When Kara wakes, it's to an empty bed and the suspicious sound of a cat purring.

The sheets are already slipping off the bed, and she pulls them back up with a yawn, rubbing at her eyes tiredly as she steps onto the cold hardwood floor she can't really feel. A quick cursory glance out of the bedroom and into the kitchen affirms the fact that Lena is—as she always is—feeding that alleyway cat that hangs around their door most days.

Kara is unable to do anything but smile at the sight of Lena crouched halfway out the door, still dressed in pajamas, sweater hanging half-off her shoulder as she coaxes the cat into accepting some water.

"You're only encouraging him to keep coming back, you know," Kara whispers so as to not startle the cat away, coming up behind Lena to press a kiss to the back of her neck.

Lena starts; with a gasp she says, "Kara! Don't do that," and jumps to her feet, nearly stumbling backwards into Kara. The cat scampers away, but Kara knows he'll pop up eventually. He always comes back.

"You know I'm allergic to cats," Kara says, ignoring Lena's affronted expression, "and we can't afford a cat, either."

Lena rolls her eyes. "You're not allergic to cats, you just say that," she mutters, but she gives Kara that exasperated fond smile that means I love you, you idiot and Kara doesn't take it too seriously. "I'm not trying to keep him either."

"Okay," Kara says, just a touch patronizingly, and Lena shoves at her shoulder as she makes her way back inside. Kara lets herself be pushed, and smiles at Lena's back as she shuts the front door.

Lena starts taking over the kitchen like she usually does in the morning, switching on the leaky faucet to get coffee brewing. She never lets Kara touch the ancient kettle if she can help it; she swears Kara can burn water, and Kara never argues the point.

Kara follows her to watch, and wonders how she ever got so lucky. Everything about early-morning Lena is her favorite, from the softness of her messy hair and tired eyes to the short-tempered annoyance she shows every time she's reminded how early it is.

She catches Kara watching her battle with the coffee machine, and in turn squints at her suspiciously. "What?" Lena demands, putting her hands on her hips.

"Nothing," Kara says, and at Lena's deepening scowl, grins. "You're always so grumpy in the morning."

"I am not."

"You are," Kara counters. "But it's very cute."

Lena only scowls harder. "I'm not a morning person," she grouses, "sue me."

Kara laughs, and gets close enough to press a kiss to Lena's temple. "I love you," she says, corners of her mouth twitching to stay still as she watches Lena, predictably, melt.

"You're going to be late to work," is Lena's only reply, but her eyes are smiling even if she isn't; she catches the edge of Kara's shirt before she can pull away, and leaves a kiss right at the corner of her mouth. "Go take a shower, cat hater."

"I love cats! It's not my fault I'm allergic." Kara isn't allergic to cats at all, of course, but it's something like a running joke now; it works to make Lena laugh, even if she won't admit it. "I promise you one day we'll adopt tons of furry cat children if that's what you want, even at the risk of my impending doom."

"You're not allergic to cats, you dork," Lena laughs. "Seriously, will you go shower? If you're late you're going to complain."

"Or we could both take a shower," Kara suggests, resting her hands shyly onto Lena's hips.

Lena presses her lips together, mostly for show. "You're incorrigible," she says. Accuses, more like, and she gently pushes Kara back. "I'll take you up on that some other time when you don't have a huge interview to get ready for."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Lena echoes, feigning exasperation, and she gives Kara another nudge. "Now go, or else I'll call Alex as reinforcement."

"Hey, that's playing dirty," Kara protests, and she steals one more kiss—this time a firm, smiling one against Lena's lips—before she actually detangles herself from her wife. "Let's have a date night tonight. What do you think?"

"I think you're stalling," Lena replies, turning back to the kettle. "Hurry up already, you have half an hour."

"I'll take that as a yes!" Kara yells as she makes her way out of the kitchen, beaming to herself as she catches Lena's ensuing quiet chuckle.

(She loves that, after so long, she can still make Lena's heart skip a beat.)

She takes as fast a shower as she can get away with, because apparently showering in under a minute is frowned upon by humans. Alex is always envious of their water bill because whenever Lena's not home Kara gets the chance she uses superspeed for stuff like that.

