“Checkmate!” Carol crows victoriously as she knocks down Monica’s king, revelling in her daughter’s defeated groan.
“No way, again!” Monica grumbles as she resets the pieces on the board.
Carol smugly props her chin up on her hand. “You’re already 0-3 tonight, you sure you can handle another defeat?”
Monica glowers at her. “Watch me.”
With a laugh, Carol bends underneath the table to search for a chess piece that she had enthusiastically swiped off the board and the table on her way to victory. At the sound of a loud beeping noise, she straightens up and bangs her head against the underside of the table. “Ouch!”
From her position underneath the table, she can see Monica’s legs move towards the communications receiver. With a grunt, she squeezes out from under the table to see the holo-image of Talos and Soren.
Both Skrulls are visibly distressed and agitated. “Guys, what’s wrong?” Carol asks, standing up immediately.
Talos looks like he’s about to murder someone. “Someone took our daughter!”
Carol freezes momentarily, then exchanges a stunned look with Monica, before turning back to the Skrulls “What, who took - when?”
Talos drags a hand across his face in agitation. “Barely an hour ago. Ane was on the way to Torfa when some renegade Skrulls ambushed her ship when it came out of hyperspace. They killed the crew.”
Monica frowns. “Renegade Skrulls? How do you know?” She winces then Talos sends her a withering glare.
“Because they sent us a transmission from the captured ship in our language,” he growls ominously.
Carol shoots Monica a pointed glance that says let me handle this, before she turns back to the Skrulls. “What matters now is finding Ane. What did the message say? What do they want?”
She doesn’t think it’s possible for Talos's face to be any more grim than it is now. “They didn’t identify themselves, but gave us a time and location. As for what they want... you.” There’s something in the way he utters the words that sends a shiver of foreboding down Carol’s spine. Next to her, Monica spins to face Carol with a loud “what the fuck?”
Carol frowns in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why me?”
“Well, you are fairly well-known amidst Skrull circles,” Soren says with a note of exasperation.
“Doesn’t explain why they want me,” Carol says, her confusion not ebbing away.
Soren’s brow furrows. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
“But either way, I’m going.” Carol says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Talos shakes his head firmly. “Soren and I are already on our way, we’ll be there by the given date and time, we just need you as back-up. These are Skrull matters, we’ll handle them.”
Carol considers his words for a moment silently, doing the calculations in her head. “You’re sure you can get to the location in time?”
“We’re already fueling the ships, we’ll be there in,” Soren looks down past the screen as though checking the time, before she looks up again, “forty hours.”
Carol sighs and nods. “Fine, we’ll try to find out more information about these bastards in the meantime. Keep us updated on your travel progress.”
“Of course,” Talos inclines his head slightly, then flashes her a tired but appreciative smile. “Thank you Carol.”
Carol returns the smile. “I’ve got your back. See you soon.”
Talos nods once more, before the holo call ends.
The plan is completely tanked within a day, when Ane’s kidnappers call Carol directly via the holo-communicator that Carol had given to Talos and his family a long time ago.
“Captain Danvers,” the Skrull in the holo sneered at Carol. “Perhaps Talos is illiterate and didn’t understand the message I left. I asked for you only, no one else.”
Carol felt a cold fear grip her chest at those words. How could this Skrull know? She tried to keep her face expressionless, but the Skrull somehow sensed her unease.
“Oh, I have ways of knowing. Let’s speak, you and I, soldier to soldier.” The Skrull’s gaze slides over to Monica, standing to Carol’s left. “No one else, or you can wave goodbye to your friend Ane. And then my ship will blow a hole in your beloved Torfa.”
Carol’s face flushed red in anger. “There are people living down there! Innocent people!”
The Skrull scoffed. “Innocent? I doubt that. A bunch of rag-tag heretics who don’t belong anywhere in this galaxy. No one would care if I wiped them out. I’ll do it, and tell everyone it was the Kree. How wonderful, re-igniting the war between Kree and Skrulls, no?”
“You’re insane!” Carol snarled.
“I don’t care,” the Skrull said easily with a shrug. "Couldn't care less for a group of heretics such as themselves."
Monica stepped forward before Carol could answer with something else inflammatory. “Where is Ane? We need proof of life.”
The Skrull snorted in amusement. “Your cub is smarter than you, Captain.” She gestures at someone off-frame, and within seconds, Ane was shoved into the frame.
“Carol! Do NOT come here, do you hear me?” Ane shouted.
Monica steps forward. “Ane, what card game did you play with me the first time we met?”
“UNO! Listen to me. You stay away - “ she grunted in pain when another Skrull shoved an electric prod into her stomach, and yanked her out of frame.
Eyes blazing, Carol opened her mouth to threaten the Skrull, but the Skrull got there first. “I’ll see you soon, Captain,” she said, and dropped off the call with a parting smirk and tip of her fingers in mock salute.
