Sorry this is late. I'm only just now getting my head on straight.


Friday, February 10th, 2012

Carol Susan Jane Danvers was not an idiot. She knew something was wrong with her memory. It had been wrong for literally as far back as she could remember, which only happened to be up to certain fateful day in 1989. She had some memories from before then, but in all honesty, they did not feel "real" to her. It was like watching a movie with characters that all had the same names as people she knew in real life. Well, some of them. Others were so far gone that she had to wonder if they even existed.

That was not her only problem, though. The thing was that the gaps in her memory did not stop after she was "saved" by the Kree or even after she returned to Earth and learned who and what she truly was. There were gaps in her memory after that. They were huge gaps that seemed like bottomless caverns to her; caverns she was afraid to find herself falling into. When she started to go through recovery, she chalked it up to blackouts due to her extensive drinking habits. However, as time passed and she remained sober, she realized the gaps were not going away. If anything, they were increasing in their frequency and if Carol was being honest with herself, it did frighten her.

The longest periods she had without any gaps in her memory was the year and a half she spent living with Jessica while she went through recovery, the two months after Hurricane Katrina struck and she spent her time with Maria volunteering and helping her neighbors rebuild, and the last three weeks. That was it. Outside of those periods of time, she had not gone a full week without at least losing a few hours of her memory.

She'd oftentimes find herself in the middle of space with no idea of where she was going and equally clueless as to how she got there; or she'd wake up somewhere with no memory of the events of the day before. She did her best to keep track of dates, places, and how much time she lost on her display pad, but she could not be sure that even those records were fully accurate. The idea that she could be losing much bigger pieces of time sent shivers down her spine. So, she tried not to think about it too often. She had to keep faith in herself that she was truly being accurate, otherwise she was not sure what kind of madness she could spiral into.

It was not like she was ignoring the problem, though. In fact, she had gone through the process of trying to find answers. She had been to numerous doctors throughout the galaxy, hoping at least one could find a reason why she kept forgetting things. The closest she felt she came to a legitimate diagnosis was one given to her by a doctor on Xandar. She had been familiar with Kree biology – particularly specializing in their neurological physiology – and was willing to at least try to appraise Carol's condition. The fact that she was originally Terran did complicate things, but the doctor did find her brain structures similar enough to make a preliminary diagnosis of repeated concussive trauma, brain cell damage consistent with prolonged alcoholism, and an abrasion on her hippocampus that could be affecting the way her brain made and stored memories.

Those observations made sense. After all, she was fighting and rescuing people all the time. She was sure to get a few bumps on the head from time to time. The damage from alcoholism seemed accurate, too. Also, if she had to guess, she had gotten the abrasion on her hippocampus from the incident that gave her powers. It was all consistent with what she knew, but something about it… Something just did not feel right. She could not shake the feeling that there was something else going on, but for as much as she wanted to know, she also did not want to know. Whatever was lingering below the surface needed to stay there. After all, she couldn't save anyone if she allowed it to completely tear her apart and tear her apart, she was certain it would.

In spite of all of that, it didn't change that she owed these people an explanation. After all, she just flew into their building with little regard for property damage or civilian injuries. Granted, she did think that something serious was happening, but that wasn't an excuse, especially when these people didn't know her at all. For all these people knew, she was a hostile threat and she honestly couldn't blame them for that. It was the natural assumption, after all. So, she needed to explain everything to them; who she was, how she got her powers, how she met Tony. The thing was, though, that not all of those memories were entirely clear to her.

Obviously, she could remember meeting Tony. Again, that fell into the most recent three week period of solid memories. The rest of it, however, she was kind of fuzzy on. Her earliest childhood memories were completely gone. She only remembered the bare facts about her life before the Kree. (Who her parents were, her brothers' names, the town she grew up in, where she went to high school, when she joined the Air Force, etc., etc.) Even after the Kree, there was something off about some of her memories. Some of them seemed too faded; distant, while others felt all too real. To put it bluntly she had big gaps in her memory that she couldn't explain and the memories she did have she wasn't sure if she could trust. That really quite complicated things, especially when she had strangers pressing her for answers.

