1996
Carol opens the door to Monica’s bedroom as quietly as she can, and slips in through the narrow door opening, careful not to let too much of the light from the corridor flood into the bedroom.
As expected, the bundle underneath the blankets is wide awake. It shifts ever so slightly, before going still again. Carol can’t help the small smile that splits across her face. “I know you’re awake, L.T," she calls out softly, a note teasing in her voice.
She hears a sharp intake of breath, but Monica remains determinedly still. Chuckling softly, she sits down next to the bed, her back against the bedside table. Despite the darkness, she can see Monica’s eyes blink open and peer at her over at the top of the blanket.
“How’d you know?”
Carol has to fight back a snicker at how petulant Monica sounds. “Because I’m smart?” she whispers, and boops her nose playfully against Monica, winning a wet giggle from the kid. “Your mom said you’ve been having bad dreams, is that true?”
Monica nods wordlessly, and Carol leans close, resting her chin on the mattress next to Monica. “Do you want to tell me about them? Maybe we can figure out together how to stop them.” But Monica shakes her head stubbornly and turns her head deeper into the pillow, hiding her face from Carol.
Carol frowns. “Why not?”
“Because talking about makes it seem real,” Monica mumbles, her voice muffled in the pillow.
“Oh kiddo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you,” Carol whispers, trying to figure out how best to articulate what she wants to say. “Mon, I promise you, those bad dreams aren’t real.”
“How do you know that?” Monica asks, her voice small.
Carol’s hand strokes Monica’s back gently. “Our bad dreams come from something we’re afraid of. And one way to confront our fear is to talk about it. You can talk to me and your mom about anything that scares you, and together we can beat it.” She falls silent then, having said her piece, and giving Monica time and space to digest her words.
When Monica speaks, her voice is soft. “I dream that when you come back, you’ve forgotten who we are again, and then you never come back, ever again.”
Something breaks in Carol when she hears that. No child should ever have to worry like that. She climbs onto the bed and under the blankets with Monica. The twelve year old immediately scoots close to her, throwing her arms around Carol’s waist, and tucking her head against Carol’s chest. “I’m sorry I made you worry, Mon, but I promise you, it’s not going to happen again.”
“You don’t know that,” Monica interrupts her dejectedly. “It happened before.”
Carol holds her tight and fast, and shakes her head in a strong rejection of that idea. “No, L.T., I promise you. This time, I have my powers, see?” She lets the godly power flicker through her index finger for emphasis, and she stifles a grin at the look of admiration on Monica’s face. “This time, I won’t let them hurt me ever again.”
The hope in Monica’s expression makes Carol’s heart ache. “You promise?”
“Pinky promise,” Carol whispers, and extends her pinky finger to Monica, who enthusiastically wraps her own pinky around her’s.
“Okay,” Monica mumbles happily.
Carol slides off the bed and drops to her knees. She lowers her head to be at eye-level with Monica, and she smiles at Monica. “Remember, if you ever have a bad dream again, or if you’re ever afraid or unsure, just take a deep breath, be still, and know that I’m here for you. Always.”
Monica nods, looking more comforted and reassured now. “Yes, Mama.”
“Good, I’ll be here when you wake up, okay? How do you feel about pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, hmm?” Carol asks with a grin, and Monica’s face lights up, thrilled at the idea of having her favourite breakfast food tomorrow.
Carol chuckles at the delighted look on her face. “Great. I love you. Sweet dreams, L.T,” she says fondly, and leans forward to press her lips to Monica’s forehead.
“Love you too,” Monica murmurs sleepily, as sleep begins to pull her in.
Carol stands up and walks to the door. Before closing it, she looks back at Monica, who has already closed her eyes and drifted off.
She allows herself a small smile, before walking down the corridor back towards Maria. Opening the door to their bedroom, Carol sees that Maria is already tucked in bed, reading a book. Maria looks up expectantly when Carol enters. “How’d it go?”
Carol crawls into bed, and plants a kiss on Maria’s cheek. “Swell. No more tears and unhappy thoughts, promised her pancakes tomorrow.”
Maria puts down her book by the bedside table, and turns to her with an amused raise of the eyebrows. “Bribing her with pancakes won’t always work, you know.”
“I’ll try it for as long as I can,” Carol replies with a wink, and Maria snorts.
“You spoil her too much. Anyway, did she say what her nightmares were about?”
Carol leans backwards against the headboard, feeling deflated once again, what cheerfulness she had gained with Monica’s smile has evaporated. “It was me. She dreamt that I forgot you both again, and never came back. Fuck,” she hunches over, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t want to be that shitty parent that gives her kid abandonment issues.”
