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Flying past her best friend, Captain Marvel races for the Avengers’ Tower. She’s a hero and it probably looks like she’s running away from a fight, but she’d argue otherwise. Or maybe not. The real reason she’s running away she has of yet to admit to herself. Or maybe she will never admit it to herself, because she doesn’t exactly know why she’s running away. All she knows is that one overweening hero found it to be a good idea to place his sweltering lips upon hers and now she’s running away like a child from a clown. Go figure. The other heroes are going to want an explanation and she’s going to have to come up with one. But right now, she can’t seem to think straight at all. So perhaps when they do confront her, she’ll just make up some ridiculous excuse that will hopefully provide some justification for her actions. Besides, she reckons they didn’t really need her assistance anyway. After all, their opponent was literally a plodding slop of mud. Not much of a rival from her standpoint.
Carol Danvers lands atop the Avengers’ Tower. It has the words ‘Stark’ across it, but everyone knows it’s the Avengers’ Tower; housing many of the world’s most famous heroes. Over the years, it’s become quite a popular tourist site, attracting sightseers from all across the world, praising it as some sort of monumental feature. But to her it’s none of those things. To her it’s just home. The one place she knows for certain she will never have to encumbrance herself with the concern of being exposed to any type of endangerment. Here she is safe with the security of her friends, all of whom have become her family.
Carol tears her mask off, running her fingers through her hair. She inhales deeply and exhales, trying to rid herself of any incertitude that feasts upon her discernment. But then he pops into her head again. The Human Torch. He’s so arrogant and egotistical, just the mere thought of him fills her with rage. Idiot. She closes her eyes trying to calm herself but nothing seems to make sense anymore. Her eyes shoot open and the world seems to be a different shade of blue as her rage wanes, slowly intermingling with her previous state of confusion. In moments like these, most people would suggest one to get some fresh air, however, in this instance it doesn’t seem to be of much help; only leading her further down a road of dubiety.
Carol flies down to the entrance of the Avengers’ Tower, bypassing the crowd of fans who wait outside on a daily basis, all clambering to get a glimpse of one of their favorite superheroes, probably just another life achievement to cross off their bucket list. She makes her way inside and rushes to the elevator heading up to the 93rd floor. From the main floor it’ll take about five minutes to reach her destination, and five minutes never seemed longer. Carol flinches as she leans her back against the hard, cold interior wall. She’s feeling a bit uneasy and the classical elevator music sure isn’t helping. Captain Marvel shuts her eyes again attempting to find some sort of tranquility that could somehow free her from her hectic mind. But she can’t seem to focus on anything and the music still playing in the background only nettles her more. She frowns, making a mental note to complain to Stark about it later.
Carol opens her eyes only to find her reflection peering back at her. Big, blue eyes trailing over her distorted mirrored image, studying her every feature. She looks tired and bedraggled. Why do I look so tired? Straightening her posture and tugging at her costume, her fingers clawing over her head trying to tame her disheveled hair; striving to make herself appear at least marginally presentable. Not that it would make any difference. Her appearance isn’t in as much dire need of assortment as her cogitation.
The elevator doors open and before she knows it, she’s standing in the kitchen. She doesn’t know how she got there or even when, almost as if she lost consciousness along the way and her legs were moving on their own without any deliberation. Carol decides not to give it much thought and instead eyeballs a red apple placed atop a neatly stacked pile of fruits in a small bowl on top of the counter. She’s not very hungry but she figures she’ll try just about anything to get her mind off of the supercilious individual whose essence only weakens and disrupts her coherency.
Carol reaches for an apple but the moment she’s about to raises it up towards her face, the wind seemingly snatches it from the grasp of her hand. She swiftly turns her head to the right where she finds her apple attached to the wall with a purple arrow plunged directly in its center. And then she rotates her head to her left, where she predictably finds the arched hero known as Hawkeye. She glares at him fixedly, materializing her exasperation to the cognizance of her fellow comrade. “Hey, instead of givin’ me the look of death, you should actually be thanking me” Clint tells the heroine, while placing his bow on the counter and taking a seat on one of the stools. Carol reaches for another apple from the bowl of fruits, eyeing the man across from her. “And why is that?” she queried in skepticism.
“Well, if it weren’t for me, you’d be takin’ a bite out of a tainted apple” the archer reveals to his workmate. Carol freezes as she’s about to grab another apple and looks up at the other hero, waiting for a further explanation. “I saw a worm in it earlier” he clarifies and Carol pulls her hand away from the bowl of fruits, promptly deciding not to take any chances of consuming a possibly contaminated produce. “And you couldn’t throw it away?” she chides out of annoyance, but yet thankful for his intervention. It comes out a bit more contentious than she intended, which quickly puts him on the defense. “Okay. One, I’m not the garbage man” he begins, raising his index finger. “And two, I was gonna trick the Hulk into eating it later” he finishes with a hint of disappointment. He then goes on to ramble about how he planned to go about doing so, but Carol wasn’t really listening. Instead, Carol rests her forearms on the counter, overlooking the other hero across from her observingly. He’s handsome. A different kind of handsome, but…handsome. She’s known him for years and she finds it almost nearly impossible to look at him in any other way than just a friend. He never quite fit the criteria of what she’d consider to be her “type.” Then again neither does the Human Torch and she still can’t seem to get him out of her head. But she doesn’t want to think of him right now. She’d much rather let herself be distracted by the other man in front of her. So she does just that, studying her colleague like a textbook; surveying the way his hair falls, the slight creases in his forehead, even descrying the way he moves his hands about when he speaks. But something about him looks different. What is it?
