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“What are you in the mood for?”
The corner of Jessica’s mouth twitched, an involuntary attempt at a humorless smirk.
Ow.
And it wasn’t the first time in the last 72hrs she’d had that thought. Madripoor might’ve been a rapidly shrinking spot behind her as the Quinjet hurtled toward New York City, but the memories were too new and too recent. She felt raw and exposed, vulnerable.
Wolverine’s words bounced around in her head. You come home. Home. If her face hurt less she’d have rolled her eyes at the thought. The problem was home. The Avengers’ appearance today in Madripoor proved that to her. Her friends had shown up when she needed them most. Her best friend in the world was leading the charge and they were there to help.
And Jess had balked. Sure, she was tired. She was beat bloody and in a world of sleep deprived hurt. But at her weakest, she hadn’t drawn comfort from the Avengers’ arrival. They weren’t the tonic her soul craved; they were Skrull. She saw them, saw Carol running to her, and panicked. And then that watch showed green. Even after seconds of staring, she needed that green light to sear to her mind’s eye to believe it was Carol and the rest of her friends.
A wave of bitter self-loathing erupted in her chest. Her friends had come to save her, and she couldn’t accept it. And she hated herself for it.
The only thing I’m in the mood for is a break away from the world.
The team tried hard to get her to stay at the Avenger’s Tower that night. They pleaded and made every compelling argument. But Jess didn’t want to stay, she couldn’t stay. There were veiled looks of disappointment and hurt, but she insisted that she wanted to go back to her apartment, that she needed the space. I’d rather insult their hospitality than have them know my first thought is that they’re Skrull when they catch me off guard. She didn’t even want to think about the looks they’d give her if they knew that.
Besides, even if they accepted her, she knew what they saw when they looked at her. They saw a murderer, a religious fanatic. An evil empress bent on control and devastation. She wouldn’t burden them with the extra effort of remembering she was just Jessica Drew.
Jessica limped her way home, her eyes on the sidewalk, avoiding glances from passersby and glimpses of herself in shop window reflections. She knew she looked rough. She didn’t care. The weight of the last three days draped over her shoulders like a yoke, drawing her shoulders downward. A block away from her apartment, rain began to fall in sheets.
Of course it’s raining. Because it can always be worse and I attract worn out clichés like flies to shit.
Ten minutes later, Jessica shut the apartment door, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place a whisper of relief. She leaned her forehead against the door with her eyes shut. A soft drip drip drip was the only sound in the dark apartment. It didn’t bother Jess that a small puddle was forming around her. The world was shut out and despite her the lunacy of the notion, Jess felt safe.
After a while she mustered the motivation to at least warm up. She dropped her duffle bag on the floor. She bee-lined for the bathroom. She wanted a hot shower more than anything, but multiple cuts on her body ruled out the scorching heat she craved. For a moment, she regretted vacating the Avengers Tower. Among other amenities, there was excellent first aid and medical services. The bandaging on the quinjet had only been a patch job. No use thinking like that Drew. Make your bed and lie in it.
Ten minutes later had Jessica in her bedroom stiffly pulling on a worn t-shirt and sweatpants. She glanced at the edge of the bed. She’d left quickly after her meeting with Abigail Brand, stopping by her apartment long enough to pack a duffle bag. The last time she sat on that bed, she’d held her fist to her temple, a venom blast amped to full blast and ready to go. The tension of that moment was like Hawkeye’s bowstring pulled tight.
She wanted to do it. Turn those Hydra inspired powers against herself. A logical part of her brain chastised herself. She knew that she wasn’t responsible for what Veranke had done. But her face was. She’d watched the news, she’d talked to Tony. And Natasha. She talked to Reed Richards.
Immediately after the Skrull invasion, Jess had wanted to know everything. She’d been gone from the world for so long. She’d lost her powers and made a deal with the devil to get them back. Two devils, depending on your opinion of Nick Fury. Seventeen excruciating months of being unmade and pieced back together. And then captivity.
And then the betrayal. The looks on everyone’s faces when she’d stepped out that ship. They don’t know what to think. That’s what Carol had said. Carol, good and earnest Carol. The only one who saw her friend walk out of the ship and not Veranke.
But there were the other looks. The anger and hate that instantly sprang into the eyes of others when they recognized her. And the fear. The look of fear was what got to her the most. The idea that people couldn’t trust her.
