fic: starchaser (mcu/comic fusion)

[human_veil]

okay so. i fully expect the mcu to ignore carol’s comic relationships with rhodey and tony, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and so here we are. i’ve been in a big rhodeytony mood lately, and (like most viewers) i walked away from capt. marvel thinking carolmaria could have easily been canon, so those were the ships i was thinking of when i wrote this, but if you don’t want to see it that way then... im not gonna stop you.

honestly, just take this with a grain of salt. it was a quickfic written bc i wanted to mess around with the possibilities carol finally being in the mcu brings. enjoy!

starchaser (mcu/comic fusion)
context: capt. marvel mid-credit scene.

“So you think Stark’s dead?”

Carol remembers James Rhodes.

Briefly, at least: his presence in her past fragmentary. She’s seen him in a photo or five, the images tucked away with the rest of Maria’s stash. Has flashes of training days and time spent in bars; has memories of memories—can recall his name being said in Maria’s voice as she’d recounted old stories: Rhodes a rookie while they’d been in their prime. Has memories of nights out and jokes about finding a man with manners. Of a younger kid attached to Rhodes’ side, of the way Maria used to chastise: What are you doing, bringing an eighteen-year-old into a bar? Of the way Rhodes had always answered, don’t worry. He can drink us all under the table. The words a joke, and yet latent with worry.

Mostly, though, she remembers the mutual recognition: something they’d all known better than to ask, the answer to their question all the more obvious when it remained unspoken.

The man in front of her now is mostly the same as the one in her memories. Older, a little broken, a little world-weary. But still familiar. If only slightly.

“So you think Stark’s dead?” she says, looking at the tech scattered around the room. They’re separated from the rest of the group, Carol still reeling with the news of Fury’s death. Disappearance? “Dusted?”  

Rhodes’ eyes shut at the term, like he wants to sigh but swallows it. “I don’t know,” he says, palms planted on the table between them. “He is missing, though. And when Tony goes missing, I go looking.” He tilts his head toward a device on the table—some sort of communicator, far less advanced than the ones Carol is used to. Rhodes pushes it her way, adds, “It’s sort of our thing.”

The way he says it is strange—like it’s an inside joke with someone who’s not in the room. Carol quirks an eyebrow.

“Your thing?”

“Yeah. Our thing.”

Her mouth twitches, only slightly. She picks up the communicator and twists it around in her hands, already thinking of ways to improve it as Rhodes continues.

“Look. Maria once said you were good with transmitters,” he says. “If Tony is out there, he’ll be sending something. I just don’t know what I’m looking for.”

She looks up, catches his eye. Says, “So you want my help.”

Rhodes shrugs, almost as if to say, yeah. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

Carol tilts her head and turns back to the transmitter. Thinks of old memories and old friends: of losing people you care about. She sighs, swallows.

“I’ll find him,” she tells him, and it’s said like a promise. Certain and unassailable.

Rhodes believe her.