I'll never understand Monica. I mean, Carol's obviously her mother –please, Maria and Carol are so gay– and she just smiles and waves her goodbye, not knowing when or if she'll be back. So, this is my take in the scene and how it would've played out if Monica were more like me.
"I'll help you find a home."
Monica freezes, her muscles locking and contracting beneath her skin. Signe gives her a concerned look, but Monica ignores her. No, she can't go. They just got her back, she can't leave them. She opens her mouth, breathes deep. It's ok, she can fix this.
"They can stay here with us, can't they, Mom?" she tries her hardest to conceal the tremble in her voice. She rises from the steps and goes to Maria. Her mother gives her a sad look and Monica can't tell if it's because she's heard the fear in her question or if she's sad to see their new friends go too.
"They won't be safe here, baby." She draws her to her and settles her in her lap, hugging her around her waist. "Auntie Carol's right, they need their own home."
In a last desperate effort, Monica looks at Auntie Carol –god, how she hates to call her that– and pleads with her eyes. Don't go, Mama. Don't leave me.
"I'll be back before you know it."
Liar, she wants to scream. That's what you said last time and Mommy told me you were never coming back. LIAR, LIAR, LIAR.
But she doesn't say anything of the sort and decides to enjoy the way her Mama teases Nick. God, she's missed her so much and she can't even tell her because this isn't really her Mama, at least that's what Mom told her.
She doesn't remember us, baby. And we can't make her remember, it has to come back on its own. Just… call her Auntie Carol for the time being, just like you used to do at the base.
When it's time to say goodbye, Monica stays in her room, Carol's jacket clutched in her hands and draped over her lap. She traces the embroidered Avenger over the back, her eyes watering before she sniffles and scrubs harshly at her eyes. She raises the leather to her face and presses it to her cheek, sniffling again when instead of a whiff of Carol all she gets is detergent.
"Monica?" she looks up and her wide eyes lock onto her mother's form. Maria sighs and steps inside, taking a seat next to Monica and draping a warm arm around her small shoulders. Monica sobs and buries her face into the leather.
"I don't want her to go." She whimpers, voice weak and cracking. Maria's arm tightens around her and Monica feels her press a kiss to her scrunched up brow.
"I know, baby, me neither. But she has to go." Monica breaks away, clutching the jacket to tight her knuckles turn white, and she turns to her mother, tears, and snot streaming down her face.
"Why?! Why does she have to leave us?!" she sobs, coughing brokenly and breathing through her mouth, her nose too clogged up to be of any use. "Why can't she stay with us?! Doesn't she love us anymore?!"
"Monica! What are you saying? Of course she does!"
"Does she?! Because she doesn't remember you!" both Maria and them as a couple. Her mother sucks in a sharp breath and Monica feels the twist of regret in her belly. She ignores it. "She doesn't remember me! She doesn't remember our family!"
She doesn't wait for Maria to answer. She runs out of her room, down the stairs and out of the house, hoping to go to her grandparent's and let Grandma cuddle her close and Grandpa sing to her. She doesn't get far though. Carol's still waiting in the lawn and the smile on her face fades when she sees her.
"Lieutenant Trouble?" Monica ignores her and turns to the road, the jacket still clutched to her chest. This is the only thing that's left from her Mama; she's not letting it go. "Hey, LT, what's–" Carol grabs her arm and something in Monica snaps.
"Don't call me that!" she whips around, slapping the hand away and doesn't let herself feel sorry for the hurt look in the woman's eyes. "You're not my Mama!"
She looks down, squeezing her eyes tightly as her mind flashes. She sees the late nights snuggled over a blanket and beneath the stars, listening to the stories behind every constellation. She sees the early mornings in the kitchen, her Mom and her Mama dancing to the music coming from the radio and the smell of pancakes sweet in the air. She remembers the sad smile her Mama had given her that morning, I'll be back in a couple of hours, LT.
