Kara jerked awake, terror coursing through her as remnants of the visions faded. Nightmares had plagued her dreams, and waking to a dark, unfamiliar room didn't help ease the tension in her muscles. She took a breath, then another. A picture on the wall—she recognized it. Lena had framed the article which had won her a Pulitzer because it was "worth worshipping." On the dresser in front of the bed lay their clothes from earlier, tossed without a care.

Then Kara's gaze fell on the one thing most familiar in all the universe.

Her wife's bare back was to her, her steady breaths indicative of a peaceful sleep.

Kara focused on them, forced herself to mimic the rhythm. The terror slowly dissipated, but wariness took its place in the space between her ribs. Her drug-induced fever dreams always had Lena in them, and she could never tell those fabricated scenarios from reality. Until she woke. Then, the hard truth of learning she was without her partner by her side hit her like ice water to the face. It was only a matter of time now before another drug yanked her from her solace and back into the sharp, cold air of the containment cell.

Kara slipped out of bed, pulling on a large flannel from the edge of a chair as she silently left the room. It was remarkable how real this dream felt. The polished wood beneath her bare feet was solid and cool, and she could even feel the ridges in the grain. The shift in temperature from the warm bedroom to the living room was drastic, lighting goosebumps along Kara's legs. This world felt…solid. Tangible. Usually her hallucinations felt transparent, almost a little blurry. They were reality, but a wavering one—clear, but not quite, as though Kara were peering through a window pane. She took in the room and the world's clarity around her. Sud-Aletheia must have improved the serum or upped her dosage. Never before had her dream worlds looked and felt so real.

Kara sat on the wooden step leading down into the living room and hugged her knees to her chest, the oversized flannel like a blanket. She'd be pulled back soon. She was never allowed to be with Lena for more than a few moments. In these dreams, Lena's love was a ghost, chasing her just long enough for Kara to capture and then rend her heart from her chest as she vanished.

A warm presence sat beside her, and although she said nothing, her scent washed over Kara. When she looked over, she nearly sobbed.

Lena's bright eyes shone in the dark, the light of the moon pushing through the silvery curtains. Worry etched itself in wrinkles between her brows. "I thought you'd left me."

Her voice. Rao, that Irish lilt was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. Kara looked away, her heart aching, knowing she would soon be ripped away from it. She looked straight ahead, unable to stare into Lena's eyes and said, "It's you who usually disappears."

"What do you mean?"

"It's going to happen any moment now. You never stay for long."

"Kara," Lena whispered. She wrapped a hand around her arm and Kara's heart nearly burst. Her touch was so real—she could feel her. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"That's what you always say."

Lean leaned back, concern and fear domineering her expression. "What happened? Talk to me. Please."

"Why," Kara nearly snapped, "so you can manipulate me into talking?" She looked up at the ceiling and growled, "I know what you're trying to do Sud-Aletheia and it's not going to work. Deceive me with my wife's voice and face all you want, but I'm not breaking."

Usually in her drugged state, Kara didn't have her powers, but she heard Lena's heart stutter. She glanced sidelong at her. Her face was filled with fear. Not of Kara, but of whatever monster she believed Kara was facing. Strange. The Lena in her hallucinations never showed such intense emotions.

Lena's expression turned stony, impassive. "Who is Sud-Aletheia? Did he hurt you?" She got to her feet, that look of determination and power Kara knew so well overcoming her entire body. Whenever her friends or family were in danger, Lena drew upon the lessons of Lilian Luthor and became that which she hated. That which made her a force to be reckoned with. "Kara, I swear to God, if you tell me some bastard put a finger on you—"

Kara's humorless chuckle stopped the rest of Lena's threat. She grinned sadly. "He's done more than that, but you know that. I'll play along, since we're pretending you're not just a chemical created by him." She turned in a slow circle, both arms out to the side. "We're in my mind, you see, and you are a figment of my drugged-filled imagination. Do you know how I know this isn't reality?" She pointed a finger at Lena. "Because you're here. My reality is waking up without you. You always vanish and I always wake up alone."

"No, Kara, you're home." Lena scooted closer and took Kara's hands in her, squeezing earnestly. "I am here, and I am not going away."

