Three days, and four nights passed, and they barely spoke. She shed her cape the evening they'd met, and it laid on her bed. He sat on his and looked at it. He leaned against the wall he rested his pillow on and stared at it, as if waiting for it to impart wisdom. For some reason, it filled him with hope. He didn't know why, but being around her made this not feel so hard; like he wasn't alone.
Alone.
When he thought of that word, he thought of all the people he'd left behind, all the people who'd died on his homeworld. He wondered, why was he the last?
"One-thousand six-hundred and fifty." Kara groaned, as she lifted herself, one-handed off the ground.
He looked over as her as she fell to the floor again. She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, holding her head in her hand. She glances sideways, up at him. They stayed there for a long moment until she looked away, standing up.
"Get up." She said.
"What?"
"Get up." She said, and he complied slowly. "Take off those shoes, they're pointless."
"They're comfortable," he said defensively and she shook her head,
"But they won't help you." She said and he took a moment. He sighed and did as he was told.
She squatted down and looked at him expectantly, clasping her hands in front of her. He followed reluctantly, getting down low and holding his hands in front of him.
"Stay like this for ten," she counted down slowly to one, and he closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from shaking. "Three, two, one."
He sighed and stood quickly. She let out her breath calmly and straightened slowly. "Get down and do push-ups."
He sighed and followed her instructions. She sat down on her bed and sat cross-legged. "On this planet, we have special skills, ones we didn't have on our homeworlds."
He lifted himself from the floor and let out a gust of air, blowing some dust around. "We have an advantage over most of the other players, who rely primarily on their strength and agility and the physical attributes of their species."
"Thirty," he hissed, bringing himself up from the ground again.
"Now, we have no idea exactly what this sun gives you, but we know it makes you stronger, and a hell of a lot faster." He nodded and she continued, "Until you know what you can do, use those two to your advantage."
He nodded and said, "Forty."
"The key to staying alive is mastering those powers so that's what we're going to focus on first."
"Fifty," he said, holding himself up as he spoke next, "but what about when I have to fight now? Before I've gotten a good grip on them? "
She thought for a moment, "I'm gonna teach you."
He stopped and looked up at her, "Really?"
She nodded, "They don't care if you die in there, as long as they make a profit off of it." She said darkly, "So I'm gonna teach you how to throw a punch."
She made him do fifty more push-ups and then she let him stand. She pulled off her boots as he caught his breath, and then stood to face him. He yanked his torn red shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat off his face. He sighed and then threw it down onto the bed.
"When you're fighting someone who's much bigger or stronger than you, you have to use their weight against them." She said, ignoring the shirt.
"Like when you threw me over your shoulder and all the way across the ring." He smirked and she laughed.
"Yes, exactly like that." She beamed and he watched her, enraptured.
"You have a nice laugh," he said and she looked up at him, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"Thanks," She said, looking down and smiling. He could've sworn that beneath all the grime, she'd blushed a bit.
"Anyways," She said, "when you're fighting, you need to have a strong stance. Show me yours."
He put up his fists and she shook her head, "Spread your feet apart more, put your dominant foot back, yeah, like that, and raise your hands a bit."
He complied, "You want to keep them right near your temples," she demonstrated and he copied, "and you want to bring them right back here after you throw a punch."
He nodded. "There are three kinds of punches," she turned sideways and he watched carefully.
"There's the jab-cross," she punched first with her left hand followed quickly by her right, bringing them faithfully back up to her face, "always bring them back to protect your face."
He nodded, "Mhm."
"The uppercut," She curled her arm and punched upwards into the stomach of her imaginary opponent and he copied her movements slowly.
"And the head-hook." She lifted her arm up so it was near her temple, and hit the air right in the side of the head. She held her hand there for a moment, "You always want to keep your forearm level with your shoulder, otherwise it won't have as much power."
He nodded and tried it. She smiled, "Yeah, like that."
He did all three of them in a row, alternating hands as she watched. "Nice," she said, "you're doing great."
"How'd you learn all this stuff?" He said, and she smiled to herself.
"My sister taught me." She said and he blinked,
"Your sister survived the death of Krypton too?"
"Oh, no," she shook her head, "my Earth sister; I had no siblings on Krypton."
"Oh." He frowned, "so your parents sent you to Earth without knowing anyone there?"
"They sent me there to protect my cousin," she said, "but my pod got knocked off-course and I spent years floating in space, never ageing and never waking. I landed on Earth years too late."
"Oh," he said, his face falling, "I'm sorry."
She smiled, "It's alright, it's not your fault."
"Well," he shrugged sheepishly, "it's still too bad."
She nodded, "But I got to grow up with an amazing family, and a sister who taught me how to defend myself."
He smiled and she reflected his face back at him. "But anyways!" She clapped her hands together, "Let's continue."
"Right." he nodded, getting into his fighter's stance.
"Try doing a jab-cross against that wall." She smirked.
He looked from her to the rough stone surface back to her, "You're kidding right?"
She shook her head, "Just do it."
"Won't it," he frowned, "hurt?"
"You need to practice." She said, "Just try it."
He squared up with the wall. "Put all the power you used when you were hitting air and send it straight through that wall."
He shrugged and thought "what the hell" and did as she asked. His fist made impact against the wall. Stone and rubble flew everywhere, spraying them both and making him cough. He waved the dust away from his face and saw that he'd punched a hole right through the rock, behind which was a metal plate.
He turned to her excitedly and she smiled, "You're capable of much more than you think you are."
