sorry for the pacing of this story - it's kinda fast since this story was originally meant to be a oneshot. i started writing this literally a year ago & i feel like, as it progresses my writing style shifts a little bit? i went through this & changed a few small things, but otherwise it's a little less clean than my current writing style i think. one day i'll go through and edit this properly lol.
thank you all for reading! i'm so touched...ily all for taking a chance on this fic that is so different from my usual writing repertoire đź’•
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Kara meets her wife for the second time after a long day at the studio.
There's clay caked under her fingernails and she's wearing a shirt that's a few sizes too big, but the doctor has finally given her the go-ahead to come back and Kara can't wait any longer. She brings a bouquet of flowers she bought on the corner of a street somewhere; unknowingly, she has nervously wrung the newspaper around it until it's wrinkled beyond repair.
The receptionist waves her on through after a quick check-in. Kara is so attuned to Lena's heartbeat that she starts to automatically follow it, but—it's not leading to Lena's room. It's leading somewhere on another floor.
When she asks the receptionist to double-check Lena Luthor's room, all he does is shrug and say that they've moved her to the west wing of the hospital. Apparently, that's the high-end side of the building.
Kara knows it's something they can't afford. But she pushes back the worry, gets the new room number, and does it all with the best smile she can muster.
It's only when she steps into the new room that she realizes something's wrong. She has never met her mother-in-law before, but she's seen enough pictures of Lillian Luthor to recognize her in person. There's obviously some recognition in Lillian's eyes, too, and she narrows them coldy as Kara slowly shuts the door behind her.
Lena stops mid-sentence at the intrusion. She looks better than last time; there's some color in her cheeks, and the remnants of her smile linger even as she speaks. "Hi, again," she says. "I…I never got your name last time."
"Kara," Kara gets out. From the corner of her eye she sees Lillian smirk, and she has to swallow hard in order to gather the strength to ignore it. "Kara…well, it's Kara Luthor now. But it used to be Kara Danvers."
"Danvers," Lena echoes, like she's trying the name out on her tongue, but nothing seems to click. Nevertheless, she smiles politely. "It's nice to meet you."
Kara nods, and only then does she let herself glance at Lillian. "Hi," she says, sticking out her hand to shake. "You must be Lena's mother."
Lillian makes no move to take it. "And you must be the wife," she all but sneers. "What a pleasure."
"Wait." Lena glances between the two of them, stunned. "You two have never met? How are we married if you haven't met my mother?"
Lillian's smirk falls, and Kara drops her gaze to the floor. She knows the story well, but she's not about to drop it in the middle of the awkwardest family reunion of the century.
It's up to Lillian to change the subject. "I think I should go, dear," she says. "I'll be by later."
"I know, I know, you're busy," Lena says, smile falling briefly before she brightens again. "Bring Lex if you can, will you? I know he's going crazy pretending he doesn't care. He's such a dork."
Kara involuntarily bristles at the mention of Lex. Lillian avoids Kara's eyes as she bids her daughter goodbye, and then she's gone; Kara is left to deal with the aftermath.
She rests the flowers by Lena's bedside and tentatively takes a seat. "How are you feeling?" she asks.
"I'm okay," Lena says. "As well as someone with a head injury can feel, I suppose."
"Right." Kara clasps her hands together in her lap lest she do something stupid—like reach over and kiss her wife's forehead. "So, the doctors told me you're missing…about maybe four years of your life."
"It's all blank," Lena says. She looks apologetic, but only about as apologetic as a stranger might be to a random person off the street. "I keep trying, and trying, but I can't…I can't remember. I'm sorry."
"No, that's fine. Really. We just have to fill the blanks, right?" Kara jokes, but all she gets in response is another tight, polite smile. "The good news is the doctor said you're all clear to go home tomorrow. I'll be by first thing in the morning, so we can—"
"Wait," Lena says uncertainly. "Will I be going to your house?"
Kara's mouth snaps shut. "Um," she says a beat later, "yes…because it's technically your house too."
"Right." But Lena's looking at her weirdly, in a way Kara can't quite distinguish. It's not fearful, her look, but it's certainly not an expression Kara has ever seen on Lena's face before. "Not to be rude, but—I don't know you. And I'm sure you're lovely. I'm sure the house is lovely. I just…I can't imagine how it's going to feel. Being in a strange environment with a head injury doesn't exactly seem safe."
Kara shakes her head. "No, of course, that was hasty of me to assume," she says. "Um, we can talk to the doctor and make arrangements to wait a little longer if you'd like?"
