Perhaps it was a bit bohemian of him, but Killian was actually enjoying the art of gardening on a houseboat - it was container gardening, mind you, and there was a certain art to it. He had the staples, carrots and sprouts and tomatoes, and also herbs - mint, rosemary, sage, cilantro. No parsley because it didn’t taste like anything, and he wasn’t even sure what it was for. But it was all turning out nicely and it’d be a money saved - plus, it would just be pleasant to add fresh herbs to spice up whatever whatever was cooking for dinner, or grab a carrot to snack on. There was enough soil, plant food, and whatever else to develop this lovely garden and he planned to keep at it until either things just died or a hellish meteor shower from space rained down and ended everything.

Not like it’d be particularly surprising, if that happened.

Once he’d tended to business on the deck, he went back inside to begin to take care of other business. Carol would be over soon and he was set to go over the results of the trip to New York. He’d acquired her answers, everything she’d been looking for in fact, and now what she did next was entirely her decision - though he wouldn’t say no to working together for follow up, or tying loose ends, whatever else she wanted. Killian rather liked her, she was one ‘dreamer’ he certainly didn’t mind helping - there were others too, as he closed a chapter of shadowy work and began to write a new one involving something more legitimate, healthier, and better for him and his small family. People like Emma Frost he would still work for, and he’d taken on not one but three ‘find the parents’ cases - though granted, he didn’t plan to charge Bo anything for hers.

In preparation for Carol’s visit, he tidied up the living room and organised his selections at the bar - he’d cut back, a lot, but still had a few things. The hard copy of the report she wanted was typed up and sealed in a folder, waiting on the coffee table. He was interested to hear what her next course of action would indeed be.

Before Christmas, Carol wouldn’t have said that she’d really be closing chapters at all. There were things she’d expected to just have to live with, a certain acceptance seeping into the entire thing. But with Killian’s work it really seemed like she’d be putting the whole thing to bed soon. It had taken her a while to get her head around the fact that Michael wasn’t the open and shut case she thought it was, that there was a degree of letting go of him that she hadn’t really expected.

And that was what she knew she needed to do. Carol couldn’t live a life in Witness Protection, she couldn’t leave it all behind again. Because Carol wasn’t built for rebuilding her life every time something changed. But there was a difference in letting go and closing the door.

She might be prepared to let go of Michael and the possibilities that had been there, but she wasn’t just letting go of the mess it made of her life. Carol wasn’t one for revenge, but she was interested in justice, and she certainly wasn’t opposed to making sure it happened herself.

Heading out to Killian’s place, presumable for the privacy that would come with this final information packet, Carol parked up to head over, a little anxious but thankfully mostly in control of her powers at that point. She really didn’t need to be blowing holes in boats.

Yes, Killian quite appreciated Carol not blowing holes in his ship. Or boat, same difference. He hadn’t gotten the Jolly Roger here in all of her majestic beauty yet, but he held onto a small sliver of hope that she’d show up. Something had to go right, for once? Didn’t it? He was owed a little bit of something good?

Perhaps not the best question to ask.

Heading to the door to let her in, he emerged on the front porch sporting his favourite shade, which was black - trousers in that shade, paired with a sweater, though the shirt he had on beneath gave him touches of red at the neck and wrists, a colour combination that he also favoured. The prosthetic he had ordered he was now wearing, and had been since it had arrived and he’d been properly fitted. It looked like something from a sci-fi movie, very mechanical he thought, but it was functional - he was learning to grab things with it, with precision and finesse. Of course he couldn’t feel anything with it, however. There were ‘bionic’ hands that were incredibly advanced but he certainly couldn’t afford those - he felt guilty enough about receiving something of a large discount on this one, before Andrew had left the area.

“Come on in, love, it’s always interesting walking onto a houseboat,” he chuckled, showing his guest the way inside. “How have you been?”

It was a little different, she’d been on boats before -the ferry in New York, but never a house boat. Getting her balance thankfully didn’t take too long. She didn’t really hide the look around she did either, because Carol was curious by nature.

It was cosy, and it really suited Killian, the more she thought about it. “I’ve been okay,” aside from her powers starting to bleed over and the mild inconvenience that caused from time to time. “Busy, thankfully. Between work and some renovations,” because why not just get a whole new bathroom suite after vaporising her toilet and blowing out the wall? “It’s been a decent enough distraction.”