Her eyes set out on an expedition, questing for any peculiar disparity within any aspect of his appearance. It takes her a while but then she comes to the realization. Hawkeye’s not wearing his purple opaque glasses; resultantly revealing his stunning, pale blue eyes. His eyes are blue? I mean, of course his eyes are blue. Have they always been that blue? And then she notices something else. “Your bandages are gone” she points out, wondering why it took her so long to espy such a patent observation. “Yeah. I actually healed up two days ago, but I figured I’d just leave it on for a while longer” he remarks, prompting her to ask why. “People treat me nicer. Like, the other day, ‘Tasha actually made me a sandwich. Can you believe that? I’m tellin’ you, it was the bandages. People got a soft spot for ‘em. But then they got a lil’ itchy so I just finally decided it was time to ditch ‘em” Clint states with a shrug and Carol smiles. Just his nonchalant natural inclination to any particular situation, whether it be a trivial incursion or a crucial one, easily proves him to be an affable and pleasant companion. Distinctive attributes any prudent individual would undoubtedly envy in desire for one’s self.
“Carol” a female voice calls out. Clint glances over his shoulder and Carol looks past him to see Spider-Woman entering the kitchen. Clint, taking it as his cue to leave, gets up, grabs his bow and hastily makes his departure. Jessica pays no attention to the other hero as he discreetly exits the kitchen. Ever since they’ve broken up, he tends to make himself scarce whenever they are within the presence of one another in a gathering lacking populace. Unless, of course, their profession demands otherwise. “Carol, hey, are you okay? What happened back there?” Spider-Woman finally asks once she approaches her friend. “Nothing” Carol tells her. She wishes she had more to offer but she hasn’t actually gotten the chance to ponder an excuse as of yet. Spider-Woman places her hand on Carol’s shoulder, “Carol, if something’s wrong, you know you can tell me, right?” Carol manages a smile, “I know, Jess. And I’m fine.” Both a truth and a lie. Carol knows she can go to Jessica with anything that may cause her discomfort because Jessica is her best friend. But yet she finds herself unable to speak to her, unable to confide in her and she doesn’t know why. Perhaps it is simply because she doesn’t know how she feels. How could anyone possibly confide in someone else if they can’t even discern their own feelings? Carol looks into Jessica’s eyes and she can see she’s still worried; she still wants a reason and Carol just can’t seem to come up with one.
“So, where’s Tony?” Carol asks in hopes of converting the conversation away from herself and to a more prominent being, who surely wouldn’t mind being the focal point of any given discourse. “Well, he went back to the Baxter Building with the FF. Something about Skrulls. I dunno” she responds lukewarmly. Ever since the Skrull Invasion, Skrulls became a sensitive topic for Jess. And Tony knew better than to include her in any missions involving the detested shape shifters. Barring there were a shortfall of heroes in which, naturally, her aid would be required, however, fortunately for her that’s not the case.
Clearly Jessica wasn’t notified of the “Skrull situation” and neither does Carol elaborate on it, instead she tries to come up with ways to steer the conversation in another direction, preferably one that doesn’t involve Skrulls or the incident from earlier. Or the Human Torch. She considers commenting on Janet’s newest fashion line, but tosses the thought aside when she notices Jessica looking rather downcast and not herself. Wrapping an arm around her friend hearteningly, “Hey, we can watch the whole first season of Sex and the City later” Carol announces trying to cheer her up. And it seems to have worked as Jessica’s face lights up exuberantly. “The whole first season?!” Spider-Woman squeals and Carol nods affirmatively. Carol rests her head against her friend’s, subjecting herself to gaining a whiff of an appalling scent. ”You stink” Carol states with her head still glued to Jessica’s. “Yeah, a big moloid exploded and kind of bathed us in mud. I should probably go take a shower” Spider-Woman says. “Yeah, you probably should” Carol agrees with a fond smile.
It wasn’t long before light turns to dark and the sky eats away the sun only to regurgitate the moon along with its countless dazzling companions. Carol had spent most of her day watching Sex and the City re-runs with Jessica and a fair amount training with various members of the heroic team, namely Captain America; and at the end of the day she’s more than grateful to be able to crawl into her own bed, feeling completely safe and secure in her own surroundings. All day she found ways to keep herself busy, to divert herself from cogitating any well-formed notion regarding the flaming hero and his presumptuous actions. However, now free of all distractions, she is once again left alone with her thoughts which refuse to wither and cease any activity concerning the matter.
A million questions run through her head, all of which begin with the word “why.” Why did he follow me? Why didn’t he show up? Why did he kiss me? Why me? Why--? The questions are frustratingly useless and will all more than likely go unanswered. The ire within her disperses as her brain continues to disobediently obsess over him, filling her with even more questions than before. Questions that vary in complexity, causing her to dispute her own practicality. But then her mind wanders off to unspeakable places, invoking libidinous impulses that explicitly encourages her rage to dwindle in favor of lust.
Carol shakes her head slightly, moderately restoring only a small fraction of her equanimity and extracting herself from her prurient thoughts. She lays wide awake, searching for an oasis of serenity amidst her chaotic plight of incertitude. I really need to get some sleep. She closes her eyes and there he is again, invading her privacy, preying on her in solitude. Finding him anything beyond superficial attractiveness would induce her to question her own sanity. But it’s been so long since she felt the touch of a man and perhaps that’s exactly what she needs, what she craves. And he’s right there within her reach, archived under a file labelled “fire”, one of those things everyone knows they mustn’t play with. Play with fire and you get burned. But maybe, just maybe she’s willing to take that chance.