Lena hesitates, like that hadn't been the answer she's waiting for. "Maybe I should go home with my mother instead," she says.
The quiet suggestion is enough to make Kara's head spin. Now would be a good time to mention that Lena is estranged from her mother. It would be the perfect time, actually, but the words form on Kara's lips and never come out.
"Okay," is what she settles on, in her bewilderment. "If that's what you want."
Her fingers itch to touch Lena, to reach over and hold her, but the scared stranger in that bed isn't her Lena; it's someone she doesn't even know. And Kara can't bombard her with any expectations, even if she is her wife.
"Thank you," Lena says, dropping her gaze to her lap. Her shoulders are tense, and her jaw tightly clenched, but not in a way that means she's uncomfortable. She just seems at a loss for words, like she isn't sure what she can say.
Kara clears her throat. "I brought you some clothes," she says, through it takes some effort to get the words out. "If you wanted to change. And I was thinking we could head down to the cafeteria to get some food?"
"That would be great." Lena being so formal about the whole scenario almost makes Kara laugh; she'd been like that when they first met too, shyer than one might expect the daughter of a powerful family to be.
There's no arguing how lucky it is that Lena has only lost the past four years of her life, but Kara can't suddenly help but feel miserable about it. She doesn't try to show how devastated she is, to lose the one person she never imagined she would; for Lena's sake, she puts on a brave face.
Kara is still keeping face as they make their way down to the cafeteria, humoring the not-so-subtle way that Lena intensely surveys her. She doesn't blame Lena one bit about being curious about the wife she doesn't remember, but the expression Lena dons is never anything but surprised. Like maybe Kara isn't the type of girl she'd imagined marrying, or maybe the idea that she is married is still too much to wrap her head around.
Kara piles food onto a tray as the cafeteria line inches forward, wondering if she should be the one to break the awkward silence as Lena hovers by her elbow. "So," she says conversationally, "is there anything you want to know? About your life."
"Besides why you haven't met my mother yet?" Lena's eyes burn into the side of Kara's face as she uncomfortably looks away. But her voice goes quieter, and less accusatory, in a nanosecond. "I guess I don't know where to start. When did we get married?"
"Two years ago."
"Okay. Two years ago." Lena nods to herself. "Are we happy?"
A question like that is nothing but innocent, yet it gives Kara a strange feeling, like she should be able to give an answer without hesitation, but ultimately cannot. "I think so," she finally says, which only makes Lena regard her suspiciously. "No, I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of words. Of course we're happy. Times are just…a little tough, right now."
Lena's gaze softens. "Does this have anything to do with my mother?"
"I, ah, I don't—it's not really my place to say."
"I see." Lena does seem to think this over, mouth twisting into a pensive frown. This pinched expression remains long after Kara's paid and they've picked a spot at one of the cafeteria tables; it doesn't help that everything is dim and light blue and absolutely ugly with this poor lighting.
Kara doesn't know how to act. She can't be a wife right now, but she also can't bear to be a stranger; the most she ends up being is accomodating, which must fall somewhere under the latter. "I can help you pack if you'd like?" she says, awkwardly. "I can show you where all your stuff is. Just give me a date and I'll make sure I'm not in the studio then."
"You have a studio?"
"I'm an artist," Kara says, "for a living, if that was your next question."
"It wasn't." Lena is very conspicuous when it comes to the way she studies Kara's face, but at the very least she doesn't seem bothered by the idea of being married to her. "The nurse has been talking to me about the memory loss. She keeps saying it might come back, once I get back into my job, into my house, into my normal routine…"
"Yeah." Kara clears her throat. "She told me the same thing."
"So I," now, shyly, Lena fiddles with the corner of a napkin, "so I've thought about that now. I hadn't thought about what this is like, for you." When she looks back up, there is an apologetic curve to her smile. "I don't want you to worry if I leave."
Kara just nods, and takes a bite out of her flavorless turkey sandwich. It's dry. "I'd like to be able to visit, if you'd let me," she says, once she's forced herself to swallow it. "If your mom would be okay with that too, I guess."
"Well that's the thing," Lena says. "If my chances of recovery are better staying with you, why would you agree to let me leave with my mother instead? Don't you mind?" There is a genuine curiosity to her words—and a distinct lack of judgement.
"I'd never want you to feel pressured to do anything you don't want," Kara answers honestly. "And I would never want you to feel uncomfortable with your choice."