"You're not my Mama…" she whimpers. She opens her eyes and stares at the embroidered letters. Carol 'Avenger' Danvers. She drops the leather jacket like it's acid and stumbles a couple of steps back. "Leave… take it and don't come back."
And with that she runs away, her small form fading into the dark.
When she gets to her grandparent's home, she's muddy, cold and exhausted. She presses the bell with a trembling finger and waits for a full minute before ringing again. She scratches at the patches of mud in her arms and rings the bell once more, keeping the finger on it for almost five seconds. Finally, she hears something at the other side and a few moments later her grandmother appears, a glare in her eyes that immediately drops when she sees Monica standing there.
"Monica?"
The little girl sobs and falls into the elderly woman's arms. Her grandmother hugs her tightly, moving her inside the house so she can close the door and then spends the next fifteen minutes cradling her granddaughter close to her chest. Monica's grandfather appears somewhere in between and after sending a worried look towards the girl; he goes into the kitchen to prepare hot cocoa.
Thankfully, they don't ask anything. Twenty minutes after her arrival, her grandmother guides her up the stairs and into the bathroom so she can shower and change. She lets herself enjoy the warm spray of the water wash away the mud to reveal small scrapes and a bruise in her knee. She scrubs down and leaves her hair untouched, dripping with water that rolls down her back and to the tiled floor.
When she exits the shower she towels herself dry and squeezes the water out of her hair before putting on the PJs Grandma left her. As she descends the stairs, she hears voices coming from the kitchen.
"– calm down, Maria. She's fine, ok? You have to calm down and breathe, child… She was a little muddy and shaken… Maria, if you come here now you'll only make it worse… Yes, I do know because she's your daughter and you did the exact same thing once at her age. Just let her cool down and come pick her up tomorrow… I'll tell her, don't fret. See ya tomorrow, ok? ... Love ya too."
Monica descends the last steps silently and slips into the kitchen, taking the steaming mug of cocoa from the table and blowing into it before taking a sip. She lets the heat spread through her body before taking a seat in the table, next to her Grandma and across from her Grandpa.
"You feeling better?" he asks, reaching a hand across the small table and setting it palm-up next to her own. Monica takes it and gives the withered fingers a small squeeze. Breathing in deep, she nods.
"You want to talk about it?" asks her grandmother this time and Monica hesitates for a second before taking a deep breath and deciding to tell them. She's always felt better after letting it all out and it's not like her grandparents don't know about Carol. She's not really been discreet about her powers.
"Mama's leaving again." She murmurs, voice weak and defeated. "She's leaving us, and this time it's her fault." she feels her lip begin to tremble and she bites it down. She remembers when Maria had told her Carol was never coming back, how she'd told her that it wasn't Mama's fault, that it had been an accident. This time there's no accident taking her away, she's leaving willingly.
"What do you mean, 'she's leaving'?" asks her grandpa, voice disbelieving.
"She's going away!" she shouts, throwing her arms out and almost knocking her cup over in the process. " 'Hi, LT, I don't remember that I'm your mother but I act and talk like her and now I'm going to leave you again without considering how that will make you feel' " mocks Monica, but the effect is ruined by the crack in her voice and the tears silently rolling down her cheeks.
"Oh, sweetheart…" a warm hand reaches over but Monica flinches away. "Baby, I know it's hard, but–"
"You don't know anything!" she glares at both of them, unsure to whom she's speaking to. "There's a stranger at home, and she looks like Mama, talks and acts like Mama, but she's not her!" she sobs, raking her fingers through her still damp hair. "She's not her! That woman's not my mother and I don't know if she'll ever come back!" she looks at the blurry blob that is her grandmother and then at the one that's her grandfather. "I just want my mother back…"
There's a tense silence after that as Monica calms down, wills away her tears and slows down her breathing. She carefully takes the cup back into her hands, takes a sip from the now lukewarm cocoa before setting it back on the table.