“Ten minutes before we come out of hyperspace,” Carol announces to Monica.
Monica sits down at the co-pilot’s seat, making the final checks on her flight suit. She looks up at Carol, whose shoulders are tense and stiff, her fingers drumming on the console nervously. “Mama,” she says quietly.
It takes a long moment, but she finally manages to wrench Carol’s attention towards her. Normally confident to the point of cocky before a mission, it’s jarring to now see Carol so unsettled.
The call with Talos and Soren afterwards informing them of the latest update and plan had gone poorly.
“We’ll be there in fourteen hours,” Talos said, a quiet plea in his voice, echoing Monica’s desperation to make Carol slow down and think. “That they want to meet you is disturbing and I don’t want to think what they have up their sleeves!”
“You’re too far away, we need to move in. This is your family we’re talking about,” Carol argued.
Soren sighed, looking tired from stress and worry for her daughter. “I know Carol, but you’re family too. I can’t put you and your daughter at risk for the sake of my own. It’s obviously a trap. They changed the time, knowing that we won’t get there in time. They want you, that much is obvious. Do not hand yourself over to them on a silver platter!”
“Agreed. Carol, don’t be a damn hero. Wait for us to arrive. Do you understand me?” Talos growled, putting a bit of bite into his voice, and leaning closer to the holo.
It seemed to Monica that at that point, nothing could dissuade Carol from what she was about to do. The blonde just shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don't have a choice. Either I go, or they kill Ane and blow up everyone on Torfa, and trigger another Kree-Skrull war!” Talos opened his mouth to shout at Carol, but she switched off the holo swiftly, ending the call prematurely.
“I’m not comfortable with the plan,” Monica tells her softly.
Carol’s jaw clenches, but she lifts up her chin slightly. “Honestly, neither am I. But it’s the only one I can come up with right now, with the time we have. Our best advantage is speed and surprise. Smash and grab.”
Monica’s hand covers her face as she sighs her frustration into it. Carol’s hands fall squarely on her shoulders, and shakes her slightly. “Don’t fight me on this, please. We stick to the plan. I run diversion. Your priority is getting Ane out, and laying the charges. Nothing else matters. You get her, get out, and blow this ship to hell. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”
The younger woman looks up at her, and sees that Carol looks as tired as she feels from having quarrelled over the plan for hours before settling on this compromise. Monica shakes her head mutely in resignation, and Carol’s shoulders droop slightly. “Please, I can’t be worrying about you too, okay? Just stick to the plan.”
Monica scoffs, punctuating it with an eye roll. “You stick to the plan, you’re not the best at that.”
That gets a chuckle out of Carol. “Copy that L.T.” She looks over at the console, and a grim look settles back over her expression. “One minute out.”
Coming out of hyperspace, their ship drifts a short distance away from the Skrull ship. Carol stands up from her seat and peers out through the cockpit window. “Looks mid-sized, holds maybe max 100, likely less.” She turns to Monica with a raised eyebrow. “You good?”
“I’m ready if you are,” Monica says, rising to her feet and pulling Carol into a tight but brief hug. “Good luck.”
Carol smiles at her, some of her cocky swagger returning, and walks towards the cargo area. She triggers her helmet, opens the door, and leaps out. Monica watches as Carol’s glowing figure flies towards the ship, then slips in through an open door. She waits for another few seconds before turning the ship around, and punching in the coordinates that Carol had given her.
The coordinates that Carol had given her take her a sizeable distance away from the Skrull ship - far enough to be off their radar, but close enough that she can pilot their dropship to the Skrull ship in a short amount of time.
Docking the dropship quietly on the bottom of the Skrull ship is easy, and even easier is phasing smoothly through the metal into the ship. Sweeping down the corridors, Monica quickly gets past the guards, taking them out with a few well-placed blasts, and setting and arming the charges that she pulls out of her bag.
Reaching the cells, she blasts the door open, she steps back with a “woah!” when a lean green figure leaps out towards her out of the darkness of the cell, and tackles her to the ground. The Skrull on top of her pulls back her fist, and Monica tugs off her helmet frantically. “Ane, it’s me, it’s Monica!” she shouts, holding out her palms non-threateningly.
Ane immediately stops, her fists still held loosely up, but recognition dawns on her face. She rolls off Monica, and her fierce expression melts into something friendly, then is quickly overtaken by irritation. “The hell are you doing here!” she barks, smacking Monica on the shoulder.
But Monica climbs to her feet and props her hands on her hips, unable to stop the small grin and just a bit of sass from breaking out across her face at seeing her old friend safe and sound. “Saving you?”
It seems that Ane can’t hold back her own relief either, despite her reservations. She shakes her head reluctantly and steps forward, tugging the shorter woman into a warm and tight embrace. “You really are an idiot, you shouldn’t be here.”
Monica returns the hug with a chuckle. “Well, of course we had to get you out.”
Ane pulls back, looking worried. “Where’s Carol?”