Lena's lips part breathlessly, but it takes her a moment to actually speak. "I see," she finally says. "Then would you…be okay with me going home with you?"
"Of course. You don't have to ask, it's your home too," Kara says. She tries to keep her overwhelming sense of relief in check as she says it, but, the way Lena almost laughs tells her she's not really doing a good job of it.
( She doesn't care. Not when she has her wife back.)
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Kara wakes up earlier than usual. Earlier than Lena, even.
She places blame partly on the couch, which definitely isn't meant for sleeping. But they do only have one bedroom, and—without question—Lena is going to sleep on their bed. Kara can handle an odd ache in her neck if it means Lena's comfortable.
Already the house feels different. Quieter. Kara makes breakfast as the sun begins to rise, an irony that doesn't escape her. If her Lena were here she'd be aghast, already trying to push Kara out of the kitchen before she's managed to attempt anything.
But this version of Lena who's lost four years of her life is different. She wakes up half an hour later and comes into the kitchen just as Kara is scrambling eggs, wearing a sweatshirt that's really Kara's. Kara doesn't mention it.
"Good morning," Kara says, smiling as brightly as she can muster. "Did I wake you?"
"It kind of smelled like smoke," Lena says, offering a small smile of her own. She snags a piece of bacon from a plate and takes a bite before Kara can stop her, and only pauses once she notices the way Kara's jaw drops. "What?"
"Nothing. Um. You're just, you're a vegetarian now," Kara says.
Lena looks down at the bacon in her hand and gently sets it aside. "Oh," she says. "I'm not surprised. I always meant to change my diet." She picks up an apple instead, and peels off the sticker with her thumb and forefinger painstakingly before she even washes it; that's one of her many habits, and just watching it makes Kara's heart swell with warmth.
Kara turns back to the stove when she hears the oil pop. "Jess is opening the studio," she says. "Alex is coming by to drive you there, since we're…without a car now."
"Jess? Alex?" Lena gives her a bewildered look. "I don't know who these people are."
"No, of course not. Right. Alex wanted to have a get-together last night when you were set to arrive, but I told her it would be overwhelming." Kara scrapes slightly overdone eggs onto a plate, and then cracks two more for Lena. "You and Jess run a music studio together."
"A music studio." Lena frowns. "I don't have a musical bone in my body."
"You play the piano. And you've picked up the guitar in the past year. That's…something."
"But that won't help me run a music studio," Lena says. "I don't work with my brother anymore?"
The mention of Lex makes Kara stiffen involuntarily. "No," she says cautiously. "He's…not running Luthor Corp as of now. Your mother has taken over in his place."
"That's strange," Lena murmurs. "And very unlike him. How is he doing? Did something happen?"
"I don't really know the details," Kara lies. "I would ask your mother about that."
Lena goes quiet after that. When Kara turns back to look at her, she sees Lena intently studying the walls, pensively chewing on her apple all the way. She wanders out towards the living room, and Kara turns off the stove and tentatively follows.
She finds Lena picking up the framed picture of their wedding, the one that's a little blurry and has half of Winn's finger at the top of the shot. Lena's eyes are closed in that picture and she hates it, but Kara won't let her put it away; the image of Lena laughing, nose scrunched up and forehead pressed against Kara's neck, is one that takes her breath away every time.
Lena doesn't seem to notice that Kara has followed her. Her eyes are glued to the picture, and a small frown makes its way onto her face, but a thoughtful one; Kara slips out before she drives herself crazy trying to figure out what it means.
When Alex shows up, this is how she finds them: Lena sitting on the couch surrounded by photographs, and Kara making far too many types of breakfast food for one meal.
"Nice to see nothing's changed," Alex jokes, startling Kara from her third omelette attempt. "Well, except Lena doesn't know that you're not allowed to use the kitchen, yet."
"Hey! You're…oh, oh no," Kara says. "I meant to tell you that I don't think Lena's up to go back to work yet. I'm sorry I made you drive out here."
Alex shrugs. "No big," she says, snagging a piece off a pancake. "I clock in in an hour." She lowers her voice as Kara comes close, and says, "Lena seems…okay. Considering everything that's happened."
"I don't know what to do, Alex," Kara sighs, slumping against the kitchen counter. "I don't know what to say or what to tell her. I'm a stranger to my own wife."
Alex doesn't say a word; she just comes and hugs Kara close, and presses a kiss to her hair in that way she does that feels like home.
"This really sucks," Kara mumbles, and that makes Alex snort.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it," she says. "Are you going to get any work done, or are you going to stick around here all day?"
