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Carol woke slowly.
(In this case, it is important that ‘slowly’ not be mistaken as a synonym for ‘peacefully.’ Consider, instead, the way that your senses individually register that something is Very Wrong before your brain consciously deduces that you’ve just run barefoot through a pile of dog shit.
It is not a good ‘slowly.’)
So slowly, in fact, that, by the time she managed to peel her eyes open, she’d gathered quite a bit of information about her current situation. The low-pitched hum that surrounded her and the gentle vibration that ran through her made it clear that she was in a car. There was a dry, stiflingly hot breeze hitting her directly in the face, making her think that she was likely closer than the West coast than the East. The lack of burning in her lungs despite the fact that she’d been breathing in unfiltered air for some time told her that they were some ways away from a big city. Alanis Morissette's somewhat-muted (but very distinctive) angry shouting assaulting her ears meant that she was with Jess. Best of all, the familiar jackhammering in her head, coupled with the heavy discomfort of vomit-flavored cottonmouth had her concluding that she was no longer on the wagon.
Shit.
She cracked one eye open slowly, grateful to see that she was wearing sunglasses, and had at least some protection from the oppressive sunshine beating down on them. Wait, were they in a convertible? Those were still a thing?
“Jagged Little Pill? Really? Did I piss you off that much?” Carol husked out, sitting up a little in her seat as she shifted to face Jess. Her head spun a bit at the motion, but she ignored it. It would pass.
Jess turned to her, dark eyebrows furrowed behind a pair of black Wayfarers as she looked Carol over. After a moment, she scoffed, turning her gaze back to the road. “Don’t flatter yourself. My iTunes is on shuffle; that song coming up at this exact moment was a coincidence.” She paused, then; long enough that anyone else would think that she was done, and the subject was closed. Carol just waited. “That, or Siri thinks you’re just as much of an idiot as I do and wants you to suffer.”
There it was. Sighing, Carol ran a hand through her short hair and settled back into her seat. When the silence became too much, Carol bit the bullet. “Jess—"
“No. Shut up for a second.” She replied sharply, not shifting her gaze from the road.
Carol tilted her head at that, confused. With the exception of when they were post-battle and simply too tired to do anything but stare at the TV in a half-conscious stupor, the two of them were never ones for silence. If one wasn’t doing the talking, the other took it as their cue to start. Especially Jess. Neither one of them tolerated long pauses in conversation for long, but Jess was the worst of two by far. So, if Carol had already begun to grow uncomfortable in the silence, Jess insisting it continue meant that she was either really pissed, or something was up. “Listen, I was just going to—”
“Shut up, Carol.” Jess said, exasperated. This time Carol complied.
True to form, though, Jess lasted only another thirty seconds or so before she was speaking. “I’m angry with you.”
Raising her eyebrows, Carol waited a moment before replying. “…Yeah. I got that.”
“Like, really pissed.”
“Still clear, Jess, thanks.” Carol said flatly, feeling her misery more acutely.
Jess shook her head, wanting Carol to get what she was saying. “But I’m trying not to be.”
At that, Carol’s brows furrowed. That was weird. She was sure that some people had friendships where they never judged each other, and minced words, and solved problems via open, soft-spoken communication (people that she already hated because no one worth liking behaved that way toward someone they loved), but that was not her and Jess. Yelling was how they communicated when one or both of them was being a dumbass. And if one of them was only half-conscious, or concussed, or rendered mute, somehow? Even better. One got the yelling out then, and the other could work up to it when they were feeling better. So, trying to not be angry when there was not only cause, but when there would be no pushback? Definitely not their jam.
Carol’s reply was skeptical. “Okay. Why?”
There was another brief silence as Jess took a deep breath, moving one hand from the wheel so that it could rest on her thigh. The opening chords of Hand in My Pocket started, and Carol absently groaned, vowing to expand Jess’ music tastes even as she waited for her friend to speak. “Because I love you, and you have a problem, and it’s hard to have a real, productive conversation when I want to punt you into the sun.” The fact that she didn’t mention how unfair it was that that was something that Carol could actually, feasibly do was a testament to just how seriously Jess was taking this. “And I know it’s always worked for us. The yelling. But this is different. We’re older, and calmer at times, arguably, and you’ve been sober for so long—” She sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. “I read this article in Psychology Today—”
Carol barked out a laugh, surprising herself. “I thought you were going to cancel that subscription?”
“I thought so, too, but what would that accomplish? Stark gets a partial refund, pats himself on the back for a successful practical joke, and I get nothing. Like hell.” She moved her other hand back up to the steering wheel, squeezing tightly. “No. Not only am I keeping the subscription, I’m reading every article, finding the ones that apply to him, and starting up a discussion about a different one with a different Avenger until every single one of them knows what modern science has to say about his issues.” Jess was almost always grumpy, but never had Carol seen her scowl so close to resembling ‘grumpy toddler.’ “Maybe then he’ll learn the dangers of being a jackass.”
“…Babe.” Carol said softly, resting a hand on Jess’ shoulder, more amused than concerned.
“What? I hate him.” Jess replied petulantly.
