Carol's making toast when Fury waltzes into her kitchen. Damn good toast, too. With butter and brown sugar and shit.
"Danvers-"
"Jesus!" The frying pan's over her head in seconds. The bread falls to the floor. Fury doesn't look the least bit concerned. "You've got fire in your fists and you're gonna attack me with a cast iron. And why the pan? Don't you got a damn toaster in here or something?"
Carol drops her hands and growls. She places the pan down, a little too forceful, maybe, and reaches out to salvage her toast, but Goose is already there.
"Goose don't you-"
The bread is gone. Carol is heated. Fury is unphased, "You left your door unlocked like it's the seventies. Should probably work on that."
"I despise you."
He merely chuckles. He's wearing jeans, a blue button up shirt, with a belt that's a little crooked on his hips, and a god-awful hat that barely fits. Not his everyday attire... which means he's off work, and therefore painfully free to annoy her.
Goose struts over to him and immediately head butts his leg. She's purring loudly, and Fury's face lights up, almost losing his sunglasses as he kneels. "Who's a good kitty?" His hands scratch behind Goose's ears. "Who's the best kitty in the world?"
"Didn't she take out your eye?"
Fury waves his hand, eh, details, and Carol shakes her head, but smiles anyhow. She turns back to the stove. It's still on, burning with a fire that will go depressingly wasted. The butter is out, melting in the heat, and for a second, she considers downing a handful of brown sugar and calling it a day. Until Fury clears his throat.
"We've got a little problem," he says, but quickly recants when he sees the concern on her face. "It's not big, not even that time sensitive, but Strange called."
Strange?
The doctor dude whose only words to her have been, "Clean up this mess," and a few convoluted sentences about missing out on his "Sorcerer Supreme" position that he won't shut up about. She's a little wary about it, usually corresponds with Wong and Bruce, and they're much easier to decipher. Fury sees her hesitation.
"I know, I know. The guy has no lost love for me, but he called this morning asking about an unlimited power source. Normally, I'd ignore him, but he's got a kid with him for some reason."
Carol immediately softens. "A kid?"
"Yeah. Seems like everyone and their mother is finding one of those nowadays."
She crosses her arms and purses her lips. The sun is beaming through the window; the dust particles are exposed in the rays, floating and falling in the air, and it's quiet. It's calm. A leaf is hovering in the wind, and she sees a tiny moment... a memory she got back from the fracking pod.
"Has anyone seen Carol?"
She's hidden in a pile of crunchy brown. The stems are poking into her, the leaves crinkle against her skin, but she doesn't care, because her heart is pounding and there's excitement in her hands.
"Carrrrieee," the voice sings, "Where is she? Where could she be?"
The leaves move, the motion rushing her face with fresh air. She giggles into the cold as he scoops her up, leaving her legs dangling. His face is happy and even though she can't recognize him, can't remember who he is, she's pretty sure she loved him once. A tap on the window startles her a bit, brings her back to the present. A couple of bugs have met their fate, and she sighs. She doesn't have much on her schedule today anyways.
"Fine." She uncrosses her arms. "I guess I'll be his battery."
"Alright," Fury says excitedly. His eyes swivel to her stove where Goose is eyeing the sugar. There's a fly on the butter. Crap. "Why'd you come here anyway," she asks. "Could've just called me."
"Thought it'd take more convincing. I forgot you had a soft spot for tiny humans."
And he's right, she really does; always has and probably always will. Fatal flaw. She throws the butter in the fridge and closes the sugar, tossing it into the pantry with a thud. She ignores the breadcrumbs on the floor because that's Goose's problem now.
"I'll go with you on one condition," she raises a finger and then points it at him. He shrugs.
"Name your price."
"Breakfast. And you're paying."
The Sanctum is just as big as she remembers, but she's somewhat surprised that it's still in-tact. All the battles and mishaps that have taken place within its walls… a normal house would have collapsed by now.
Fury looks up, "Fucking magic," and she follows his gaze skyward.
A crow flies overhead and almost thumps into the foyer window. It must have shattered recently because there's duct tape everywhere. Zig zags and uneven strips. It's messy. It's sloppy. Wong definitely made some of his students do it. Probably made it some kind of lesson, too; a session about patience or attention to detail or some shit.
It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous.
She immediately feels more at ease.
