AKA Small Steps

March 27, 2016:

Jessica shows up on Carol's balcony, drunk and upset.

Carol Danver's Condo

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: Still Here - Girl Talk


Fade In…

After returning from a run to a Chinese place down the street, Carol Danvers actually rides up the elevator to her floor and opens up her condo like a normal person, with no flying. Sometimes, she actually tries to be a person. She stops briefly in the kitchen to drop off the bag of food, then continues into the main bedroom, peeling off her jacket and hanging it up, and then changing clothes - again doing so like a normal person, instead of her glowing quickchange shortcut with her powers - before she comes back out and heads for the kitchen once again. Her flight suit and boots have now been replaced with simple NASA shorts and a Space Command t-shirt, grippy sock-slippers on her feet just because. The tall blonde pulls out a bottle of non-alcoholic beer and sets it on the breakfast noon bar/island, then busies herself unpacking the food from the bag. So normal.

—-

The very opposite of normal is the somewhat bedraggled woman that is standing on Carol Danvers' balcony. Jessica's hair is a bit windswept and she has her leather jacket wrapped around her, arms crossed begrudgingly in front of her. While she can't fly, per say, she is certainly able to leap and pull herself upward enough times to land on Captain Marvel's balcony. The PI moves forward and gently raps on the glass doors in order to get the woman's attention. Her goal isn't to startle the woman inside, but it's clear she hasn't really thought any of this through. Her knuckles are bruised and somewhat dark brown. Her other hand presses against the glass, using it as a support.

—-

Carol looks up, then turns around from the meal she's laying out to spot the figure standing on her balcony, rapping against the glass. The blonde makes a little moue and shakes her head, climbing back off the stool and walking over to the balcony doors, which she unlocks and then slides open door and screen. "Hey, Trouble. What are you doing here? Get in here before those clouds decide to upend o you." She backs up to let Jessica through the door, then follows after her and closes things up. "You're not bringing AIM troopers or anything stupid up here after you, right?"

—-

Jessica stumbles a bit as Carol pulls her inside. By the smell of her, she's had quite a bit to drink. "You know I'd never do that, Sparkles," she tells Carol. Without much ceremony, collapses on the nearest couch. "Been on a case. Did you know people can turn into scorpions now? They can. And they're real assholes when they do it." Looking over at the table and the Chinese food, she turns her attention back to Carol. "Don't let me interrupt dinner."

—-

Carol coughs to clear the scent of liquor from her system, hating herself for the powerful pang it sends through her. "G*dd*mnit, Jewel." she responds, grimacing, knowing using Jessica's old codename is tantamount to fighting words, and not caring. She's an alcoholic in recovery; showing up stinking of booze is the suck. "Of course you'd do that, especially when you're sauced. You'd think it was funny. Which it's not." Carol points towards the bathroom. "You, get cleaned up. Then get back in here and eat. Then we can talk about whatever it is you have on your mind. Shoo."

—-

The name Jewel is a quick verbal smack to Jessica. Annoyed, drunk and confused, Jessica stands shakily. It's most likely that she simply didn't think about the damage showing up like this and what it might do to her friend. "No, I wouldn't." She's adamant. "Never mind. I shouldn't have come here." Now, she's angry, most likely more at herself than at Carol, but it all rebounds. "I could have killed someone last night. I nearly did. I just…I didn't know who I could talk to."

—-

The blonde stands there, hand still outstretched, finger pointing towards the bathroom. "Well, too f*cking bad. You're here now. Go. Clean up. Then, we eat, and we talk. Move it, Jones." Carol could be a lot more pissed than she is. She'll get over it, it's just unnerving to be swamped with the booze scent. It's her home, and she's standing on it long enough to demand the clean-up job. "You know you need food. And you need to talk. So stop whining and get to it." That said, Carol marches back to the kitchen and gets two plates, coming back to mount the stool and start separating what was going to be one woman's oversized dinner with plenty of leftovers into two women's evenly-split meals.

—-

There are few people that can order Jessica around like that and get away with it. In fact, there may only be two. Carol is one of them. The anger doesn't dissipate as she just glares at Carol, as if waiting for the other woman to buckle or throw her out for encroaching in her space while reeking of booze. However, she peels out of her leather jacket and tosses it down on the couch seemingly without a care before moving toward the bathroom.

The shower sounds. She's quick - it's mostly to get the scent gone and get a clearer head. She returns, hair wet and clothes sticking to her in a few damp places. She wasn't exactly thorough with drying. "I don't need your food," she says. This time it's not bravado, it's guilt. "Sorry for showing up like this."

—-

"Shush. Sit down, eat. Sorries are done now." Carol comments, pushing one of the plates towards the other stool. Carol pops open her non-alcoholic beer, and gestures towards the fridge. "Anything non-fun you want to drink, feel free. Water might be good for you. Otherwise, cop a squat and chow." Military much?

Only after Carol has had a decent start on eating, and sipping some of that near-beer, does she actually start a conversation again. "OK. So. You're on my balcony and in my condo 'cause you're soused and pissed. Almost killed someone? What's going on?" Carol doesn't judge. She's been there, and worse, in her day. Right now, she just prods, and listens to what spills out.

—-

After grabbing a glass of water, Jessica drops onto the stool, legs dangling over them, spread. She's no lady and she doesn't sit like one. At least it seems she's remorseful, though still somewhat drunk. At least she doesn't reek of it any more. She puts an elbow on the table and swirls the water in her glass as if it were whiskey.

She mostly pushes the food around on the plate as opposed to eating it. "It was a case. Following these nasty SOBs who were trying to kill some people. This guy had a cybernetic eye implant, turned into a scorpion with a forcefield. Had to beat on it with a guy in a red leather S&M suit to get to him."