"I don't really want to leave her by herself right now," Kara admits. "But I can't…I can't hover."
"Then it seems like you have your answer." Alex tears off another pancake corner and says, "I can bring by dinner, later."
"I'll let you know if she's up for it," Kara says. "I think it's still a little too overwhelming."
And that is what ultimately leads her to give Lena some space. She knows if she were in Lena's shoes, she would feel lost; the last thing she would want is a wife she doesn't know hovering at her elbow trying to speed along the recovery process.
She leaves Lena in their living room with a cell phone, a box full of photos, and a promise to be back in time for dinner. She hopes—foolishly, maybe—that things might be easier by the time she comes back.
It is always easy to immerse herself in her art. She works best when she's sculpting, when her hands are caked in clay and she cranks her music so loud that even superhearing can't hinder what is finally coming to fruition.
But there's a small, worried voice in her head that keeps her from staying too late. Usually if she's inspired enough she'll burn the midnight oil, but today she makes sure to take a break for lunch. Maybe Lena would be open to ordering takeout. Baby steps, right?
Unfortunately, when she props open their front door, she finds that Lena's gone. Her cell phone's been left behind, the door's been left unlocked, and there's not even a note. It makes Kara's heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.
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"Thank you for coming, Ms…Danvers."
"It's Mrs. Luthor, actually." Kara shakes Lillian Luthor's hand nonetheless, even when it takes her a great deal of patience to rein in any passive-aggressive smiling that Alex swears she does (and Kara suspects she's right about).
"Of course," Lillian says, her own smile one step away from a sneer. "Lena insisted we call you. Please, take a seat."
For such a large, imposing house, their backyard patio is surprisingly modest. Kara bites back any petty observations, though, because just as she's taking a seat at the small wicker table Lena emerges from inside.
"Kara," Lena breathes. "You're here. I'm so sorry, I—I forgot the phone and I didn't know who else to call."
It takes Kara a moment to realize she'd shot to her feet at the first sight of her wife. She reddens, and very hastily takes a seat when Lillian casts a quizzical glance her way. "No, I'm sorry," she says. "I should've checked here first. I've been looking everywhere for you and it didn't even cross my mind that you'd be…"
"With her family, exactly where she's meant to be?" Lillian cuts in. "Well. I can see why your sister is the detective of the family."
Kara refuses to sink to her level. "I don't exactly have your phone number, ma'am," she says all too politely. "Even if I wanted to contact you, I couldn't."
Lillian narrows her eyes at the honey-sweet tone, but before she can reply, Lena clears her throat and effectively cuts through the tension.
"Mom," Lena says, and it's halfway between confused and sharp. "It's not her fault."
"No, of course not, dear. I'm just saying." Lillian reaches out her hand to take Lena's, in order to guide her towards the table. "Come sit, Lena. We'll order tea. Your father will join us shortly."
"And Lex?" Lena asks hopefully. "I still haven't seen him. Isn't he even the slightest bit worried?"
"He is, he is," Lillian replies without missing a beat. "But you know your brother. Such a busy man. We'll all go and visit him soon, he's so much better at receiving visits than he is at making them."
Lena nods, but it's a hollow notion. "Right," she says, and oddly enough, it's Kara her eyes lock on. "Why do I get the feeling you're all hiding something from me?"
The piercing suspicion coming from Lena is too much to bear; her eyes are narrowed, and her jaw clenched sharply, and Kara knows that means she's two seconds away from being angry. Kara is about to spill everything, secrets be damned, but then Lillian smoothly cuts in.
"We do have a lot to discuss," she says. "But let's not ruin dinner. Trust me, there will be plenty of time to deal with semantics later."
Lena's jaw unclenches slightly. "Fine," she says at last. "As long as it's nothing bad, right? You'd have told me by now."
"Oh, Lena. Don't be so distrustful all the time," Lillian sighs. "Let's focus on having a nice time tonight, shall we? I've missed you. So has your father." She waves for their butler to come forward with a bottle of wine, and he pours a generous glass for everyone seated. "Speaking of, why don't you go see what's keeping him?"
Lena looks as though she wants to press the issue further, but she doesn't. Instead she gets to her feet and disappears back into the house without even a single glance backwards, unaware that she's left Kara in the lion's den alone.
Kara quietly takes a sip of what must be very expensive wine to distract herself from her company. Lena would know how to properly taste it, probably, but Kara can't exactly ask her about that. And when she lowers her glass, she locks eyes with a very haughty Lillian Luthor.
