This Tuesday was especially gloomy.
The last thing Carol wanted to do was leave the house. The single window in her bedroom was aimed toward the street below, but all Carol could see from her bed was the rain that had been falling for most of the morning. It nailed her window in torrents and woke her before her alarm. The dogs barking on the floor above her may have also had something to do with that; her upstairs neighbors were nice people, but they had some of the noisiest pets Carol had ever encountered.
She’d been renting the middle floor of a three-story brownstone in Brooklyn for the last few weeks. It was a little old, had creaky floors, but Bed-Stuy was a good area. Had a lot of character. Her and Steve had talked about it back in the day, during that five year gap between the beginning and end of the blip. When she was looking for somewhere to stay in the city it was the first thing that came to mind. Pepper had offered her a room at the compound, but she felt bad living on a dead man’s dime. It was Pepper’s dime too, really, but that just made Carol feel worse.
It made the most sense to her to stay in New York. She liked the city, she couldn’t deny it, but being there also allowed her to be close to those she’d grown to care about. The other Avengers. Morgan. And Peter.
Herself and the kid had grown close in recent weeks. He was like the annoying little brother she never had. It took awhile for him to warm up to her, at first. He was stuck in a constant loop of trying to act open and polite but also keeping a grown-up composure for the sake of his super hero side gig. After Carol officially hit two months of visiting him every Tuesday, Peter decided to text her. She’d given him her phone number weeks earlier for emergencies, physical and emotional (though she didn’t mention the emotional part) but he’d refused to use it for a long time. Even after he knocked his head against an alley wall and couldn’t swing home after a fight, he didn’t call her for help and ended up sleeping behind a dumpster until he was coherent enough to stumble back to his apartment. Carol only found out because she’d come to see him the next day and he’d coincidentally just gotten home, a sizable lump still on his forehead and suit smelling like garbage.
The reprimanding she’d given him after that one was more serious in tone than almost any other conversation they’d had. She felt terrible afterward; he was just trying to be independent, after all. He didn’t want to rely on anyone. The last person he relied on died right in front of him. It was a scenario Carol could understand.
But her phone vibrated during her subway ride home, and it was a text from Peter thanking her for stopping by and checking in. He also said he was sorry. Carol responded by telling him to never apologize for doing what he thought was right.
After that the dam broke it was like they’d known one another for years.The twerp constantly sent her memes in the middle of the night, repeatedly sent her videos of children’s bottle rockets with captions that said “that’s you!”, and even somehow managed to set her ringtone for him to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” without ever touching her phone. He was a sneaky little bastard, but Carol couldn’t help but find it endearing. She felt like she was responsible for him, now. Like she had to make sure nobody could take the ridiculousness of him away lest the world suddenly go dark. Stark wasn’t around to do it anymore. She had to step up.
At the thought of seeing his idiotic, smug little face again, Carol pulled herself out of bed and went about her day. She had a few more hours until Peter would be out of school and did her best to fill them with productive activities. Whether or not watching the Brady Bunch for hours and hand-embroidering a baseball cap to say “bullshit” in neat calligraphy was productive was maybe up for debate.
Carol was just putting the finishing touches on the last L in “bull” when Smells Like Teen Spirit started blaring from somewhere under her couch. She dropped her hat and stuck her arm beneath the sofa, running her arm quickly across the dusty floor to retrieve the phone from wherever her cat had batted it. She got one after moving in, named it Mittens. An adorable little tabby. Mittens didn’t hold a candle to Goose, but she was good company.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end of the line was quiet and female and definitely not Peter.
“Hello? Is this Carol Danvers?”
“Yeah, who’re you?”
“Oh, great. Hi, I’m sorry, I’m May Parker.”
The famous May Parker. According to Peter she was just short of being a real life angel. Carol had never interacted with her in person, her long hours at work prohibiting them from every crossing paths. But Peter had told enough stories about her for Carol to know she was the real deal. A woman to be trusted.