When she told Tony her story of hitting rock bottom and making the decision to go into recovery, she left certain things vague not out of an unwillingness to explain, but more because her brain just couldn't pull up certain details. Luckily, Tony didn't press her to share more specific details, but at the same time, one had to consider that he was as drunk as a skunk and it probably didn't even think to take the story at anything other than face value. She didn't have that kind of benefit with these other "Avengers," though. They were perfectly sober and able to use their critical thinking skills, much to Carol's dismay.

Captain America – and yes, she could remember who that was – didn't return after leaving to go get changed. The other three – Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and Clint Barton – insisted that she go ahead and tell her story without him. If the good Captain wanted to take his time getting ready, that was fine. They could just fill him in later. However, that only served to put more pressure on Carol. Now she had to be extra careful and get as much as she could right, lest it be lost in translation from the other three's retellings.

So, despite her hesitations, Carol tried her best to recount everything as best as she could recall it. There were questions, obviously, and Carol did answer them as best she could. It was hard, though. She legitimately couldn't remember certain things or even worse she remembered things happening two different ways and kept fluctuating between the two different versions of events.

For example, she couldn't remember how she got the motorcycle she used to get to New Mexico. In one version of events, the guy just made some uncomfortable comments to her and she waited for him to go inside the store before taking his bike. In the other version, as soon as the words left his mouth, Carol punched him. She got the keys from him and sped off, leaving him in the dirt. Now, this was only a small detail, so nothing important was lost, but there were other things that held more of an importance that Carol was unsure of.

She couldn't remember how Talos found where they were at Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S., why she thought it was a good idea to drag her best friend – a single mother to a ten-year-old girl – into space on a dangerous mission that could have gotten them killed, how exactly they planned to stall the Kree on Earth, and why all common sense left her when she saw that the Skrulls had families. That last thing bothered her the most. Although she knew Talos and his family were good people, something in her gut told her that it wasn't one-sided; that in war, nothing – especially the atrocities – were ever one-sided. Her heart sank the more she thought about it and she held on to the version of events that she could remember clearest like a lifeline, if for any reason, because her own feelings of self-worth depended on it. It was a selfish reason, but one that kept her from spiraling into dangerous behavior. She could not afford that; not now, not ever.

Despite her best efforts to keep her story as clear and concise as possible, though, Carol could see that she was not quite convincing the three Avengers of her story. Banner and Barton were quick to pick up on the things that did not quite add up and question her about them. That was fine. She had been expecting something like that. What she was not expecting, however, was the deep, scrutinizing look Romanoff was giving her. It was as if she was dissecting every syllable that Carol spoke, trying to find the tiniest faults in every little thing she said. It was clear that Romanoff was not a trusting individual – none of them were, but her especially. Carol was certain that the only reason why she had managed to tell the story without dropping her confident façade was because Lucky the Golden Retriever puppy had jumped into her lap and honestly, petting the dog did wonders to help reassure her. It was nice to know she had someone on her side, even if that someone was less than eight weeks old and only cared about getting pet by pretty girls. She would take any comfort she could get.

Before Carol could finish the story, though, Captain Rogers had returned with a man who was introduced as Col. James Rhodes. Everyone got caught up in greeting the newcomer, much to Carol's simultaneous relief and chagrin. As thankful as she was for the distraction, she wanted to finish the story right then and there. After all, who knew what changes and contradictions her mind would come up with between then and when they got back to it. Regardless, Carol allowed everyone to chat and catch up with their friend and followed the crowd into the kitchen when the conversation started drifting towards what to eat. Even at that point, Lucky had abandoned her to go back to his owner. It made her feel quite alone, and honestly that is what she was; alone in a sea of strangers who probably thought of her as their enemy. That was still a feeling she could bear, though, as it was how she felt most of the time, anyway.


The elevator ride up to the penthouse was uncomfortable to say the least. Lara was leaning against the far wall, eyes squeezed shut; Pepper had a hand pressed to the bandage on her cheek, gently rubbing it as if the action would alleviate the pain; and Tony… Well, Tony was just trying not to let his dread about the next day eat him alive.

