lowkey I'd ship agentcorp like I'm not even mad.

When the email came the next morning canceling world history, Lena was relieved. The way the schedule worked out she wouldn't have a class with Kara until Thursday and by then she would have some explanation for what had happened. She was beside herself, worried sick about Eliza's ruined opinion of her. There was a home soccer game later that day that she didn't go to, staying in her room and finishing The Count of Monte Cristo to the sounds of cheering on the field.

If she had gone she would have seen Kara scanning the stands for her, her face falling after scoring the winning goal and Lena wasn't there to see it.

Nathaniel hadn't been in math class the last two days—a family matter, Cryderman had said—and it had made her life a lot easier. She didn't know what she was going to do once he came back, but she was living in the present.

Presently, she was sitting alone in her room, sketching Kara. Taped to the bottom of the last desk drawer was her drawing of Kara's tattoos and every few minutes she pulled it open to stare at the lines of her back.

She must really like elephants.

Something was nagging at her, something that she couldn't put her finger on. As reluctant as she was to face Kara, the brief absence of her smile was already digging at her and she wished she remembered her address—maybe she could drop by and apologize to Eliza, at least.

Ten minutes later she was in the practice rooms, Chopin filling the small space. As her fingers moved her brain kicked back into gear and it hit her like a kick to the gut.

Kara hates fire.

So why does she have a tattoo of a candle?

She became aware of a warm vanilla smell and the music faltered but she squeezed her eyes shut, picking up the pace. She was just hallucinating, her senses lying to her to make up for her atrocious behavior. By the end of the piece the room felt stuffy and warm and she rolled up her sleeves before starting the next one.

"I didn't think you'd be here."

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to see Kara standing in the doorway, a camera hanging from a strap around her neck. She was in jeans and a tight, red tank top and smiling like nothing was out of the ordinary, and the words were spilling out of Lena before she even said hello.

"I'm sorry I didn't text you, I've been busy and I figured you hated me and I didn't want you to think I was—"

"Lena, don't apologize. I'm the one that brought you home and put you in a weird situation with my sister." Kara inched her way into the studio, keeping the door open. "I didn't come here to talk, though."

Lena's shoulders fell and she closed the piano. "I understand if—"

"I don't think you do," Kara interrupted, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Can you help me with something?"

"Anything," Lena said, a little too eagerly. Kara didn't seem angry at her, and she would do anything in her power to keep it that way.

"Bangarang. You don't mind changing clothes, do you?"

Looking down self-consciously, Lena fingered her black designer jeans and Alexander McQueen top. "I guess I could wear something nicer."

"No, I'll pick the clothes."

"What?"

Kara waved her camera in the air. "Photo shoot. I was planning on doing it the other day before that asshole made you cry." Her voice hardened on the swear word and Lena's eyes widened; she had never heard Kara curse before. "Has he bothered you since then?"

Lena shook her head. Kara stayed silent for a moment, her mouth a tight line, then her resolve hardened. "If he tries anything, I'll beat him up."

"You wouldn't." Lena's laugh was breathy but sincere and Kara grinned.

"I absolutely would. What are friends for? Anyway, I'm using you as inspiration for a new project."

In a considerably better mood, Lena followed Kara out of the arts building. "What's the project?" Was it her imagination or did Kara look nervous?

The blonde busied herself with the camera and Lena noted with a hint of disappointment that it wasn't the film one. She felt like she had been passed over, somehow, which was silly.

"The subject is 'passion'." Kara didn't look up from the camera, playing with the lens.

"Oh, yeah?" Lena hoped her friend couldn't hear the tremble in her voice. "Why are you asking me for help?" She shouldered the door open to her room and Kara walked in, looking around at the walls. She clucked her tongue when she saw how sparse they were—the Polaroid from the diner and an intricate map of the world were the only things on display.

Lena prayed she wouldn't open the bottom drawer and see Lena's collection of her. That would be a hard one to explain, "I just really like drawing you. Over and over and over—"

"Mike offered to help." Kara rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated groan that made Lena smile. "I already give him great sex so I don't know why he thinks we need more passion," she said sarcastically.