Jessica walked away from her bed, and out to the living room. She wandered into the kitchen, contemplating what dishes could be concocted from the scant items in her refrigerator and pantry. There was a knock on the door. Jess glanced up from the fridge and eyed the door warily, unsure. Another knock. Slowly she approached the door. She had the beginnings of a venom blast glowing around her fist when she glanced through the peep hole. She sighed and let it dissipate.
“Open the door Jess,” came Carol Danvers’ voice through the door. Trying hard to mask her frustration, Jess undid the dead bolt and opened the door just a crack, peering out at her tall friend.
“What do you want Carol?” asked Jess. She sounded tired and exhausted even in her own ears.
“To feed you,” Carol responded, holding up a brown paper bag, “and to talk. We need to talk Jess.” Jess was torn. Carol, ever the military tactician, had planned well. She knew what Jess’s kitchen looked liked, knew Jess would need to eat. Jess wouldn’t get the food without a price.
In the end it was her stomach that betrayed her, a rumbling growl breaking the silence between them. Jess shrugged and pulled the door open, admitting Carol. Gone was the leotard and mask. She wasn’t Ms. Marvel descending from an Avengers quinjet promising a world of hurt on whoever opposed her. Here at Jess’s door, she was just Carol Danvers. She was a friend, and she was Jess’s best friend. The one person in the world who always seemed ready to welcome Jess back no matter how far away she wandered.
“You look like crap Jess. You volunteer to be a punching bag?” remarked Carol, setting down the take out, Italian, on the kitchen counter.
“More like voluntold. Turns out Skrulls like hitting me in the face.”
“Was it just the one? Not that he wasn’t a handful.” Carol was portioning out portions of lasagna onto paper plates.
“Three actually. Coincidentally the same number buildings I fell out of or got tossed out of. The first one, he uh, well he knew I was coming to visit. Dressed up like Spider-Man to meet me,” replied Jess.
“Masquerading as Peter Parker in Madripoor? Stupid idiot, everyone knows Spider-Man is a New York special.”
“Well, this one was an idiot. But that ended in a twelve story drop on an unsuspecting car hood.” She accepted a plate of food from Carol with thanks. The smell made her want to cry with relief. Jess led the way to the living room. She set her plate of food down on the small coffee table and used the remote to turn on some reruns. It was late and she liked the background noise. Carol sat next to her on the couch her right thigh pressed against Jess’s to share the small table. They sat quietly for a few moments, eating. Jess couldn’t help leaning into Carol while they ate. Carol was warm and comforting and Jess needed warmth and comfort. She was embarrassed by her reaction to Carol in Madripoor, for all she couldn't help it. She didn’t ask permission or comment on it, just ate her food quietly. Carol didn’t mention it either, and she didn’t mind.
Carol, usually self-assured and direct, was exercising a little more caution with Jess. She knew Jess was a strong and formidable warrior, one of the many things Carol loved about her. And she knew Jess was a risk taker. It came with the territory of being a superhero, an Avenger. You put your life on the line for your team, the city, the country, the world. And sometimes that means planning and executing a harebrained scheme in the context of seconds.
Madripoor was not a harebrained scheme. Madripoor was a job, with intelligence and funding. Jess could’ve had as much time as she wanted before throwing herself back into the proverbial fray of their lives. She didn’t though. From what Carol could piece together, SWORD had approached Jess and Jess had jumped. No phone calls or messages to the Avengers. Or me she thought, the slightest bit of bitterness slipped into the thought. She felt a little shame with the thought. Only a little.
Carol had a realization earlier when she descended from the sky. It was Carol’s fervor that had mobilized and moved the Avengers to Madripoor. She’d had the television on in the background while writing when the image of explosions caught her eye. How couldn’t it, with Norman Osborn running the world and the Avengers on a sort of unofficial time out while the world figured out how to adjust to the newness of everything.
But there were explosions, a Thunderbolts ship crashing, and in the midst of it all blurry images of a female in red and yellow, wild black her swirling about her as she fled the scene. Jess.
In an angry instant, she knew exactly why she was having trouble getting ahold of her best friend. A few well-placed phone calls later, and the Avengers were taking off into the sky, Norman Osborn be damned. Carol flew the quinjet as hard as it would go, balancing several emotions at once as she went. She was angry that Jess was across the world and alone, without so much as a word to anyone. (To me, Carol thought again). She was alone, and going toe-to-toe with the Thunderbolts hit squad. Carol did find humor in Jess’s ability to take the whole ship down on her own. Considering the superforces she was contending with, it was impressive. The more serious question was why in the world Jess thought getting on Norman Osborn's bad side was a good idea.