Which was exactly what work served as right then. When she wasn’t working she’d be overseeing repairs and if she wasn’t doing that she was seeing just how strong she was -so far the answer to that was very.

“Ah, yes, Carol Danvers, vaporiser of toilets. Officially for the business cards.” It was indeed a weighty power, one that must have been a bit terrifying to just wake up with - but Killian was glad that she seemed to be handling it alright, and perhaps now she’d get to put those powers to use. They’d be a rather large advantage over certain people, and helpful in tying up those pesky loose ends.

He motioned to the sofa, for her to get comfortable - sit anywhere, really, there were multiple options in his small but homey space. Peering through the windows, it was almost like looking out into an aquarium - it was beautiful at high tide, with the water all around you, but also at low tide when certain birds were more prevalent and out looking for food. “I’ve got everything ready for you, and detailed updates from New York - it was a successful visit, shall we say. But would you like anything to drink first?” he asked, ever the gracious host.

Yeah, Carol wasn’t sure if that would be a good addition to her business cards, although she was sure that the bathroom fitters would love her. “Just a tea would be lovely.” Because hey, it was supposed to calm people and Carol could do with some calm around about now.

She settled on the sofa, flexing her hands when her fingers tingled, enough to settle that annoying raw power a little further down. She might need to look into actually taking someone up on their offer to let her blow off steam. And by steam she meant blast the hell out of things. “So, how was New York? Aside from work, at least.” Because really, he couldn’t work all the time, right?

“Tea it is,” Killian nodded, and went to go put the kettle on. Then he came back and sat on the sofa near Carol - he’d wait til he got whistled at, from the kitchen, before going over everything in detail. If the tea was meant to be calming, she might need it at that point. “It was actually nice, just sort of getting away from the area for a bit,” he admitted. “I had a friend come with me, as you know. She had her own business to attend to but I helped with that. We got to try a lot of the cuisine in the neighbourhood - I suppose I can see the appeal of some things.”

Like pizza and cheesecake and those bagel things. The food from carts was good too - he was familiar with that scene, it had taken off in Britain. Some of the best food you’d find in London came from street stalls, after all. And Killian was quite a fan of the crepe stands (who wouldn’t be?)

“One day I’d like to go back, perhaps for pleasure as opposed to business.”

“God I miss New York food. There really isn’t a lot like it.” And the imitations and ‘New York style’ just never lived up to the real thing. Carol was a foodie though, in a big way, and it seemed the more her powers started to develop and grow, the more she was eating -which made sense, since her metabolism just got one hell of a boost.

New York was about the food and culture, seeing the sights was something that some people did, but sometimes just experiencing the city was good on it’s own. “You should go back, just for the sake of it. There’s plenty to see and do without bothering about work.” And she totally understood needing a break from Orange County for a while. She wasn’t sure what it was about this place, the fact that so many stayed and settled, but sometimes a breather was needed.

“Well, I’m glad you got to enjoy some of it.” Rather than work himself through the whole thing and miss out, especially since he at least had company.

People seemed to be drawn to this area, and Killian understood that - he lived in, he was sure that being here wasn’t really a coincidence. He’d done some work for Regina at first, moved here to report in person, and simply felt compelled to stay. Life was difficult, that was for certain, but he wanted to continue to stay to see how it all played out - he wouldn’t run from what he saw in his dreams. From what he remembered.

“I think after all the nonsense with killing a basilisk, we’ll go to the UK for a bit,” he chuckled, getting up to silence the whistling kettle. The kitchen was right there, so he kept talking. “There’s lots to see in Belfast, kind of like going home again.”

When he returned, he had two mugs of tea - one in each hand, though he was carefully carrying that mug in his prosthetic, hoping he wouldn’t drop it. There was also a tray he had, with cream and sugar, if Carol took any of that in her tea. It had been awhile since he’d had a cuppa - Killian wasn’t a big tea drinker, but had switched more to that and coffee (unspiked) since cutting back on the drinking. “Alright, here we are. As promised, I’ve also got your hard copy of the report in that folder,” he said. “It’s rather long and detailed, but I found a location for Michael - he’s in a small Midwestern town, sort of started a new life there.” He doubted Carol would want to pay him a visit - having that knowledge was mostly just to properly finish that chapter, he thought. A way of closure for her.