“Mrs.Parker, Hello! Nice to finally talk to you.”
“Yes, same here. I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly calling under the best circumstances.”
“Is everything okay?” The idea that Peter could be seriously hurt, or worse, didn’t cross Carol’s mind until she realized May was whispering. ”Did Peter not make it to school?”
“Oh, no no, it’s nothing like that. He’s okay. He stayed home today. That’s actually why I called...He told me awhile ago that you usually come and see him on Tuesdays, is that true?”
“It’s true- I’m sorry, is that okay? I-”
“ Lord yes, it’s perfectly fine. I’m glad he’s got someone else looking out for him. God knows you can’t have enough eyes on that boy. But that’s beside the point. I’m calling to see if you could come over a little earlier than usual?”
“Sure, that’s no probl-”
“I’ve been home with him all day, but work is calling me non-stop and if I don’t go in I think my boss’s head is going to explode.” May stopped and took a breath. Carol could tell her rambling wasn’t just part of her personality. She was worried. “I just need someone to be here with him while I’m gone. I don’t...I don’t want to leave him alone when he’s like this.”
Like what? “Of course, Mrs.Parker, I’ll leave now.”
“It’s just May, honey, please. And thank you. I appreciate it more than you know.”
And just like that the call was over, and Carol’s heart was beating out of her chest for the minute it took her to change out of her pajamas and fly to Peter’s apartment. The subway would have taken too long.
Luckily she was smart enough to pack some spare clothes in a waterproof rucksack. She learned her lesson the last time she flew in the rain- the dryer at her place was broken and her jeans were wet for days.
Peter’s doorman was just as indignant about her tracking water through the lobby as he was last time.
“Hey, lady! Again with the water? The carpet’s gonna mold!”
‘Hey dude, again with the whining? Grow a pair.”
“I’m gonna have building security kick you out!”
Carol kept on her course to the elevator and didn’t bother pointing out that Peter’s building didn’t even have security.
May answered almost as soon as she knocked on the door. “Thank you for getting here so quickly. Oh my goodness, you’re soaked. Do you need a change of clothes?”
Carol stepped through the threshold so May could close the door behind her. “No, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, tugging on the strap of her backpack. “I’ll change in a minute. What’s going on with Peter?”
May’s demeanor immediately became a bit more reserved. “This happens sometimes. He has days where he’s just...Not okay. Can’t really get out of bed. Or doesn’t want to, I guess. I don’t think it makes a difference. Here, come with me.” May led her down the hall to Peter’s room. The door was cracked just enough for Carol to see a small, curled up shape beneath Peter’s bed covers. May gently closed the door. “He hasn’t moved all day.”
“You said this has happened before?”
“Less frequently than it used to, but it still happens sometimes.”
“And I assume you know what this is?” Carol knew. Had suspicions, at least.
May smiled, but it wasn’t out of any positive emotion. It was like she was trying to soften the blow for herself. “Yes, I know.”
Carol eyed the shut door for a few seconds, mentally stealing herself for what was ahead. “You can go, May. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure? You really don’t have to stay.”
“I’m here now. I might as well hang around. Go to work, I’ll be here when you get back.”
The firm hug May pulled Carol in for was unexpected. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
May left for work and Carol took a quick trip to the bathroom to change clothes. Then she was suddenly frozen in the threshold to Peter’s room, watching him take slow breaths under his navy blue comforter.
“Peter?” He didn’t respond. Carol took a few steps forward. “You doing okay, kid?”
He flinched minutely.
Kid. She hadn’t meant to call him kid. The nickname didn’t belong to her.
“Hi Carol.”
She was sitting on the corner of his bed, now, close enough to realize he had never gotten dressed for the day. There was something red and blue peeking out from under the blanket.
“Are you in your suit?”
Peter’s eyes darted downward, then immediately back out the window next to his bed. “Guess go. Got home late.”