The investigations following the Skrull invasion had been extensive. Any superhuman that could be reached was interviewed. Carol knew that they'd talked to Jess the longest. It worried Carol at the time. She heard the whispers. She knew the question on the more cynical minds was how could Spider-Woman be caught unawares? As a SHIELD and HYDRA trained Avenger, how was it possible that anyone could get the drop on her. Carol, and anyone who knew Jess, knew how insane the notion that Jess was complicit in the Skrull invasion was. And yet, there were those who didn't know Jess. Those who lived in uncertainty, fear, and even hate of superhumans. They didn't see the Avengers, or the X-Men, or SHIELD or any group as a source of good. They'd called for her arrest despite exoneration of all accusations from Osborn's people.
And here was Jess months later, fleeing the scene as a Thunderbolt ship crashed into Madripoor's harbor. Carol knew that they needed to get to her before anyone else did. It was Steve's digging on the flight over that brought SWORD into their consciousness.
Of course Abigail Brand had reached out to Jess. She was just as angry, just as filled with bloodlust for the Skrull, thought Carol bitterly. She knew from her time in the military and a costume wearing enforcer that the best fighters were the ones filled with purpose born out of hurt and oppression. Sense of duty and possession of responsibility were all well and good (Peter would say that with great power comes great responsibility), but even Peter would be hard-pressed to deny that his foray into costumed crime fighting came from the catalyst of his uncle's death.
She probably feels like the most betrayed person on the planet Carol mused to herself. That makes a need for some kind of outlet.
So the Avengers went, to do what they could. Following the media chatter and police frequencies narrowed their location to a bar. Several patrons were calling in, reporting an American looking woman fighting a monster. Carol didn't pause to even think before launching herself from the quinjet.
And in her descent to the earth, she saw her. Jess. And she looked like hell. She wasn’t Spider-Woman in that moment. She was Jessica Drew, no costume. Thoroughly thrashed and world weary, losing a fight with her internal and external demons. And in that moment Carol began to realize how much stress and weight Jess was carrying around. And when Jess recoiled from her, terrified, she knew something else: she had failed her best friend.
Jess placed her fork on her plate, still leaning against Carol. Carol kept eating, watching with little interest the black and white classic playing across the screen. Jess was comfortable, but a sense of apprehension was growing in her gut and making her nervous. She knew that Carol had her cornered. More than that, she'd known for months that this eventually would happen.
"I'm ready to get this over with whenever you are," she muttered, eyes also cast over to the television. Carol set her fork down.
"Why didn't you come to me?" Carol's tone wasn't accusatory, just genuine curiosity and a little sad.
"And say what? I'm off to Madripoor to hunt escaped Skrull for SWORD?" replied Jess. She sat up a little straighter, pulling away from Carol to turn on the couch, her left side against the back so she could look at her.
"Well that would've been a good start," replied Carol. "I just don't understand your need to go galivanting off on your own without so much as a 'hey, gonna go kill stuff, catch you later'."
"And have you try and talk me out of it? It's not like you noticed I was gone until you turned on the news Carol and you know it." Accusation and hurt permeated Jessica's voice.
"If you'd keep your phone on you you'd know that's not the least bit true," said Carol quietly. "I know you've been avoiding me, and I've let you have your space. I know how necessary that it sometimes."
"Of course you do, you literally go off into space," inserted Jess. Carol ignored the quip.
"But I call you every day. I know you let it ring once or twice and then send it voicemail. But then you went to Madripoor, and I was going straight to voicemail. So I came by. You weren't home. And I couldn't find a trace of you anywhere. That's why the news was on in the first place."
"Oh," replied Jess simply. She looked down at her hands, playing with a piece of thread poking up from the worn couch.
"I wouldn't have talked you out of it Jess. I would've gone with you," said Carol. Jess knew she would've too, but that was part of the problem wasn't it. Being around the people who knew her, had seen her as the face of evil. Being around people who hadn't noticed she wasn't herself.
"It's hard for me to know that these days," replied Jess. Carol scowled.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come on Carol. You hang out at Avengers Tower more than I do. You hear the talk. You see the way I get looked at, talked about. People look at me, and they see the Wicked Witch of the West," Jess could see genuine anger cloud Carol's face and held up a hand to stop her talking, a slight wince crossing over her own face.