By the time Kara comes out of the bathroom, toweling off her wet hair, Lena's already left to work. She's left a sticky note on the bed that reads, Jess couldn't open. I left coffee in the microwave. ❤️

This happens more often than usual, and it makes Kara's good mood dissipate in an instant; it's just now that she realizes what time of year it is.

.

.

.

Lena throws herself into work around this time.

She'll be in and out of the house, pressing absentminded kisses to Kara's cheeks as she rushes out to meet Jess. She stays late even though she doesn't have to, and comes home exhausted, often falling asleep at the kitchen table as she makes a late dinner.

Then, late at night, Lena will wake up and play that old, dusty piano she usually never touches. She has always said it reminds her too much of her family and the piano lessons she'd endured as a kid; as far as she is concerned, Lex's gift is better off collecting dust in the corner of the living room.

Kara knows it's her way of coping, so she doesn't interfere. She even listens to Lena play, when Lena thinks she's fast asleep. Lena always presses on the keys so lightly, as if she fears what she could do if she pressed them more firmly, and whenever a proper song comes out it's often something sad and obsolete.

It kills Kara inside to stay quiet about it, and she tries to cheer Lena up as much as she can. She dusts off the piano; she sets flowers out on the kitchen table; she leaves small love notes stuck to Lena's gross health foods in the fridge.

(But Lena still tries her best to hide herself away, even if she has to stay away from Kara to do so.)

This morning in particular she seems more forlorn than usual, throwing a scarf around her neck as she starts up the kettle. She's fully dressed even though it's seven in the morning, every bit the imposing figure even though her energy is directed at glowering at kitchen utensils.

"Hey," Kara yawns, padding into the room still dressed in her pajamas. One of the pros of working from home means she gets to sleep in, even if Lena doesn't get that luxury. "I thought it was your day off today."

"I can't leave Jess by herself," Lena mutters, still angrily focused on what looks like untangling a spatula from the drawer full of cutlery.

"You always do, that's why it's your day off," Kara reminds her as she brushes past to take down a box of cereal from the open cupboard.

Lena remains silent at that, quietly setting aside the freed spatula as she reaches for a saucepan.

Kara tries another tactic. "You should stay," she suggests, tugging the belt hoops of Lena's jeans to pull her closer. Lena gives her an incredulous look, but it melts away the instant Kara rests her chin atop her shoulder. "Please?"

"I have to get to the studio," Lena protests, "and I already told Jess I would."

"Jess thinks you work too much," Kara counters, and she presses a kiss to Lena's shoulder for good measure. "She'd be thrilled."

"I really can't stay, Kara," Lena sighs. "We booked a group right at eight and Jess doesn't come in until nine. I have to leave soon."

Kara knows she's being deliberately ignored, and she gives a sigh of her own, heavy and long-suffering. "I miss you," she mumbles against Lena's sweater.

The guilt card doesn't work often, but this time it does. "I'm sorry," Lena says, and she truly does sound apologetic; she turns so she's facing Kara, and tenderly cups her cheeks, resting her forehead against Kara's in one swift movement. "I miss you, too."

They stand together for a moment, a selfish moment that Kara allows, and then she kisses Lena once—softly, just the barest touch of their lips—before she steps away.

"Don't work too hard, okay?" she says.

Lena's eyes soften. "I'll try not to," she promises.

It's a start, and Kara takes it, giving Lena one last reassuring smile before she turns back to her cereal.

When Lena leaves, she kisses Kara's cheek and says, "I love you," the words as apologetic as they are genuine.

The house always feels empty when Lena's not home, so once she's gone Kara flops down on the couch and turns on the TV for some background noise. Usually by now she'd head to her studio, but she's waiting on a confirmation that she's gotten the job for the art piece over at the place on 27th; she's too antsy hoping she's been selected, and far too worried to work on anything else.

Her solution is to call Alex, and load up her computer to do some online shopping while she waits for her to answer. Her phone only has to dial once or twice before Alex does, luckily, and after a burst of muffled static she hears,

"Hey, Kara."

"Hi," Kara says, bringing up her email and sighing when all she finds are numerous reminders of bills waiting. "Are you busy?"