You wanted to do this, Tony, he reminded himself. You need to do this. Despite the assertion, Tony could not help the feelings that were boiling away inside of his stomach. He tried to tell himself that it would go away as soon as he was back in Steve's arms, but even that thought was not enough to spark even the tiniest amount of optimism inside of him; real or forced.

Feeling the weight of a pair of eyes on him, Tony glanced to his right and saw Pepper staring at him, her gaze full of concern. Tony shut his eyes and tried to stifle the amount of air rushing out of his nose.

"What?" was the only word he could get out without putting his deep sense of annoyance on full display.

"Something's wrong," Pepper stated. "What is it?"

"You mean other than the obvious?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm just tired and I want this day to be over." More honestly, he wanted the rest of the week to be over, but he did not feel like killing himself by traveling at over 1,440 miles per second just to achieve that end. He rather liked having his bones and flesh in a solid form, thank you very much. "That doesn't matter, though. I wasn't the one who got hurt today."

Pepper's face paled a bit.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"You've had a hand pressed to your cheek all afternoon," Lara pointed out before Tony could. Pepper shot a look at the other woman – who was still leaning against the rear wall with her eyes shut – clearly embarrassed by the call out.

"It's alright," she said. "It just stings a bit. They warned me that would happen."

"Glass stings?" Lara questioned, opening one eye enough to adequately show off her skepticism.

"Super-heated glass traveling at terminal velocity striking you across the face?" Tony questioned. "Yeah, of course that's going to sting." Lara shut her eyes again and shrugged.

"You learn something new every day." Not at all impressed, Tony turned back to Pepper, assessing her state as best he could.

"You sure it went straight clean across?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she said. "The EMTs seemed like they knew what they were doing."

Tony highly doubted that, but even he knew not to down talk the men and women who were responsible for tending to the entire city every time an alien army appeared in the sky. If worse came to worst, it'd get back to them and they'd let him flatline the next time he got hurt trying to save them. Still, that didn't stop him from double-checking.

"Did they even check to see if you sustained a burn?" he asked. "They put gauze on your face and that'll just make it worse. You're supposed to let a burn breathe."

"It's fine, Tony," Pepper insisted one last time. "You just don't want to talk about what's bothering you."

"Yeah, because at this point it's just beating a dead horse." He could feel the dread starting to boil away in his stomach again. "Besides, I'm just going to have to drudge this all up again tomorrow, so I might as well save it until then."

A frown dawned on Pepper's face as her eyes grew even more concerned.

"Tony…"

Before she could say anything further, the elevator's bell chimed, and the doors opened. Tony stepped out of the elevator at a pace faster than either Pepper or Lara could (or were at least willing to) keep up with. Tony only wanted one thing in that moment, and that was a reassuring hug from his boyfriend. He couldn't have that in public, but he'd be damned if anyone tried to keep him from having that in private.

As soon as he pushed open the door to the foyer, he could hear loud, lively chatter coming from the kitchen. Taking that as an indicator of where to go, Tony followed the commotion to where the other Avengers – along with Rhodey and Carol – were seated in the dining area. Before he could fully take stock of the situation, Steve stood up, walked around the table, and rushed to press a kiss right to his lips. Tony responded back enthusiastically, smiling all the way.

Oh yeah! This is more like it!

Steve gently pulled back and Tony ran his tongue across his lips, trying to savor the taste of his boyfriend while he could. His cheeks burned as he caught his breath. He was probably a sight to see, but Tony didn't care. In fact, he wouldn't have minded ten more kisses like that, even if the cost were turning into a complete and utter hot mess. Tony's eyes met Steve's and he watched as the sweetest, most sincere smile spread across his face.

"Hey there, stranger." Slowly, Tony reflected his expression.

"Hi," he said, still a little breathless. "What was that for?" Steve shrugged.

"I just wanted to." Tony smirked.

"Well, it's not like I minded," he said.