"Thank you for the cocoa, Grandpa. I'll go to bed now, sorry for waking you up."
And with that, she goes up to her room and tries to sleep.
Easier said than done.
She's barely got two hours of restless sleep when the sun starts peeking into her room, hot rays coming in from the window. Monica rolls over to her other side and curls into herself until she's a tight, little ball. She can hear her grandparents downstairs, probably making breakfast. She closes her eyes again, a lone tear escaping and rolling down to the pillow. She yearns for the smell of burnt pancakes and the sound of Mom chastising Mama and Mama laughing and silencing her with kisses. She lets the memory lull her into an almost sleep, in a place where her Mama won't ever leave her and they'll always be together.
Inside her little protective dream, she hears the sound of the front door opening and hurried steps against the hardwood floor. She hears voices, her grandma and her Mom talking and then people going up the stairs. She hears the squeak the hinges make as someone opens the door of her room and the careful steps they take to the bed. A warm hand caresses her cheek and Monica relaxes under the touch. She can see her Mama, one hand pointing up at the stars and the other one wrapped around her to keep her warm, her Mom yelling at them to get their butts inside.
She feels someone picking her up, cradling her close and she sleepily wraps both arms and legs around them. The same warm hand settles over her head and Monica nuzzles close to their neck, her nose and mouth pressed to the skin there. Engine oil, cinnamon and sunshine. Home.
"Mama…" she whimpers. She sees her blonde curls straightened back in a harsh bun. She hates it, her Mama is wild and free. She hears her laugh and feels her press playful kisses all over her face as her strong hands sneak to her tummy and tickle.
"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere." She hears, a whisper against her ear before a kiss is pressed to her temple. "I'm right here…"
When Monica wakes up, she's draped over a warm and lumpy pillow. The radio is on somewhere in the house and it's playing Kiss Me Deadly. Her mothers loved that song and she used to hear them sing it every morning as they made breakfast. She misses those days, waking up to Mama jumping into her bed and then helping her wake Mommy with kisses and tickles. Dancing on top of the table and giggling like crazy when one of them snatched her off and twirled her around.
Her eyes water and she presses her face into the pillow. It grunts and shifts, arms coming up around her and a nose pressing into her hair as it turns and she slides from the pillow to the bed. A lock of blonde hair comes into her line of vision and she can feel her heart pound in her ears. Slowly, she raises her eyes and she can feel them filling up once again. Strong jaw, sharp nose, thin brows and wild, disheveled golden hair. Mama.
Monica takes her in, almost afraid to believe she's real. Carol sleeps undisturbed by the girl's stare, her chest rising and falling steadily. Monica looks down, takes in the Guns N' Roses t-shirt and jeans she's wearing instead of her suit. She touches the skull printed on the middle and remembers when she used to steal it from the pile of clothes her Mama was going to put on when she got out of the shower, the laughter as they ran around, Carol chasing her in pants and bra.
Carol shifts again and grumbles. Monica panics, she closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. A few seconds later, Carol is yawning herself awake, taking one arm from around Monica to scrub the sleep from her eyes. Monica stays still, concentrating on maintaining her breathing smooth and her eyelids relaxed. She feels a warm hand smoothing her hair away from her face and then the same fingers caressing her cheek. Her breath hitches and Carol shushes her.
"Shh, baby, it's ok. Sleep now." Warm lips pressed to her forehead and then she's gone. Monica shivers, suddenly cold. Carol drapes a blanket over her and presses one last kiss to her cheek before leaving the room.
Monica listens as her steps fade down the stairs and she waits for an extra minute to make sure she's gone before she opens her eyes and surveys the room. She's in her mother's bedroom, she can see the picture of the three of them on the nightstand from her spot in the middle of the bed. They're happy, a five-year-old Monica grinning brightly at the camera while both women press smiling kisses to her cheeks, Carol to the right and Maria to the left. Sucking in a deep breath, she gets up from the bed and tiptoes to the door, peeking through the crack. Her mother's room is closest to the stairs than hers, so now that she's practically outside she can hear what Carol and Maria are saying.