"No, I'm stuck on desk duty. You know how my captain is after a big case—he wants to make sure it doesn't go to our heads, or something. How'd your interview go? Did they pick you?"

"I don't know yet. They said they'd email me soon," Kara says, refraining from refreshing her email for the fifth time in a minute. "Hopefully they liked me."

"They'd be stupid not to give you the job," Alex assures her. "I'm sure Lena's already making plans for a celebration once you get it."

The mention of Lena just makes Kara's heart sink. "Lena's got enough on her plate," she says grimly. "I wish I didn't tell her about it. If I don't get it she's going to be—you know, how she is every time I don't get a job. It's even worse, considering this time of year…"

Alex goes quiet. Then, "That's not your fault, Kara."

"It is," Kara says faintly. "Rao, Alex, I don't know what to do. I want to tell her. I want to tell her everything."

"I know," Alex says. She's particularly sympathetic about the subject because she loves Lena, too; the only problem is she cares for Kara's safety just as much. "But you know that's not a good idea."

Just once Kara wishes that Alex could quit being a big sister. Just once, to tell Kara she understands. Just once to say that she wishes she could tell Lena the truth, too. But Alex is about as self-sacrificing as Clark was once, and Kara knows she can't ask too much of her.

"I love her," Kara argues weakly. It's second nature, at this point, to defend Lena even though Alex doesn't hate her anymore. "And you know I trust her with my life."

"This isn't about trust and you know it," Alex sighs. She's lost her ability to argue, too, and now everything she says is so emptily apologetic that Kara almost wishes she'd get angry again. "Do we have to rehash this talk over and over again? You know I won't change my mind."

"You don't understand," Kara says. "She's the strongest person I know, but this—this tears her apart and I have to watch it. Do you know what's that like? To love someone so much and know that they're suffering because of you?"

"Kara—"

"I have to lie to my wife every waking moment of my life, and for what? It's not fair." Unwanted tears spring to Kara's eyes, voice going thick with them. "I'm sorry. I always attack you about this like it's your fault. But it's just mine."

"It's not your fault, Kara, c'mon," says Alex gently. "You and Lena are too alike. You're both always trying to take blame for things beyond your control. I think you need to forget about this."

"Easy for you to say," Kara mumbles. "You don't have to act human all the time."

"We'll figure it out together, okay? You don't have to do this alone. We all have your back."

"I know," Kara says. She adds an obligatory, "Thanks, Alex," before she changes the subject.

She wishes Kal-El were here so she could talk to him instead. He wouldn't understand either, but…well, Kara misses him so much she wishes he were here regardless.

.

.

.

They visit Clark.

It's a bleak Friday morning, so chilly outside that the air is biting. Kara's wearing a giant coat Lena had insisted she take, even if she doesn't really feel cold like Lena does. In contrast, Lena is a shivering mess, cheeks so red that she complains about it every two minutes.

"How aren't you cold?" she demands, taking Kara's warm hand in her freezing ones.

"I'm an alien," Kara replies cheekily. She knows if Alex were here she'd have a heart attack at the not-so-jokingly-said truth, but this is the onehuman joke she'll fight tooth and nail to keep—even if she says it so often that it's a tired one.

Lena just rolls her eyes. "You're hilarious," she deadpans, but she leans closer to Kara, absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand with her thumb.

She always tries to hide her worry, but Kara can see it in the little things; she grasps Kara's hand like she's afraid she'll break. She even frowns to herself when she thinks Kara isn't looking, and blinks back the beginnings of tears once they reach the edge of the cemetery.

Kara hates that Lena insists on coming with her every time. Of course she likes having her here, but she hates what it does; it disrupts Lena's peace, and with everything else on Lena's mind this time of year, this is just another stone on the pile.

A fresh bouquet of flowers on Clark's grave is waiting when Kara arrives. If it isn't Lena's doing, it's Lois's, or Alex's, or Lucy's, or James's. Kara brings a bright bouquet of daisies to add to it, and gives Lena's hand a reassuring squeeze before she ducks down to set them gently on the gravestone.

Lena always watches with a pained expression, right on the edge of terribly sad and dangerously angry. Kara wishes she could do anything to smooth it away, but she isn't sure how she can do that without ruining everything Clark's ever wanted for her.