"Let's try to understand each other, Ms. Danvers," Lillian says. "Tell me, do you really want Lena to destroy her relationship with her family all over again?"
"This isn't about what I want," Kara says. "It's always about what Lena wants. And three years ago all she wanted was to get away from you."
"She made a mistake."
"No, she made a choice," Kara says. "But I'm not going to put her through that again. I don't want her to be hurt."
"She's already hurt. You hurt her." Lillian's tone is cold, so cold, and she rests her hand flat against the table as though preparing to curl it into a fist. "I know you're like him. My daughter never listened to me, but I know the truth."
"And what's the truth, Lillian?" Kara doesn't realize she's dangerously close to snapping her fork in two before it's too late; luckily, Lillian doesn't notice.
"The truth about Clark Kent? About you? I think you know."
"Clark Kent is dead," Kara snaps, though her voice cracks and betrays her firm facade. "Your son killed him."
Something in Lillian's expression darkens. "My son," she says, "is a visionary. It's because of your family that he's gone."
"Your son is gone because he's a murderer," Kara retorts. "And you know it."
"Is this how you won over my daughter? Filling her head with lies? You poisoned her against me." As sharp as her accusations are, the threat Lillian poses is minimal.
But still…but still. The words hang heavy in the air and Kara feels like she might choke on them.
"I know it's hard for you," Kara finally can't help but admit; she's not cruel enough to pretend otherwise. "I know it was hard to lose her. I know you—love her. In your own way." She swallows hard and continues, even when faced with stony silence: "But I love her too. I love her so much that this is killing me."
The stone exterior doesn't crack. "If you really love her," Lillian says, "you would understand she needs us. You may think you're enough, but her family is here. This is where she belongs."
"I don't ever want to dictate what I think Lena needs," Kara says. "I won't tell her anything, if that's what you're afraid of. I want her…I want her to make the choice of whether she forgives you or not."
"How generous of you," says Lillian, word dripping with annoyance, and Kara resolves to reach for her wine glass again.
She's spared of any further argument with her mother-in-law when Lena returns with Lionel Luthor in tow. She's beaming as they speak, and Lionel's smile is as wide and crinkled and free as hers is.
That smile alone is what makes Kara's heart break. She can't begin to imagine ruining Lena's mood, let alone disrupting her life as abruptly as she had the first time.
Lena takes a seat beside her. "I'm really sorry about today," she says, quietly, as Lionel engages Lillian in a private conversation of their own. "I know you must have been worried."
"I was," Kara admits. "But you're safe, so, that's all that matters." She places a hand over Lena's without thinking, and the most surprising thing is Lena seems more guilty than weirded out when she flinches away. "Sorry. Um. Force of habit."
"No, I'm sorry." Lena bites her lip and looks away. "I have something to tell you."
"Okay…" Kara says cautiously, and Lena sighs, heavily.
"I—went to see Veronica."
And that, well. It's enough to make Kara almost shatter her wine glass.
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There is nothing easy about adjusting to this new change.
Kara's trying. Lena's trying. But it's not that simple, to try. It takes more than they both can give.
The truth of the matter at hand is that Kara is busy with work, except she's so distracted she doesn't get much done. Another truth is that, as far as Lena knows, she's in love with her ex. At the very least, there are some lingering feelings
("We broke up a year ago. Or, I guess, five years ago. I don't even know why I started missing her so much. I had to ask," Lena had said. Quieter: "Are you upset?"
"Of course I'm not upset," Kara had replied, had been surprised to see that Lena looked to be near tears over the admission. "You lost your memory, Lena. That's not something I would ever be mad at you for."
"Not that, Kara, I mean—are you upset I still love her?"
Kara hadn't been able to answer right away. "No," she'd remembered to say. "No. That's only what happened then. I could never be angry about your past.")
That is what is hardest—for Lena to come to terms with what she believes is her present actually being her past. Kara's worst fear has become realized: Lena is beginning to resent the life they've built together.
Kara knows why this is. Lena is the kind of person who firmly believes in self-sufficiency and establishing a reputation that's hers, not her family's. Now she's being expected to fit a mold of a life that isn't at all what she had envisioned.
Lena is pretty gracious about it; she accepts that Kara is an important part of her life, and invites her to spend as much time as she wishes with her and her family.
