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"Has she moved at all since she got here?"
"Nope, not an inch."
"Can't imagine what that was like, losing a friend and then just poof, back from the dead."
"Well, there's a chance it's not the first time."
"Oh, yeah, I totally forget sometimes. Man, that was the weirdest part of the SHIELD briefing."
"Yeah, 'Everything awful you've ever heard a bedtime story or watched a horror movie about is real, now let's get started learning how to fight back.'"
Carmilla had to admit the slightly less annoying one's impression of Fury wasn't terrible. Didn't stop a small part of her brain from demanding she tear him in half to stop the gossip. Or, at least, give them something else to gossip about. She put Dee and Dum out of her mind as she returned her attention to the man on the bed in front of her. He still looked exactly the same, like she hadn't felt hollow for a good decade after his "death," like she hadn't comforted the broken-hearted woman who'd loved him, like she hadn't put the very limits of her vampiric constitution to the test toasting his memory with the friends he'd left behind. When she'd gotten the call, believing Fury hadn't even occurred to her at first. She'd raged and snarled at him, thinking it was some kind of manipulation on the old spy's part. When she'd finally let herself hope, she'd abruptly hung up and collapsed, sobbing at what she knew lay in her best friend's future. The graves of comrades long passed, the might-have-beens. She thought it ironic, before she'd met Steve Rogers, she'd never felt what humans always mused was the main downside of immortality. Her Mother hadn't allowed her to really get attached, to make friends, to care about anyone enough that she keenly felt their loss. Ell had been the first and last of her old life, but even that had been soured by her Mother. It was Steve that had helped her open up, to give enough of a shit that it hurt when they were gone.
By the time she had pulled herself together, Fury had graciously apologized to himself on her behalf and secured her a ride to where Steve was convalescing. She'd rolled her eyes at the setup, but was unable to convince Fury that it was unnecessary. Steve was a straight shooter, and he'd always appreciate honesty more than some half-assed attempt to spare his feelings. After the second failed attempt, she'd stopped wasting her breath and simply muscled her way to her friend's bedside and planted herself in a chair nearby.
"Do you think he'll wake up?"
"Of course, this is Captain America we're talking about here."
The guards were wholly unneeded and very much unappreciated, as well. Especially these two, they apparently hadn't listened during training about the capabilities of various supernatural creatures. She could hear them through the thin, false walls, and all they ever did was talk about her and gush about how awesome Captain America was. It grated on her more on Steve's behalf. The hero worship had never once failed to make him deeply uncomfortable. He was just a soldier, he would say, doing his job like everyone else. If he were a little better at that job than some others, that just meant he could more effectively help those who needed it. Just because he understood and had even come to like the uniform and the associated symbolism didn't mean he had ever settled into being a "hero." Which, she mused with a faint smile, was part of what truly made him one. He was the kind of man who worried about the well-being of a woman who'd just tried to kill him in a panicked frenzy while caked with dried blood. She smiled as she remembered her barely functioning brain trying to reconcile her actions with the concern he'd shown. A full laugh escaped as she remembered that same face blankly staring as she'd explained what she was.
A groan from the bed brought her reminiscing to an abrupt halt.
Steve's eyes slowly blinked open, as bright and blue as they'd always been. He took a moment to look around the room, eyes widening as they landed on Carmilla, who was smiling brightly, tears gathering in her eyes and lip quivering slightly. Neither said a word, just holding the other's gaze as Steve tried hard to remember what was happening and Carmilla tried not to throw herself at him.
He sat up slowly, "Carm, what's going on, where am I? Last thing I remember is crashing that Hydra monstrosity."
The reminder of how they'd lost him was too much and she could feel the tears escaping, small sobs breaking free. Steve pushed aside his questions and opened up his arms. She was at his side in an instant, arms wrapped around his middle as she buried her face in his chest, the contact helping to remind her that, yes, the best friend she'd ever had was really here. However unlikely, however miraculous, he was alive and she'd never been happier.
Steve didn't say anything, just held her as she cried, but he knew something was definitely wrong. Carmilla wasn't exactly an emotions kind of gal, as anyone who'd spent five minutes around her knew. He'd seen her cry exactly twice. Once when she'd stopped disconnecting with her past and really mourned the girl she had been and the girls that had been taken by her Mother, and again when Bucky died. They'd both been a wreck after that, Buck had taken as much of a shine to the normally cantankerous vampire as all of the other Commandos had. Steve had teased him once about nursing a crush, but had never known if that was true or not. Unrequited feelings notwithstanding, the two had shared a close friendship full of banter and barbs targeted at one another. Eventually, he heard her breathing even out a bit and she pulled back, her eyes and smile soft as she looked at him.