She’d read that he’d been killing sea serpents, apparently for cures, but Carol hadn’t pried (she’d been blasting things willy-nilly) and at least he’d gotten that all dealt with. “A trip home then?” Some people appreciated the home enough without the need to see family, but Carol herself hadn’t been ‘home’ in years. Colorado just wasn’t home anymore anyway.

Taking her tea gratefully, minding how Killian managed, Carol settled herself with some cream in her tea and sipped at it. Prepared for the information, at least she thought she was, Carol nodded along as Killian started.

Midwestern, that seemed fairly suitable. It was easy to get lost there. She half wanted to know just what kind of life Michael had started, if he’d started seeing someone else, how things had progressed. If he was even happy with that silly little farce of a life. But no, she wouldn’t be paying him a visit. It was enough to know he wasn’t dead and that he was out there somewhere, relatively safe from all that nonsense. “That’s… that’s good, yeah?” She didn’t really know why it became a question. “No, it is. I’m glad.” And she was surprisingly okay with it. “Thank you, Killian.”

Chapter closed. Well, almost closed. “I take it that wasn’t all, though.” Since that was a bit thin and the folder didn’t seem to be just a page or two.

All the information about Michael was there too - his new name, in that small idyllic town, his new job, his hobbies, the organisations he belonged to, things of that nature. It might be painful to look over later, but Killian had been as detailed as possible. “No, that’s not all,” he confirmed, the swirl of cream he added turning his tea a lighter colour. Then he took a sip, to let the warm liquid course down his throat.

“No arrests were made for the whole bag of worms that was the whole drug cartel case,” he explained. “Probably not surprising, given the CIA’s deep involvement.” There was a whole conspiracy theory among mad tin foil hat wearers that the mind control cult known as the Illuminati really ran the CIA, which was farfetched - but the CIA covering up their coverups, well, that wasn’t so farfetched. Unfortunately. “You told me that you wanted whomever was in charge of that whole operation dead, so...”

All the while calmly stirring his tea. Killian didn’t murder people often, and it was something he would give up now that he’d promised to better himself (well, besides anyone who hurt his family or his close friends, no promises there), but by now he knew the ‘correct’ way to do it - the little tips and tricks that gangsters lived by. They wore hairnets. Nail polish that coated your fingertips (lucky how he only had one hand). Body dismembered for tossing into a rubbish disposal, or dissolved in acid. If need be, how to make it look like an accident or a suicide properly (amatuers tried, but they couldn’t do it).

“I took care of it for you. But there’s still more. What you want done with them is up to you, however, I gave you enough information to decide.”

Carol knew that she should be shocked, maybe appalled. It shouldn’t have been such a careful, casual and normal thing. But… She was glad. Glad and grateful and she just wasn’t sure how you articulate a thank you to someone for murdering someone so that you don’t have to. She just gave a tight smile while considering the best way to actually show that.

It seemed like she’d have a lot of reading to do, a lot to decide too. But then Carol liked having all the information available, and Killian had apparently done that and more. It gave her options, which she was certain that she would need after reading the information on Michael’s new life, enough fresh grief was likely to cloud her views for a little while, but if she had the information there and these flashy new powers…

“Thank you, really. I mean… God knows how it’s going to turn out from here,” because no one had really faced what they did, no one had paid for turning Carol’s life on it’s head, save for that squealing piece of shit that Killian took care of for her, well. It wasn’t really enough for her.

“You’re quite welcome, I’m glad that I was able to help you resolve this,” Killian responded sincerely, and he really was glad to help - perhaps his career choice was on the shadier end of the spectrum (without the right licencing, that is) but when he managed to bring closure to people about life’s quandaries that had been eating away at them, it was rewarding. To have helped with that, to have been a part of that.

His good hand curled around the mug of tea and he settled back on the sofa, relaxing his shoulders a little. “If you need me for anything else, you know all you’ve got to do is ask. Consider it a favour for a friend this time.”

Killian would go along with her, he’d help Carol clean up bodies, he’d hide things if required. Utilise those connections he had, far and wide. By now, he considered them friendly anyway - enough of a friend to do that sort of thing for.

That would be some favour. ‘Hey there friend, fancy helping me make all these people pay, and by pay, I likely mean die?’ Then again, it wasn’t like she was terribly close to many of her Avenger buddy friends in this place. And really, could she ask such a thing of them? Maybe Logan. After a long and gut wrenching discussion about her past and everything.