"I'll take that as an okay for round two," Steve said as he started to lean in again.

"God, yes!"

Within seconds, Steve's lips were on Tony's again. He lost himself completely in that kiss, forgetting that there was anything else to existence outside of the blissful ecstasy that was being so intimately close with the man who held his heart. Nothing could ruin the moment.

…Except for Natasha clearing her throat.

"Alright, boys," Natasha said. "That's sweet and all, but we kind of want to be able to eat breakfast off that counter tomorrow."

With that, the two of them pulled back. Tony shot a very displeased glare at the smirking redhead as he slid off the counter Steve had apparently pushed him up against.

"You just love doing that, don't you?" Natasha gave a non-committal shrug.

"All I know is that I shouldn't let you two go around damaging virgin eyes." Tony frowned.

"What virgin eyes?"

"My son's," Clint interjected, holding up Lucky. Tony's frown deepened.

"Why is the dog at the table?"

"Because he's joining us for dinner."

"No, he's not." Before Clint could come up with a proper rebuttal, a thrilled, feminine shriek echoed through the room.

"Beau petit garcon!" Lara rushed into the dining area and plucked the dog from Clint's arms. Lucky knew by this point that Lara would shower him with affection for so little as breathing, so he immediately hammed it up, widening his eyes and wagging his tail as fast as he could. Lara let out a coo of affection and snuggled him closer. "You're so adorable! I love you! Never leave this Earth!" Lucky responded by licking her face, causing Lara to laugh.

"Yeah," Bruce said. "Not only is the dog joining us for dinner, but I think she's going to take Lucky home with her." Lara scoffed at the suggestion.

"I wish," she said. "My cat, Telemachus, hates dogs. He'll scratch his eyes out before he even knows what's coming. However, in lieu of official adoption, I wouldn't mind being considered his unofficial dog mom."

"Sorry," Clint said. "That position's already taken, officially." Lara frowned.

"Alright then," she said. "I'll settle for being a fun aunt."

"He already has one of those, too." Natasha gave a wave, but Lara was still unamused.

"Godmother," she said. "Final offer."

"I can live with that," Clint said. Lara let out a squeak that shouldn't have been possible coming from a human's voice. She tossed the dog in the air, catching him before he hit the ground.

"Do you hear that, choit?" she asked the animal. "I'm your fairy godmother! How amazing is that! I'm going to make all of your dreams come true!" Thankfully, all of Lucky's dreams at that moment involved licking her face off, so it wasn't a hard promise to keep.

Meanwhile, Pepper walked in the room and greeted Rhodey with a warm hug. Tony joined into the conversation, too, feeling a bit guilty that he ignored his best friend in favor of making out with his boyfriend and making the whole room uncomfortable. Regardless, Rhodey didn't seem to mind and the three got caught up rather quickly. Eventually, though, Pepper turned to the rest of the group, pulling them into the conversation.

"So, what are you guys doing for dinner?" she asked.

"We ordered shawarma from the restaurant down the street," Natasha explained, and Pepper crinkled her nose.

"Shawarma?" Natasha shrugged.

"Don't knock it until you try it." Pepper looked unconvinced, as did Lara.

"Will it kill me to eat that?" she asked.

"We got you salad," Natasha assured. "Don't worry." Lara let out a breath of relief.

"Also, the guy said thirty minutes or less and it's free," Clint added. "And that was forty-five minutes ago." Tony frowned.

"Yeah, I wouldn't count on that," he said. "Security probably has them held up inspecting the food, so technically it arrived on time."

"Aw," Clint said, looking down.

"I don't know why you're looking so disappointed," Tony said. "I'm the one who's going to be paying for it."

"Free food tastes better," Clint grumbled away as his only explanation.

"Actually, Tony," Rhodey said. "I already gave them my credit card number." Tony's frown deepened.

"I hate you," he said.

"No, you don't," Rhodey asserted with all the confidence in the world. Tony was about to offer a rebuttal before JARVIS stopped him.

"The security office has asked me to notify you all that the food has been cleared from any tampering and is ready to be picked up." Tony held a hand up in the air.