Kara stood, pulling away from Lena. Already her heart began to crack. A few times after Kara had been subjected to the false reality, she began noticing a pattern: once Lena started trying to convince Kara the dream was real was usually when she began to believe it was reality. But this wasn't reality. It was a dream, and she wouldn't make that mistake again. She had to protect her heart. She raised a hand, shaking her head. "I know this is Sud-Aletheia's fault, I know he's to blame, but I won't let you do this to me. I know this isn't real. My Lena is home on Earth." She nearly choked on the words. "Without me."

Lena shook her head, her eyes glistening. "Kara, it's me. I swear to you. We are on Earth-38. It is the beginning of May and it has been eighteen months since you disappeared." She clasped Kara's hand in hers, the softness of her palms nearly halting Kara's breath. "You came home last night. You came back to me."

She wanted to believe Lena's words were true. Her heart strained at the idea, but her head held her back, reminded her of all the times she had been lied to and taken advantage of. How could she know if this time was another dream or reality? Perhaps she would just have to wait for Lena to disappear again.

But every time Lena vanished, Kara failed. She had failed over and over, each time making her feel more hopeless than the last. She was Supergirl. She could save an entire planet, an entirely different earth from a threat, yet she wasn't strong enough to save her wife.

Kara's lip quivered at the thought and tears blurred her vision. "I promised to protect you. To be there for you until—for forever." She sniffed, sucking her lips between her teeth. "In here, I only get a few fleeting moments. In here, forever isn't as long. It's a heartbeat, a whisper of unspoken love, a ghost of eternity. I wanted all of that with you, but he takes that away from me. He takes you away from me."

Lena came around, planting herself in front of Kara. Her hands found her cheeks, her thumbs grazing soft circles over her cheekbones. "Kara Danvers," she breathed, the word itself seeming to catch in her chest. "Kara Zor-El. You have not failed. You have never once failed me." She met Kara's gaze, her green eyes forcing Kara to not look away. "You are the Paragon of Hope, the epitome of courage. Because of you, I am here. You have saved me more times than I can recall, and your love has brought me back from the brink of hopelessness in my darkest of times. I do not know what happened during the eighteen months you were gone but trust me when I say that you are home." She cupped Kara's face, her eyes wide. "Home."

Kara felt more broken than she ever had when she whispered, "What is the Paragon of Hope supposed to do when she's lost all hope?"

"You are not lost—you just need to be shown the way."

Her voice shuddered. "How?"

Lena leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Kara's lips. Tentative, soft.

The contact awoke something in Kara, reignited her. She wanted more of her—wanted to taste her mouth, her lips, her skin. Kara took a breath, waiting for her to turn to mist in her hands, but she didn't. Lena only held her tighter, a hunger in her eyes. A wicked grin picked at the corners of Kara's mouth and she held Lena's gaze for only a moment before she kissed her.

The kiss was fierce and powerful, so unlike Lena's softness. It filled Kara with a burning that awoke her senses and made her want more. She sought the depths of Lena's mouth, her hands roaming down her front and around her waist.

Every kiss was a question. Are you real?

Lena answered with kisses which could rival Kara's in passion and ferocity. I am real.

Real, real, real.

She couldn't deny it any longer, no matter how loudly her mind screamed it. Her heart knew. This was her Lena. No chemical or hallucination could fake the way she tasted or mimic the feel of her stretch marks along the outside of her thighs.

Kara hoisted her upon her hips, her hands running along the stretch marks, each divot reminding her of reality, grounding her in the present. She didn't need to explore Lena's body, but she let her hands roam, let them figure out for themselves just how real the rest of her was.

Lena's hands were tangled in her hair, fisted around the strands at the base of her neck. She leaned into their kiss, but then pulled away, her sudden exhale hot on Kara's lips.

"We'll figure this out, Kara. I swear to you."

Kara grinned. "Will you?"

"Nobody touches my wife and gets away with it. I'll hunt this Sud-Aletheia to another galaxy if I have to, but I promise you I won't rest until he pays for what he's done."

Kara took in the vengeance brewing in Lena's gaze, along with the love aflame in her eyes. She didn't doubt Lena's proclamation. In fact, a part of her swelled with pride. Her voice was thick with want as she whispered, "Keep talking to me like that and I'll be a puddle on the floor."

Lena grinned wickedly, nibbled on Kara's earlobe, and then whispered, "Promise?"

That one word was Kara's undoing. She didn't even bother with getting to the bedroom; she laid Lena down on the living room floor.