All that grief Kara never shows comes out this time of year, instead, and it's always so much easier than expected, to rest her forehead on the ice-cold stone as hot tears drip off the tip of her nose. The frame of her glasses dig into her skin, and she wishes she could feel it hurt; she wishes she could sink her nails into her palm, to focus on something grounding like pain, to distract her from thinking about everything she's lost that she'll never get back.

After a few minutes Lena crouches beside her, burying her face into Kara's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, voice trembling as if she, too, is about to cry. She shivers, from the cold or some other reason, and repeats, over and over again, "I'm so sorry."

The position is awkward, but Kara surrenders to the embrace, sinking against Lena with one more shuddering intake of breath. "It's okay," she whispers against Lena's forehead. "I'm okay."

Lena's breath comes out in little puffs of warmth against her neck. "I can let you have some time alone if you want," she says, and Kara only grips her tight in response.

"No," she replies a beat later, almost unnecessarily. "I want you here."

Lena finally starts to cry, breathless sobs pressed into Kara's shirt. She carries so much guilt even though Kara has told her time and time again it's not her fault, and cries for Kara's loss without knowing just how heavy the loss in her heart actually is, and Kara hates that she can't say a word to her about it.

They stay at the cemetery for almost two hours. Most of that time is spent in silence, and Kara's legs feel cramped by the time they get up off the floor. Lena is still holding on to her, as if letting go would ruin their little bubble, and Kara wraps her arms around Lena's middle tightly.

"Do you want to go home?" Kara asks.

Lena shakes her head. "Not yet," she says. "Let's go somewhere."

Somewhere always means Noonan's. It's their place, sort of. It holds good and bad memories alike; good because that's where Kara used to work when she first met Lena, and bad because they always go there after a visit to the cemetery. But maybe that's not always a bad thing, to be able to go back despite everything.

It's not the most romantic place in the world, but it's always been there when they needed it. And that means more to Kara than anything else.

Lena orders coffee and two pastries while Kara takes a seat at their booth. It's started raining outside, barely a light drizzle, but as the sky grows darker the rainfall grows harder. Fitting, for today. Might as well be gloomy enough to match the mood.

When she worked here, Kara always liked the rainy days. It meant the cute brunette who always hung around stayed even longer, reading giant books and stealing smiling glances with Kara every time she came over to refill her cup. She'd been so far gone over Lena that she knew—somehow, she knew she was the one.

Lena used to call it fate. "What are the odds," she would marvel, "that our families already know each other? It's like…like we were destined to meet. Fate, if you will."

But she doesn't say that now. She doesn't mention it if she can help it, actually. Now she's much more cynical about what she calls it. Luck, she says, or a miracle. A modern day Romeo and Juliet, but not quite.

It's as if Clark Kent stole something that could never be replaced when he died.

.

.

.

Lex sends Lena letters every Saturday.

Lena burns these letters every Sunday morning.

Kara wraps her fingers around a steaming mug of tea and watches her do it today. The fireplace they otherwise don't use is just a means to dispose the unopened letters as they come, and Lena shoves every piece of junk mail she can find to help start the temporary fire as quickly as possible.

"We need to move," Lena mutters venomously as she strikes a match. "Maybe then he'd take the hint."

"We're still on the lease for another two years," Kara reminds her, amused, as she takes a sip out of her mug.

"Afterwards, then. We can go to another country—maybe Spain? Or France. I like the idea of Paris." Lena sighs as she flicks the match into the fireplace. "Anywhere but here."

"I like here," Kara tries, but it's clear Lena can't be consoled about this.

"We should go somewhere," Lena says, sliding the glass door shut as the flames engulf the thick envelopes. "I need a break."

Kara feels a pang of worry at the despondency on Lena's face. "Hey," she says, "what's wrong?"

"I should be asking you that," Lena says, and she gets off the floor so she might drape herself over Kara's chair; she kisses the crown of Kara's head almost apologetically, and Kara tugs her closer until she's half on her lap.

"I'm not the one moping about traveling," Kara says, but when Lena remains quiet, she continues: "I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"I'm your wife, I'm supposed to worry about you," Lena murmurs, resting her cheek against the top of Kara's head as Kara smooths her hands over Lena's lower back.