“She went to the bridge to take out the other Skrulls,” Monica clarifies, and immediately feels something twist in her stomach as Ane’s face blanches.
“Carol went to confront Veranke?” Ane asks.
Monica frowns and looks up from where she’s bent down to tug a blaster out of the grip of an unconscious guard. She presses it into Ane’s hand. “Who’s Veranke?”
“She’s the leader of these Skrulls, and she’s dangerous,” Ane tells Monica, and the fear in her eyes causes worry to well in Monica’s chest. She knows her friend doesn’t scare easily, as a field medic Ane has seen enough violence to last a lifetime, so this Veranke must be bad news. “We need to get Carol out before she gets killed.”
“Look, I’m sure Carol can handle a few Skrulls - “
“No,” Ane interrupts her harshly. “She’s unlike any Skrull I’ve seen, we need to get her, now. This is a trap, and you walked right into it!”
“Shit. Follow me,” Monica curses, and takes off down the corridor, Ane hot on her heels. As she runs, she taps her comms. “Carol! It’s a trap, get out of there!”
There’s no response.
Monica can hear, can feel her heart pounding in her ears as she wills her legs to pump faster. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Panic rises in her chest. She tries the comms again. “Ma! Do you hear me!”
The doors to the bridge are already blown open, and sounds of fists and bodies colliding echo down the corridor towards them. The two women exchange a look. Ane determinedly hefts up her blaster, and nods at Monica. Taking a deep breath, Monica steps into the bridge, fists glowing, and the scene before her takes her breath away.
It’s carnage.
There are burns all over the walls and floor that are synonymous with Carol’s photon blasts. Fallen Skrull guards are scattered across the floor, slumped against walls. Upturned and destroyed furniture is smoking.
Monica’s gaping is interrupted by a glowing figure being flung through the air towards them. Carol crash-lands on the floor with a loud thump, but manages to roll backwards smoothly into a crouch. Her eyes widen in panic and fear when she sees Monica and Ane standing there. Breathing heavily, she scrambles to her feet, and fires consecutive photon blasts at an advancing tall Skrull, taller than Monica has ever seen, to it away, while shooting an angry sideways glance at Monica. “What are you two doing? Get out of here!”
Monica swallows heavily when she sees the damage that’s been inflicted on Carol. Blue blood is dripping rivulets down long deep gashes on her neck and torso, visible through the cuts in her flight suit.
“I’m not going without you!” Monica bellows, and this time, Carol turns her back to her to fully face the Skrull. She continues firing blasts at the Skrull, who’s ducking them with abnormal speed and grace.
“Ah fuck! Go Monica, go!” Carol shouts over her shoulder.
The Skrull saunters closer, and Monica watches in disbelief as sharp spikes and ridges ripple along the Skrull’s arms, then her left arm shifts into what resembles a long bony spear. “What the hell?” Monica breathes, recognizing that the Skrull was simply showing off.
Next to her, Ane looks terrified, and is starting to shift backwards. “That’s Veranke. Guys, we need to go!”
Veranke stops a few feet away from Carol, who has now shifted to shield the two younger ones. Her eyes glint in cruel amusement. “Oh, I see we have spectators!”
“Mon, I got this, you two get out here, I’ll catch up,” Carol says, keeping her eyes fixed on Veranke, and raising her glowing fists once again.
“Monica watch out!” Ane shouts suddenly, levelling her blaster at a Skrull who was thought dead, and had raised a blaster aiming at Monica. She pulls the trigger, and Monica whirls around, just as another four Skrulls come rushing out from behind them.
Veranke takes advantage of the confusion to lunge at Carol with a vicious snarl. But Carol is prepared, and fires a quick one-two of photon blasts straight to Veranke’s chest, sending her careening back. Firing another half dozen photon blasts to force the other Skrulls to fall back, Carol swings back towards Monica and Ane. “Let’s go! Go, go, go!”
As they’re running side-by-side, Carol holds out her hand to Monica. “I assume you’ve laid the charges. Give me the detonator.”
Monica shoots her a quizzical side-glance. “I’m happy to - “
“No, give it to me.” There’s something so stern in the way Carol says it that Monica doesn’t argue. She hands it wordlessly over, and Carol immediately sets the timer for ten minutes, then pockets it in her suit. “Setting the timer for ten minutes, it should be sufficient for us to get out of here. Veranke has missiles pointed directly at Torfa, we have to blow this ship up and the missiles with it. The engine room has the manual override for the missiles, we need to get to it, otherwise they can still launch the missiles in the minutes before this blows up.”
“Copy that,” Monica replies, shaking her head.
With every door that they pass, Carol makes a point to fry the door controls, forcing them to shut and lock behind them. Charging into the engine room, Monica jumps back with a yell when she finds herself face-to-face with a dozen armed Skrull guards. She lands two punches on one of the Skrulls in front of her, knocking him out immediately. She whips around when she hears a strangled yell, and sees Ane wrestling on the floor with another Skrull for control of the blaster.