“It’s probably filthy, Peter.”
“‘S Okay.”
It was easy to track down a clean t-shirt and sweatpants; Peter’s dresser drawers were always overflowing. She carried the clothes over to the bed and sat back down. “I’m gonna help you up, okay? We’re gonna do a quick wardrobe change. “
“I’d rather not.”
“C’mon, we got this. It’ll just take a second.”
The utter lack of resistance he offered as she slowly pulled him into a sitting position was heart wrenching. Carol pressed the spider symbol on his chest and made quick work of pulling the top half of the suit down so she could slip the t-shirt on in its place. “Great job. That’s half the battle. I think I’m gonna let you worry about the bottom half, alright?”
“Yeah, okay.” He took the sweatpants from her hands and waited for her to turn the other way. Carol was afraid he wouldn’t listen, would just lie back down and tune her out. But, as directed, once Carol was given the all-clear to turn back around Peter had changed into the pants as instructed. His suit had been thrown to the floor.
“Man, what’d you do to this poor thing?” Large black soot spots covered the suit, most of them concentrated around the boots and gloves. Almost as if he’d been crawling around the charred remains of something.
“Went patrolling yesterday. Found an apartment fire on the upper east side.”
“Oh man, that must have sucked. What time did you get in last night?”
“Don’t know.”
“You’re not hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Peter tucked himself back under the covers.
That’s debatable. “No, hey, we’re not done here. No relaxing until you’ve at least brushed your teeth and put on some deodorant. You smell. Let’s go.”
“No one’s going to see me. Why does it matter?”
“ I’m seeing you, and I almost wish I wasn’t. You’ve got three seconds, Parker, before I use the glowy hands and carry you to the bathroom myself. I know how much you hate the glowy hands.”
His eyes were still trained on his window. Carol noted the darkness beneath them, the glossiness of their gaze. He obviously wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning, either. The crease he usually gets between his brows when he thinks was completely gone, smooth skin in its place. It’s absence wasn’t reassuring this time around, though. Peter was always moving a mile a minute and his mind was the same way. No crease meant no Peter. No true Peter, anyways.
All in all, he was wearing the face of someone who wasn’t quite there. “I’m gonna go throw the suit in your washing machine. By the time I’m back, try and be up and out of bed, okay?” He just nodded. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside the window. The rain still hadn’t let up.
Carol silently thanked Tony Stark for making Peter’s suit waterproof as she threw the mess of red and blue into the washing machine with a healthy serving of detergent. The thing was always disgusting. She had no idea how it didn’t smell like dirt and sweat constantly.
When she got back to his room, per her own instructions, Peter was out of bed and standing in the middle of the room.
“Hell Yeah, Bug Boy. This is a great start. Just ten steps to the bathroom and we’ll be golden.”
Peter hadn’t made eye contact since she first walked into the room. He didn’t now, either, as he swiftly dodged the hand Carol tried to lay on his shoulder to guide him out of the room and down the hall.
“No thanks. I think I just wanna go back to bed.”
“That won’t do you any good. C’mon, let’s just- Are you sticking right now?”
Carol had grabbed his wrist and stepped a few feet away in an attempt to drag him toward the bathroom. She hadn’t realized that his feet never left the floor, whatever power that allowed him to climb walls and defy gravity keeping his feet firmly planted to the hardwood floor.
“I don’t want to go anywhere. Just leave me alone. Please .”
“Peter, sitting in here and staring out the window doesn’t help you or anyone else-”
“Nothing I do helps anyone else!”
The silence that forced itself into the room was hilariously close to a record scratch. In a sad, ironic sort of way.
“ What?” Carol didn’t mean to whisper. She never did. She wasn’t a quiet person by nature. But how could she not whisper at a time like this?
“Nothing I do makes a difference. Ever. I go out and get hurt, I worry my friends, and May, and for what? So almost twenty people can die in a house fire I couldn’t get them out of?”
