"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

There was an awkward silence as the High Priest finished. Newly formed man and wife stood across from each other. He looked down, and she looked away.

"You... you may kiss your bride," The High Priest repeated, gently prodding at him.

He leaned into her, and then hesitated.

"It's okay," She murmured to him. "Just pretend I'm her."

Mon-el closed his eyes, and imagined kissing Kara again.

A tear slid down his cheek as he kissed his new wife.

"There's only one bed," Imra dismayed as she surveyed their room.

"I don't know what you expected." Mon-el responded gruffly.

Imra bit her lip, fighting back a retort. She could only imagine how hard this was on him.

"Right, so I'll take the floor." She grabbed a pillow off the bed and strode to the closet, where she pulled out the extra blanket.

"Imra–"

"Don't worry about it," Imra replied as she threw the pillow and comforter on the carpet.

"Imra," Mon-el's hand was on her shoulder. "I can't let you do this."

Imra sighed, and turned around. "Mon-el, please just let me–"

"We can share the bed," he offered, his dark eyes boring into hers. She studied him for a moment, and wondered briefly what he must have been like on Daxam, even in the 21st century– what he must have been like before Kara. She tried to imagine his eyes bright with happiness, with wonder, with joy– now they were clouded with pain, with sadness– and with responsibility.

Reluctantly, she abandoned her pursuit of sleeping away from him. She knew him well enough to know he was not going to let her. So Imra just nodded, her throat tight.

Neither of them changed, and neither of them slept. They were forced to the edges of the bed by the awkwardness that filled the air.

"I know this wasn't what you wanted, Mon-el," Imra said quietly, her back still to him. There was a rustle of sheets but no answer. She turned towards him, propping herself up on on elbow. "I know I'm not what you wanted."

The man next to her stayed silent– his eyes were shut tightly, as if he were trying to block reality from coming in.

Imra swallowed. "I know... I know this isn't the way you imagined your marriage night."

Mon-el shifted again.

Imra shook her head. "I'm sorry."

There was a long silence. Then–

"It isn't your fault."

His voice was rough and heavy as he turned to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"She would have been proud of you," Imra offered. "For creating the Legion, for uniting the planets– for marrying me."

"You don't know that," There was a sudden intensity in his words. She had clearly struck a chord. "You don't know anything about her."

Imra felt her patience slip away. "Then help me understand! I know this must be impossible for you, Mon-el, but it's hard for me too." She swallowed. "I had a life ahead of me. I gave up everything. The least you can do is tell me who you're going to measure me up against for the rest of my life." Her voice was bitter as she fought back tears.

She almost expected him to respond. She wanted him to respond– to tell her he could learn to get over Kara, to say that after enough time they might even learn to love each other– to tell her that the rest of her life wouldn't include him comparing her to the Girl of Steel. But how could he? Mon-el was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

Rejected and terrified for what the morning would bring, Imra fell back against her pillow, her throat closed and her eyes full of unshed tears.

Many minutes later, as she had almost drifted into an uneasy sleep, his words snapped her back into consciousness.

"I can't."

"What?"

Mon-el sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. In the dark, she could imagine the way his right hand went to his temple. "I can't help you understand her, because I can't do her justice. I can't..." His voice broke. "I can't describe how wonderful she is– was. How good. How little we deserved her light. How little I deserved her."

"Mon-el..."

He turned to her. "I know I'm not what you wanted either. But I promise I will do my best to honor and trust you for as long as I live. It's the least I can do." He clasped Imra's hand in his. "It's what Kara would have done."

She nodded to him. And there, in the darkness of their marriage bedroom, they sealed that pact with just a handshake.

It was only in the hours after Imra had pretended to be asleep that she felt, rather than heard, his sobs wrack the bed. And unbeknownst to either of them, Imra and Mon-el had the same thought and prayer in that moment.

Forgive me, Kara Zor-el. Forgive me.