"Well I'm worried about you," Kara says. "Do you really want to travel? We can fly to Paris tonight if you want. Just say the word and I'll—" She stops when she remembers, and she clarifies weakly, "I'll book plane tickets."

"You know I hate flying."

"...we can't exactly take a train to Europe, Lena."

"I just—I wish we could escape somewhere, just be us for a little while," Lena admits. "No jobs, no murderous brothers, just us." Her voice is low, tired, as she fully sinks against Kara.

Kara hugs her close and wishes she could tell her. But what she says instead is, "Let's do it then. Let's take the honeymoon we never had. What do you say?"

"It's a little cold for that," Lena says, though she loops her arms around Kara's neck with a hint of a smile tugging on her lips. "And what about work?"

"We can go in a few months," Kara suggests. "We'll plan for work, ignore all our responsibilities and—"

Lena kisses her then, stopping Kara mid-sentence as she nudges Kara's chin up. "I love the idea," she breathes against Kara's mouth, even if it's said a tad remorsefully.

"Don't sound so excited," Kara jokes. Her neck protests the position, but she remains looking up at Lena, teasing smile slowly fading at the withdrawn expression on Lena's face.

"I'm in my head, I'm sorry," Lena says. Kara's forehead gets a kiss in apology, and then Lena slips out of the embrace. "My mother called."

"Bad news?"

"She's my mother, it's always something bad with her," Lena mutters. "It doesn't matter. I didn't answer anyway. But she left a voicemail about Lex, and—I don't know. Maybe I should block her number."

"You haven't talked to your mother in over a year," Kara says carefully. "Have you ever considered…"

"What, pretending she's going to change? No." Lena heads into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine, like she usually does these days. "I mean, obviously I've thought about it. She's still my mother. But I wouldn't do it."

"Lena," Kara starts, "if you're doing this for me—"

"I'm not," comes the muffled reply. Lena pokes her head into the living room. "Do you want some wine?"

"No."

Lena reemerges holding an entire bottle. It seems she's forgone a glass entirely. "Maybe I do need a vacation," she says thoughtfully. "Do you know what she told me this time? That they're going to put Lex on house arrest. Give him one of those—those things, I don't know what they're called. The ones that alert the police if he tries to leave."

"Wait, what?" This is the first Kara's heard about this; usually Alex keeps her up to date with Lex Luthor's status. "Why would they do this now?"

"Who knows? The perks of having money and power means it doesn't matter," Lena says dryly. "I bet she's been planning this since they put him away. It's only a matter of time before he gets parole or something. Fuck." She takes a swig from the bottle and shakes her head, mostly to herself. "I think we're out of whiskey."

"It's a little early for day drinking," Kara says, though she takes the bottle when Lena hands it over. "Let's focus on something positive instead."

"What? What's even remotely positive about something like this?" Lena asks, burying her face in her hands as she sinks down onto the couch.

"Well…you're looking at the official commissioned artist for the hotel on 27th," Kara says. "They asked me for three pieces! That's huge, right?"

Lena lifts her head up, stunned. "Are you serious? Kara, that's amazing! Why didn't you tell me this sooner, you jerk?" She drags Kara out of her chair so she can kiss her, gripping onto Kara's collar giddily and laughing too hard to properly do so. "I knew you'd get it," she whispers, hands coming up to Kara's nape and lingering there.

"Sure you don't want to call your mother? She'd be thrilled to know I'm not longer a good-for-nothing struggling artist."

"Stop it," Lena says, pinching Kara's neck playfully. She looks so proud, so happy, that Kara can't resist kissing her again; slow, unhurried, and sweet. She tastes the wine on Lena's tongue, and feels the curl of Lena's lips when she smiles, and wishes she could live forever in this feeling.

"I get the down payment in two weeks," Kara says. "We can save up for that vacation sooner than you think, you know. Or something else. Maybe we can finally take in that furball of yours, give our future kids a pet."

"He's not my…" Lena stops mid-argument. "Kids?" Her voice is soft now, questioning, but not without some uncertainty. "Do you want to start thinking about kids?"

Kara's eyes widen. "I didn't mean—I mean, I know you've always said you don't know if you want kids. So we don't have to think about it at all if you don't want to, I promise."