Unfortunately Kara is left feeling out of place every time she does. Tonight Lillian Luthor is hosting some sort of anniversary party, and Kara has come as Lena's date. It's not like it's a grueling task for Kara—who would follow Lena anywhere—but she suspects it is a lot harder for Lena, who she suspects only invited her along because it's what is morally correct.
At least, that's the impression Kara is getting. "You look beautiful," she says as they walk up the driveway, hands accidentally brushing once or twice.
Lena feigns a smile; there is barely any semblance of happiness in it. "You look nice too," she says faintly, but it's clear her attention is kept elsewhere.
Kara tries another angle. "So this is a big deal, huh? Your parents' anniversary?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Lena says. "It's just…weird knowing I've missed so much, you know? I don't know how to act." She wrings her fingers together nervously, another habit that Kara recognizes all too well.
"They're your people," Kara reassures her, as much as it hurts to admit. "They just want you to be yourself. Not someone pressured to change to fit the last four years." She allows Lena a moment to let the words sink in before she adds, "That's all I want too, you know."
"But I have changed." Lena stops right before the door, unconsciously rubbing at the wedding band she insists on wearing—though Kara is uncertain if it's out of guilt or a genuine hope it will help her remember—yet another nervous tic. But unlike the first, this one is a new development that Kara has picked up on.
"Just in small ways," Kara assures her. "And who knows? Maybe change doesn't always mean for the better. You're—you're great any way you are, Lena. Anyone who doesn't accept that isn't worth your time."
Lena stares at her for a prolonged moment. "How do you do that?" she demands softly.
"Do…what?"
"You're so," another pause, "you're so nice to me." Without warning, Lena reaches out to fix Kara's tie, the warmth of her smooth fingers brushing against the hollow of Kara's throat. For a single charged second her eyes flick up to meet Kara's, a burning curiosity held in them, but in the blink of an eye it's over. She quickly steps away in order to briskly knock at the front door.
Dazed, Kara turns, too, just in time to catch the door opening. They're greeted by a butler of the Luthor family—someone Lena knows by name—and then escorted to the backyard.
The grandeur is back. The humble patio is replaced by numerous circular tables draped with fancy lace covers, complete with expensive bottles of champagne and crystal glasses to decorate them; it's the kind of atmosphere that feels like just breathing might cause something to break. Kara looks to Lena for a cue of what to do, but Lena catches sight of someone and, after lighting up quite noticeably, apologizes to Kara as she ducks away to greet an old friend.
Kara accepts a glass of champagne that a server offers her. Though it won't stave off the awkwardness of what's going to be a long night, she's sure she has a part to play.
She doesn't know anyone here, though, so she sits at a table and sips at champagne and tries her best not to look for Lena. She listens in on Lena's heartbeat to ground herself because she can't help but worry, but otherwise she plays her part of a considerate wife and remains put.
"So you must be the wife."
Alright, maybe more than one part. "Yep, that's me," Kara says. "Lena's wife." And as she delivers this line with an apt cheeriness, she meets the scrutinizing eyes of Veronica Sinclair.
"I thought so," Veronica says, tapping a blood-red nail thoughtfully against equally sharp lips. "You have that look about you."
"Sorry, are you saying I look like I'm supposed to be Lena's wife?"
"No," says Veronica matter-of-factly. "You're just the only one out of place." She has a glass of champagne in her hand already, and she takes a delicate sip before going on. "Did she tell you she came to see me recently?"
"She did," Kara divulges rather reluctantly, afraid that admitting she knows will be the final nail in the coffin for her embarrassment.
But to her surprise, Veronica only nods. "She's convinced she has lingering feelings," she says. "Four years ago the exact same thing happened." She tilts her head to scrutinize Kara further. "Funny thing is she broke up with me, so I'm not quite sure what she was hoping to find coming back."
Kara bites her tongue and tastes both coppery blood and sweet champagne and the only thing running through her head then is that this is ironic. An hour ago if you were to ask her worst fears, a prominent one would be Veronica Sinclair admitting a mutual love for her amnesiac wife. But it seems like Veronica is as baffled by the thought as Kara is.
"Anyway." Veronica sets her lipstick-stained glass down. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what you two are going through. I hope it works out."
Kara wants to ask more. Wants to ask what, exactly, Lena said. Wants to know the truth of her wife's feelings towards their predicament.
But all she says is a faint, "Thank you."
"And good luck," Veronica adds. The cryptic way she nods towards something beyond Kara's head has her turn; it's Lillian and Lionel Luthor making their grand entrance.
When she turns back Veronica is gone.