That is, until the door opens, and a shit-ton of water practically explodes down the stairs. There's some screaming, some grunts and groans. Fury rests his brow in his fingers, "What in the ever-loving-" but he's quickly interrupted.
"Carol!"
Wong is waving his hands over his head, absolutely soaked and Carol swears there's a fish in his hair.
"It's very good to see you."
"Aww, you too," she says, and then smiles because shrimp are flapping around in puddles on the concrete. "What's uh... what's going on here?"
"Oh, just some portal nonsense. Nothing to concern yourself with. It's all under control."
There's a clash in the background. His face pangs in worry, ushering a smile from her lips. A new waterfall of saltwater and seaweed trickles down the stairs, and she elbows Fury as she steps around it. He's still grumbling about fish and water in his boots but follows anyhow. Saltiness is everywhere, her feet squelch in the mud. There's something wiggling on the ground, and she shakes her head. It's a complete disaster. All that magic and they still can't function like normal humans.
It's only when a log slides out the door in slow motion that Wong seems to realize the scope of his predicament. He gives her a pleading look and claps his hands together.
"I'm amending my past statement. The apprentices have no idea what they are doing. I give them specific instructions: "fresh pond water." But they decide that the ocean is an acceptable alternative. The ocean? It's not even the same salinity, not even the same temperature-"
There's another yelp from inside, a higher one than before, and her attention shifts. She peers through the door.
"Uhhhhhh-" her jaw drops. She hears Fury's "My god-" behind her.
A shark- a literal shark- is twisting on the floor. Globs of algae are everywhere, and a group of apprentices are shrieking in anxiety. Magical half circles whirl in the air. The shark bites a finger. A painting falls onto someone's head. She turns back to Wong as a string of curses flow from Fury's lips.
"Ya got a net anywhere?"
After the fish fiasco, she helps Strange with some sort of spell. She doesn't know what it is or what it does. He starts to explain it, diving deep into convoluted texts and overly- complicated technological jargon, but she doesn't really care.
She probably should, probably would have once, but Wong seems unconcerned.
The fire leaves her fist in gentle waves, humming in the background as Fury makes dinner plans. America is chatting back and forth with Wong about mystic arts and sling rings. Strange's eyes are closed, and with a slight sigh, Carol looks up at the ceiling. Did she feed Goose this morning. Did she take the trash out yesterday? What about recycling... she's yawning and thinking about a solution to New Asgard's Flerken problem when America says something about "falling into another universe" and everything comes to a halt.
She stops pulsing energy. The spell fades, flickers until the light disappears. "Wait," she whispers. "You can open up portals to other universes? You can actually do that."
"Oh, yeah…" America says. "But I'm still working on controlling it all. I'm staying in this one until I can figure everything out-"
She keeps talking, keeps saying something about magic and dreams, but Carol doesn't register any of it. The possibilities run through her head; Monica is in another universe, she's trapped beyond reality but if America can open portals, then Carol can search. Carol can find her again and bring her back, because there can't be that many, and she'll search forever if she has to… she'll stay until she finds her. She can-
"No."
What?
Strange is staring at her. He's searching for something; her thoughts, maybe, but his voice is strong. Unwavering.
"You're not going to open a portal."
"What are you-"
"You want her to open up a portal for you. You want to abuse her powers." He says, taking a step forward. His arms are firm at his sides, eyes acutely fixed on hers as his back straightens into a stance she knows well. "And the answer is no."
He's prepared to fight. She doesn't understand.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not using America as your little universe-jumping space shuttle."
"Okay, hold on," Carol says, voice growing louder. "I haven't even said anything yet, and this wouldn't be a journey for someone who doesn't exist on this plane, because Monica is from this earth, she's from this world. She fell into another one by accident."
Strange crosses his arms. Carol grows more frustrated. "We had the Quantum-bands, alright? But Dar-Benn took them. Monica saved us, saved our universe from collapsing. She's gone because of the Kree, because of the Accusers… because she… she..." Carol trails off.
Because of Dar-Benn, she wants to say. Because Dar-Benn broke the fabric of reality. Because Dar- Benn couldn't get past her need for revenge.
But she can't.
Because it's not true.