"Huh." Lena bustled around her room, picking up books and sticking random things in the pages to hold her place. "Before we start, I just want to say I'm really sorry about the other night..."

Kara was already shaking her head and Lena bit her lip. "I told you, don't apologize. It's not your fault." She pulled Lena into an impromptu hug and the camera bumped against Lena's chest. Lena almost squeaked in surprise when Kara kissed her temple, the soft gesture making her blush. "My mom is trying to have you over again soon," Kara added. "I think she likes you more than she likes me. I never talk about nerdy stuff with her."

"So what do you need me to do?" When she was sure the blood had left her face she met Kara's eyes. The other girl's pupils were dilated so much that her irises were thin, cobalt rings behind her glasses.

Kara blinked, pushing her glasses up and focusing on Lena's face. "Just stand there a sec?" She pointed to the center of the room. "And grab a book. Your favorite one."

Lena stood, feeling self-conscious. She didn't know what to do with her hands and they drummed against the cover of Gone With the Wind. Kara was snapping a few photos here and there, adjusting the settings after each one and she wondered if her shirt was wrinkled and her hair must be a mess—

"Stop playing with your hair," Kara instructed, and her hands fell to her sides. "Do you have anything that's a little tighter? To wear."

"Not really." Lena didn't often wear clingy shirts; she didn't like the way her body looked in them.

"Not really or no?" Kara snapped another photo and pushed her glasses down to examine it. "ISO's too low," she muttered.

"I mean I didn't bring any with me. My mother doesn't let me buy casual clothes and she checked my bags before I left."

Kara looked up at that, raising an eyebrow. A jittery feeling shot from her head to her toes and she wanted to move closer, pull Lena's shirt off her shoulder a little and muss her hair and push her down onto the bed.

She did exactly that.

"Kara, what are you—"

When she stepped back, Lena was sitting on the edge of the mattress and fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her pale, creamy skin peeked out from the slightly stretched collar and her bra strap was showing. It was nothing fancy, just a black cotton piece, but Kara found her eyes jumping back to it every few seconds.

"That's not right," she groaned after five more shots came out differently.

Lena flinched. "I know I'm probably doing the wrong thing, should I pick a different book or can I do something to help—"

"No, the book is fine. I'm using your passion for reading but I want more. More...layers. Another layer of passion, if that makes sense." Kara frowned at the camera screen, the crinkle forming between her eyebrows. "I'm missing something..."

"Maybe if...you..." Lena's eyes widened until the whites took up more space than the green and her voice died in her throat.

Kara had set the camera down on her desk and was pulling her tank top off. While it was blocking her eyes, Lena drank in the sight of her abs—soccer practice had chiseled them into statue-worthy shape and freckles dotted the tanned skin. The second the shirt was over her head, Lena dropped her eyes and reread the title of her book until her heart stopped pounding.

"Trade shirts with me," Kara said nonchalantly, holding out the red cotton like it was nothing. Like she hadn't just stripped her shirt off in Lena's room.

"That's gonna be too small," Lena eyed the 'M' on the inside tag. It might fit the rest of her, but it certainly wouldn't fit around her bra.

"Please? If you really don't want to you don't have to, but it'll look good in the photos."

Lena's hands strayed to her top button. "If you say so," she said uncertainly, undoing the first few buttons. "Just, um, maybe give me a minute?" She had none of Kara's brazen, shirt-ripping confidence and she didn't want an audience to watch her trying to squeeze into a medium.

"Oh, gosh, yeah. Sorry." Kara grinned and clapped a hand over her eyes as Lena slid her shirt off. Lena turned around, pulling Kara's shirt over her head and Kara peeked between her fingers.