Maria sneaks a comforting arm around her waist, and rests her head on Carol’s shoulder. She presses a kiss to the point of her shoulder. “Danvers, you are not a shitty parent.”
“Either way, I want to be a present parent,” Carol mutters witheringly, and then tries to reach for her communicator. “Maybe I’ll tell Talos that I won’t be able to be there next week - “
Maria leans over and catches her hand swiftly before she can reach into the bedside drawer. “Carol,” she begins warningly. “You promised him you’ll be there.”
“I’m sure the fleet will be fine without me for a few days,” Carol says weakly, withering under Maria’s unyielding stare, her hand going limp in Maria’s firm grip.
Maria pokes Carol in the shoulder, hard. “You’re the one who told me that this crossing is going to be dangerous, that it exposes them to the Kree hyperlanes if they stray even a degree off. You can’t bail out on them like this. You made a promise, and thousands of lives are at risk.”
Carol runs a hand through her hair in frustration, though her other hand retreats from the bedside drawer. “I know what I said, but what about our lives as a family?”
Maria cups her face and turns her angry brown eyes back to hers. “I know. Our family is important, you spending time with her, with us, is important, but so is keeping a promise you made to people who need you.”
Carol sighs and presses her forehead to Maria’s, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Maria’s arm. “You can be selfish too, you know.”
Maria huffs out a wet laugh. “I want to be, but I can’t be. I’ve accepted it. You have these powers that no one else has, and people need you. I can’t be selfish.”
“Monica might not think so,” Carol says quietly, and Maria sighs, suddenly looking tired.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, just be present, okay?”
Carol nods. “Okay.”
She falls silent then, and Maria’s head cocks to the side as she observes her partner’s turned down lips. Carol is clearly still troubled by the idea of making Monica upset, and Maria couldn’t love her any more for loving their daughter so much. She leans forward again, capturing Carol’s lips in a tender kiss.
“Monica is so damn lucky to have you in her life, as her mama, don’t you forget that, Danvers.”
2025
“So how’s space?” Darcy grins at her through the holo.
Monica is lounging against the headboard of her bed in her room on Carol’s ship, the holo perched on her knee. She grunts in frustration. “Space would be cool, if it weren’t for the fact that Carol is driving me crazy.”
Darcy looks sympathetic. “Space with mom isn’t fun?”
“No!” Monica barks. “She refused to let me attend the negotiations yesterday, told me to circle around the perimeter just in case anything went south.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad - “
“She’s essentially benching me. If anything went bad, I wouldn’t have been near enough to help at all!” Monica growls. “It’s like she’s been working for so long, she’s forgotten what teamwork is. I just want her to know that she can trust me, that I can do what needs to be done.”
“I’m sure she trusts you, she’s probably just worried about you,” Darcy says, and Monica hates how reasonable and rational she’s sounding right now. “It’s not everyday someone fights alongside their daughter.”
Monica huffs, disgruntled and a little indignant. “I’m a fully grown adult, I’m a S.W.O.R.D agent with fucking powers!”
Darcy laughs, amused at how obtuse Monica is being. “Monica, she’s your mom. Since when do moms stop treating their kids like kids? You should see how my mom treats me when I go home for the holidays.”
“I guess,” Monica mutters with a heavy sigh, her head falling back against the headboard with a loud bump.
Darcy tilts her head to the side, clocking that there’s something else bothering Monica. “Hey, you okay? Is there something else you’re not telling me?” she asks softly.
Monica looks up at her, and it confirms to her what she’d known for a while now - Darcy is a lot sharper than she portrays herself to be. “I’m okay. But I don’t think Carol is. Honestly, I’m worried.”
“What makes you say that?” Darcy asks with a frown. “She’s Captain Marvel, she’s a badass!”
Monica raises an eyebrow at that, as Darcy’s inner fangirl emerges once again. “Well, that badass is running herself into the ground. I just want her to know she doesn’t have to go at it alone.”
She’s seen the dark rings underneath Carol’s eyes, her face almost haggard from exhaustion and stress. The last few weeks have been tough, with Carol working almost 24/7 to broker a peace deal between two civilizations that seem intent on wiping out the other.
Even though they had reconciled, Monica still sometimes feels a chasm between them that cannot be bridged. It’s like Carol treads on eggshells around her, afraid that Monica would lash out or leave at any moment. Monica figures that some part of it could be attributed to them both having changed over time - she’s grown up and moved past her childhood innocence, of accepting the extended periods of time where Carol was absent, while Carol has been fighting an endless war for almost thirty years. As for the other part, Monica still isn’t quite sure she’s ready to face up to it.