"No, it's," Lena swallows thickly. "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea, but—"

"We're still young," Kara quickly interjects. "Really. And we're not financially stable anyway, so we can table this idea for a few years, right? No pressure."

"Right." Lena cups Kara's cheek, biting her lip hesitantly, but there's relief in her eyes that betray her feelings. "Would you really adopt the cat?"

"I would, even if I'm allergic."

The joke works to break Lena out of her head. "You're not allergic," she huffs indignantly, but she's smiling again. "One of these days I'm going to get Alex to prove it."

"You can't believe anything Alex says. She likes you better," Kara says. "Oh! Speaking of, I should tell her about this too. She'll be mad at me if I keep her in suspense any longer."

"Yes, tell her to come over so we can properly celebrate," Lena says, pushing Kara away with an excited laugh. She throws on a sweater that she finds hanging off the back of the couch (that looks like it's Kara's), and heads back into the kitchen to actually get some wine glasses. "And tomorrow I'm taking you out, okay? Just us. We haven't had a date out in forever."

"Okay." Kara texts Alex to urge her to come over, meanwhile resting her cheek against her hand as she fondly watches Lena stand on her tip-toes to reach the top cabinet. "Nothing too fancy though. I don't get paid yet."

"It'll be nothing fancy. What about a movie? We haven't gone to the movies in a while. We can have a lowkey kind of night…"

Kara's struck with that fuzzy, enveloping shock of love that warms her from head to toe. "A movie it is," she says, and she decides right then and there that things are going to change after tonight.

.

.

.

It's snowing.

"We should've stayed in," Kara says as they make their way out of the movie theatre. Already Lena is shivering, gravitating closer to Kara unconsciously. "Look, the snow's sticking. What if the roads are dangerous?"

"We're five minutes away, drama queen, we'll be alright," Lena snorts.

"What if we walk home? It's close enough. The car will be fine here, we parked out on the street."

"Kara, I love you," Lena says, "but if you think I'm going to walk in this weather you're out of your mind."

So Kara relents. Lena steals the keys out of her back pocket and sticks out her tongue playfully, and Kara only smiles, smiles because she'd like to remember Lena like this forever—speckles of white snow melting in her hair, single dimple deepening by the crinkles of her smile, tugging Kara along with one insistent hand.

Kara forgets about everything else. She's supposed to be thinking about her future with her wife—a future that she gets excited just thinking about—and she's going to come clean, so she allows herself to get wrapped up in feeling carefree tonight.

She takes the keys back before Lena can get into the driver's seat, though. "Let me drive," she says. "I've been practicing."

"Alex says you're terrible," Lena says, grinning at Kara's affronted expression as she slides into the passenger seat. "She says she fears for her life every time."

"Okay, that's an exaggeration, I'm very safe," Kara says. "You've never complained!"

"I have complete faith in you, darling," Lena says, obviously not one hundred percent truthfully. Before Kara can start the car, Lena leans over the seat to kiss her sweetly; it makes Kara relax, however slightly, and surrender to the chaste intimacy.

Lena doesn't let her get too far away, resting her forehead firmly against Kara's and exhaling deeply. Kara smiles even if Lena can't see it, and asks,

"What?"

"Nothing. I like this," Lena says. She's smiling, too, when Kara gets a chance to lean away; it's a dreamy smile, tender and content, and it only makes Kara's own smile grow.

"I like this, too," she says. "I'm so lucky to have met you."

"That's usually my line." Lena brushes a strand of hair behind Kara's ear, and places a kiss right on the curve of her cheek. "Meeting you...it was something like fate."

It's the first time Lena has said that in a while, and it stuns Kara so much that she blinks, owlishly, in response. Her mouth falls open as she tries to find the right words to reply with, and she doesn't know what it is—the shock of the moment, the shy way Lena drops her gaze—but she never sees the truck coming.

What really clues her in is the first squeal of the tires; next, the way all the blood drains from Lena's face. Her mouth moves. Kara thinks she might have just shouted Kara, a cry wracked with anguish and terror, but that's all she's able to get out.

