So. I started writing this before season 3 even started, and that's just to give you an idea of how slow I am at writing. I didn't want it to have this ending, I wanted to write more, but I just can't stand to see it in my drafts anymore. If I'll ever feel like I can complete it I'll add another chapter, but for now it's staying like this.
Also, English is not my first language, please excuse my mistakes.
a light in the dark
So maybe it's true.
Maybe she's hurting and maybe it's because of Mon-el.
She's starting to accept it and, as she does, it gets harder to distract herself. Saving someone helps, but there is always a time during the night when nobody screams and alarms don't ring and she's left in silence. Utter and complete silence and it overwhelms her.
So maybe she starts to find Lena comforting. More than before, in a deeper way. Kara shows at her door one night and keeps repeating tighter in the curve of Lena's neck, feeling her arms struggle to follow her request. She complies, gradually, testing the force until she's certain she's not hurting Kara, until there is no space left to fill.
She lets her in her bed that night and Kara falls asleep with Lena's legs blocking her owns and her face hidden against her chest.
Lena doesn't look surprised when she knocks at her door the night after. It becomes a habit - somehow - and Kara's headache starts to fade. Her heartache, she's not sure. But she finds the smell of Lena's home relaxing and the view from her apartment beautiful. Most of all, it's Lena who dulls her grief.
She buries herself in her arms and listens to the heart thumping under her ear as if it was a goodnight story. Lena shelters her, trails her fingers up and down her back to distract her, sometimes she fills the room with slow music and whispers each word against her temple.
It works and Kara falls asleep.
Lena starts to wear sweatshirts when she's home. She slips them on as soon as she exits the shower and casually leaves them at the end of the bed later at night, when Kara comes. Kara doesn't mention them, but quieting her mind is easier when all she can focus on is Lena's smell.
It stops being about grief at some point.
It's not about missing the warmth of someone in her bed, it's not about losing the person that had become part of her routine. But Lena waits for her at night now and her feet just bring her to her door without thinking. She uses her key - anytime, you're welcome here anytime - and unlocks the door and slips in Lena's bed; she wraps her arm around her hips, settles against her side and waits for a small smile to form to be sure she heard her.
And with Lena peacefully asleep in her arms she wonders if it ever was about Mon-el. She doesn't know. She does know that she would remember this feeling of bliss if she had experienced it before. She knows the scar on her heart is healing quickly. She knows losing the person you love should hurt more.
Lena stirs but Kara doesn't stop the brush of her fingers on the inside of her arm. She feels the goosebumps form under her touch, feels the texture of the skin change. She wonders if other people have seen Lena like this - peaceful and open - if they, like her, took the time to watch her sleep.
Losing Lena would absolutely end her.
Losing Lena would be losing her planet all over again and dying with it as well.
The thought of the mere possibility already hurts more than the reality of Mon-el's departure.
Lena turns towards her in her sleep but stopping her caresses seems impossible to her. It's selfish and not fair but she wants her awake with her. She wants to see her clear eyes open before her, she wants to witness her soft smile form, she wants her to reach for her the way she does when she's tired.
But Lena sleeps.
She could use her voice murmuring that she's okay against her forehead right now. She could because for some reason her lungs start to burn out of the blue and she has to put a hand on her chest to be sure she's still breathing. She doesn't understand why she's so suddenly feeling like choking - she's fine, and Lena's fine, and they're safe.
She gets up from the bed with her legs yelling at her to run and her hands clenching.
She wants nothing more than Lena closer but she gets away instead.
So maybe she was wrong to say she was grieving because she loved him. Maybe she was wrong to think she loved him to begin with.
There's her reflection in the window of the living room staring back at her. Asking her what she's doing with her life. She sits on the back of her couch and watches her form for a moment before dropping her head between her hands.
She doesn't know.
She's panicking at four in the night, in the middle of Lena's loft, with her smell and her colors engulfing her. Usually the thought of her is enough to calm her down, but not when all she can think of is the possibility of losing her.
She has seen her get hurt more times than necessary since they've met and Lena is… so incredibly human. Like Alex, in a way, but ironically she is in the crosshairs more than her. And Alex can kill with her bare, human hands while Lena is always on the receiving end.
Kara raises her eyes and finds the moon stare at her from the outside. She wonders why mourning Mon-el turned into this.
She's so engrossed and paralyzed that she doesn't hear Lena gently call her from the doorframe. She doesn't notice her until she's standing right next to her, with her hand midway to her shoulder and her brows furrowed.