Ane manages to scramble on top of the other Skrull, but he turns the muzzle of the blaster around and fires a shot into her body, forcing her to jerk back with a cry.
“Ane!”
But Monica’s distraction costs her, as a Skrull sneaking up on her manages to plunge a knife into her thigh. She roars in pain, dropping to a knee. As the Skrull pulls out the dagger swiftly and raises it to swipe at her, Monica twists around and fires a blast at him, sending him skidding across the floor and into the wall with a sickening crunch.
She spins back around to look at Ane, and sees that Carol is already kneeling next to her, huffing in concern. “You alright?” Ane slams her head back against the floor in agony, and Carol presses her hands against the hole in her side. “Damn it, kid.”
Biting back a grunt of pain, Monica manages to push herself to her feet, and hobbles towards Carol and Ane. Carol’s eyes narrow when she sees the blood dripping from Monica’s thigh, but to Monica’s surprise and relief, chooses not to say anything, recognizing the more urgent issue at hand.
Monica gestures for Carol to switch with her, and Carol removes her hands, allowing Monica to take over applying pressure. “You’re going to be okay,” Monica assures Ane, who is cursing fervently under her breath.
Carol stands up. “I’ll find something to stop - “
Her words catch in her throat abruptly, and Monica looks up to see why she’s stopped. Beneath her, Ane gasps in horror.
Carol’s forehead is creased in confusion, then her gaze drops down to her chest.
The tip of something sharp, like a spear, is protruding from her chest. In slow motion, Monica watches as the confusion in Carol’s eyes give way to shock, and agonizing, blinding pain. A pained whimper escapes Carol’s lips, and blue blood bubbles up from her mouth, dribbling down her chin.
Her wide eyes lock onto Monica’s.
And Monica feels like her vision has tunnelled, and the only thing that matters is Carol. She can hear the frantic pounding of her heart as she takes an unsteady step towards Carol. Somewhere in the back of her head, amidst the dull ringing, she hears someone cackling. There’s an awful schick as the spear is yanked out roughly from Carol’s body.
Carol’s back arches from the sudden movement, and her lips open wide in a wordless scream. Like a puppet severed from its strings, she crumples to her knees with a pained groan.
Monica watches as the spear melds back into Veranke’s arm.
With a howl of fury, she fires up her fists, the light so bright that Ane and the other Skrulls have to look away. She raises both fists and unleashes consecutive blasts at Veranke, sending the Skrull flying backwards through the door of the engine room. She fires another blast at the door controls, and this time, the door slams shut. She looks back down at Ane. “Keep pressure on it, okay?” she whispers, and Ane nods weakly, her own eyes drawn to the stricken Carol.
Monica rushes towards Carol, who’s now swaying on her knees, teetering dangerously. She catches Carol, holding her up.
Carol’s face is scrunched up in pain. “Fuck,” she hisses.
As gently as she can, Monica drags Carol towards the wall and props her against it. Carol’s head lolls limply on the wall towards her. “Mon…”
“Stop talking, save your energy,” Monica commands her, reaching up to place her hands against the wound in her chest, but Carol bats it away weakly.
“Leave it. Take Ane and go.” Her voice is rough, barely audible.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving without you,” Monica snaps, inwardly fighting for composure, determined to not spiral into panic.
Carol’s breath is rattling, and her brown eyes, glazed in pain, bore into Monica. “This door won’t hold for much longer, you gotta go.”
Monica leans close to Carol, meeting her gaze fiercely. “We’ll detonate it remotely - “
“Can’t,” Carol says with a weak shake of her head. “Signal’s jammed, I can only detonate it here and I need to hold this room.”
Monica freezes. Is this why Carol insisted on taking the detonator from her? “No, no, no,” she chants feverishly, reaching out to frame Carol’s face gently with her hands. “I’m not leaving without you! Can you walk?”
Carol’s eyes flutter close for a short moment, before she forces them open again. “I’ll only slow you down, and you can’t carry both of us, not with that.” She jerks her head towards the stab wound on Monica’s leg.
“I’m not leaving you, there are people on this ship who could kill you, and you could bleed out, even if the blast doesn’t kill you,” Monica growls, her voice tinged with desperation, already feeling tears gather in her eyes. Tears of helplessness, fury, and a myriad of emotions she can’t even begin to name.
A trembling hand reaches up to cup her cheek. “You don’t know that,” Carol whispers. “Go, L.T., you’ve got seven minutes to bail.”
Monica falls forward, pressing her forehead to Carol’s, her fingers gripping the front of Carol’s suit tightly. “Don’t you dare die, promise me.”
“Okay,” Carol says softly, and Monica pulls back to see her gentle smile playing on her lips. “Go.”
Monica leans forward, presses her lips to Carol’s forehead, and wrenches herself away towards Ane.