Darcy snorts, wagging a finger at her. “You know that you two are cut from the same cloth right? I guess that’s where you get your stubborn one-woman show attitude from.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first to say that,” Monica says wryly, and Darcy just flashes her a smug smirk.
A beeping off-screen distracts Darcy, and she looks up apologetically. “As much as I enjoy these gossip sessions, Jane’s calling me now! I’ve got to take this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Monica waves away her concerns. “Good luck!”
Darcy chuckles and flashes her a thumbs-up before the holo-image flickers off. Left alone in the darkness of her quarters again, Monica stares at the wall for a long moment, still mulling over her friend’s words. She sighs heavily, sleep won’t come tonight easily.
She rolls off her bed and exits her room, padding towards the pantry. She ends up sitting in the study, poring over a map of the nearby sector, a cup of tea clutched in her hand.
But she can only look at the maps for so long before she gets bored. She ends up wandering down the corridors of the ship, empty at this time of the night. She stops in her tracks when she hears pounding noises coming up from the small gym that Carol had set up in one of the spare rooms.
Without another spare thought, she palms the door open, and steps over the threshold. Carol is throwing a furious flurry of combinations against the punching bag into the middle of the room, and from the looks of it, has been taking out her frustrations on the bag for a while now.
Earphones plugged in, and thoroughly consumed in her workout, Carol doesn’t notice the door opening, and Monica standing behind her. Monica remains quiet, letting the older woman finish her workout.
With the black sports bra that Carol is wearing, Monica has a good view of the scars that criss-cross her back and shoulders. She fights back the bile that rises in her throat at the memory of the large ropy scar on Carol’s thigh. “Broken leg,” Carol had breezily informed her the last time she caught Monica staring.
As Carol pivots around to land a roundhouse kick against the bag, she finally sees that she has a spectator. She drops back down to a relaxed position, and pushes the stray sweaty hair out of her eyes. She’s breathing heavily, but waves cheerfully at Monica.
Monica takes a step forward, taking in the sweat dripping down Carol’s face and body, turning her light grey sweatpants a dark grey. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asks casually.
Carol chuckles. “I could say the same for you.” Monica tips her head in acknowledgement, and Carol walks to the wall to pick up a towel to wipe herself down. She takes a big gulp from her bottle and turns back to Monica with a bright smile. “Wanna spar?”
Monica raises an eyebrow at that. “You sure? You should probably be sleeping, it’s a big day tomorrow.”
Carol shrugs. “You know me, I don’t need as much sleep as normal humans. I just have all this excess energy to burn.”
Monica fights the urge to narrow her eyes at that. She knows for a fact that Carol hasn’t been sleeping, period. There is no excess energy to burn when she’s already burning at the wrong end of the candle. But she reckons this may be an opportunity to get Carol to lower her guard, metaphorically, and open up. She pulls off her sweater and chucks it to the side of the gym. She turns to Carol with a cocky grin. “No powers, let’s go!”
Carol claps her hands together in anticipation, and within the blink of an eye, she’s tossed away her towel and dropped into a ready position. She gestures at Monica. “Come on then!”
Monica loosens her grip on Carol’s arm as the blonde taps hard on the map repeatedly with a loud “ow”. Rolling off Carol and onto her knees, she grins triumphantly at Carol.
Carol sits up, rubbing her shoulder joint with a slight wince, clearly in some discomfort. The smile slips off Monica’s face, as she shuffles closer. “Shit, did I pull too hard?”
“It’s fine,” Carol assures her with a kind smile as she slowly rotates her left arm, stretching it out. “My left shoulder has been pretty tight ever since the fight with Thanos. The bones healed but the tissue around it is still scarred. You wouldn’t happen to know a good physio, would you?” she jokes lightly.
Monica feels a cold sensation creep over her at the mention of Carol’s tussle with Thanos. Another wave of guilt crashes over her as she remembers her blatant disregard for an obviously injured Carol when she had arrived outside her apartment shortly after Monica returned, arm tucked in a sling. Too consumed with grief at Maria’s passing, and anger at Carol’s very presence, she had turned Carol away before the older woman could even begin to explain herself. It wasn’t until she’d met with Fury a week after that she received the grim details of the destruction that the Power Stone had dealt to Carol.
“I can’t believe she even came to see you, she’s supposed to be on bed-rest. Damn stone shattered practically all the bones on her left side,” Fury had barked out in disbelief when Monica grumbled about Carol’s sudden appearance.
