Shifting her body to face the woman across from her, Maria Rambeau couldn't help but belly laugh at the absurdity of it all. Waves of endearment and gratification rocked her to her core, a sensation she had welcomed ever since learning to fly at the academy. Here, after all this time. She had lost count of how many mental snapshots she had taken since Carol's return.
"Do other aliens look like that? Besides the Skrulls?" Monica inquired once more with a tug of the burgundy comforter. Bathed in the pale hues of old Star Trek reruns, the Danvers-Rambeau household had never felt more invigorated. Fighting over blankets notwithstanding, it was pleasant to have some time to relax after saving the world. Carol and Maria shiver on their ends of the leather couch as the warmth agonizingly escapes their bodies.
Snatching her share of the blanket back, Carol replied, "More or less,", as if it were the most normal question in the world to answer. It astounded her just how much the show had gotten right in terms of her own interactions with life in space. The antagonists reminded her too much of the Kree however, which caused her to slump for a moment. "But don't call them aliens. They're people."
Maria took note of her lowered eyes, gone as soon as it came. It wasn't the first time today.
"What other kinds are there?" Maria indulged, wanting in on the interrogation. Monica cheerfully tore her attention away from the box television set, the first of many to come throughout the night. Carol's pangs of dejection instantly evaporated, leaving her to wonder why she ever let her mind wander in the first place. The enthusiasm the Rambeau women had for science fiction was utterly adorable.
"Well, there are telepathic plants, sentient rocks, some with feathers for hair… But they all have their own traditions and bad jokes. And most of them do, in fact, come in peace."
"Do you, Airman Danvers?"
She pauses for dramatic effect. "Not at all!" As Carol lunged for a tickle attack, Maria jumped in without hesitation. Kicking her pajama'd legs violently, Monica's shrieks reverberate off the olive walls and fill the dimly-lit living room with ear-splitting delight.
"Cut it out! You guys are mean!"
Settling down, cheeks red from exertion, Carol jests, "You still love us!"
"You'll both be hearing from my lawyers."
"For what?" exclaimed Maria, voice cracking. "You have no proof we did anything."
Crossing her arms. "I refuse to speak without my legal team present."
"Are you serious?"
"Deadly."
Neither of them could hold a straight face for long and quickly saw themselves snickering like schoolchildren. Intoxication gradually died down as the episode went to commercial break and Monica hopped over the couch to wash her hands and grab some popcorn. Maria stretched and propped her feet on the wooden coffee table, her fuzzy purple socks on display for all to see. Carol found herself admiring them. And Maria in general.
Maria's concentration drifted toward Carol, whose smile enfolded her entire face as they locked eyes. She couldn't exactly match Carol's crinkled expression with the image of earlier still etched in her thoughts. With Monica out of the room, Maria took it upon herself to address her apprehensions head-on.
"You doing okay? For real?"
Carol snorted as if it were some wild accusation. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know, I just catch you with a look sometimes. You had it at dinner and now tonight."
"Oh, it's just allergies. Don't worry about it."
Maria musters a grimace that screams you-did-not-just-say-that. Carol wasn't allergic to anything except taking compliments without objection.
"I… I find myself thinking about you and Monica sometimes, and how much… I missed," sighed Carol, sinking her chin into her gray USAFA sweatshirt. "Years of our lives gone, without each other in it. And it just makes me wonder… if I could have done something different to prevent it."
Twirling her short dark hair in anxiousness, Maria breathes, "Glad we're on the same page." They share a worn-out laugh together, Monica slamming cupboards in the kitchen. Rubbing her clammy palms with the sleeves of her green flannel, her tearful gaze ceases to falter in the coming declaration.
"I can't even begin to describe how angry I was. With myself, the world, whatever took you away from me and my little girl. What did we do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong? No matter how high I flew or how loud I screamed over an engine, I couldn't find my answers in the sky and that killed me. It took me awhile to realize that they were right in front of me the whole time, where everything I cared about was. Monica. Our home. You. The hope that you'd return someday was all we needed to hang on to. And here we are now."
"Always the one to look on the bright side." Carol wiped a runaway tear from her cheek. "It's just hard, Maria… nothing in the entire universe compares to the pain of not knowing who I am and how much you and Monica mean to me. There were so many days where I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed and fight their war... And now that we're back together, I have to leave again. It's the worst feeling in the world. I'm the happiest I've ever been, but if I just followed my heart sooner… maybe then we'd have more time…"
Maria inches closer to Carol, gently resting her hand atop of hers.
"All that matters is that you did. We've been given a second chance, Carol! No matter where you are, you'll always have a home here with people who love you. If this world and our friendship has taught us anything, it's that we won't let our fears define who we are. We're so much more than that."
"Higher, further, faster?" Carol sniffed.
"Higher, further, faster" Maria affirmed.
Time stood still as they studied their features and gravitated toward each other in the most natural of embraces. As Maria tucked her nose in the crook of Carol's neck, Monica sauntered in with a package of popcorn and a blue bowl in hand. She observes their puffy eyes but doesn't bother bringing it up. No need reminding herself of the inevitable. They break apart with reassuring nods as Monica takes her seat between them once again.
"Alright, Magic Hands, do your thing" Monica instructed, handing the crinkly bag of uncooked popcorn to Carol. The atmosphere of the room exhaled a much-needed sigh of relief.
"Is that all I am to you?" croaked Carol in mock opposition. "A personal microwave?"
"Pretty much." Only half-kidding.
"I'm not responsible for any messes." Blue and gold energy crept up Carol's forearms toward her calloused fingertips. The bag soon began to inflate and pop as waves of color enveloped Carol's hands. Witnessing such extraordinary abilities in the most ordinary situations would perhaps never grow old to Maria and Monica. Carol grinned back, the radiant swirls of constellations glimmering in the amber pools of their tender eyes; a photo no camera could authentically portray.
Maria seized the bag before it could explode and dumped its contents into the plastic bowl between her daughter's lap. The buttery smell combined with the comfort of Saturday night permeated their senses and set any remaining doubts at ease. The episode had since started back up, but neither of them seemed to mind missing the first couple minutes. They were right where they needed to be.
Bundling themselves up once more over The Next Generation, Carol, Maria, and Monica took turns grabbing handfuls of popcorn and tossing pieces into each other's mouths. They knew that their time was limited, but it did no good worrying about what-ifs when cherishing the what-is was irreplaceable. Despite all of her uncertainties with the world around her, there was one thing Carol was sure of: No matter what the future had in store, the connection she shared with the loves of her life would always lead her back home. That sentiment was something that came just as easily as the instinct to get back up when beaten down; her sturdiest supports that kept her balanced off the ground and in the stars.
We found each other. We have a second chance. Maria's words rang true in Carol's mind. That's all that matters.