Kara inhales sharply when she registers her presence, turns her head toward her forgetting to wipe away the tears along her cheeks. Lena's hand freezes in the air and for a moment it seems she's going to erase the traces of her pain for her.
Lena sets her jaw as her eyes turn sad. She stays there, uncertain about what to do, afraid that she might see Kara crumble if she touches her.
"Kara," she pleases, dragging her name out of her mouth with effort, as if the weight was real. Kara shakes her head, begging her not to say anything. Her head pounds and the last thing she needs is the broken voice of her best friend resonating through her.
It'd just make her want to cry harder.
Lena understands, quietly closes her lips and lets her hand fall on her side. Kara watches as Lena's eyes stare into hers, and she wonders if what she sees in them is a shadow of her own pain.
Lena is on the verge of tears for her.
So Kara reaches out, it's the only thing she can do. Her hand closes around Lena's wrist and she pulls - she just needs not to see her cry. Lena follows, moves to stand in between her legs and waits, looking at her from above. Kara breathes, holds her gaze for a moment before her arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer.
Kara nestles her head against her stomach while her fingers grip her nightgown, the flesh feels like a cushion under her cheek. Lena's breathing sets the pace for hers and Kara closes her eyes willingly - Lena doesn't startle at her touch anymore, her back doesn't even grow rigid.
She caresses down her hair, keeping her there and taking her trembles. Lena is good for her. It's all soft looks and warm hands with her. Mon-el was edges and lost temper.
She clutches the thin material between her fingers and realizes that Lena thinks she's breaking down for him. Because it's what she has done for the past weeks, or so she thought. It feels all distant now, muted out, while Lena is the only thing in focus. She wants to tell her that she thanks Rao every night for her and she knows He's listening because she gets to live her more and more each day.
"I lied," she just whispers instead. It's difficult to get the words up her burning throat, but Lena's strokes on her head are calming and she just wants her to know. She feels a slight falter in her caresses, but it's so brief she thinks she imagined it. She's not sure how she's going to put it into words, she just hopes they will come by themselves.
"It wasn't love," she says. "I didn't love him."
It's ridiculous to say it now, right? After all the trouble she caused to Lena. So above the realisation there's also guilt, and the mix is devastating. She instantly tightens her arms around Lena's waist; Lena hums, but stays silent. Some part of her wishes she could see her face, look at her right in the eyes while she tells her, but she can't bring herself to loosen her grip, she's too warm and comforting to let go.
"I did what my parents did to me," she says. "What brought me to hate them so much."
It kills her to have to admit that she is, in the end, exactly like them. That she understands now, and therefore cannot hate them anymore. That what felt too foreign to her - the concept of sending someone in the pure nothingness of space to save them instead of keeping them near - is now so familiar.
She has to forgive them now. For what they put her through. It's what hurts the most, because she can't excuse her rage anymore - even though it's still there.
"And love just feels different, hurts in another way," she continues. She's sure she knew this even when she told herself that she loved Mon-El. Calling what they had with that name still didn't make it real. It was, most certainly, a profanity on her part. Something she's ashamed of.
She's wary of this word now that it pops back in her mind. She doesn't trust it anymore, it's fickle, it's too hungry for that sentiment to be true, to be real.
"Love would have hurt more deeply," she says. The pain of losing Mon-El sit in her chest, making her breathing strained, but the pain of losing love would have settled at the bottom of her stomach, making it impossible to even stand straight or look ahead. It would have pushed her whole body down like a boulder, and she would have to carry it silently forever.
"Losing you would end me."
It's so easy to get the words past her lips she doesn't know how she's kept them inside for so long. She says them against the silk of her nightdress, as a sense of freedom runs through her. Her whole body begs her to confess more, to feel weightless and alive another time, and she's so high on this feeling that finally wipes away her sorrow that she doesn't realize Lena's hand is trying to guide her chin up towards her.
When she reluctantly departs from the comfort of her stomach and looks up, her eyes have a hard time adjusting to the faded light of the night sky and making out Lena's features. Lena's voice, though, she recognizes immediately.
"What are you saying?"
It's dimmed, and cautious, and Kara nuzzles against the palm resting on her cheek. Her eyes close when Lena starts to lightly scratch her neck under her ear.
"You know," Kara says, feeling her head getting heavier. "You can feel it."
Lena sighs. She swallows when Kara turns her head, nudges her hand with her cheek and kisses her palm. "I do," she finds herself saying.
She lets Kara settle against her stomach once more.