Determined to begin to right some of those wrongs, Monica climbs to her feet, and walks behind Carol. Taking Carol’s left arm in hers, she rotates it gently, testing for range of movement. “Relax. I may not be an actual physio, but I did pick up some tips from Tali.”
A small grunt escapes Carol’s lips as Monica tries to get some mobility back into her shoulder. “Maybe we should’ve taken Tali along. The idea of an in-house physio here doesn’t sound so bad.”
Monica snorts a laugh at the idea. “It’s practical - all superheroes need a damn physio to travel with them. If professional athletes have them, I don’t see why we can’t.”
Carol chuckles, and a comfortable silence falls between them. Monica digs her fingers into Carol’s shoulder, trying to loosen up the tight muscles causing her so much discomfort, and in this lull, she decides to take the opportunity to question her captive audience. “Hey, you okay?”
“Hm? Why wouldn’t I be okay? You’re fixing my shoulder.”
“I don’t mean your shoulder. You’ve been distracted. You’re not normally that easy to take down,” Monica says dryly, and before Carol can cobble together an answer, she continues. “You’re not alone, not anymore. I’m here for you.”
“Don’t worry about me, kiddo. I’m fine, really,” Carol says, turning her head slightly to face Monica, and forces a reassuring smile on her lips.
It’s the patented Captain Marvel smile that she graces the masses with, but without a doubt, Monica knows that she’s lying. Over the past year of working with Carol, she’s come to realize that her mother, the one-woman galactic guardian, doesn’t know when to stop, rest, or seek help. It’s why Carol was so absent during her childhood, and most of her adult life.
Carol only knows one mode, and that’s all in, 100%.
But it’s a cruel never-ending loop - the more she helps people, the more people will come to her for help, and Carol would believe that it’s her responsibility to shoulder, without a care for her own physical and mental well-being. But everyone has a breaking point eventually, and Monica can tell that her mother is on the verge of snapping.
Monica ceases her ministrations on Carol’s shoulder and walks around to face Carol squarely. “You haven’t been sleeping. You’re running yourself ragged. I’m worried about you,” she states bluntly, refusing to let her sweep it under the proverbial rug.
“There’s just been a lot on my mind. Really, it’s nothing.” Carol’s voice takes on a slight edge to it, looking uncomfortable at the direction that their conversation is going.
“The nightmares are back, aren’t they?” Monica asks, and Carol stiffens. Tugging her arm out of Monica’s now-loose grip, she stands up swiftly, and walks to the corner of the gym to pick up her bottle.
With Carol’s back still turned to her, Monica continues. “Mom said you often had nightmares, and that it helped when you guys talked it out.”
Carol’s hand tightens briefly around her water bottle at the mention of Maria, and her shoulders droop a little. “She did,” she admits softly, her voice trembling. “Though you’ve got enough on your plate, you don’t need me adding on to it.“
Monica joins Carol on her feet, and gently turns Carol around to face her. “Do you remember what you told me when I was twelve years old?” Monica asks her, and Carol frowns as she tries to remember. “When I was having nightmares, you told me that if I was ever afraid, to be still, and know that you’re here with me. What you told me is a two-way street. I couldn’t be there for you as a kid, but I’m here now.”
Carol’s expression clears up as she remembers, and a fond smile graces her lips. “Oh Mon,” she breathes. “That couldn’t be further from the truth. You were always there for me, even if you didn’t know it. Anytime I felt afraid or hopeless, I’d think of you, and the very memory of you gives me strength to carry on. I have to help the families I can, like how I wish someone had helped me back then. I can’t undo what’s been done to me, to us, but I can’t let anyone else out there go through what we did as family, not if I can help it.”
Monica blinks, her own tears gathering in her eyes. Damn her ridiculously selfless mother. Her fingers drum an anxious beat on her thigh as she tries to find the right words. A moment of clarity comes to her, and she knows what needs to be said, what Carol needs to hear. “I’m sorry.”
Of all the things she could have said, that’s clearly not what Carol expected. Her head cocks to the side in confusion, and Monica marvels at how unrelenting a parent’s love is. “I never apologized for my resentment towards you all those years ago. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t welcome home, or that you weren’t family.”
Her apology takes Carol by surprise, and seems to hit an emotional nerve. “I won’t pretend like it didn’t hurt, it hurt like hell, Mon.”
At this point, Monica wishes the floor would swallow her whole. She knows that she’d been out to make Carol hurt for a long time, until as recent as six months ago.
