at this hour and I'd had enough of being the center of attention for one day. Instead I trudged back to my hut, eyes downcast, trying to avoid the gaze of any potential onlookers. Unfortunately, in the act of trying so desperately to be ignored, I ended up walking right into someone.

"S-sorry," I apologized quickly, and I looked up with an expression of mild horror, a hand coming up to cover my gaping mouth.