“What’s happening?” Ane gasps, as Monica scoops her up and starts speeding down the corridor of the engine room.
“I have to get you out,” Monica says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“But Carol…” Ane’s head turns back towards where Carol is. Monica’s eyes follow her line of sight, taking in one last look at Carol, and sees that she’s still awake and alert, her hands softly glowing, ready to take out anyone who breaks into the room.
Monica shakes her head, trying to banish the dark thoughts from her mind. Carol is going to be fine. She’s going to be just fine. She’s willing to tell herself any lie at this point. She opts to ignore Ane’s question, afraid that by answering it, she’ll change her mind and go back for Carol.
Reaching the wall, she closes her eyes, and phases both herself and Ane through the wall, stepping through to the metal, out of sight from Veranke and the other Skrulls.
Sucking in a deep breath, Monica starts sprinting down the corridor, desperately holding at bay the emotions that threaten to explode from her chest. She tries to ignore the mounting pain from the stab wound as she keeps her legs pumping, fleeing through the corridors. But her legs are starting to feel like lead, the lactic acid burning through her muscles, and her breathing is starting to grow laboured. She doesn’t dare to look at her watch, only knows that she needs to keep moving.
A ragged, relieved sob rips from her throat when she climbs into the drop ship. Setting Ane gently down in the co-pilot’s seat, she immediately starts readying the ship to disengage from its docking.
“Come on, come on,” Monica mutters feverishly to herself, willing the ship to move faster.
After reaching a respectable distance away from the Skrull ship, she turns the ship back around, drifting in the ether of space. She checks her watch - 01:45. She keeps her eyes fixed on the window of the cockpit, willing for Carol to get out before it explodes. Monica finds herself praying, praying to God that Carol would get out. Please.
She looks down at her watch again. 01:00. “Fuck it, I’m going after her,” she announces to Ane, who immediately frowns.
“Monica - “
Ane is interrupted by the beeping of the communicator at Monica’s belt. Hands fumbling, she answers it immediately. “Ma?”
Her answer is a wheezing sound, and a wet cough, before Carol speaks. “Hey Mon.”
Monica stands up, leaning against the cockpit window, peering out at the ship. “You need to get out, it’s going to blow any minute now.”
“Wish I could,” Carol gasps out, her voice sounding like sandpaper. “I can hear the bastards outside trying to knock down the door. They don’t know what’s coming for ‘em.”
00:40.
“Get out! You can still get out.” Monica says in a strained voice, her throat growing thick with emotion.
Carol huffs out a breathless laugh. “I - I can’t.”
Monica lets forehead fall against the glass, eyes squeezed shut, tears falling down her cheeks. “You’re fucking Captain Marvel, aren’t you? Blast your way out…” her voice trails off, her throat feeling achy, her chest feeling tight. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for anymore, she just wants Carol to get out. It’s childish, and yet... “Please,” she begs, her voice small, and she feels like she’s ten years old again, pleading with Carol not to leave.
00:30.
“Sorry Mon,” Carol’s voice is becoming increasingly breathy. “Wish we had more time.”
There’s a finality in Carol’s words, and Monica feels a sudden resolution flood her bones. This can’t be the end, it won’t. “Fuck it, I’m coming,” Monica says, pushing away from the cockpit and straightening up, ignoring Ane’s noise of alarm next to her. “I can phase through anything, I’m coming to get you, just hold on - ”
“Too dangerous. Can’t be sure you can phase us both through the explosion. Stay,” Carol rasps out.
Monica shakes her head fervently, her free hand now balling into a tight fist. “No. Don’t you give up. I’m going to save you.”
“You already have.” The quiet conviction and love in Carol’s voice breaks Monica’s heart. She can’t give this up, especially not now, so soon after they’ve finally reconciled. “You’ve given me fresh purpose, new joy. Couldn’t have survived much longer without you.” She coughs, and it sounds wet, painful. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Monica sobs out, feeling like her breath has caught on her throat.
“S’proud of you,” Carol whispers, and Monica knows she’s slipping away already. “You and Maria...best thing that happened to me.”
Weighed down by her grief, Monica hunches over, her free hand gripping the console tightly. “I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she chokes out brokenly.
Her eyes flick to her watch. 00:01.
Boom.
Monica staggers upright, staring out the cockpit. The port side of the ship has burst into flames, sending debris flying everywhere.
“Mon…”
The line cuts off, replaced by static, and the communicator falls lifelessly out of Monica’s hands, clattering onto the floor. Hands shaking, Monica watches in growing horror as flames engulf the ship, licking across the hull, and triggers another massive explosion on the starboard side. Before long, the ship cracks in half from the force of the twin explosions.
A broken gasp escapes her lips.
It feels like her entire world has imploded and burned with the rest of the ship. She crashes to her knees on the cold hard floor of the cockpit, and lets her head fall against the hard metal of the console, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.
Her last link to her mom. Her family. Her mother. Both women she had thought invincible.