Carol meanwhile is lost in her own memories, and shakes her head wistfully at a particular one. “You know, when you turned fifteen, I asked Maria if I should stop. You were starting to get really angry at me then, and I was ready to give up going back out there, to prove I could be a good parent - “
“You were a good parent,” Monica interjects reflexively, and Carol snorts.
“No I wasn’t, far from it,” she says sadly. “I told Maria, say the word, and I’ll stay. But she said she wasn’t going to tell me to stay, that she couldn’t make that decision for me. She only asked me what example I wanted to set for you.” She pauses and sinks down heavily on the bench, her eyes now glassy. “We both knew there was no easy solution. I wanted to prove to you that it’s important to fight for someone other than yourself, to help those in need, but I was so afraid of losing you.” She sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Maybe the cost was too high, for us as a family. You ended up hating me.”
The sadness and bitterness in Carol’s words jolt Monica into action. She drops to her knees in front of Carol, and grasps Carol’s hands, desperate to dispel the years, decades, of miscommunication and hurt between them. “Being with you for the last six months, I see the impact that you’re making across galaxies. You answer people’s calls for help. How can I fault you for that? How can I hate you for that?”
“I neglected the both of you - “
“Mama, I forgive you.”
The words rush out of Monica’s mouth, and it surprises both herself and Carol. The blonde’s eyes widen, and Monica immediately feels an immense catharsis at uttering the words, the words she knows to be true, and is finally able to give voice to. “I forgive you,” she repeats. “What I can forgive, I do.”
“You mean that?” Carol’s voice is disbelieving, and not for the first time, Monica sees the psychological damage that Carol’s abusive father had wreaked on her. Until Maria, Carol didn’t know what it meant to be forgiven, didn’t know it was something she could receive.
“I mean it,” Monica says forcefully. “And I want to be your partner in this, all of this. I meant what I said about us being a team. But you have to let me in.”
“I just don’t want to overburden you - “
“We’re a team. We’re meant to help each other, to lighten the load. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s been bothering you.”
“There’s nothing bothering me,” Carol protests weakly, and Monica fights the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation.
“Then why are you putting me far away from the action, where I’m too damn far to help you if anything goes wrong?”
Unable to find a good response, Carol buries her face in her hands. “Ugh,” she groans, scrubbing the palm of her hands against her eyes. Monica shuffles closer and lays a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. Carol drags a hand across her face roughly, then looks up at her. “Those two years without the both of you were the hardest of my life. I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you, don't you understand that?”
Monica’s instinct is to tell Carol that she won’t lose her, but understanding dawns on her then. “Mama, what did you see?”
Carol stubbornly refuses to meet her gaze for fear of crumbling and spilling the truth, but Monica is determined to tear down her wall brick by brick if necessary. “Please. We can beat them, if we talk about them. That’s what you told me, remember?”
A long terrible silence falls between them, and Monica watches Carol’s hands clench and unclench in her lap, as she wrestles her inner demons.
Monica is ready to give up when Carol finally speaks.
“In my nightmares, you’re dead, because of me. I’m so busy saving someone else, that I don’t save you,” Carol spits out the words as though it physically pains her to utter them, her expression haunted. “Me, the perennial failure, never able to save the people I love. God, I’m such an idiot - “
Monica takes Carol’s hand in hers once again and squeezes tightly, determined to cut Carol off from her spiral into self-flagellation. “But I’m here, see? I’m okay, it’s not real.” She takes one of Carol’s hands and presses it against her chest. “You can feel that, can’t you? I’m here because you saved me.”
A choked noise escapes from Carol’s lips, and she squeezes her eyes tightly shut, focusing, memorizing the feeling of Monica’s steady heartbeat. When she opens her eyes again, Monica is looking at her with a smile full of affection. “I’ve had many good teachers over the years, including you and mom. I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Carol shrugs a shoulder up helplessly, flashing Monica a guilty smile. “I know, it’s hard for me. I missed so much of your growing up that...I guess you’re still that little kid to me. It’s hard to move past that.”
Realizing the truth in Darcy’s words to her earlier in the evening, Monica pushes upwards and throws her arms around Carol. She can feel a chuckle rumble through Carol’s chest as she also wraps her arms around her daughter. Monica props her chin on Carol’s shoulder. “We both know there are no guarantees in our line of work, but you’ve got to trust that you’ve trained me well enough.”
Monica feels Carol’s lips curve into a grin against her neck. “Copy that, L.T.”
Carol gives Monica one last tight squeeze before pulling away. Smiling widely at her, Carol straightens up from the bench and picks up Monica's sweater, handing it over to her. “Shall we re-look at the plans for tomorrow then?”
The beaming smile on Monica’s face is a good enough answer for her.