Crash Landing
It was the summer of 1996 when Monica Rambeau saw the shooting star. It would’ve been difficult not to see it. A huge ball of fire heading straight for Louisiana as it twisted and turned in the sky, burning through the night. Monica had been sat on the roof, waiting for her mother to finish her shower so they could name constellations. The comet had appeared after about ten minutes of the twelve-year old being sat there. When she’d realised the fire ball heading towards her, she’d gotten off the roof sharpish and dashed inside.
“Mom!” She’d yelled, hammering her fists on the bathroom door.
Her mother had appeared within seconds, a robe thrown over herself hastily and demanding what in the hell her daughter wanted. Monica had dragged her outside, just in time for the comet to soar over their heads so close that it singed the trees around the house and crash just a few metres away from the house. It had been lucky that the Rambeau’s nearest neighbours lived over a hundred metres away otherwise there would’ve been some very awkward questions the next morning. The comet hadn’t left a huge crater but was still large enough for both Maria and Monica to lie in comfortably. What was in the crater was…unexpected.
Maria peeked over the top of the crater uncertainly. Clad in royal red, blue and gold with dirty blonde hair dirtier than ever, cuts and grazes covering her body and laying strewn in the dirt – was Carol Danvers. The Rambeau women looked at each other, their faces a mixture of fear and confusion. Then to determination.
Maria leaped into the crater, hooking her arms under Carol’s shoulders and knees, hoisting her up bridal style. She barked orders to her daughter, who ran on ahead to make up a clean bed for the blonde and retrieve the first aid kit from the kitchen. Maria always kept the kit handy, in case something like this might ever happen.
Struggling over the threshold, Maria lay Carol down on the couch, brushing her hair out of her face. “Carol? Carol, wake up its me, Maria! Carol?” She questioned, patting her cheek gently.
Carol looked almost unrecognisable. Her left leg was bent the wrong way, flopping off the end of the sofa uselessly. Her wrist was purple and blue around the bone, swollen like a grapefruit. Cuts and bruises were everywhere, Maria couldn’t even tell if they were from the impact of the crash or not. She had a black eye, possibly some broken ribs amongst other things. Her face was grubby, as was everything else. Maria patted her face again.
“Carol, sweetie? You need to wake up!” She tried to keep her voice reassuring but seeing her best friend in such a state was making it difficult.
Something was flashing through the blonde’s glove, resting in the palm of her good hand. Maria gently pried her friend’s fingers apart, just in case they were broken, and retrieved the small object. It was a pager: the one her agent friend had kept on his belt. A small message was scrawled on it through the cracked screen, flashing weakly.
[ ON YOUR LEFT ]
After a few seconds it stopped flashing and went dead. Maria discarded it on the coffee table as Monica hurried in, carrying the heavy first aid kit with both hands. Maria smiled briefly as her daughter pushed the box towards her, then returning to seriousness as she busted it open and began applying it to Carol’s mangled torso.
“Monica, undo her zipper whilst I hold her shoulders.” She instructed coolly, cracking an eyebrow at her daughter. “Let’s hope she wears clothes underneath this crap, eh?”
Monica let herself smile, but her mother could see the worry for her hero. “Yeah.”
Maria quickly moved the equipment out of the way, muttering an apology to Carol before wrenching her shoulders forward into an upright position. It earned a physical groan from the unconscious superhero, confirming the broken ribs theory. Monica was quick to wip around behind Carol and started dragging the zip down.
“Don’t worry – she’s not naked.” The twelve-year-old grinned, pushing the material over Carol’s shoulders and pointing to the black bra underneath.
With a little struggle and more groans of pain from the now stirring blonde, the two Rambeau woman finally managed to remove the suit and get an extent of her injuries. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as originally thought. There were bruises dotting her left side, she had maybe two or three ribs broken. That meant crutches, possibly wheelchair. But first, cleaning her cuts. Dirt was underneath her nails, and dangerously close to the cuts on her arms. Little moans of discomfort escaped Carol’s lungs as Monica tried to stop the infections.
After a few cuts, and old Nirvana tunes on in the background, Carol started to come to properly. Dozing in and out of consciousness as Monica and Maria continued to tend to her wounds gently. On a few occasions, she’d make very soft words – but too slurred for anyone to make out what they were. Monica swore she’d said the name of the famous guy who was the face of the world war for the American military. Or something. Carol didn’t make any proper words until Maria and Monica had managed to drag her upstairs to Maria’s bed and woke up two hours later.