The slope of Lena's spine dipped gracefully and Kara's eyes followed it hungrily up to the base of her neck. She resisted the urge to walk forwards and run a finger down the ivory skin and got caught up in the two dimples above Lena's waistline. Her body had curves the way Kara wished her own did and all her higher brain functions ground to a halt as Lena shimmied into her tank top, her hips swaying a bit with the motion.

Something deep inside her unlocked and opened her jaw with it, leaving it hanging. She completely forgot about Mike and found herself thinking back to Veronica, the night they'd had, but this time it was Lena lying in her bed and Lena touching her stomach and oh, God—

Stop it, you perv.

By the time Lena turned around Kara had gotten it together and was waiting obediently, her hand completely covering her eyes.

"I'm done," Lena said quietly.

Kara dropped her hand and stared.

Her thin red cotton clung to Lena's body like it had been made for her. It was straining at the front in a way it never did when Kara wore it and the combination of green eyes, red shirt and black bra transformed her expression from surprised to something like awe. Lena had her arms crossed over her stomach and Kara took a halting step forwards, her hand coming up to tug at Lena's wrist.

"Sit down on the bed," Kara said in a hoarse voice, "And open the book like you're reading it."

Oblivious to the effect she was having on Kara, Lena sat down, her chest bouncing slightly. "Should I actually read it?"

"If you want." Kara licked her lips and took a few more photos, raising her eyebrows at the results. "Relax, Lena."

"I can't relax. Every photograph I've ever seen in a magazine is going through my brain. How am I supposed to sit? Am I supposed to smile or try to look like a Victoria's Secret model?"

Kara laughed and Lena soaked up the sound, her shoulders lowering a bit. "Just be yourself."

Lena sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't even know who that is." It was true; she had spent so many years under Lillian's reign of terror, shaping herself into the girl her adopted mother wanted her to be, she had no idea who she was away from her. The idea bothered her, that maybe she was nothing without her mother.

Stop saying stupid, stupid things to Kara without thinking—

Kara looked at her with an endearingly childlike expression. "Maybe if you relaxed it would come to you more easily. Pretend I'm your favorite person," she suggested with a wink.

Relieved, Lena said the first words that came to mind. "I won't have to do much pretending."

To Lena's secret delight, her comment made Kara flush and the blonde mumbled something, twisting the lens in her hands so hard she thought it would crack under the pressure. Kara recovered quickly though, smirking at her from behind the camera.

"I'm everyone's favorite."

She started taking photos and after a few minutes Lena did relax under the blonde's barrage of funny comments.

"It's supposed to be about passion, Lena, not how nervous you are to be in front of a camera."

"It could be so much worse. Imagine if this was a nude shoot."

"You'd have to be naked. For the sake of art."

When Kara's phone rang two hours later, Lena was torn between disappointment and impatience. She didn't want Kara to go but she already had an image of the blonde that she needed to sketch. Standing behind the camera, one eye closed, her tongue sticking out of her mouth a little, Lena's shirt with the buttons open down to her bra; it was burning in her brain and the only way to get rid of it was to draw.

"I gotta go. I'll let you know how the pictures turn out," Kara waved, heading for the door.

Lena stood up. "Your shirt," she said reluctantly, tugging at the hem. The cheap fabric was already more comfortable than anything Lillian had bought her—thousands of dollars of shirts couldn't make up for one that smelled of Kara.

Kara hesitated. She knew she shouldn't be supporting this; if Mike were here he'd definitely get pissy and the thought made her smile. "Keep it. You won't see me for a few days and I don't want you to forget about me."

"A few days?"

The blue of Kara's eyes darkened until they looked grey but then she winked and Lena must have imagined it because they were back to their normal, staggeringly piercing shade of blue. "Yeah. You can text me if you need anything, though. And don't skip breakfast just because I'm not there—I already told Tom to wake up early." There was a scolding tone to her voice and Lena gave her a halfhearted smile.

"I'm sure he loved that."

Kara grinned. "I don't think Tom minds waking up early for you." She looked so cute with her teasing smile and bouncing curls that Lena just rolled her eyes, didn't say "He's not the one I want eating breakfast with me." Didn't tell Kara that the moments they spent together were the only parts of the day she looked forward to, because that would sound stalker-ish and weird.