There has never been a moment slower than this. Kara tries, she tries, but she's so late that all she can do is cradle Lena tightly to her body as she tries to shield her from the impact. In this moment she feels so much: the heat of Lena's skin, the screeching metal of their car door against her fingertips. She's not able to both hold Lena and keep the other car at bay, and so she squeezes her eyes shut and hopes it's over soon.

A spray of glass whips around her as the window shatters. The car door receives the worst of the hit; the metal crumples like a sheet of paper, useless against the much heavier truck that has crashed into them, and Kara has no other choice but to propel herself and Lena out of the other window.

They land as a heap on the pavement. Kara is holding Lena as tightly as she dares, Lena's head tucked right beneath Kara's chin. She is afraid that any wrong amount of pressure might make the situation worse, and already the panic is beginning to set in. Her breathing is rough, heart pounding in her ears, and then there's nothing but silence. Silence that's somehow louder than everything else combined.

Kara's chest feels tight like she can't breathe, even if her burning lungs show otherwise. There's a numb coldness tingling throughout her body, especially heavy in the pit of her stomach, but even with this paralyzing panic coursing through her she manages to strain her ears listening for Lena's heartbeat.

It's there—faint, but steady. Kara nearly sobs from relief.

Lena has passed out. There's a gash on her forehead and blood trickling down the side of her face, but she's alive. She's likely going to have a hell of a concussion, but Kara resolves to worry about that later. Right now, she has to throw caution to the wind and get Lena to a hospital first.

She lowers her glasses to check where the other driver is. He's fine, shaken up but not injured, body stiff in shock as he doesn't move to get down from the car. Maybe he thinks he's crashed into an empty car since it'd been parked, or maybe he's still gathering his bearings. Either way, there are no other witnesses around.

As gently as she can, Kara gathers Lena's limp body in her arms and takes off into the night sky. The snow is falling heavier now; she wishes she had something to wrap Lena in to shield her from the cold. But all she can do is fly as fast as possible—in a way that's safe enough for Lena to withstand—and she doesn't even realize she's crying until she lands in the parking lot and the first of her tears fall onto Lena's cheek.

"Please be okay," Kara chokes out. She's strong enough to lift tons, and yet she feels like her knees might buckle under the weight of Lena's still body. "Please."

Somehow she manages to make her way inside. Lena is rushed away on a gurney and Kara stands in the waiting room, clothes so wet they stick to her skin uncomfortably. Someone offers her a blanket, and she slowly sinks into a chair to wait as her wife disappears.

They ask her what exactly happened. Kara doesn't have an answer.

.

.

.

"I brought coffee."

To someone who doesn't know Alex Danvers, the greeting might seem rude—lazy, even. But Kara knows her sister, and the way her fingers go white as they grip onto two styrofoam cups tells her everything she needs to know about how Alex is doing.

"I don't know if they'll let her drink it," Kara says, trying to smile but failing miserably. She's jittery, restless, and part of her wants to take the coffee Alex has brought and part of her knows she ought to refuse.

"So what," Alex gestures loosely around the empty ER, "what happened? Is she okay?"

"It's all my fault. I flew out of the window—"

"I'm sorry, you did what?"

"And now she's…she's probably going to have a terrible concussion, and she's in a medically induced coma and we don't know when she's going to wake up and it's all my fault, Alex, I should've seen the truck coming!"

"Kara. Kara, it's okay." Alex sets the coffee aside to grasp at Kara's hand, forcing her to quiet down and listen. "What else did the doctors say?"

"They…they said everything looks fine," Kara breathes, the urge to cry pricking at the back of her eyes again. "She's going to be okay."

"Then let's focus on that." Alex places an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer until Kara relents and rests her head against Alex's. "And we'll be right here when she wakes up, okay?"

"Right. Okay."

"By the way, do you know your clothes are really wet?"

"Yeah. Long story. Well, it's a short story, but I don't think you'll like the story."

"...forget I asked."

Eventually, Kara finds herself succumbing to exhaustion. She's half-asleep on Alex's shoulder by the time midday rolls around; she's been up all night waiting for some sign of Lena to wake, and hasn't thought it through entirely. Alex being here is enough to make her slow down, even just for now, because the knowledge that she can wake Kara if something helps is extremely comforting.

And that is exactly what she does. "Kara," Alex says, "Kara, wake up. Lena's awake."

