Loosely based on the song Silhouette by Aquilo.
Can you save her?
She is falling, falling, falling.
Can you get there in time?
She is screaming your name. It is a whisper. You are too far away.
Do you love her enough to try anyway?
"Lena?"
Her eyes flicker up to your face for a moment, unfocused. She does not see you. You are a shadow; your voice is an echo of times now past.
You approach slowly, softly, slowly. Hand out low, reaching, reaching.
She is a wild animal. She will spook and run.
Slowly, closer, softly.
Her legs bounce fitfully. She wants to run.
Run because she is uncaged. It scares her because, well, who is she without the walls she has built around herself?
It scares you because who are you without her? Just how far will she run with nothing to keep her here?
"Lena?" you try again. Hand in front of you, palm up. As if she will sense that you mean no harm. As if this wild animal will embrace you if you're gentle enough… if you take your time and are patient.
She stares ahead, a glass precariously held with her fingertips. You see her neck stretch when she throws her head back. Her throat moves harshly as she downs the liquid, as she downs her worries, her fears, her instinct to run. She immediately looks as though she will vomit. As if the alcohol will come back up and with it everything she is trying to suppress.
She is not afraid of you. She is afraid of who she is without her cage. Without the walls she has so carefully constructed.
The sunlight filters in through the gauzy curtains and ghosts over her face early in the morning. This is your favorite way to wake up now.
There was a time in your life when waking every morning brought on the sudden realization of where you were… of where you were not. Where another day brought with it a surging buzz as your cells absorbed yellow sunlight, alight with energy. But also, the reminder that you were one day farther removed from every one, every thing you loved and held dear. A planet's worth of heaviness would sit on your bones. And although physically you could float on air, your mind kept your feet firmly entrenched in the unfamiliar ground upon which you now walked.
But this, waking up to her face… waking up each day now meant that you now had one more day to look forward to and one more day past that would hold memories of her.
Her eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep.
"Good morning, love" she says.
"Good morning" you repeat back. And it is
Good.
You kneel in front of her.
She does not look at you.
You place your hands on her knees.
They stop bouncing.
She will not look at you.
You take the glass from her hand and set it on the table.
Tears pool in her eyes.
She will not look at you. She will not look at the face that used to mean
Home.
The rituals, the habits, the schedules, they all come easier than you would have expected. Weekends spent at her apartment downtown because it's closer to everywhere you want to explore. Miniature vacations spent roaming the halls of museums, sitting at the cozy booths in restaurants, spread out on blankets in parks on the days when you can pull yourselves out of bed, out of each other's arms long enough to see that the world does exist outside of the two of you.
Most of the week is spent at your apartment because it feels more like home. Because that's where the domesticity of your time together roots itself. Your small dining table set up as a shared office space. Your couch a landing pad for friends that were once 'yours' and now 'ours' for game nights and movie nights and sister plus girlfriends nights. Your small bathroom that now has two toothbrushes at all times; two towels, two sets of everything. Where elbows bump, and hips bump, and lips come together sweetly often, crashing sometimes, loving always.
"Lena" you try again. It is a statement, a request, a plea.
She moves her head in a sharp movement. Her face level with yours. Her eyes still hold pools of tears unshed. They also hold
Hatred.
There is a house. And in front of it a sign that states 'For Sale – Reduced!' and a second magnetic sign slapped over it that states 'SOLD'. There are two moving vans. One with your things. One with her things. But now all come together under one roof and become 'our things'.
And it's really not so different. A little bit longer of a commute for her.
'Really, Kara. At the hour I leave for the office every day? I'll be there in a flash.' Her eyes twinkle and crease a little at the edges. She is excited. And that excitement fills your – her – our home easily.
"Why are you here?" she says. There is no warmth. There is no coldness. There is nothing.
"Lena" you say again, a slight exasperation in your voice.
Again.
Lena.
You once looked up the meaning of her name. One random day sitting at your desk at Catco while you were thinking about her, daydreaming about what she was doing at that very moment. While you were pining after this woman and sure that there was no way that she could feel for you the way you did for her.
The Google search result took your breath away.
Light and shine.
What more of a sign did you need that you two belonged together? She was the literal personification of what gave you strength. Of what energized you. Of what had you floating through the air.
"Why are you here?" she repeats.
Where else would you possibly be?
You don't notice it at first. Between your increasing work load as a reporter and your daily excursions as Supergirl you simply don't notice. But the nights Lena stays late at her office are outnumbering the days you find her working from home. The nights she allows herself to fall asleep on the couch are leaving your bed increasingly cold.
And then one night you think you'll just drop by the office. You've been out all day dealing with what you hope is finally the last Fort Rozz escapee and you're tired and hungry and think Lena must be too.
So, you pick up her favorite meal and you swing by the office.
But she's not there.