After drawing until 1 in the morning, Lena fell asleep in Kara's shirt.

"Name?"

"Maggie Sawyer."

Alex barely glanced at the woman standing in front of her. "Not you. The patient."

"Patient? Oh, this is Roscoe." A german shepherd by her feet made a snuffling noise and Alex smiled.

"Great." Filling out the form, she pointed with her free hand without looking up. "Go wait over there, I'll call you when we're ready."

"I'd much rather wait right here." The woman leaned over the counter and stared at Alex's hands as she filled out the form, looking for something. "The view is phenomenal."

"The view of a waiting room? Oh." The woman was staring directly at her, a smug little grin on her face. "Cute." She looked back down at her desk and pulled out an insurance form. "Fill this out while you're waiting."

The woman tapped her fingers on the counter. "I'm kind of in a rush. Can I skip it?" she wheedled, turning a mega-watt smile on Alex. "Or you could fill it out for me."

Unimpressed, Alex ignored her attempts at conversation. "No, thanks. I have other things to do." She considered going to the back room to escape the woman—people who tried to talk to her at work were the worst—but forced herself to stay seated, writing out appointment reminders.

"You strike me as the kind of gal who enjoys animals more than people."

Alex snorted. "Who says 'gal'?"

Seeing her chance, the woman stuck her hand out. "I do. Maggie Sawyer, pleased to meet you."

With an annoyed sigh, Alex finally put down her pen to shake her hand. "Alex. You certainly are...belligerent."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Maggie grinned.

"I must have said it wrong." Usually her sarcasm was enough to drive people away, take the wind out of them a bit, but Maggie just leaned further over the counter.

"How can you be grumpy working with animals all day? Turn that frown upside down."

"I'm not grumpy, I'm busy," Alex rolled her eyes. Thankfully, the waiting room was relatively empty and no one was watching their exchange with any degree of interest. "What are you, the attitude police?"

"I'm the police police." Maggie's voice hardened and Alex looked back up at the change in her tone. She had unzipped her hoodie to reveal a NYPD dress shirt.

Having dealt with the police several times in the past (a few times when she was definitely not sober) Alex's expression retained it stony quality. "Don't you have errand boys for things like this?"

Maggie hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and puffed out her chest. "We take the K-9 unit very seriously in New York City," she said gruffly.

"Oh, yeah? Well your K-9 unit is seriously peeing on my floor." Alex sighed and handed her a roll of paper towels. "Put some down then follow me, room four is empty."

Instead of looking abashed, Maggie just giggled, kissing her dog's nose as she covered the puddle. Her grin was adorable and so were the dimples that formed with it, making Alex's throat go dry.

"In here." Alex gestured to a mint green examining room, clearing her throat with an annoyed sound. "What's going on with Roscoe?" She started to fill out the sheet she had handed Maggie and the woman smirked.

"You're the doctor?"

"I'm the intern doing the check up. I can go get a real doctor if you want," Alex said snarkily.

"I'd much rather it be you." Maggie sat down, pulling her dog into her lap. "Roscoe hasn't been feeling too good lately."

"How old is he?"

"Six. But he's been acting like an eighty year-old man, moping around the house, sleeping for most of the day." Her bravado was gone and her brown eyes softened when she looked at her dog. "I'm worried about him."

Alex finished scribbling something then bent down to peer at the dog's eyes with a penlight. "Did he eat anything he shouldn't have recently? Get into a fight with a possum, maybe he has an injury you didn't see?"

"I would've seen it," Maggie said adamantly. "And he wouldn't have been injured. He's one of the best on the force. He's saved my life on multiple occasions." At Alex's wave she set him on the table, keeping a hand on his head.

Alex started to work her hands along his body, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When she reached his stomach he let out a sharp yip and jumped away.

"What are you doing?" Maggie sounded frantic and she stepped between Alex and the table.