Oh. Oh. Oh no, Peter.
“So my entire class can almost get killed on a school trip because someone was out to get me ?”
Carol had let go of Peter’s arm out of shock and he’d taken to pacing the room, but was now standing stiffly in front of his dresser. Several academic decathlon trophies adorned the top, all carefully situated around a class photo. Peter was somewhere in the middle sporting a goofy smile and a yellow blazer along with about a dozen other high school kids. He looked so...Young, when he was standing among other people his age. The current tension in his shoulders was nothing like the Peter in the photo, who had both arms slung around his friends and looked like he was ready for anything.
“So Tony can sacrifice himself for the entire world because I was too slow to save him?”
“Peter, surely you know that wasn’t-”
He turned to her. “ Wasn’t my fault ?” He huffed a laugh. “Right.” He slowly reached for one of his trophies. There was a small, plastic statue of a person on top. A person who was quickly decapitated after Peter squeezed the statue a bit too tight and the figurine broke into three separate pieces. “Tell that to the seventeen people who died last night. Seventeen. I climbed up the only structurally sound wall in the building- the firemen told me not to go in. Said there was nothing that could be done. The building was about to come down."
Carol didn’t speak, just nodded her head. He could keep talking if he wanted to. Or needed to.
“I went through the only window that wasn’t blocked from the other side. It was the sixth floor, I think. Found two people, a man and a woman laying on the floor. Ceiling had collapsed and blocked the only door out of the apartment. They didn’t have a fire escape on their side of the building, either.” Peter was usually a crier, usually teared up when there was a sad story on the news or when his emotions were becoming particularly overwhelming. But his eyes were dry this time. Like he’d cut himself off.
“I wasn’t paying attention, didn’t think, just threw each of them over a shoulder and jumped out the window. Ceiling collapsed the rest of the way after that. No way to go back in. That’s what the firemen told me, I think. But you know the worst part? I didn’t even try to go back. I didn’t go back because when I got to the ground and took the people to the ambulances, the paramedics looked at me like I was crazy. They were already dead. Both of them. Smoke inhalation, probably, I don’t know.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“Whether or not I knew was beside the point. I got there too late. I was too slow. The only thing I did was deliver corpses.”
“And now those people’s families have bodies to bury, thanks to you.”
“There shouldn’t have been bodies at all! The other seventeen people who died in that building, who probably didn’t have their bodies recovered, might have lived if I’d been better.”
Carol new Peter was self-sacrificial, was prone to self blame in the face of defeat, but this was downright soul crushing. Seeing him believe so whole-heartedly that he was to blame.
“You don’t have to be better than anything, Parker. You just have to try your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”
She took a few steps forward. Peter’s head was aimed at his bare feet, but his eyes darted up to map her face before averting themselves again. He cleared his throat and took a few deep breaths before speaking. “T-today, right now,” he motioned to his rumpled bedcovers, “T his is my best, okay? This is what I can do right now. I’ll do what you asked me to do, but please, nothing else.” He hiccuped like he was about to start crying. “That’s all I’ve got.”
She didn’t know what to say, just nodded and walked him down the hall to the bathroom. She stood in the doorway while he quickly brushed his teeth and washed any residual ash and dirt off his face. She also managed to get him to down a glass of water, but after that it was directly back to his room.
He was back under his covers and facing his window in an instant, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. His twin bed was small, but with how he’d crunched himself up against the far edge there was enough room for Carol to slide on and sit up with her back pressed against the wall.
Peter turned his head slightly, as if assessing whether she really planned on sticking around. “You don’t have to stay,” he mumbled.
She squeezed his upper arm through the comforter. “I’m staying. If that’s alright with you.”
He didn’t respond for a moment. Sighed, a little, when someone walking a tiny dog stumbled by on the street several stories below. He finally nodded almost thirty seconds later. “Yeah. It’s okay.”