And you worry. You worry, of course, because Lena has never lied about her whereabouts before. You worry because what if someone knows who Supergirl is when she's not saving the day? What if someone knows about the people that Supergirl – that Kara Danvers – loves?
So, you circle the city. And you look, and you listen, and you fly around and around and around.
Until you find her.
You are kneeling on the floor of her old apartment. It is sparse now but you can tell that she has been staying there. Some food in the fridge, a laptop on the island counter top with files open and spread around in the haphazard way she always approaches her work. Bed unmade, bath towel on the floor still damp from her shower.
You can smell her shampoo. It is comforting still. Even now. When you are unsure of everything.
"I went to your office to bring you dinner. And you weren't there. And I was worried about you so I went looking for you." Your words trail off. You feel as though somehow you've breached some line, some privacy, but
No.
You love each other. You two live together now. You don't keep old apartments to live in. Right?
Right?
"Lena," you begin, afraid of the hatred and disdain you see in her eyes but pressing on anyway, "why are you here?"
She blinks rapidly, spilling some moisture from her eyes and down her cheeks. It's as though she hadn't considered the question. As if you saying it aloud was the first time the words existed in the English language.
And you think you see the exact moment that it happens. She glances around her apartment. She takes in the sight of it…. Of you… and the last of her walls come down.
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
She stands. You stay where you are. Still afraid to move. Afraid that she's about to walk out the door.
She stands and she begins to pace, and the flood gates open.
"Of losing you."
"But I'm not…"
She doesn't hear you. She can't hear you.
"So I thought what if I leave first? I've always been left behind. So… what if I leave first? Because if I leave first then who can hurt me? Who can touch me?"
She is pacing, pacing, pacing, and her hands are wringing together, unable to contain the energy that is coursing through her.
"Because all these people who have had irreplaceable positions in my life, Lillian, Lex, hell, Rhea even – they all left. They all left.
And then you happened. You came into my office one day and introduced yourself and in that moment, I knew.
I looked at you and I knew. And I fell in love. And I hate myself for it some days.
Because.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The things you love can be taken away.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."
She stops her pacing and you stand up to meet her eyes. She looks at you, clarity overtaking her features. "My love wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to keep them here. My love is never enough to keep people here."
You feel your heart breaking at her words and for the second time in your life it feels as though your world is being destroyed. Because this woman
This woman.
This woman who has become your world cannot see the beauty and the worth that she holds, that she shares with you.
"I love you" you say. And for you it carries everything.
For her it is trite. Because how many times has she heard someone utter those words to her?
She looks sad. "I know. I know. And I was happy, Kara. I was happy. But it feels… awkward. Like a sweater that's a little too tight and a little too warm for the weather?" She says this like you should know what that feels like. What the suffocation of being happy feels like.
And you do. You remember the first time being happy, truly happy after Krypton died. How sick you felt afterwards. As if you had betrayed every one and every thing.
"But I tried to make it fit" she continues, trying to reassure you of her efforts despite her pain. "But happiness doesn't really fit on me. Because when I'm happy things go wrong. And when I'm vulnerable people take advantage."
You think of all the times Lena has been used. How the people who she gave love and adoration to so freely stomped on her over and over again to get what they wanted.
And you think somewhere, somewhere deep down you've been waiting for this day. You've been waiting for her to leave. Because of course she's terrified. Of course she wants to run. Frankly, you're surprised that she even allowed herself to get this deep…
"You deserve to be happy" you start. And you can tell that this is not what she was expecting from you.
"My love for you, Lena, will not go away. It will not change. It is not conditional on you doing everything that I want you to do. I want you to be happy."
She looks unsure. You feel unsure but you press on.
"There is a voice in your head telling you that you don't deserve to be happy. That you cannot possibly be enough to deserve a love with no strings attached. And you've had a lifetime of people telling you, showing you everything that love is not supposed to be. And I want to launch each one of them to the moon – I can do that you know."
She smiles softly at the old joke.
"Lena, I don't think you can just erase all of that or forget all of that. You have fought too long and too hard to survive to simply forget those horrible experiences."
You take a deep breath. "So… stay. Stay here. In this apartment if you need to. But stay with me too when you can. When you feel like you can breathe. When you feel like you can let me in. Stay with the feeling of happiness when it finds you. I'm not leaving you. But if you need to leave, just know I'll be there when you come back. In the meantime, I'm going to hold onto the hope that when you run, you won't run far. In the meantime, I'll hold onto my love for you until you can know what love truly means."
A sob wracks through her body and you fold her into your arms. Her body shakes against yours.
"I love you, Kara" she chokes out. "I love you and I'm sorry that I can't make that mean what it means to you. At least, not yet."
"I know. It's okay. We'll give it time."
And you will. Because you've already lost one world.
You won't lose a second.