He turned back to the wall and hit the metal with all his might. His fist bounced off and he stumbled backwards, "But there's always a limit to power." She said.
He looked up at her from where he'd fallen to the ground. "Always." She said firmly.
"Got it." he nodded, pulling himself to his feet.
"Try again." She said gently and he pulled his eyes away from her, punching the air again.
He rolled over on his bed to face her, and didn't hear her soft snores. He opened his eyes blearily and looked up. Sometimes, she liked to sit on her bed, facing away from him, cape draped around her shoulders like a blanket to think. Or, at least, that's what he thought she was doing. He couldn't really be sure. In any case, this was not one of those nights. She wasn't in her room.
He sat up quickly and threw himself against the door to his cell, looking in between the bars at the hallway outside their cages.
"Hey!" he yelled, "HEY!"
He found a camera pointed at him and he looked directly into it. "Where is she?! WHERE DID YOU TAKE HER?!"
He screamed his lungs out for what felt like hours. "WHERE IS SHE?!"
Eventually, he got so tired, all he could manage was her name, called over and over like a prayer to a tyrannical god bent on ignoring his wishes until he stooped down and begged.
He took a long moment to catch his breath. He slumped against the bars with one arm hanging out and his forehead pressed against the cool metal.
"Kara," his voice cracked, and he closed his eyes. "Where are you?" he breathed.
Suddenly, the door at the end of the corridor burst open. He jumped up, "Kara?" he called, as two men walked in, dragging someone between them. "Kara!"
They opened her cell and she tried to lift her chin to look at him, but she was too weak. Her head lolled forward onto her collarbone, and the guards threw her onto the hard floor of her cage. Mon-El banged against the bars that separated them, and called out to her again.
"Kara?" he said urgently, and she didn't move, "Kara!"
She pushed herself up onto her hands, and the door at the end of the hall closed with a bang. She knelt on the ground and pressed her forehead to the floor. She breathed slowly and he watched her.
"Kara," he said, "Kara, look at me."
She closed her eyes and shook her head wordlessly. "Come on, Kara," he coaxed, "please."
She took a shaky breath and pushed herself up. It looked like it took everything she had. She pulled herself onto the bed and leaned against the bar next to him.
"Kara?" He breathed and she didn't move.
Her silhouette was perfectly still. They were motionless except for the rising and falling of their chests. They stayed there for a long time. Above them, the sun lamps flickered to life. Mon-El looked up at her face and his breath hitched in his throat. She had dirt and matted hair around the edge of her head like a sick crown. She had two new holes in her shirt, one on her shoulder and the other on her ribs. Blue blood streaked down her face, staining the Kryptonian glyph on her chest.
His eyes moved down to see her hands. They were in her lap, resting as if they couldn't bare to move on their own. They were soaked in the same blue blood, dripping onto her skirt. Her fingers shook ever so slightly, and he could see one drop of Kryptonian plasma slipping down her fourth finger.
She stared at the wall of her cell that was opposite the door. He stooped down and picked his shirt up off the ground. He walked over to the crude faucet in the corner of his cage, and turned it on, wetting the fabric carefully. He shuffled back over to her and stuck his arms through the bars, capturing her hands gently and pulling them from her room into his.
Her eyes moved for the first time, looking up at him confusedly. He didn't return her stare, only rested her hands on his knees. He picked up one and she let him, watching his face as he began to wipe the blood off her hands.
She sighed and rested her temple against a bar. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. He was so careful, so tentative. For years, the only thing she'd touched was the skin of the people she broke. Touching him was like touching a life she'd had before.
"You know what I was on my planet?" She croaked, and he glanced up at her.
"What?" He looked back down at her hand and continued his work.
"A hero." She said, her eyes welling up slightly. "Where I came from, I spent my days saving lives, and protecting people."
He paused and looked up at her, but she looked down at their hands. "Now all I do is hurt people."
He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how.
"I'm a monster." She said, her voice cracking. She put her head in her free hand and let out a sob; he could tell she'd been holding it in for a while.
"Kara," he said, pulling her hand away from her face, "no you're not."
She sniffed, and he raised his shirt, putting his arm through the bars and wiping off the blood she'd smudged across her forehead. She watched him in awe, as if she couldn't believe he were showing her such kindness; as if she didn't think she deserved it. He brought his shirt back through the bars and pretended like he couldn't see that expression on her face.
"You know," he said, beginning to work again, "On my planet? I was no one."
"That's not true-" She began, but he interrupted.
"-No, really." He said, "I was the Prince, sure, but I didn't do anything."
He switched and moved to her other hand, "I spent my days partying and ignoring my parent's teachings. I didn't want to be king, I didn't want to marry the woman they'd arranged for me, I didn't want to step up."
"That doesn't make you a bad person," She said gently.
"I didn't perform my duties as prince," he said, "I'd say that makes me less of a man than most."
She blinked and watched him as he swallowed, "I didn't deserve to survive the death of Daxam-"
"-Don't say that." She said suddenly and he looked up into those deep, blue eyes, finding it hard to pull away. "Don't ever say that."
"You have so much more time, Mon-El. Just because you haven't done anything you're proud of yet doesn't mean that you'll never do anything honorable."
He looked at her, and he wanted to believe her. He wanted to follow her to the ends of the world, to do something worthwhile by her side.
"I hope so." He said simply, pulling himself away from her eyes and looking back down at her hands.
Thanks so much to JakeKatie4ever for reviewing the last chapter and for all the faves and follows :)
-xo ShadowJay