"Right on time," he said.

"Alright," Clint said. "So, who's going to get it?"

"Nose goes!" Within an instant, everyone had a finger on their nose except for a very bewildered looking Carol.

"What?" she questioned, looking from one person to the next. "I don't…"

"It's settled then," Lara said. "Killer Queen goes." Carol raised an eyebrow at the nickname.

"Hold on," Steve said. "Captain Danvers isn't going."

"Oh-no," Lara said as seriously as she could with a puppy squirming in her arms. "You know the rules of nose goes, Steve."

"Well, she doesn't know which floor the security office is on," he pointed out. "And more importantly, she doesn't have a key to the elevator so she can get back up."

"I'll go with her, then," Tony offered. Steve gave him a curious look.

"You sure about that?" he asked. "You just got here."

"And I'll be back in a minute." Tony assured. "It's just downstairs and besides, we can't expect her to carry everything by herself."

"Actually, I probably could," Carol said.

"Doesn't mean you should," six voices spoke up simultaneously. Carol's shoulders sagged a bit in defeat. Tony gestured for her to come closer.

"Come on," he said. "I need to talk to you about something anyway."

"Oh God," Carol said as she stood up. "This is where I get hit with the cost of damages, isn't it?"

"No," Tony said. "I'm not even going to try to deal in valueless currency, so I'll just take the loss."

"Units aren't valueless," Carol tried to argue.

"Yeah, the glass repair guy isn't going to see it that way," Tony explained. "Nor the wall plaster guy."

"So would the IRS," Lara added. "And the FTC, the Better Business Bureau… Hell it might even make the Secret Service hot and bothered enough to step in."

"I get the point," Carol said, holding up a placating hand. "But I still broke all that stuff, I should be held responsible for it."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said. "I've got it taken care of." Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Pepper shooting him a questioning look, and he sent one back that hopefully communicated "I'll explain later." That seemingly satisfied her as she nodded and backed off, but Tony couldn't say the same about some of the other looks they were receiving throughout the room. Shaking it off, Tony patted her on the shoulder and started moving towards the exit. "Come on, we don't want the food to get any colder." They made it to the archway before Tony remembered the thing he was going to ask about. "Oh yeah, Bruce, can you take a look at Pepper's cheek. It's hurting her."

With that, he turned back and continued leading Carol down the hall, feeling a few pairs of eyes staring at their backs. Holding the foyer door open for her, Tony could see Clint, Natasha, and Rhodey all exchange concerned looks. That would have made him nervous if he didn't lock eyes with Steve and saw nothing but besotted trust in the other man's eyes. Tony gave him a smile that he hoped conveyed all of the emotions that were fluttering around in his heart before stepping through the door. Then it was down to business again.

Carol hit the button to call for the elevator while Tony came to stand next to her.

"So," he said. "How harsh of a third degree did they give you?" Carol snorted out a humorless laugh.

"Honestly, I don't believe the story I told them," Carol said. "And I lived it."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," he said. "None of them are quick to trust and for good reason, but don't mistake that for intimidation. I did that and it almost ended in me angry-fucking Steve in front of everyone." Carol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's a long and complicated story that I don't think I should dive into right now."

"Smart," Carol remarked. "So, is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Reassuring me that I'm not going to be locked away for a crime I could potentially commit?"

"No," Tony said, looking down. "I actually wanted to ask you about something."

"Oh?" Before Carol could press him further, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. The two of them stepped inside and Tony hit the button for the security floor. Once they were moving, Carol looked at him expectantly. "Well, I'm all ears." Tony took a deep breath.

"What did you do once you decided you wanted to try?" Carol's face scrunched in confusion.

"Try what?" she asked.

"To be better," Tony clarified. "To stop drinking, to go into recovery."

"Oh," Carol said trying to stifle a laugh. "Lucky for you, I can remember this." Tony gave her a questioning look, but Carol acted like she didn't see it. "Uh, it was hard," she said, pulling herself together more seriously. "I'm not going to pretend like it wasn't. I mean, as tough of a choice as it was to make, it was even harder to stick with it." Tony nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I can see that," he said. "I can see it right now. So how do you get over that."