All gone.
A grief-stricken wail tears from the very depths of her chest, her soul, and her hand scrabbles desperately at her suit over her heart, as though she could somehow ease the ache in her chest.
She vaguely feels Ane’s hand land on her shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. She raises her head to look at her friend. Ane is pale from the blood loss and pain, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Monica,” she whispers.
Monica blinks, feeling a sudden wave of guilt of having forgotten about the incredible amount of pain that Ane is probably in right now. She staggers to her feet, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down her right leg. “Oh Ane, sorry, let me,” she chokes out.
Ane shakes her head. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.”
The ache in Monica’s chest intensifies at the kindness offered to her from Ane. She averts her gaze, not daring to look Ane in the eyes, for fear of seeing the horror and pity in her eyes. “I can’t think about it now, let’s just focus on you.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, desperate to do anything to power through this grief that threatens to overwhelm her.
She’s finally managed to stop the bleeding in Ane’s abdomen when the warning alarm of a ship in their proximity starts blaring. Hand brushing comfortingly against Ane's, she walks away from the cot that Ane is lying on, and towards the cockpit. She peers at the monitor, then out the cockpit window.
It’s the Guardians’ ship.
She picks up the comms radio and hails them.
Rocket’s voice immediately comes blaring over the ship’s speakers. “Rambeau? What the hell happened here? I got an emergency ping from Danvers a few hours ago.”
“Carol blew up the ship,” she says blankly.
Rocket must pick up that something’s wrong, because he pauses for a moment, then his voice drops in volume. “Where is she, then?”
Monica squeezes her eyes shut and lets her head fall against the cockpit window with a dull thunk. “She was on the ship when it exploded. She couldn’t detonate it remotely.”
There’s a long silence on the line.
“But it’s Danvers, an explosion like that shouldn’t be any trouble to her...right?” Rocket’s confident tone slides into uncertainty.
“I - I don’t know,” Monica’s voice hitches a little. “She wasn’t in good shape before the explosion. I had to leave her, I had to get Ane out. I had to - “
“Hey, hey,” Rocket interrupts her gently, the gentlest she has ever heard him. “If your friend is injured, you need to get her to a hospital, Xandar is the nearest one. We’ll take it from here.”
“We won’t leave until we find her,” Nebula’s voice comes over the line.
Sucking in a deep breath to calm herself down, Monica nods. “Okay, let me know if you find her. I - I’ll be right here.”
“When we find her,” Rocket corrects her kindly. “We’ll bring her to you. Now, go.”
Monica is slumped on a chair outside the operating room, head buried in her hands, communicator tucked in her pocket. She had barely reacted when the nurse came to clean and patch up her stab wound. She knew she had caused quite a stir when she arrived in Xandar in Carol’s ship, without Carol, bleeding, and cradling an unconscious Skrull in her arms.
One of the Nova Corps, Rhomann Dhey, had been sent to speak with her, but she was in too much of a catatonic state to speak with him. He had surmised something had gone terribly wrong, and to his credit, ordered food and a fresh set of clothes to be delivered to her, and assured her that they could speak when she felt ready.
She had received a call from Rocket a few hours ago, informing her that they had found Carol, alive. She had nearly collapsed from sheer relief when she heard the news, though Nebula warned her that Carol was in critical condition, “no promises,” she had said, but all Monica could register was that Carol was alive.
Her head pops up when she hears a loud commotion down the corridor, and she staggers out of her chair towards the group of people hurrying towards the operating suites, pushing a med-unit between them.
Quill steps aside to allow Monica to come closer, and she nearly breaks down at the sight of Carol.
Her mother looks half-dead. Her entire upper torso is covered in blue blood leaking copiously through the gauze that has been packed against the wound in her chest. Large swathes of her body look burnt and charred from the explosion. It seems that parts of her flight suit have melted into her flesh as well.
Monica takes a step backwards, hand clapped over her mouth, and wobbles as her legs give way. Nebula catches her easily, preventing her from falling. “Steady on, Monica. She’s alive.”
The doctor turns to Monica. “We need to get her into the operating room,” he says urgently, and Monica pushes forward, kissing Carol’s forehead. “Fight on, Ma. Promise me,” she whispers, before nodding at the doctor, who immediately wheels Carol away.
Hours after Carol’s surgery, Monica continues to keep vigil by her bedside.
She doesn’t even know it’s possible for Carol to look any worse than she had when she got shot saving Monica, but she looks ten times worse than the last time. Torso and limbs swaddled in white bandages with blue blood seeping through, Carol looks tiny in the bed. There are dozens of machines hooked up to her body, an indication that she’s not strong enough to sustain life on her own. Her very pale face is obscured by the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.
She reaches for one of Carol’s hands, and presses her forehead against it. She’s so used to Carol running warm that she joked that Carol was like a space heater, and now Carol’s hand is ice cold, lifeless.