"–should go, they're waiting for me."
"Carol, no. Stay, at least until she wakes up."
Carol scoffs and then snorts. "Please, you heard what she said, she doesn't want me here."
"But she does! She wants her Mama and she's back!" Monica's breath gets caught in her throat and her heart pounds so hard she can feel the beat on the tips of her fingers. What…?
"I don't deserve it, Maria. I don't deserve you and I definitely don't deserve her."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You spent six years waiting for me to come back to you and where was I, huh? I was out there, killing innocents and not caring one bit. I don't deserve a family, Maria. I have to go out there and pour my soul to help these people find a home."
"What are you saying? That you're never coming back?"
No. Nonononono.
Eyes watering for the thousandth time in two days, Monica shakes her head as she yanks the door open and runs down the stairs, tripping on the last one and almost falling onto her face before she rights herself and barrels into the kitchen. Her mothers look up, eyes wide and surprised.
"Mama…" she whimpers, cold tears making trails down her face. Carol gets up from her seat at the table, her eyes darkening with worry.
"Monica, what–?" she doesn't let her finish. With a heartbreaking sob, Monica launches herself to Carol, only giving the woman enough time to brace herself and catch her.
"I'm sorry, Mama! Please don't leave, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she's crying in earnest now, tears and snot everywhere. Carol cradles her close to her chest as if she were a child, one arm beneath her thighs and the other one around her back, warm hand pressed between her shoulder blades. "Please don't leave! I didn't mean it– I didn't mean it, I promise!" her smaller hands fist around the black shirt, pulling the cloth taut. She can feel Carol tremble and press her face into Monica's wild hair.
"I'm here, LT, I'm right here." She murmurs, voice close to her ear. A few moments pass and then Maria's there too, her arms enveloping both Monica and Carol. The blonde shifts, leaning more on Maria and tightening her hold on the girl sniffling in her arms. "I'm home."
In the end, Carol has to leave, help the Skrulls find a home. But it's alright because she promises Monica to come back as soon as she can. With Talos' help, she makes a little communicator, more advanced than Fury's so they'll be able to record messages and keep in touch. The three of them spend their last night together cuddled in bed, Monica draped over Carol and Maria glued to her side, one arm thrown over Monica's back.
"Mama?" murmurs the girl after a few minutes of silence. Carol hums and caresses a hand down her brown curls before settling on her back, fingers lacing with Maria's. "How did you get your memories back?" Monica vibrates with Carol's chuckle.
"Well, you called me 'Mama', and that brought half of them back."
"What about the other half?" she looks up, eyes settling on the dopey grin her Mama sends to her Mom.
"Your mother kissed me." They press their foreheads together before kissing once again. Monica 'eww's and covers her eyes but she's smiling as if it were Christmas. She finally has her Mama back and her Mom is smiling once again. What more could she ask?
BONUS:
Monica is the first one out of her desk when the final bell rings, not even stopping by her locker to drop her books off in her haste to leave the school grounds. Today's Friday, and that means that Carol will be calling. Not just text or audio messages like every day of the week but actual calling, with a mini hologram version of her and everything.
However, as she races down the entrance steps and rounds the building, instead of Maria waiting inside of her car she sees a mop of blonde and a devilish smirk beneath a pair of aviators. Monica squeals and sprints towards her.
"Auntie Carol!" she screeches, jumping right into her strong arms and gigging as they twirl. Carol peppers kisses over her cheeks and Monica is so happy that she just laughs and relishes in the affection, not caring one bit about seeming cool in front of her peers. She hasn't seen her mother in half a year, she's allowed to receive some lovings. "I missed you, Mama." She whispers, pressing her face into her neck and breathing her in.