"Not you. You saw me and came to me. You let me hug you. You were the best thing, the most welcomed sight, after all that time away. But you couldn't see the looks on the faces behind you that day. The hate and anger, the violence. People wanted to kill me. I've never been looked at like that before. Not by -" Jess paused, letting the sentence drop off. Not by people who I love and should've known the difference. She cleared her throat and continued, "No matter what I do Carol, my face is a reminder of a very nearly successful Earth invasion."
"But it wasn't successful, and you didn't do anything," replied Carol.
"But that's just it, maybe I should've. If I'd been stronger, maybe this never would've happened," she said quietly, tentatively. She was sharing something that had been gnawing at the back of her mind.
"Jess, there were so many captured. So many replaced by the Skrull. They were going to get what they wanted no matter what," answered Carol gently. She could see the conflict unfolding in Jess's face, the anguish of an unresolved inner turmoil. But the Skrull had been crafty. They had precise in their treachery.
"But maybe I didn't need to be what they wanted. I lost my powers, you remember? And I tried life without them. And I just couldn't hack it. Couldn't hack being normal. I was Spider-Woman. I was ex-Hydra, ex-Shield. I was an Avenger. And then, I was nothing. Hydra came to me then, at my lowest. It's like they can tell. They offered me my powers back. And I knew the right thing would be to say no. But then goddamn Nick Fury says yes. Do it. Spy. He tells me it's who I'm meant to be. And I was too weak to say no to him. Too weak to accept being normal. And that's where it happened Carol," she paused and drew a deep breath, not looking at Carol. She was speaking deliberately as though this were the first time she'd articulated this particular theory. It cost her, particularly in this weakened state. Carol itched to pull her close and comfort her, but she didn't dare interrupt this rare foray into Jess's mental state.
The rain was falling in full aggression. Rumbles of thunder filled the silence. When Jess started talking again, her voice was thick.
"The Skrull had already infiltrated Hydra, already knew all about me. And it was when I was with Hydra they made the switch. Veranke had already worked out my insignificance, my need to feel important. My inability to accept a normal life. They had me pegged from a mile away and I walked right into that trap." Jess felt all the worse for voicing this conclusion of her own. Because veiled underneath the guilt of the last few months was crushing realization that she, Jessica Drew, was nothing without her powers.
Carol was quiet for a moment. This was a raw version of Jessica that in all their years of friendship she'd never really seen before. It was as though this was the culmination of every hurt Jessica had incurred since before her birth. All of it, her father's experiments, Hydra's manipulation, Nick Fury's games, all the battles. It all peaked here. It was as though Jess was trying to define herself, because someone else had taken the luxury of doing so for her.
"You didn't go back because you're weak Jess. There is nothing weak about wanting your powers back. Your powers are an intimate part of who you are. A part of your identity, not a crutch. You were born with those powers. I imagine that losing them felt like losing limb. An intimate and integral part of yourself. Do you think an amputee would give up the opportunity to have their limb back again?"
"Most amputees don't make deals with the likes of Hydra and Nick Fury," replied Jess miserably. Carol couldn't help it anymore. She grabbed Jess's left hand holding it in both of hers. Jess didn't pull away.
"Most amputees also don't shoot venom shots and glide through the air and throw cars like a baseball," answered Carol. Jess couldn't help but chuckle at this. But the humor quickly faded from her face though.
"They weren't wrong about me though. That Skrull in Madripoor, the one you met? His name was Koru Kaviti and he was one of Veranke's top Skrulls, something like fourth in command."
Carol's eyes flashed.
"You went to Madripoor to take out one of Veranke's generals alone? Jess do you have a death wish?" Jess jumped slightly at the suggestion of a death wish. Was that what this was? The answer to her own question of whether she could go on living? Was she too afraid to make the call herself and left it up to her enemies? Jess shook her head. No, if Madripoor was a death wish then fake Spider-Man would've been the answer to her prayer. Carol tugged on Jess's hand.
"Jess?" She asked, looking a little nervous, her voice tense. She needed an answer.
"Carol, the day that Agent Brand contacted me, I was in a pretty bad place. I thought about ending it. Killing myself. And I came close but I didn't. I got the note and I went to Brand. And I took the job. I had as many opportunities to die as you could hope for if death was the goal. And now that I've been there and back, I realize I don't want to die. I'm not ready to go. No matter how angry and insignificant I feel." Jess was holding her breath, worried about what Carol would say. Avengers didn't contemplate suicide. They didn't think about turning their powers against themselves.