“You probably can’t hear me, but I need you to be okay, Ma. I don’t want to do this without you, I can’t, actually. Don’t you dare leave me.”
She sighs, remaining in that position, her cheek resting against Carol’s hand. She can’t stop replaying the moment in her head. Why hadn’t she seen Veranke there? Why hadn’t she reacted faster? Shouldn’t she have kept the detonator, or taken it forcibly from Carol? Why on earth did she agree to leave her mother behind in that death trap?
“What’s wrong with me?” she mumbles in a half-groan to herself.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
She straightens up, wincing as the sudden movement tugs at the healing wound in her leg, and turns around to see Ane leaning heavily against the doorframe, walker in hand. She stands up immediately and hurries across the room to help Ane. “What the hell! Why are you up and about?”
Valiantly trying to hold back a pained grimace, Ane flashes what she hopes is a winning smile at Monica. “Had to see how you’re doing, and also Carol. Besides,” she puffs out her chest slightly, “we Skrulls are made of hardy stock.”
Monica snorts a scornful laugh at that, to which Ane grins, and helps her into the room, settling her carefully on the armchair next to her’s. She observes the ginger way in which Ane leans back against the chair, and sighs. “Hardy or not, you really shouldn’t be moving. You need rest.”
Ane cocks an eyebrow and points at the bandage around Monica’s thigh. “You mean like you?”
“I’ve been sitting down the entire time until you got here,” Monica retorts.
“I can barely feel it,” Ane says with a conspiratorial smirk, and Monica narrows her eyes.
“That’s because you’re on drugs.”
Ane shrugs noncommittally. “They gave me the good stuff.”
“Uh huh,” Monica drawls with a skeptical raise of her eyebrows. Her gaze lingers for a while on Ane, looking out for any tell-tale signs that the Skrull is in any pain or discomfort. She only settles back against her chair when she sees none.
“I meant what I said earlier, you know,” Ane says, turning her head slightly towards Monica. Even in the dim lighting of the hospital room, Monica can see the kind yet sorrowful expression on her face. “You did the best you could. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Monica’s lips thin in displeasure. “Can’t say I agree with you there.”
A barely perceptible sigh slips from Ane, and she declines to argue with Monica on this point. Instead, her gaze lands on Carol. “How is she?”
“Critical but stable. But she lost a lot of blood. It’s just - “ Monica pauses, and scrubs her face tiredly. “The doctors said her body has already taken a lot of damage in the last couple of years, they don’t know how this is going to affect her. She may be out for a while.”
“But she has you, so I know she’s going to be okay,” Ane says, laying a hand on Monica’s knee and giving it a comforting squeeze, willing Monica to believe her, to know her words are true.
Monica covers Ane’s hand with her own. “Thank you,” she whispers, not daring to speak any louder lest her voice break with emotion.
A long comfortable silence falls between the two women as they watch over Carol, before Ane casts a tentative look at Monica. “I understand if you’re not up to talk about it now, but I want to talk about Veranke.”
Monica’s head immediately snaps up towards her, eyes glinting in anger. “No, I want to talk about it. Who the hell is she?”
“Veranke is a name parents would use to scare the children into listening. She nearly brought our civilization to its knees, before the Kree did. She believes herself as a priestess, heralding the era of the Skrull, the superiority of Skrulls,” Ane spits out the words, looking disgusted at even saying it. “You could say it’s not that different from what the Kree were preaching. So you can imagine, she made enemies of both the Skrull and Kree. And like I told you, she’s dangerous. You’ve seen it, her shape-shifting abilities are beyond us all.”
Monica shudders at the memory of the spear, an extension of Veranke’s arm, plunging into Carol’s chest.
Ane gives her a concerned look before deciding to continue. “She and her followers, a bunch of religious fanatics, were exiled from our homeworld almost thirty five years ago. For years they operated on the fringes of the galaxy, but they gained significant power in the years during the Blip, recruiting more and more disillusioned Skrulls out there.”
Monica frowns. “No one tried to stop them during the five years?”
Ane shoots her a mystified look. “It was a chaotic time, there were always other fires to fight, no one could spare the time or people to deal with Veranke. Armies were halved, and there’s only one Carol out there. And even then, Carol only came out here full-time after three years.”
Because of Mom, Monica muses. This isn’t the first time she’s heard of Carol being MIA from space over those three years. She heaves a sigh, a disquiet settling in her stomach. She’s starting to see the long-term repercussions of Carol’s extended absence from space politics, as a result of her putting her family first, staying by Maria’s side.
Ane must sense her unease, damn her perceptive friend, as she ducks her head, trying to catch Monica’s eyes. “If you’re thinking of what I think you’re thinking, don’t. Carol made a choice to put Maria first, and that’s okay, no one can fault her for that.”