Well, she didn’t make proper words the moment she woke up because she woke up screaming.
Maria had been dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth when suddenly she found fingers wrapped around her throat and her head connecting with the back of the floor. Carol had woken up and immediately resorted to strangling whatever held her in place, tumbling out of bed and landing on top of her captor. Maria stared back into the wild eyes of her best friend, glowing like a million suns in a pitch-black sky. She had to squeeze her eyes shut they were so bright.
“Carol – c- ca-“ Maria gasped, her voice strained by the hand crushing her throat.
The hero, with bandages all over her body, was struggling. Maria could hear it in her voice. The injuries were setting in quickly, affecting her injured wrist and the ribs hurt her back. She was barely keeping her weight up, leaning too heavily on her broken leg. But Maria could still feel those glowing eyes focused on her cheeks and her good hand subtly warming up around her throat. Carol’s knees, one on the floor and the other digging into Maria’s abdomen, were bony and hard. The hand that was wrapped around her vocal chords were also spindly and thin. She was weak, weaker than she had been.
“Auntie Carol?” A small voice emerged from the doorway.
“Sss…sta…” Maria gasped, letting go of Carol’s hand and slapping the wooden floor uselessly, trying to warn her daughter away. She dared to open her eyes, seeing Monica stood in the doorway above them.
What she didn’t see was the fire fading from Carol’s eyes or feel the grip around her neck cooling and loosening. Carol fell onto Maria with an exhausted thump, falling back into her slumber as soon as her head hit the floor.
Maria pushed her to the side with a grunt. “God, you got heavy.” She muttered, soothing the now broken skin around her neck. Carol didn’t respond, remaining unconscious on the wooden floor beside her.
“Mom, are you okay?” Monica asked worriedly, helping her mother up onto her feet. She reached up, touching the front of her neck gently. “I can get you a warm cloth, hold on.”
“Help me get her back into bed first.” Maria said with a strained yet soft smile. Noticing Monica was still staring at her neck, Maria waved her off. “Don’t worry, she didn’t mean it. Just a nightmare.”
Monica eyed Carol’s fists as they aided her back into bed and tucking her in again. “She’ll be okay, right?” She asked, reaching out and holding the blonde’s hand. “She looks different.”
Studying Carol, a little closer, Maria could see that Monica was right. She looked a little older, not much, but a tiny bit. The scar she’d gotten on her neck from her crash in 89’ had faded slightly. There was a new one, resting just under her eye that looked newer. Her hair was longer than it had been, or maybe it was straighter. Maria couldn’t really tell, but she knew her friend had changed again.
“C’mon, let’s have something to eat.” She said quietly, her eyes never leaving Carol as she guided her daughter out of the room.
+
Crickets sang outside amongst the long grass in Louisiana as Maria and Monica Rambeau ate their dinner that night. Maria had had another shower due to the amount of dirt she’d gotten on herself from the crater, and now sat in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her head.
“Do you think Carol will be okay?” Monica asked innocently as she spooned herself some tomato soup.
“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know.” Maria admitted, handing her daughter a piece of bread as she ate her own dinner. “What do you think?”
The child grinned, glancing at the air force shirt she wore briefly. “I reckon she’ll be okay. She’s strong.” She commented, turning her spoon up to the ceiling. “After all, she glows.”
Maria’s fingers traced around the thin bruise absent-mindedly as she thought about the last time, she’d seen Carol, that had been nearly eight months ago. Maria had hoped the hero would swoop by for Christmas, even if it was just to say hello, but December had come and gone without a hint of the royal red and blue. She’d held out little hope for Monica’s birthday, but when that past, Maria convinced herself that Carol wasn’t going to come back. She wasn’t angry, she knew Carol would never purposefully miss a Christmas, or a birthday. She never had before the crash. Carol hadn’t changed a great deal when she’d first come back with Agent Fury, Maria had noticed. She was a little more reserved, certainly a bit cold to begin with, but had softened as memories had begun to return. She’d been back to her silly old self within no time.
This time would be different.
++
The next time Carol woke up – nearly two days later - both the Rambeaus were sat by her side. The moment Maria spotted the blonde’s eyes stirring, she moved Monica way out of arm range, just in case. However, this time, Carol didn’t wake up screaming like a maniac. Instead, her dark eyes peeped open, squinting into the bedroom. They were red, like she’d been rubbing at them too much, Her fingers flexed a little as her whole body stretched, letting out a groan as she felt all the broken bones shifting. The two women gave her a moment as she opened her eyes properly, squinting again as they focused on them.