Carol was quiet so long, Jess looked up at her. To her surprise and dismay, Carol had tears in her eyes.
"Carol, what're you doing, you're not supposed to be the one crying," she said worried, reaching out her hand and placing it on Carol's thigh.
"Oh Jess. Jess we failed you so completely. No wonder you went out their alone," replied Carol. It was Jess's turn to be confused.
"I went out there to do something, anything, than sit around here," said Jess.
"Drew, we failed you, even if you haven't said it. Because what you're not saying is that we should've known. I should've known you weren't you. But we didn't, we couldn't. Knowing the facts doesn't make reality hurt less. And then you come back. You're right, and I won't insult you by lying. I know what people say about you. I've seen how some people look at you. You're back, and you're still not you. And you live with the burden of what that monster did in your face. And we should've known. I should've known. Jess I am so sorry," said Carol. Grief weighed down her voice. They were both crying now, silent tears.
Hearing Carol state the thing she was most hurt by took the edge away from the pain. No, Carol's admission wouldn't change the opinions of others. But she felt understood, at least in part, for the first time since she stepped off that Skrull ship. And that made her feel a little less alone.
"I know it's selfish; the Skrull couldn't be detected, it's no one's fault. I just sometimes feel like the successful pilot. They switched me, they could get away with switching more," she admitted. Carol shifted on the couch, pulling her hand away from Jess and tossing her arm around Jess's shoulders, wiping her eyes with her other hand. Jess instantly turned and tucked herself into the embrace.
"It doesn't make it hurt less. And I'm sorry for something else Jess. I'm sorry for letting you go through so much of this alone. I always figured you'd be ready to talk about it in your time. But I think I was scared and maybe that was a conversation I didn't know how to start. But I should've come sooner. I know what it's like when Earth’s Mightiest Heroes fail you. Even if I was the one doing the failing, you deserved to have someone walk through it with you."
"Shut up, Ms. Marvel doesn't get scared. As I recall, Ms. Marvel can stand up to the entire Avengers," replied Jess. Carol gave a chuckle of her own.
"Now that is nonsense. I was scared then, and I was terrified today. I saw you on CNN and it was fear that got me out there so fast. I was afraid you'd get hurt and I'd lose the chance to talk to you about all this. I was afraid that I'd missed my opportunity entirely and that I'd lose you again," said Carol. Carol admitting to fear was almost too much for Jess. Carol was the confident badass who ran full tilt and head first into battle. Fear was not in the docket.
"You got there just in time. And it was quite the entrance too, all those costumes surrounding you," Jess paused here, unsure she should go on. Carol's entrance had been spectacular, she was Ms. Marvel, and flanked by legends falling from the sky. And Jess was so sure they had been Skrulls. She decided to get it all out there.
"You asked me what was wrong with me when you landed. I was sure you were Skrulls, sure you weren't Avengers. Sure you weren't my best friend. I was so sure that I panicked. I have nightmares all the time. And in them, you all become Skrulls. And you want me dead," she confessed.
"Jess, I shouldn't have waited until I was jumping out of a quinjet to tell you how significant you are to me. I should've been reassuring you every moment I could after you walked off that damn ship. And I should've spent that time reminding you who I am. How can you know I'm not a Skrull when you hardly see me?" Carol took a deep breath and continued, "You are valued. You are significant. I missed you. I love you. I never should've left you," said Carol. She stopped talking now. She could feel Jessica shaking quietly underneath her with silent tears. She hated she'd waited so long to come here, to talk to her friend, to be there for her. She could feel the sadness, the brokenness. She hated herself for staying so quiet for so long.
After what seemed like a long time, Jess spoke again, quiet but composed.
"I love you too, Carol. I'm sorry I kept you at arms-length. Just...don't leave me, please? I don't want," Jess paused again, not wanting to sound needy or stupid.
"What Jess?" Carol prompted.
"I just, I don't want to wake up in the morning and have all this be a bad dream. I can't do this again, all this mushy, gushy heart on the sleeve shit," she said, trying hard to sound offhand and casual. Carol laughed, a true genuine laugh. The sound of it brought an honest to God smile, the first in months, to Jess's face.
"I'm not going anywhere," replied Carol.