Monica exhales deeply. “I know. It’s just - “ she pauses, trying to find the right words. “I resented her for so long, for always leaving us to go save the day. I thought she was arrogant to think herself so special, I genuinely thought that someone else could easily do her job.” She sighs and presses the palms of her hands to her eyes. “These days, I realize how selfish and far from the truth that was.”
Ane huffs out a soft fond chuckle. “She’s one of a kind, I hope you know that now.”
“I do,” Monica murmurs, her fingers idly fiddling with the loose threads of the blanket across her lap “And now it makes me afraid, because she can’t die. This world needs her.” I need her. She doesn’t need to voice it out loud, the knowing look in Ane’s look is enough to confirm what her friend already knows.
Ane hums a noise of agreement, and Monica leans back in her chair, satisfaction laced in her voice. “But at least Veranke is dead now.”
The awkward silence that accompanies her words sends a strange unease creeping upon Monica. The odd look on Ane’s face only serves to rouse her suspicion. “What? What is it?”
Ane’s jaw shifts as she considers how to phrase her next words. “Rocket told me that an escape pod was missing from the wreckage.”
Monica feels the hair on the back of neck rise at the implications of that. “So...there’s a chance Veranke made it off the ship before it blew?” she asks blankly.
“There’s a chance. I - I don’t know,” Ane murmurs, now looking uncomfortable and a tad nervous.
“You don’t - “ Monica cuts herself off before she can say something she’ll regret. She pushes herself out of the chair, the blanket falling to the floor, and she limps a few steps away. Her leg protests, but she ignores it, now feeling only anger course through her veins. “You’re telling me that Carol blew up the ship and nearly killed herself for no fucking reason?” her voice rises in pitch and volume.
Ane flinches at the venom in her voice, and raises a placating hand. “We’re not sure yet. Look, she still saved all those people on Torfa by destroying the ship. As for Veranke..." she trails off, shaking her head. "Monica, look I’m sorry, I really am.”
Monica sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, to tamp down the bubbling wrath that threatens to break free. “No, no, I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Ane’s reply is quiet, kind, and Monica feels another stab of guilt for unfairly taking out her frustration on her friend.
She sighs, her gaze returning to Carol, her expression hardening. “If she’s out there, I’ll find her. Because if a war is what Veranke wants, I’m going to give it to her. I’m going to pull her out of whatever hole she’s hiding in, and I’m going to destroy her for what she did.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Ane says wryly, not at all taken aback or disturbed by the viciousness that seeps through Monica’s voice. If anything, she seemed to have expected it. She pats the chair that Monica had vacated. “Now sit down before you ruin all the work the doctors did for you.”
Heaving another sigh, Monica acquiesces, and sits down heavily next to Ane, who turns to her. “I will help you take out Veranke, I promise you.”
“You don’t have to - “
“No, but I do,” Ane interrupts her fiercely. “She kidnapped me, in case you forgot. She killed my crew, my friends - executed them in front of me,” her voice trembles, and she has to pause to take a deep breath before continuing, ”and she could have killed the both of you. You saved me today. That is a debt I cannot repay. I’m with you, Monica. No doubt about it.”
Monica remains silent, observing Ane. There’s a stiff set to her shoulders, a steely glint in her eyes, and resolution written on her face. Overwhelmed by her loyalty, Monica leans forward and wraps Ane in a hug, mindful of her injury. “Thank you,” she murmurs hoarsely, her throat feeling scratchy from emotion.
One of Ane’s arms snakes around her waist, while the other slides up her shoulder, pulling her close. “We’re family, Monica, we protect each other.” Monica closes her eyes and nods mutely, resting her chin on Ane’s shoulder, taking comfort in her friend’s warmth. “It’s going to be okay,” Ane whispers, her hand carding through Monica’s hair gently.
For the first time in forty eight hours, Monica closes her eyes and allows some of the tension to bleed out of her body, and for Ane’s soothing hand to lull her into sleep.
Ane continues to hold Monica in her arms, until she feels Monica’s arms slacken, and her breathing evens out. Pulling her head back slightly, she takes a peek at Monica’s face, and smiles in satisfaction when she sees that Monica has finally fallen asleep. Gently prying Monica’s loose grip from her shirt, she carefully tips Monica to lean back against the armchair. Standing up with a soft grunt, she takes the heavy woollen blanket that had fallen to the floor and drapes it over Monica’s shoulders.
Monica stirs at the movement, and her eyes flutter briefly. “Ane?” she mumbles sleepily.
Ane’s hand bends over slightly to dust a light kiss on Monica’s forehead. “Sleep, my friend. We’ll speak tomorrow,” she whispers.
Monica’s lips curve up in a small contented smile, and her eyes slide shut again. “Okay,” she murmurs.
Ane remains in position watching her silently until Monica slips into a deep sleep. Before shuffling out of the exit, Ane casts one last look at the two sleeping women in the room, and smiles softly to herself. With Carol and Monica, she’s confident they’ll get Veranke eventually.
They’ll rest today, and fight another day.