—-

"Jess, eat." Carol admonishes, gently, as she listens. No lecture. No yelling. No fighting. Just listening, and gentle but firm repetition until she gets past the resistance. "So, the guy with the cybereye turned into a scorpion with a forcefield. OK. Red leather suit sounds like Daredevil. He's not terribly creative, so beating on it with you sounds his speed. Did you get through to the scorpion? What happened? Why'd the guy scorp-out?"

—-

"I was just there to apprehend him. He turned into a scorpion to try and kill us." At the admonishment, Jess looks up to Carol with a roll of her eyes. It's a 'thanks mom' gesture, but while it's petulant, there's a sisterly sort of affection there. "The guy who hired me showed up. We got through the shield. Daredevil - if that's really his name, Christ, are people really that uninspired? - got knocked out. Me and the other guy just got to him and started to beat on him. Bloody." The water in her glass trembles as her hand shakes a little. Her knuckles still look a little bruised.

Seeing that, she puts the glass down again. "I was so angry, Carol. I just wanted him to be gone."

—-

Carol gently removes the glass, puts it on the countertop, and then holds the hand. Jess can't break her hand. It's safer. "You don't usually end up far enough over your head for the anger to build up. Usually, you get to frustrated, and suddenly the problem is over." Cue Carol, who actually gets that. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you 'it's OK'. But it could have been a lot worse. Just breathe, and then eat. We'll work it out." Yep. Eating seems to be Carol's go-to for fixing this thing. That and not explaining anything. Big words aren't going to help here.

—-

Jess's hand lies limply in Carol's for a moment before she tightens her grip. "I could have killed him." Her words are soft, empty. For a moment, her head hangs down, wet strands of hair falling in front of her face. Doing as Carol instructs, she takes a few deep breaths. "The guy who hired me took him away. I got S&M and his posse out of there." Letting go of her friend's hand, she picks her cheap wooden chopsticks up and takes a quick bite of food.

—-

Carol gives Jess's hand another squeeze and then lets her go. She keeps eating, now that Jess is, and mulls over what she said. "It happens. You didn't kill him. And, now, you know how that feels. So, next time, you can head that off. Decide you didn't like how it felt when you realized you'd come too close to killing. So, you can pull back." Yep. She's counseling experience and the growth of wisdom. And food. And maybe less drinking. Or at least less drinking around her.

—-

"It was a near thing," Jess reiterates to Carol. The booze both helps her in a self medicating way, but also makes her thoughts less focused. Though, maybe those are both benefits to her. "I wasn't even thinking when it happened. I just did it." Unconsciously, she shakes out her left hand a few times even as she shovels more food into her mouth. "It wasn't a decision. I just did it."

—-

"I got that part, Jess." Carol responds, between bites and chewing. "I got it all. Trust me. Your instincts stopped you short. But, your instincts also put you that close to begin with. Next time, things will go better." Then she turns, touching Jessica's cheek, drawing the brunette's eyes to her own. "But, for the record: the alcohol is not helping. Lowered inhibitions. Remember high school health class? You gonna swing those fists, you need those inhibitions, spunky. Feel me?" More food. More company. Just … being there. Together. Cripes, Jess is better at this than she is. Damned spidery wench, where is she when she's needed?

—-

Pushing aside the fight and the close call on killing someone, Jessica doesn't say anything for a moment as Carol puts a hand on Jessica's cheek. It's not often that she's touched, or even will allow someone close enough to touch her. There are few select people she would allow make an intimate gesture that she didn't initiate. Carol is on that list. There is half a heartbeat were her head leans into the touch of her friend, grateful for a piece of human contact that has nothing to do with violence.

After that moment, she pulls away, blinking her eyes and shaking her head. "The booze keeps my head clear. It's the only thing that lets me sleep at night. It helps enough." Because she certainly doesn't believe in therapy.

—-

"Nah. The lowered inhibitions dampen the PTSD reactions. That's not a clearer head." Carol's not going to demand Jess get therapy. But if asked? She'd say that yes, that's what the other woman needs. And then she'd turn around and pay for it. because she /knows/ how badly it's needed. How badly she herself has needed it. And more than once. "I remember when I thought booze was helping me. It wasn't. I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I'm not going to tell you this is a good idea, either."

Jess came to Carol for help. So, Carol is going to offer it. Sure, Jess doesn't want to follow this advice. Wants to say it's a bad idea. But she came here looking for Carol's advice. And she's going to get it, and Carol's not going to say 'oh, my bad, do it your own way.' Nope. But she's not going to lecture. It won't do any good. Having said her peace, Carol just eats, and watches Jess do the same, while Carol's earwigging worms its way deeper and deeper into that hard skull.

—-

Jess did come to Carol for help. And, like the stubborn person she is, she's most likely going to ignore everything her friend is attempting to do in order to help her once she leaves. "If that's what it is, I may not want it clearer," she argues, just because she has to. But, the statement is more automatic, a reason to argue because she refuses to give in. Her skull really is thick and she is a very stubborn woman.

Settling back into eating the food that she invited herself over for, it's a few more bites before she adds, "I know it's hard for you to not tell me what to do." As she says that, she adds a smirk, the first bit of humor that she's infused in the conversation all night. "Thanks."

—-

Carol just shrugs her shoulders. "No harder than it was for people to stop trying to tell me what to do." Truth to power, that's Carol. Even to herself. "Still, you're welcome." Even if she /is/ telling her what to do, just not ordering her. She knows the right move. She just wishes she could get Jess to make that right move. So wish the spider was here to do this part. "You know I'll help any way I can."

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