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The ship is crowded with three of them in it. Kamala is sitting in the cockpit, alternately gazing out at the starts and puzzling out the controls. Carol has been very clear with her that she should Not. Touch. Anything.
Monica is sitting at the computer console, doing some calculations Carol can’t fathom the utility of. Carol watches her for a minute, allowing herself a small, brief, private smile over the fact that Monica scrunches her forehead over quantum mechanics the same way she did when she was learning to write her numbers.
The thought brings other memories to mind, sweet, soft thoughts of Monica and Maria and the family they made together. But as always, memories lead to painful chasms in Carol’s mind. Fundamental elements of the woman she was hover, shadowlike, taunting her from the corners of her consciousness. Carol knows she loved and was loved, but she does not remember it but only feels the ache of what was lost.
Carol needs to be alone.
“I’m going out.”
As she turns to leave she catches a brief flare of anger in Monica’s eyes. Monica quickly shuts it down, but Carol knows why it’s there. It’s absolutely true that she’s always leaving. And rarely coming back. Enough time has passed to know that this is not only an issue for Monica, it’s a character trait. Carol is steadfast and Carol is loyal. Carol is strong and Carol is brave to the point of foolhardy. And Carol is reliably unreliable.
Kamala turns around, a question in her eyes. Carol hastens to reassure them both.
“Just gotta uh…check something out there. Housings come loose all the time… I’ll be right back.”
Carol isn’t used to having to explain her presence or absence to anyone. There is rarely anyone around to explain to. This realization makes Carol feel worse, a lot worse. She suits up and heads out the airlock quickly, before anyone can ask anything.
The emptiness of the cosmos is a familiar absence. Carol lays back on nothing and lets the vast silence of space enfold her. After a moment she takes care to position herself at the far side of the ship, away from any windows Monica or Kamala might decide to peer out from. She can’t exactly cry in a vacuum, but she’s close. Her heart is racing, her throat is dry, her eyes blink rapidly at the anticipation of tears. What kind of hero can she be if they see her like this?
She closes her eyes and tries to meditate but it’s useless. The events of the past 24 hours have disordered her thoughts past the point of calm being an option right now. Unexpectedly and repeatedly switching locations with two other people is one thing. But it was Monica’s presence that had her reeling. Monica is brilliant, capable, healthy…empowered, literally. Monica is absolutely perfect, a bright echo of her mother’s glow. Carol is incredibly proud. And Carol is a mess. Her reasons for leaving Maria and Monica all those years ago make less sense than ever. She hadn’t saved everyone and come home a hero. She had simply, repeatedly, always fucked up.
Carol’s communicator sounds a low tone - incoming communication. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now and lets it ring until it trails into silence. But in a moment, the tone sounds again. Carol knows who it must be, and she answers.
“Marv?”
Carol is shocked by how glad she is to hear Valkyrie’s voice. She lets out a strange sound that is part sob, part sigh, part laughter.
It must sound strange across the comms, across the galaxy too. “Marv, are you alright?”
Carol sniffs and clears her throat. “Yeah. Yes. Glad to hear from you. The Skrulls are settled?”
“Of course.” Valkyrie replied. “I’ve seen to it that they have comfortable accommodations. I’m meeting with their leaders tomorrow on further planning. But for now, they are safe and resting.”
“Thank you.” Carol says, and knows it’s not nearly enough. Valkyrie came on literally a moment's notice. She brought dozens of Skrulls to New Asgard, taking on the risk of Kree retaliation. Val protected all New Asgardians with her life, and she just increased that responsibility a hundredfold. Thanks weren’t nearly enough.
“I told you, Marv. My sword is yours…My home is yours...” Valkyrie trailed off.
Carol struggles to come up with a response. She always does when Val is being noble, sincere, and incredibly sweet at the same time.
Val saves her from herself, yet again. “You don’t have to say anything, Carol.”
Carol closes her eyes and spins slowly in the infinite endlessness of space.
“Keep talking, Val?” Carol asks. Her voice comes out hoarse and small. No one else hears this version of Carol these days. Very few people ever have.
“Ok, Marv. You got it…I know you must be exhausted. I’m sure this switching is taking a lot out of you, physically and mentally. And of course you haven’t seen Monica in decades…”
Carol keeps her eyes closed; Valkyrie’s voice in her ear is only anchor to anything beyond emptiness. Slowly, she feels her heartrate return to a normal pace.
“...knew that she was doing well all these years.. You knew Maria was an amazing mother all on her own.”
“I should have stayed.” Carol’s voice is still small, but clear and firm on this point.
Val sighs. “You did what you thought was right.”
“Sure.” Carol slows her spin and floated to the top of the ship. Toward the rear of the Hoopty there is a wide flat panel she often uses for sitting and thinking. She maneuvers her way there and lowers herself down to sit atop the craft. “My only problem is I’m always wrong about what’s right.”
Val chuckles.
“No, Marv. You have a very finely calibrated sense of right and wrong. You always do what you think is right… at the moment. You just don’t think very far into the future.”
“Some people call that reckless.” Carol responds.
But Val continues, “...that’s one of the things I love about you. You’re always firmly rooted in the present moment. As someone who has been alive for millenia, I find your insistence on immediacy quite refreshing.”
Carol grins. She is ready to be done with the serious chat for the moment, and Val has given her an intriguing route for a conversational segue.
“So that’s just one of the things you love about me? There are others?”
“I could say something about my penchant for you in cropped tank tops right now, but I’m not entertaining this conversation when there’s the possibility that you’ll suddenly teleport out of it." Val pauses. "Or worse, that someone else could suddenly teleport into it.”
Carol frowns, but she concedes the point. “Fine, another time. Gives you time to think up a whole list of things you love about me.”
“Come to New Asgaard soon.” Valkyrie says, “I’ll whisper the whole list directly into your ear.”
“I like this plan. I like it a lot.” Carol leans back onto her hands. Her whole body is relaxed now. She feels loose and lucid.
"Til we meet again, Marv.”
The slight hiss of the active comms link fades as Val signs off. The vastness of space settles around Carol once again - silent but not solitary.