But on the bright side, Lena rejoins her shortly afterward. "Did I see you talking to Veronica?" she asks curiously, accepting a flute of champagne on a passing tray. It's hard to say, but judging by the faint pinkness of her cheeks it's probably her third or fourth of the night. "What did she have to say?"
"Not much, just," Kara shrugs. "Wanted to say hi. I've met her before, just never…" She doesn't know what she means to say. All she knows is she blurts out, "She seems really nice."
"Really? I've always thought she was an acquired taste to strangers," Lena says. There's a wistful catch to her voice, and it hurts to hear.
Kara clears her throat. "So how has it been to be around everyone again?" she says, to change the subject. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, of course. I've missed everyone," Lena says. "They keep saying I've been away all these years. Is that true?"
"Yeah, um, I mean—you've been busy," Kara says. "I don't really know much about anyone here."
Lena absorbs that information with a curious glint in her eye. "Huh," she says. She crosses her arms across her chest and studies Kara suddenly; "So what's really going on with me then? Why don't I hang out with my old friends? Why don't I even spend time with my family?"
Kara hesitates. "It's not my place to say."
"Aren't you supposed to be my wife? Who else is supposed to tell me?" Lena's expression darkens. "I was under the impression that you wanted me to remember. Why are you hiding the truth from me?"
"Maybe if you talked to your mother, or Lex—"
"But not you." Lena's gaze is searching, and ultimately, what she finds must be disappointing. "How convenient."
"Lena, I…"
"No. Don't—don't say anything," Lena sighs. "I'm frustrated, Kara. I don't know what to do. But it's not fair of me to take it out on you." She sinks into a chair at a nearby table, reaching for the unopened bottle of champagne Kara suspects is just there for decorative purposes. "My mother looks at me like I've finally come home. And I don't know why, but it doesn't feel right."
Kara carefully takes a seat beside her. "I wish I had all the answers," she says. "But truthfully, Lena, I don't even know the extent of what happened with you and your family. I'm not the person to ask."
Lena unconsciously rubs at the bare skin of her arms as she surveys the bustling party around them. "I don't understand why my mother hates you," she says after a pregnant pause. "I know I don't know you, but…" She trails off, glances over her shoulder and really seems to drag her gaze over Kara's face. The flutter of her eyelashes is a look Kara knows—that kind of open curiosity that made Kara work up the guts to actually ask her out, once. "You seem like you care."
Kara sees her resist the urge to shiver, and wordlessly slips off her suit jacket to drape it over Lena's shoulders. "Of course I care," she says. "It's you."
For a minute nothing else is said between them. Then Lena suddenly says,
"Do you want to dance?"
The question is a surprise, but Kara manages to come out of the momentary freeze it causes remarkably quick. "Yeah, I'd really like that," she says, and even dares to mirror the small smile Lena gives her.
It's moments like these—the hesitant, fleeting romantic ones—that make Kara miss Lena the most. She knows it's a weird thing to say, considering that she's here, with her hands on Lena's waist and with the reassuring comfort of Lena's arms around her neck. But she misses everything else: the knowing grins, the stolen kisses, the lipstick Lena can't resist pressing to her collar when she gets the chance.
"So," Lena says conversationally, "what am I supposed to remember about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't know anything about you, about us…" Lena trails off. She pensively bites her lip, then embarrassedly laughs over Kara's shoulder. "I feel like I'm on the most awkward first date ever. Is that just me?"
"Well, I mean, I'm here trying my hardest to impress you, so," Kara says, feeling her own sheepish grin form. "Take that as you will."
"Then I guess we're both trying too hard?" Lena suggests. "I know I'm your wife, I just…don't feel like I am. And I don't know how to act in a way that's okay for you."
"You don't have to act any kind of way for me," Kara says. "I just want you to act how you're really feeling. I know you're not going to suddenly fall in love with me or anything, I—only want you to try to get your memory back. Don't worry about how I feel."
"Doesn't it hurt you?" Lena's gaze is piercing; she's always been able to weaken any resolve of Kara's, and today is no different.
But today Kara can't afford to let herself waver. "Yeah," she admits. "Yeah, it hurts. Because I love you. But as much as our relationship means to me, it's not the main focus here. You are."
Lena's hands splay out over her shoulders in an almost comforting gesture. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'll try to keep that in mind."
"Don't," Kara says. "Really. I'm okay. Let's just focus on you."
"Okay." But Lena looks dismayed at the prospect, and Kara wonders what she's said wrong.
.
.