Which really, who wanted to get into a pissing contest about their tragic past with Wolverine? Not her, that was who. So, that narrowed the list of people who could potentially talk Carol out of sending herself to prison to one. Which was Killian. Lucky him. “I’ll need to get back to you on that one but…”

But the more she thought about it, the more she considered just how this wasn’t dealt with in any way. She couldn’t have been the only one affected by this, or like this. How many people either lost their lives or had to repair them? And maybe it was hunting for excuses while she stared at her tea, like it would actually tell her anything, but the more she thought, the angrier about it she got and the more she wanted to do something.

“Well, really I think you might need to get back to me, after your trip, we can see if I’m still as murderous.” Which, okay, terrible wording but the truth all the same.

Killian nodded - he understood, of course. It was something that required careful planning, not anything that you could just rush into. “I’ve a feeling you might be - and someone with vaporising powers, well...” He smirked a little deviously. “But I’ll give you some time to think it over. And we can go from there.”

It was a terrible situation, but when it was all said and done and the dust settled, then maybe they could actually say that they righted something. He never considered himself much of a ‘good guy’ before - perhaps this was a roundabout way of going about it. Sometimes you just had to do the right thing, no matter the cost, and circumvent law enforcement that had holes and cracks in it. The same broken law enforcement system that so badly let you down.

“The vaporising might be a good thing.” Carol managed a light joke, smirking a little. It was unlikely something her dream counterpart would consider, but Carol was getting the impression that the woman she dreamed she was and the woman she actually was, they were very different in some key ways. She was certainly much more jaded, far less concerned with what was ethically right. Justifying murder, in any way, just wouldn’t be something she did. But then, Carol was only dreaming about that woman.

She didn’t even need to talk herself around it at all.

The justice system had failed, Carol could fix that in this case in a very permanent way. There wasn’t much else to consider, was there.

“You really have gone above and beyond with this, and I’m very grateful,” especially with the possibility of something else stemming from it all. That would likely require some delicate work, “So, if you ever need anything, just say.” Because there ways paying for this work, and then there was repaying the effort.

Dreaming of someone that you didn’t feel like you matched up with in all ways, Killian understood that too. He saw that man, Hook, and while he knew that he was gazing into a funhouse mirror (you couldn’t get away from some similarities) he also could comprehend, on this side of the looking glass, that there were mistakes he wouldn’t want to repeat. Decisions that he, himself, in the now wouldn’t have made - or at least he liked to think so. As long as you learned from it all, he felt like that was all anyone could ask for.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, love,” he nodded, setting down his mug of tea. “It’s nice to have allies, above all. Especially here. We...can’t go through any of this completely alone, I think.”

And if Killian considered you an ally, you were on his good side, he’d definitely go above and beyond. But otherwise? Not so much.

“I suppose we’ll wait for the next storm to roll in. Now, consider it the calm before all that.”

It had to be rather daunting for everyone. Two sets of memories, and from what Carol could figure, some ended up with more than that. It was like two lives lived and sometimes they weren’t entirely kind. And yet there was just something about this place and these people that made them remain.

“I have found that, yes.” One woman army wasn’t working out in her dreams, was it. That was why the Avengers membership came about. Carol really needed to remember that here too. Working with people, relying on others, it was new, but it was something that everyone needed to do at some point or another.

“So this is the ideal time to do those things that might come in handy later.” Like figure out if she could do more from her dreams. God, Carol was avidly awaiting being able to fly. “Which, lets face it, we know is going to happen.”

“Suppose it’s a matter of when, not if.” At the very least, Killian knew that you couldn’t sit back and assume that things wouldn’t cross realms - he’d obviously seen it happen, he’d lived it, and it was always safer to err on the side of caution if you theorised that something was about to come along.

Like this whole Dark One thing, with Emma. It made him unsettled to think of it - because that was a potential thing to cross over, but he also understood how their dream world worked. Not much was as it seemed - it wouldn’t be as simple as Emma waking up with all that dark magic thrumming beneath her skin. There was something else. He just didn’t know what, but damn if he couldn’t feel it about to erupt.

They might need some more tea for these conversations. “Anyway, I’ll top off our mugs,” he said, standing up. “And find something sweet in the fridge. Now’s also the time for comfort food, I think.”

If you couldn’t indulge while discussing murder, then when could you? That was just how it went around here - not much surprised him at this point, just consider him fully acclimated.