"I missed you too, Trouble." She murmurs back, pressing one last kiss to her cheek before setting her down. They're drawing some attention now, and that's not something Carol appreciates. Taking her daughter's hand, Carol starts walking towards their home out in the countryside. "So, what's new?"
"Not much really… oh, wait! I'm participating in a science fair in a few weeks!" Monica grins up at her mother, their laced hands swinging between them.
"Really, now? What are you gonna make?" Carol's eyes shine with pride, happy to see that their little girl takes after Maria and not whoever the girl's biological father is. Monica's never asked about him and Carol's happy about it, she really doesn't want to think about those days. Besides, it's not like she knows his name. She even thinks Maria doesn't know his name. In the end, he'd been nothing more than a sperm donor.
"I can't decide: I'm between a small replica of a cool aircraft or an ant farm that glows in the dark. And I don't really know how to make either, so…."
There's a brief silence as Carol pounders her answer. Both ideas are cool and she could even help with a short trip, either to Seerion for some glowing sand or to Xandar for a small reactor that will make the little plane fly as if it were real. They could even make either into a family trip.
"Tell you what, decide and then tell me." She grins mischievously and winks at the child. "I'm gonna help you make it awesome."
Monica's happy squeal echoes through the street, drawing attention from the other pedestrians. Carol can't find it in herself to care.
When they reach the outskirts, Carol picks Monica up and flies the rest of the way, doing small loops in the air to make the girl laugh harder. They land softly on the back yard, hair wild and windswept. Maria is waiting by the porch, arms crossed and shaking her head. Her amused smile shatters the illusion and she opens her arms to hug first her daughter, who skips up the stairs and talks a mile a minute about her ideas for the science fair, and then her girlfriend, pressing a kiss to her cheek before reaching her lips. They stay like that for a while, relishing in their closeness, until Monica gags.
"Gross!" she mock-shudders and her mothers break away, laughing at their little girl. They swoop in, taking her from the ground and drowning her in kisses, one pair of hands holding her still while the other tickles her sides. She screeches like a banshee, laughing and laughing and laughing and Carol's never felt so blessed.
They settle outside, Carol helping Monica with her homework while Maria works on a tractor the local farmer had dropped over for a quick fix earlier that day. They have the radio on, the music washing over them and the almost inaudible song of the cicadas.
"Mama," starts Monica after a few minutes of silence. Carol hums, taking her eyes from the book she's been reading while Monica doesn't need her. "When… when will you leave?" she fiddles with her pen and Carol hears the soft clank Maria's tool makes as she starts at the question. The tinkering resumes, but she knows her girlfriend is listening, both dreading and wishing for the answer to come.
Carol smiles a big, goofy grin that takes over her entire face.
"Never." Monica's head snaps up and Maria drops her tool. The clank reverberates across the covered space. "Well, kinda. I'll still have to leave for a week or two every time Talos contacts a new group of refugees and get them to their new planet, but that apparently takes a while so in the meantime…" she gestures vaguely, her smile softening when she sees her girls tear up. Her not-so-little girl drops her pen and falls into her already open arms. She takes one arm to grab Maria and get her to them faster.
And there, enveloped in the warmth of the ones she loves most, next to the house they had bought together to raise their little baby girl in peace, the soft croon of Whitney Houston coming from the radio, she realizes: she's home.
I've never liked the idea of Carol disappearing for twenty years or just dropping by for a few days twice a year, so I decided to go to the other extreme. What do you think? I'm a romantic through and through, there's no way I'm making a fic that doesn't have a happy ending. They're going to be together forever and ever!
Anyway... if you want more, don't worry, I'm already working on it. I also have another thing that's, like, a big fat spoiler for this little thing, so when it's done, it's going to go in my 'FINISHED' folder and gather dust until I have everything ready XD. God, I can already hear it crying, begging me to let it be free.
I know, I'm crazy. It's what you get when you're a writer.