Carol frowned. “…Maria?” She croaked, her voice hoarse and scratchy. Her eyes didn’t leave Maria’s as the other woman approached, sitting on the end of the bed and taking her fingers in hers.
“Hey buddy.” She said with a gentle smile. “How are you doing?”
But Carol only stared back at her with a horrified expression, her mouth hanging agape like it was frozen in terror. Her hand was rigid in Maria’s, fixed and cold. It only lasted for a moment though, as tears started forming in Carol’s eyes. She bit her wobbling lip – lifting her weak arms and tried to hook them around Maria’s shoulders. Her friend leaned in slowly, keeping aware that the blonde could go rogue again at any second. Maria’s hands laid on the headboard, tightening when she felt Carol hug her tighter. They relaxed when she heard muffled sobs coming from her friend. Carol cried into Maria’s shoulder, holding her jacket tightly by balling up her fists. Maria had never seen Carol cry like this. Her sobs were rugged, drawn and raw – scratching at her already hoarse throat.
“Maria!” She gasped, hugging her tighter and tighter, as if she would never let go. They stayed like that for what felt like years until Maria managed to pry Carol off her.
The two women stared at each other. Carol’s mouth said happiness and relief, but her eyes spoke another message. There was pleasant confusion, a state of heavenly bliss placed in a purgatory of existence. They were searching Maria up and down, as if trying to decipher whether she was real or not. The blonde looked down at herself, and the message her eyes were preaching reached her faltered smile. Maria thought Carol would pass out again as she stared at the bandages covering her body. She’d been dressed in a clean sports bra and knee length joggers, but what wasn’t covered by black clothing – was covered by white bandage. There was a casted one on her sprained wrist, no sling needed – another banded around her middle and a cast on the broken leg. Stitches were lined up her arms, a particularly long one on her right forearm that went nearly from wrist to elbow.
“Th...” Carol broke into a series of short coughs as she tried to clear her throat. “This isn’t…right.” She finally managed.
Carol was staring at her hands in fascination, as if she’d never seen them before. When there was a small bang from the back of the bedroom, her eyes shot up. Maria looked over shoulder. Monica, who looked sheepish and apologetic, had stubbed her toe on the end of the dresser in an attempt to slip out of the room unnoticed.
“Sorry.” She said quietly and continued to try to shuffle away.
Carol’s eyes strained through the dimly lit bedroom, a frown almost stitching her eyebrows together. “Monica? Is that you?” She called out quietly. Carol put a hand to her brow, squinting further to the back of the room. “Lieutenant Trouble?”
The girl kept to the shadows worriedly, looking at her mother approval. Maria glanced between Carol’s outreached hand and Monica, who was balling the bottom of her shirt in her hands. After a few seconds and making a judgement, she nodded and opened her hand to Monica. Her daughter took it and walked forward timidly.
“Hi, Auntie Carol.” She greeted quietly as she stepped into the light.
Monica took Carol’s good hand, and let the blonde pull her a little closer. Carol studied the little girl, tilting her head from left to right as she ran her thumb over her cheek.
“Is that you?” Carol croaked, pulling at Monica’s curly hair between her thumb and finger, almost to test as if it was real. “Is it really you? I haven’t been dreaming, have I? What year is this?”
Carol wasn’t smiling as she asked the questions, in fact she looked more like she was about to cry. Her bad hand wobbled as badly as her bottom lip did. Maria put her hand on Monica’s shoulder, and pulled her a little closer to her side.
“It’s 1996. Carol, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, this time with a firmer tone.
Carol let her good hand flop back into her lap, trying to ignore the pain that wracked through her ribs as she did. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a heavy sigh. Maria had never seen her like this before, so down and almost…washed out.
“I don’t know how-“
“Spit it out, Carol.” Maria interrupted. She wasn’t here for the dramatics. “Come on, you can tell us how it is.”
“I don’t think-“
“Carol!”
Maria could tell she was annoying her friend, but she couldn’t take any secrets. If she was going to help her, there needed to be complete honesty. That was how it had always been, and how it would always be.
Carol sighed again, running a hand through her hair. Finally, she seemed to just let it go, and looked at her friend dead in the eyes. “I’m from the year 2019, and half the galaxy has been eradicated. Maria, you’re dead.”