"Examining him. There's definitely something wrong." She reached out a hand but Roscoe growled low in his throat until Maggie said his name. When she touched his stomach again with lighter fingers, he whimpered.

"You're hurting him!" Maggie shoved her hand away and stood in front of her dog.

The look in her eyes made Alex's heart twinge with sympathy and she handed Maggie the unfinished form. "Fill this out and drop it off up front. I'm going to order some scans." As she left the room she could hear Maggie talking to him.

Ten minutes later Maggie walked out of the room with a wide smile on her face. "Here you go."

Alex took it without looking. "We'll have to keep him overnight," she said in a serious voice.

"That's okay." Maggie heard her own voice crack and Alex did too, scanning her face with a frown.

"What's that look for?" Maggie was smiling an awful lot for someone who, minutes ago, was worried about her dog.

"Nothing. I'll see you."

A little while after Maggie left Alex was filing her papers away when she saw it. That must have been why the cop was wearing such a shit-eating grin.

At the bottom of the insurance form was a stick figure drawing of a police man next to a phone number and the words "Call me."

Two days passed with no hint of Kara. After an early breakfast with Thomas where the boy yawned every two minutes, Lena headed to the math wing, her steps heavy. Maybe Nathaniel wouldn't be in class again, but she still had the memory of crying on the stairs.

Her hopes were dashed when she saw him sitting at his desk, drumming on it with a pencil. When she walked in, he jerked to his feet and it rolled onto the floor.

"Lena."

She didn't meet his eyes, sitting as far away from him as the small room allowed.

"Lena, I'm so sorry about the other day."

Why does he sound so scared?

"I didn't mean to say those awful things to you but my sister was good friends with one of the women Lex attacked. I'm sorry," he said again.

That caught her attention. "Who?"

He swallowed. "Caitlin Miller."

Lena winced. Caitlin Miller. "I get it," she said, unwilling to look him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," she said sharply.

"No, you don't understand, your mother—" He stopped talking abruptly when Cryderman came into the room.

My mother? What does she have to do with this?

After class she cornered him in the room, not caring if she was late to history.

"What were you saying about my mother?"

His eyes were wide with fear and Lena took a step back. She had trapped him the same way her mother would have and anger went through her at the thought that she was becoming like Lillian.

"I'm not supposed to tell you," he shook his head. "I'll get in so much trouble—"

"What did my mother do?"

"She came to my house!" The words sounded like they had ripped their way out of him and Lena froze.

"Your house?"

"Yes, yes! She said she'd seen footage of us talking and that if I ever went near you again I'd be sorry, but there are no cameras in the classrooms so I wanted to apologize before you left." The words were rushed together and he held his hands up. "Your mother said she would ruin my life if I ever bothered you again."

A horrible mixture of disgust and pride was surging through Lena and she felt light-headed. "How did she see..."

"The security cameras. In the hallways."

Damn it.

Another thought struck her as Nathaniel ran out of the room, his tail between his legs. If her mother could see the security footage, using her own hacking technology no doubt, then she must have seen her and Kara running around the school since day one.

Which meant that Kara had a target on her back.

Shooting a text to Kara before she headed for her next class, Lena rubbed at her temples. In the hallway she saw Mike and she approached him nervously. He was surrounded by friends and when she pushed past Thomas, he saw her.

The look on his face went from 'show-off' to closed off in an instant.

"Lena." He nodded stoically and the people dispersed magically. Must be some alpha dog pheromone he gave off. Or his overuse of Axe body spray.

She cut to the chase. "Have you seen Kara?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "She's never available at the end of September. If you were good friends, you'd know that."

Frowning, Lena unlocked her phone and stared at Kara's name, the unanswered text. She told me the other night in my room, you idiot. "You don't know why?"

"It's whatever. She does this sometimes, goes off the grid. She always comes back as my Kara, though." He waved a hand dismissively and Lena was caught off guard by the wave of anger that rushed through her.

