A resounding boom that shakes the room. Lights in colours Carol had never seen before. Her lips, cold and numb from adrenaline. "Stay here. I'll go, see what all the fuss is about." Carol huffs, and spits out blue.
"Like hell, I'm not."
Talos, substituting his usual over coat for purple Skrull battle armour.
Carol shoulders open the door, coughing from the acrid smoke made from burnt rubber and metal and it sticks to her lungs.
Her heart jumps into her mouth and her hands shake at the sight. She rushes to his side and presses a hand over the wound in the side of his head and the pressures her hand to the other side. Gash, really spilling blue all over the floor. She has to stop herself from gagging at the sight. Carol's stomach rolls with nausea. "Fucking SHIT. Talos, get the med kit."
"Why who's- aw, we're not helping his arsehole are we?" Talos draws.
"Shut up and help me." She growls and he comes over, reluctantly. Carol grits her teeth, and without meaning to, hands flicker with rage born photon energy and Talos actually opens his mouth to say something, before thinking better of it. "I'm gonna end this…"
Yon Rogg wakes up, the light is dim but it hurts his eyes like he was seeing it for the first time. Because he was, he didn't recognise this ceiling, this light. He looks to the left, and moves his head a fraction.
Vers.
No.
Carol sleeps in the chair next to the bed, slumped with her body in a lazy figure S shape. He tries to speak, finds his mouth dry as any distant moon crater as something irritates his upper lip. Something lightweight and reflective, transparent maybe.
The machine on his right is dated, yes but it beeps with what has to be his breathing or heart rate. Knowing how to, he quickens both easily, tries to raise his hand to where she's out of reach. But his fingers feel like lead, and she's too far away.
Vers stirs in her sleep and opens her eyes. Yon watches her expression change from one of tiredness to shock. Her jaw hardens and she gasps a little, leaning forward, her hair askew and her eyes still tight with sleep.
His chest heaves with every heavy breath and she locks eyes with him. He's exhausted at this point. Terribly so. Blinking is becoming tiring. He reaches his hand to identify the annoyance on his top lip.
Vers beats him to it. A breathing tube, see-through, she pulls it from his nose and by now they're face to face. She watches his face intently. He tries to convey his thanks with a slower blink.
She squeezes his hand.
"I'm gonna go, get a nurse." She says and hovers over him for a second. "Don't die on me okay?"
Nurse come and gone, Vers sits on the end of Yon's bed. He'd since regained his ability to talk thanks to some fluids. Yon touches her wrist finding her skin warm. "You look like shit. You haven't been sleeping." He says.
She closes her eyes. "No, on account of someone I know being on his deathbed. Something like that tends to induce insomnia."
Yon sighs deeply, licks his lips. "You and I both know you need to be at your best at all times. Being this 'Captain Marvel' and all."
She opens her eyes, Carol weighs her options. She could shout at him. She could tell him where to go. She should tell him she should have left him in the rotten hole he'd gotten himself into. Or…..
Carol shifts her weight forward, crawls on her hands a little and curls herself around his side. She hears him inhale sharply, but a look at his face had her heart stopping in place. His face couldn't be any more serene and the apple in his throat bobs gently. Carol pouts, and tries to find the right words to ask. "Is this okay?" She eventually whispers.
"Fine." He says, unmoving. Through shock or comfort she had no clue. Yon tilts his head down a fraction, and noses into her hairline. He feels it brush against his face being treated to a waft of her shampoo. She says, and this close she could practically feel his heartbeat as much as hear it and you know what? That felt nice.
…
Carol tosses over again. For some reason she couldn't sleep. Couldn't find the sweet relief of rest, couldn't get to that point where it took over.
Letting Yon Rogg stay overnight was fine. He needed somewhere to stay and even he wasn't that stupid to try and knife her in the night whilst she slept. Especially in his state.
Carol climbs out of bed and leaves the room in pitch dark. So used to travelling around her home she could do it even without the lights on.
She sneaks into his room - her spare room. For any wayward heroes wanting a place to crash - and she climbs into the bed and under the covers. White sheets rustling against her matching pyjamas. Snuggled in, she could just about make out the shape of his form against the darkness of night. He could have even been asleep. Could have.
"Can't sleep either?" His voice sounds rough from the late hour. Why did he have trouble sleeping?
"Mm. I've gotten too used to sleeping in hospital beds." She says quietly against his shoulder blades.
He's silenced with that and too honest for him to be witty. Yon reaches round to tuck her hand around his side.
It's too dark and too late for any further conversation.
And he practically aches from lack of sleep.
So he welcomes it.
….
Yon Rogg wakes first some hours later. In an unfamiliar bed with a woman long since lost in his arms. He comes round with his face in her hair and the perfect view of the slope of her neck and throat, the muscle definition there he tells himself he helped hone.
Once upon a time he'd told himself he'd also protect her. But how would you protect a woman like that? Who could punch a moon in half if she was in the mood to.
Yon withdraws his arm from around her waist, praying he doesn't disturb her further.
….
Carol rouses with a groan, stretching her arms and legs from her curled up position to one more lithe and long. She scrunches her face up then relaxes it. She had a feeling it was way too early to be awake or be doing a great deal of anything. Carol rolls over to face the other side when she notices a shape blocking the dawn from entering the room.
Yon.
She'd recognise his shape anywhere. Anytime, really. "Hey." She says, low and easy. Still not quite fully awake.
"Is your planet always this rainy?" He says simply without turning.
"Mm. Not always. New York is fun for that. And so's London, England." She shuts her eyes for a second, willing her tired brain to make conversation.
"I don't think I know of a planet with this much precipitation." He says.
"Mm. I dunno, Morag has nothing to be desired." She yawns.
Yon tsks. Morag was grim and any and all architecture had since turned into piles of rubble and old ruins long since forgotten.
"I'd like to see it." Yon says, far away.
"Morag?" Carol's forehead wrinkles with confusion.
"No. Terra. Your planet." Somehow she figures he was no longer looking at the rain. Maybe he was looking at a lake, some six years ago, at a distant tree line and a crashed fighter jet.