They settled into the couch, Carol reclining back on the arm with Jess cuddled in close to her. They watched more movies, choosing comedies over everything else, laughing and offering commentary. It was a closer intimacy than the two had previously enjoyed together. It wasn't awkward. More than anything, it felt right. The air was clear between them, and it seemed that the stress of the last few months had been the only thing between them. Jess enjoyed the feeling of being held by her best friend. She felt safe, and something else. Something she couldn't entirely identify and was too tired to really work out.
A few hours later Jess drifted off to sleep, Carol dozing too. It was Carol who woke first. She was confused at first by the pressure of Jess's body on top of hers, taking a moment to remember where she was and who she was with. Confusion quickly turned to concern when she realized Jess was shaking and muttering in her sleep. She felt Jess's flex and relax randomly. She shook her head slightly.
"Jess?" Carol whispered. Jess gave no response, but began to groan and grit her teeth. It was obvious whatever dream held her mind captive was causing her distress. Carol, seeing quite enough, placed a hand on Jess's back and shook her, repeating her name.
All of sudden, Jess let out a strangled cry, thrashing backward, pushing up and away from Carol. She drew her right arm back and it began to glow and mist green. A venom blast. Shit.
"Jess, wake up, it's me, it's me, it's Carol!" Carol shouted, reaching up to grab Jess's wrist before it descended and killed her. Close range and Jess in a blind panic would be bad news for Carol, Ms. Marvel or no. She could’ve blasted Jess backward, but she didn’t want to hurt her or trigger a response.
"NO!" Screamed Jess, her eyes snapping open, but not seeing. Carol smacked the side of Jess’s neck firmly leaving it in place. Jess conscious and Carol at full strength, the blow would've knocked Jess out. In her current state, and much to Carol's relief, it had the desired result, that was, shocking Jess's body into wakefulness. Just enough pain to spark reorientation.
At first, Jess only stared. The venom blast was still ready to fire, her body taught, and pouring sweat, eyes fixed on Carol as though she didn’t believe what she was seeing.
"Jess, it was just a dream. Look at me. Just a dream. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. I’ve got you,” said Carol, calmly and slowly. Carol’s hand was still in place on Jess’s neck, her thumb gently stroking her jaw line. Slowly, she could feel the tension leave Jess’s body. The green of the venom blast dissipated and eventually was gone. Her arm dropped limply to her side. She looked at Carol, really seeing her. Then the tears came.
Carol pulled Jess down to her, brushing her hair back away from her face. Jess wept bitterly into Carol’s shoulder, truly, gracelessly, and finally falling apart. This wasn’t the silent understanding cry that was the result of too many unsaid emotions and thoughts finally come to surface. This cry was the bitter, agonizing, soul wrenching, and mind numbing. It was the manifestation of every bit of anger, hate, fear, and loneliness Jess had stored up.
Looking back on the night, Jess would realize that if Carol hadn’t been there to metaphorically catch her, she’d have woken up alone and afraid and frustrated and let it keep her up for nights later. And she’d have found another Madripoor to go to again. Alone, to hunt. To punch things and be punched. And the cycle would be unbroken.
But Carol was there, reminding her that there were different ways to handle her hurt. Carol held her through it, whispering reassurances. Jess’s sobs subsided into nothingness, and eventually slowed to deep breathing. Carol shifted to free herself from Jess’s weight and then scooped her into her arms, carrying her to the bedroom. One of the pluses of superpowers, she thought to herself. She pulled the covers back and laid Jess down. She went to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth to clean Jess’s face. That done, she made to straighten up and edge away back to the couch, but Jess reached out and caught one of her hands.
“Stay.”
Carol conceded, crawling into the bed with her, laying so they faced each other. Jess was groggy, nearing the edge of deep sleep when she pulled Carol close. She kissed Carol’s mouth softly, briefly, too briefly for Carol to decide what to do. Carol stared into her green eyes, and watched sleep make the lids heavy, and finally Jess slept. And it was the first true, long uninterrupted sleep she’d had in years.
Carol stayed awake watching Jess that night for a long time. She memorized the curves of her cheekbones, her lips, her brows. Her face that looked for the first time peaceful. And she thought about that kiss. Carol chastised herself for daring to hope, daring to read more into what the moment meant. Jess was sleepy and riding an emotional tidal wave. It didn’t do to read into such things. Yet Carol, the incorrigible optimist, kept a small slice of hope to herself to save for another rainy day.