In an instant, Kara's senses are on high alert. "She is?" she manages to get out, remnants of her exhaustion slowly fading at the news. "How long has she been up? Have you seen her yet? How is she doing?"

"The doctor said she's stirring," Alex says. "I'll let you be there when she wakes up, okay?"

Kara gets to her feet. She's never felt as human as she ever has in this moment, raw hope and relief coursing through her as she makes her way towards Lena's hospital room. She doesn't even look at the numbers on the walls; she's following Lena's heartbeat, and it guides her exactly where she needs to be.

The first glimpse she gets of Lena on that hospital bed feels like a rush of cool air has come over her, an unparalleled lightness making her head swim. Lena is dressed in a hospital gown, alarmingly pale against white sheets, lazy eyes half-lidded as she fully wakes; she's absolutely a sight for sore eyes.

Lena grimaces at the first hint of overwhelming light. She blinks confusedly as she gathers her bearings, but otherwise doesn't wince to show much pain; Kara hopes that's a good sign. Curiously, Lena's eyes land on Kara, but there's no relief to be found in them. In fact, she's staring at her with no trace of emotion at all, really, before she focuses instead on the nurse.

"Give her some space," the nurse cautions Kara. "She's going to be a little groggy."

So Kara refrains from rushing to her wife, and instead of taking her hand she stuffs both hands in her pockets instead. "Hey," she gets out, edging closer to the hospital bed. "You're…okay. I'm so glad you're okay."

Lena squints at Kara for a moment, as if searching for something that never comes. "Where am I?" she asks when she finally speaks, her voice hoarse and scratchy like she's been out of practice of speaking far longer than she actually has.

The nurse takes over from there. "Hi, Lena," she says. "You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident, and you hit your head pretty hard, but you're going to be just fine. How do you feel?"

"My head hurts," Lena says, bewildered, as she presses her fingertips against her temple.

"That's to be expected," the nurse says with a polite smile. "I'll see if I can get you anything for the pain."

Lena nods, and then her eyes flicker back to Kara almost curiously. "I'm sorry, are you here for my statement?" she asks, and it takes Kara a moment to realize she's talking to her. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help, officer. I don't remember a thing about the crash."

"I'm not…the police," Kara says, casting a worried glance at the nurse for backup. "Is she under the effect of the meds?"

The most the nurse offers is a similarly heavy look, and then she's turning towards her patient without answering Kara's question. "Lena," she says. "I'll get the doctor back in here soon. I think we need to run a couple of tests, see how you're doing."

Kara can't wrap her head around what's happening. "Wait, wait," she says. Desperately, she meets Lena's eyes, trying to find something grounding—anything that will explain what's going on. "Lena, you do know who I am, don't you?"

The confusion on Lena's face is answer enough. "No," she says. "I'm sorry."

In that moment, in one split second, Kara feels faint. Paper-thin. It's as though her heart has been ripped out of her chest and placed on display without so much as a warning. "What do you mean?" she stammers. "I'm your wife. I'm—" Again, she looks to the nurse, but the nurse is already moving to usher her out of the room.

"Mrs. Luthor, a word?"

Kara lets herself be nudged out of the room. The last thing she sees is Lena watching her, mouth partly open in shock, and the sound of the hospital room door soundly clicking shut might as well have been as loud as a gunshot.

"What happened?" Kara says, so dizzy she needs to lean against the wall to remain upright. "You said she was fine. Isn't she fine?"

"Head injuries aren't as black-and-white as we might think," the nurse says. "There could be some minor impairment, if there's enough swelling in her brain tissue against her skull—"

"Minor?" Kara echoes. "She doesn't remember me. How is that minor?"

"Mrs. Luthor, please." The nurse is sympathetic, but there's nothing she can do, and Kara knows it. "This is actually quite normal. Swelling like that might very well cause memory loss. We won't know the extent of the damage until we get a chance to speak with her, but rest assured, she is otherwise perfectly healthy. You're welcome to wait in the waiting room again. I'll be back soon, once the doctor is finished."

"Okay." Kara's voice comes out small. "Thank you."

She walks back to the waiting room in a daze. All she can think is that nothing, nothing, has prepared her for this.