"Well, my first suggestion would be to reach out," Carol said.

"I already did that," Tony said. "In fact, I'm going to see a therapist tomorrow." Despite the sharp taste the word "therapist" left on his tongue, Tony could see that the same word gave Carol some relief.

"Good, good," she said. "That's good. A step in the right direction."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "The thing is, though, I'm not quite sure what the next step is."

"It's whatever you need it to be," Carol said. "It's whatever the safest, healthiest option is for you." Tony grimaced.

"I'm not that great at judging what's safe and healthy…" he admitted. "If I was, I probably wouldn't be in this situation in the first place."

"No," Carol said. "You're here because you made the safe and healthy choice. You can do it. You just need to have faith in yourself."

"That's another thing I'm not good at," Tony said.

"If it's any consolation, neither am I," Carol said. "I act like I know what I'm doing all the time, but really I don't."

"No, really?" Tony said. "I never would have guessed that the way you came flying into my building faster than the speed of light." Carol let out a bit of a self-deprecating laugh.

"Come on," she said. "I said I was sorry, right?"

"You said you should be held responsible," Tony said. "But you never said 'sorry.'" Carol shook her head.

"Well, sorry, then," she said. "If there's any way to help fix it, I will." Tony waved her off.

"Water under the bridge," he said. "Really, don't worry about it."

"Alright," Carol agreed. "But seriously, you do need to have faith in yourself to make the right choice. That second step is different for everyone. For me, it was going to AA meetings and trying to get myself into a safe routine, but I think that's probably not the complete right choice for you."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Just the thought of having to stand in front of a room full of strangers and having to talk about the worst mistakes he'd ever made in his life made Tony shudder. He was barely able to talk about that stuff with Steve. Airing out his dirty laundry in public? No, that was something he'd only do if he had a gun to his head and some whack-job's finger hovering over a button to detonate the world's complete nuclear stockpile if he refused, and even then he'd still desperately try to find another way out of the situation. None of this was lost on Carol.

"I think I am," she commented. "I think for you, individualized therapy is probably the best place to start. Talking to someone about the underlying problems and figuring out better ways to cope will probably make things easier for you. Even if it doesn't it can still help to figure out how to map a way to go that works for you."

"Exactly," Tony said, feeling reassured. "Thank you." Carol smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome," she said. "Just remember to keep trying. That's always the best thing you can do."

"Right," Tony agreed. They then lapsed into a peaceful silence for a few moments before Carol spoke up again.

"Hey, when that girl called me 'Killer Queen' back there, was she talking about the song?" Tony laughed.

"Well since Lara is the biggest Queen fan I happen to know; I would say probably yes." Carol let out a breath of relief.

"Oh good," she said. "So, it was a compliment, then."

"And an apt one at that," Tony said. "I think I might steal it."

"What? Can't come up with a better one?" Carol asked.

"Well, I was thinking of using 'Space Face' or 'Care Bear', but 'Killer Queen' does have a certain ring to it." Carol laughed.

"Oh, stop it," she said. "You sound like my brothers." Within seconds of those words coming out of her mouth, a warm look of shocked awe crossed Carol's face. Tony's brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Carol said with a small nod. "Yeah, I am. Just… Thank you." Tony's confusion only deepened.

"For what?" he asked.

"Just, thank you," she said, giving him giving him what had to be a rare, beaming smile. "Thank you."


Am I the only one who thinks "Killer Queen" is the perfect nickname for Carol? I mean come on, "she's a killer queen/gunpowder gelatine/dynamite with a laser beam/guaranteed to blow your mind/anytime" I feel like those lyrics describe her perfectly. ...Or at least how the MCU wants us to see her (and how I actually intend to write her.)

Anyways, if you liked this chapter, please go ahead and comment/review! It really means a lot! :)

Remember kids, literacy is failing me at the moment, so I can't come up with anything witty. I blame my noisy family.


Originally uploaded to FFN on 1/6/2021