Yep. Grumpy toddler. Carol really wanted to pinch her cheek, but she knew better. Not the time.
“Anyway, I read that article, and I was thinking that maybe we just… let it go.” Her tone was uncertain, but hopeful. She really wanted this to work.
Again, Carol was skeptical. “I appreciate that you don’t want to be angry with me, but I’m not naïve, Jess.” She dropped her hand from Jess’ shoulder and back into her lap, lacing her fingers together tightly. “I remember absolutely nothing about last night, which means that my blood alcohol level had to be well into the triple digits. And as much as I’m hoping I didn’t cause any scenes, I can’t help but notice that we’re in… Arizona?”
“New Mexico.”
“Right. Closer to Las Vegas than Jersey City, which is a huge problem when the last thing I remember is flying over the Brooklyn Bridge. I think it’s safe to say that you didn’t wait for me to pass out and then fly me cross country, which means that something happened, I came here, and then got so drunk I blacked out. Unless I got drunk first, which is even worse. Either way, Jess, I-” she stopped when her voice cracked, her mouth too dry to hold on through the rest of that thought. She swallowed, and then tried again. “I really fucked up. I’m clearly not okay.” Her stomach churned then, nausea mixing with anxiety as she considered the black hole that was her memory of the previous night.What could have been so bad that this was where she’d ended up? God, did she even want to know?
“I know, Carol. Better than you, even, given that I actually remember it.” Any other time, comment like that would have come across with a bite - something Carol was meant to feel. Right now, though, Jess just sounded tired. “And the thing is that relapses happen. They just do. I’m not even going to ask if you plan to keep going to meetings, because I know you do. Do you really think this one incident means you need to go to rehab? Because I don’t. What I think is that we need to treat the symptoms.” She nodded to herself, somehow getting more serious as she laid out her plan. Carol was impressed at how well-adjusted she sounded. Maybe Jess should have started reading Psychology Today years ago, when there was an actual chance that the two of them could be anything less than the hottest of messes. “The fact is that it came to a boiling point. Half the team left to take their yearly mid-life crisis induced sabbatical, the half that replaced them are so green that I seriously think you might need to think about instituting a mandatory nap time, and the ones that are left are just pissed. All the time. At themselves, at you, at each other – just pissed. It’s too much. It’s all too much. No wonder you imploded.”
She had a point. It had been bad. Carol had been convinced that she just needed to keep going and give it time – allow the team to heal itself, and then take a break. But being the leader when things were so unstable and emotionally fraught really had begun to take its toll. Even without knowing what exactly had triggered her relapse, she was willing to bet that it wasn’t even a serious issue. She was strong enough (now) to admit that she was one poorly-timed sneeze away from a breakdown.
(At least, she noted, it had been internal and not the opposite. “Captain Marvel Breaks” was practically a synonym for “Global Crisis Unfolds,” and that really wouldn’t have helped with her stress.)
“Does this mean that you’re cutting your own mid-life crisis short?”
“Okay, first off: ’Mid-life’ my ass. My shapely, muscular ass. My shapely, muscular ass, and my gravity-defying, perky boobs.” Jess said pointedly, one eyebrow raised in warning as she looked to her friend. “Second, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I thought the PI thing was working, but—”
She cut herself off with a sigh, shaking her head slightly. The but you need me wasn’t said, but Carol heard it anyway. She couldn’t decide if she was selfless enough to mention it. Probably not. Not right now, at least.
”Whatever. We’ll deal with my problems later; right now we’re dealing with yours. Treating the symptoms, remember? Symptom one: Superhero Burnout. ” Jess said, tapping the steering wheel with her palm a few times as she redirected the conversation. “Treatment? Forced relaxation. We’re taking a road trip. We’re leaving behind the 9 to 5 grind in our slow but reliable car, and we’re going to clear our heads on the open road. We’ll worry about everything else later. Let the men deal with the stock broking, and we’ll clean up their messes when we get back.”
“…Did you hate watch Working Girl again?” Carol said with a smirk, knowing that Jess would take the apparent subject change as her acquiescence to the plan. She doubted that a road trip was going to keep her from backsliding, but a few weeks detached from reality still seemed like a good idea.
”…It was TBS’ fault. Who airs that trash at 3AM? No respect for the sleep impaired.”
“Why don't you quit bitching and just get a Hulu subs-” She cut herself off with a groan, distracted as the chorus of Ironic pumped in through through the speakers. Shuffle her ass. “Why are you like this?” Ugh. Was it her imagination, or was her headache getting worse?
“Psychology Today says that learning to tolerate discomfort in an unchangeable environment is an important step toward contentment.” Jess said, not even attempting to sound sincere. “We’re going to shine up your mental health so much, it’s going to be as sparkly as your fists, Princess.” Once a terrorist, always a terrorist.
Appropriately, Carol responded by thumping Jess on the temple. The responding ‘Ow! What the fuck, Carol!’ made the nausea that came with the sudden swerving of the car totally worth it. “Maybe focus on your driving first, Sticky Hands.” she said, laughing as she did her best to dodge Jess’ wildly attacking hand.
Roadtrip therapy. Yeah, okay. This would work.