Dar wouldn't exist without her; wouldn't have destroyed Tarnax, wouldn't have taken Monica, wouldn't have done any of it if Carol had made the right choices to begin with. Carol is the match that started everything. She was the fuse, the bomb. Del and Rhys and Hala- It's her fault, and she needs to make up for it. Needs to make things right, she has to make things right. It's a shaky truth, one wrapped in bandaids and stickers, but Strange can see it. He sees the fissures... sees the cracks.
Then he steps on them.
"You don't want her back because you love her. You want her back because you feel guilty, and I'm not about to let another mom go insane over the loss of her kid."
Guilty… mom… kid…
Fury is looking at her, but he isn't saying anything, because no one is saying anything; Wong is frozen in the background, America's eyes are on the ground. Strange's voice echoes in the silence, belittling her as apprentices whisper and point out of sight. Carol feels exposed. Naked.
Stripped down to who she really is.
The words come spewing out before she can really think, "You don't know anything about me," she fights back, anger bubbling to the surface. "And you don't get to sit here and talk to me about guilt, because you were gone for years. You didn't exist anymore, didn't have to deal with the shit that followed us, that destroyed everyone. And now that I want her back, you get to decide it's not worth it?"
The cracks are growing wider, the past is leaking everywhere... she sees hundreds of planets, feels thousands of eyes. The last eight years coming in cycles; orphaned children, collapsing societies, screaming, killing, broken families, and so much dust.
Too much dust.
"Say what you want to say," Strange goads, "What you've always wanted to."
So, she does.
"You gave Thanos that stone, knowing damn well what would happen, knowing that you wouldn't have to be here to see the chaos the world fell into. Natasha, L'oat, Fila, Sal, Monica… all of those deaths, all of that pain. That's on you."
"I saw millions of possibilities, millions of endings that your brain couldn't possibly comprehend, and I made a choice-"
"Well fuck your choice!"
Her throat is raw, the memories spiraling in waves she doesn't understand. She doesn't mean to scream, it isn't purposeful, but America takes a step back, anyways. There's nervousness in her eyes, and Carol tries to calm down- tries to settle the fire in her veins, but Strange is looking at her. Dissecting her with shitty haughtiness in his face, and superiority in his eyes, and all she can think about is how much she hates him.
She hates him so much.
"You want to tell me about selfishness?" She says, words tumbling out, "- talk about my guilt like it's some kind of weapon when you didn't have to go through any of it! You speak about choices like its the biggest thing on your conscience, like it's your burden to bear, and we're all supposed to be grateful to you for taking it on. Thankful for a so-called sacrifice that killed people... a sacrifice that you chose!"
She grits her teeth, "You chose it! You didn't have to pick up the pieces, Strange. You were spared..."
She doesn't know if she's talking to him or talking to the world. Her voice breaks at the end, lip quivering, and she tries to be cruel, tries to be angry, but it just comes out as a whisper, "You were spared."
He doesn't know anything about her, doesn't understand any of it. He thinks he's superior, that he's the one who gets to make the decisions, gets to move the fucking King around like a god, like a deity, but then he speaks:
"Was she?"
And Carol freezes. His lips are in a sneer. Her body chills, her heart beats, the fissures widen. "Your kid," he bites out, practically chews on the words. "Was she spared from it too?"
Monica... Maria...
Fury's moving in the periphery. He's saying something- he's angry and yelling and screaming, his words joining the chorus of voices in her ears. The world is blurry, just a haze of colors and shapes as America reaches out.
Carol backs away.
She can't do this. She never should have come here. Strange glares at her again, his eyes harsh and cold as he pushes Fury away. He's protective, and in the back of her mind, she knows that. She knows why he's fighting her, why he's refusing to help, but it doesn't matter.
None of it fucking matters.
She ignites and just goes: up and up with no words, no warning. The main door is closed, so she takes out the window, lets it break behind her- glass and duct tape shattering against the roof-but she can't bring herself to care. Can't bring herself to turn around either because he's right.
Strange is right.
She runs a hand through her hair, the sobs washing over her as she shoots to the sky, higher and higher. Monica can live without her. She has for years. She can survive in another universe; she can find her place there and live just fine... can flourish, even. It's Carol that can't, anymore.
It's Carol that messed everything up.
Monica doesn't need me to save her, she realizes, tears floating into the darkness as the cold seeps into her skin.
Monica doesn't need her at all.