She gathered herself and sat up, but held onto his hand, "You got the job done, soldier boy, but the ice you crashed in put you in a kind of cryogenic stasis. You've been, for lack of a better term, asleep for...seventy years."
His face crumpled, and he just stared at her. He searched her eyes, trying to convince himself that this was all some kind of cruel joke, but he knew her. Once they'd become friends she'd never been anything less than honest with him. "Peggy?"
She squeezed his hand and smiled sadly, "She's still around, but she's not doing great these days. Always was burned up about that dance you owed her."
He let out a watery chuckle and gripped her hand tightly enough that it would have shattered if she'd been human. She wasn't though, and Steve knew that, he was the one who'd helped her come to terms with it. "So, what have you been up to?"
She knew a subject change when she heard one, but also knew not to push. Steve was one of those people who just occasionally needed time to process, but he'd get there. "This and that, tracking down my Mother, looking after Howard's brat, punching other vampires in the face."
"If you find your mom, you be sure and give me a call. I have quite a few choice words for her, and a number of socks to the jaw the Commandos owe her on your behalf."
"I'll hold you to that, Cap."
"I'm looking forward to it." He grinned, and she was relieved to see it was genuine. There was still a deep sorrow in his eyes, but she knew he'd come out the other side of this. Steve Rogers wasn't a man that grief could defeat. "What's with the room, by the way?"
"Fury's idea. He's the head of the modern equivalent of the SSR, SHIELD. He wanted to ease you into the 21st century, thus the time capsule. He wouldn't listen to me, so I thought it best just to be here for you when you woke up."
"Well, I'm glad you were."
"Me, too." He pulled her back in for another hug and she smiled as she returned it. There was still so much wrong in the world. Her Mother was still out there somewhere, abducting young women. Tony was still dependent on technology to even stay alive and hellbent on throwing himself into trouble wherever he found it. There were ever-increasing reports out of New York City of stranger and stranger superhuman criminals only barely being stopped by some girl in spandex, of all things. All of that darkness, though, meant nothing, because a future where Steve Rogers was alive again was an undeniably bright one.
Laura looked about ready to burst out of her tights she was full of so many questions. Standing next to her surly roommate was the man who had inspired her to use her powers for good. The Man Out of Time himself, the First Avenger, the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan. Carmilla rolled her eyes as she watched Laura pace the ceiling excitedly.
"Calm down, Cupcake."
"Carm, you're friends with freaking CAPTAIN AMERICA!"
"And you're Spider-Woman."
Laura at least had the decency to look sheepish. It wasn't like Carm had even really hidden the fact that she was FRIENDS WITH CAPTAIN FREAKING AMERICA, she just didn't call him that. She looked at the man in question and could have kicked herself at how uncomfortable he looked. She dropped from the ceiling she'd leapt to in her excitement and took a deep breath. She walked over to Steve and smiled, extending her hand, "Sorry, let's start over, I'm Laura Hollis."
"Steve Rogers, nice to meet you, ma'am."
"I'm really sorry I freaked out. I was...kind of...lost back when this," she motioned to her costume, "happened. Your story made me think I could, maybe, do some good."
"I just did what anyone else would have."
"The fun part, cutie, is that he really believes that."
Steve shot Carmilla a look and she just smirked. Laura just looked back and forth between the two, the last vestiges of her impression of Carmilla as a barely social, lazy, "worst roommate ever" candidate falling away. That was who she'd had to be. With Steve around, she was seeing her as she truly was. They seemed more like siblings than friends, gently teasing one another and taking care of each other with a frankly intimidating ferocity. The image of Captain America in full regalia swooping in to save her and Carm was still firmly planted in her mind. The anger she'd seen him direct at the Dean had seemed out of place at the time, but now she understood. That woman had tortured Carmilla her whole life, and he was intent on making her face the consequences. You might even say he's...Avenging her. She cackled at her own joke, prompting Steve and Carmilla to turn to her in unison with practically the same look of confusion on their faces. Which, of course, just made her laugh harder.