.
Sometimes Lena sits down to play the piano.
That means that sometimes Kara makes a flimsy excuse to head over to her studio. She loves Lena's playing—has always loved Lena's playing—but it reminds her of the bad days, and the lies, and so she can't handle listening to it right now. Not when everything's so different.
So she flies up to the roof and sits there, listening in on the sounds of the city and wondering just how much more of this she can take. She hates that she has to walk on eggshells around her wife, but it's even worse to walk on eggshells around herself. Every little thing she sees reminds her of the life she and Lena used to have. Of what could have been. And it hurts a hell of a lot more than she's let on.
She doesn't realize she's crying until the first hot tear splatters on the pavement below. Then from there the tears keep coming, keep coming like they'll never stop, and she buries her face into her arms and sobs into the cool night air and wishes she could go back in time and change everything.
"Mind if I sit?"
And Kara stiffens. "What are you doing here?" she croaks, haphazardly wiping at her blurry eyes.
Kal-El takes a step closer. "I heard about what happened with Lena," he says. "I'm so sorry."
Kara looks at him and wishes she didn't hate the symbol on his chest—wishes she didn't hate her own family crest in that very moment. "Thanks," she mumbles. "Who told you? James?"
"Yeah." Kal takes a seat beside her anyway. "How is she doing?"
"She's not really making progress in remembering anything, but she's adjusting to her life again," Kara says, which isn't untrue. "Well, her life before me, anyway. She's still working out her old memories too, so it's all been very confusing for her."
"And for you," Kal says softly.
"Yeah. And for me." Kara taps her fingers along the side of the building just to give her hands something to do. "So you flew all the way from Metropolis to tell me you're sorry? You could have just called."
"I wanted to see you," Kal says.
"And Lois."
Kal has the decency to hang his head. "And Lois," he echoes. "How is she doing? You two still talk, don't you?"
"Of course we do. I'm all she has," Kara says. Connected to you anyway, she means, but Kal looks forlorn enough that she supposes he connects the dots all on his own. "She misses you."
"I miss her too," Kal says wistfully. Just once Kara wants to hear him say he regrets it. Just once she wants to hear him say he wishes he could've done it differently.
It's what has always kept her obedient, what has always kept her unwavering in her own decision. His sense of self-sacrifice is something she admired, something she'd always kept in mind.
But after everything…after a deeper look into these circumstances…Kara is finally going to be selfish.
"I haven't told Alex this," she says. "But once Lena gets her memories back, I'm telling her. About you, and about me."
"Kara…"
"You can't say anything," Kara says. "Not yet. Listen to me first."
Kal looks like he wants to argue, but with a resolute nod of his head, he quiets.
Kara sucks in a shaky breath. "She's the most important person in my world, Kal," she says. "And she's proved time and time again that she's nothing like Lex. If I keep hiding this from her it'll turn ugly."
"That's noble, Kara," Kal says. But he looks uncomfortable, and he can't seem to help himself from saying, "But what about everything I've sacrificed? Everything I've done has been to keep you safe. If you change your mind now—"
"I'm not done," Kara says sharply. "I-I looked up to you for the longest, Kal. But when Clark Kent died you changed. I know you think protecting me is a noble cause, but look at how you've ruined your life! Lois thinks you're dead. How can you keep putting her through this pain? How can you live with yourself?"
"I made a choice," Kal says. "Lois would understand."
"Lois would call you a fucking idiot," Kara retorts. "And you know it."
Clark is silent for a long time. When he finally speaks, it's regretfully: "Don't you think I wanted that? But I had to choose. I had to choose to save the world over the woman who is my world. I had to keep being Superman."
"Is the cost of your humanity worth it?" Kara demands. "Because Lex Luthor is basically on the route to freedom. You haven't saved anyone from him."
"I saved you," Kal says, and it's said a touch sadly, like he doesn't understand why Kara is fighting him over this. "I don't want to lose you, Kara."
"I've already lost you," Kara says, inhaling sharply enough to bring tears to her eyes. "I'm not going to change my mind. So please, just…go."
"Kara—"
Kara gets to her feet. "I'm going to buy dinner for my wife now," she says, and doesn't look at him. She can hear him, can feel his dejected presence hanging around like a shadow, but she refuses to let him wear her down like he always inadvertently does.
As she makes her way to the rooftop stairs, he speaks. "I hope Lena gets better," says Clark, so low only she can hear him.
Kara doesn't turn around even then. "Me too," she says, and then she starts descending.