A/n: Added a little note in the second chapter.

.

.

.

Chapter: 3

"It's quite unfair," Barry Allen pointed out suddenly, as he picked up the framed photograph by Kara's bedside table. In the photograph, the two of them were smiling happily, their faces pressed together with puckered lips. It was a day he remembered clearly, back when nothing else mattered in this world but the two. "You get to keep such beautiful memories."

Kara's head popped out from beneath the blankets they shared, her fingers drowsily rubbing against her closed eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked in-between tired yawns.

"The pictures," he said, "you get to keep them." He paused for a second, carefully placing the glass frame back onto the bedside table. "Remember how I'm able to bring any object into your world, but I'm unable to bring anything back to mine? Well, the last time I tried bringing photographs of us back… same results, disintegration upon arrival."

The objects from his world can pass harmlessly into hers, but upon his return trips, everything else fully disintegrates – even the clothing he wore, which led to an extremely uncomfortable and naked situation during his first trip back - for him and the rest of S.T.A.R. labs. There was no scientific explanation for the unusual phenomenon, and they were no closer to solving its equation than the first time he travelled to her world.

He turned back towards her, "I'm-… it's just a little depressing, that when I return home, there's nothing left for me to remember you by, at least until my next trip… however far away that may be." He then added in wistfully, "And it's not like we have interdimensional Facebook, or something I can add you up on… actually, do you guys even have Facebook?"

She nodded, then whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Her hands slid up his chest and came to a stop by the side of his cheek, her fingers lightly brushing across the light stubble that curved his jaw.

"Don't worry," he smiled, his own hand cupping over hers, "I have my memories, and Kara, we make the best memories."

"We do," she quietly agreed, "we really do."

But even Barry Allen could not hide the visible pain in his eyes. It was at least half a year since his last visit, and between the tougher days and perpetual yearnings of his return, she at least had the photographs of them together.

He had nothing, but the fading memories of each bittersweet return.

Her hand left his chin, a soft trail down the blankets that shielded their naked forms. Her fingers slid past his naked chest, reaching behind him and pulling their bodies closer together. She pressed up against him, sliding into the space between both, their toes quickly touching, their chins greeting the other. She looked up, and his eyes warmly greeted hers, so closely she could see the mixed colors of his irises.

"Do you still remember?" she whispered, so softly, as though it was a secret shared only between the two, "what you said to me the last time?"

"We say a lot of things to each other, Kara," he replied, "but yes, I do remember all our conversations, no matter how little."

"Did you meant it?" she asked, her eyes shyly finding his.

"Of course, I do have a great memory," he said proudly, "I'm not photogenic, but-"

"No silly," she smiled, "I mean… when you said you love me."

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the suddenness of her question. He knew there were plenty of times he tried convincing himself otherwise, a pathetic attempt in saving them both from the inevitability of a sinking heartbreak.

There were many times he tried telling himself their relationship was nothing more than a dalliance of sorts – a short termed interdimensional love affair, an insignificant portion of their lives they'll learn to love, and be quick to move on and forget; for they belonged not to the other, but the laws of their own multiverse.

But Barry Allen knew, beyond anything else, and regardless of whichever world they were in, there was no possible way for him to convince himself otherwise, not when each little glance in her direction, filled him with the earnestness of their love – and for the first time in his life, with her by his side, he felt, more than anything else, complete.

"I do," he whispered, "with all of me."

"But-…" she looked away momentarily, terrified of the truth they both knew.

"And it's okay," he smiled, "even if the multiverse itself threatens to tear us apart, even if we don't end up together in the end, even if the day comes when I'm no longer able to travel to your world, and even if, in the years passed when we meet and fall in love with others, I will still, always, forever, and completely, love you, Kara Danvers."

She knew it was true; the both of them did, and it was all the more painfully heart breaking.

But at that moment, minutes before she knew he had to return, there was little else Kara wanted to do, but to remain snuggled up against the man she too, loved with all her heart, and a little bit more.

.

.

.