Mike saw the look in her eyes and put a hand on her shoulder. Too swept away by her rage, she didn't flinch, just met his steely gaze with a frustrated one of her own.

"Listen, Luthor," he said, and she bristled at her last name in his mouth. "Don't go trying to track her down. Kara doesn't need people like you following her around. I like her the way she is, so don't go changing that."

Lena had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from lashing out. Did this moron not know how to recognize patterns? Did he not see how Kara changed when people talked? Or maybe he simply didn't care, maybe he just wanted the cardboard cutout of a smiling girlfriend without the three dimensional person it came with.

Without another word, she shoved his hand away and walked off.

I need to talk to you.

Kara stared at her phone screen, not answering.

What could she want to talk about?

Maybe it was the photo shoot and Kara taking off her shirt. Maybe it was something completely unrelated to her. Either way, she couldn't muster up the energy to be interested and she turned back to the gravestones in front of her.

She remembered the screaming more than anything. She remembered the sight of the flames as they got closer and closer to where she was trapped under a ton of twisted metal, the firemen yelling things at her that she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears.

She remembered feeling cold despite the late September heat, seeing blood staining her clothes and not knowing where it was coming from. Scrabbling at the unyielding metal until she got tired, trying to keep her eyes open because someone was yelling her name and her parents names and—

Someone was walking through the gates of the cemetery and she squinted, trying to make out who it was. The Danvers didn't come here much so it must have been a stranger visiting a loved one. As Kara watched, she was surprised to see the figure turn towards her and speed up slightly. They got closer and closer and when Kara saw who it was, her eyes widened.

"Lena?"

The wind carried her voice and the brunette's head snapped up. She didn't say anything, sitting next to Kara with a somber expression on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Kara asked, bewildered.

Lena put her arm around Kara's shoulders and their eyes met. "Looking for you," she said softly. Kara was still wearing her shirt but she didn't say anything about it. Her usually bright friend looked tired, like all the life had been drained out of her.

"How did you find me?"

Her perfect eyebrows twitched. "Snapchat. You may not use the app, but I think it still tracks your location." She didn't say anything about how she'd reacted, seeing the little dot labeled 'Kara' sitting smack-dab in the middle of the nearest cemetery. How the visceral sadness and sympathy had washed through her leaving memories of her childhood hanging around her like cobwebs.

"Huh," Kara said dryly. "I guess that'll free up some space on my phone. If you came here to watch me cry, it was a wasted trip." The joke sounded sad and empty and she turned back to the gravestones, Lena following her gaze.

They were grey marble like the kind that most people got but slightly better quality. Two of them dwarfed a half-sized one between them and Lena read the names carved into the smooth, grey stone.

Ellie Philips: October 11, 1977 – September 20, 2010

John Philips: February 2, 1974 – September 20, 2010

Clark Philips: June 12, 2004 – September 20, 2010

Her breath caught and she stared at Kara, the weight of the names heavy on her tongue. The film photograph she had seen of the happy family flashed across her mind and her heart beat painfully slowly.

"I really like soccer."

"What?"

"I really like soccer," Kara repeated, stone-faced.

She was deflecting, distracting. Lena recognized it better than anyone.

"What do you like about it?"

Kara thought for a moment. "I like running."

"Why's that?"

"Because the doctors told me I'd never be able to walk again." The answer was heartbreakingly honest and when Kara looked up again, Lena saw the raw emotion in her eyes.

"You strike me as the defiant type," Lena commented, rubbing small circles on Kara's shoulder with her thumb. She didn't know what else to say, just watched Kara's face; her long eyelashes almost brushed her glasses with each blink.

A strangled laugh made its way out of Kara's throat and before Lena knew what was happening the blonde girl was crying, her shoulders were shaking and she was lying down in Lena's lap. Lena held her as the wave of sobs worked through her body, her heart splitting with every wet sound Kara made.

When Kara's sobs took on a harsh, gasping quality, Lena felt her own eyes getting wet. Every breath petered out into smaller and smaller sobs like the ripples of an earthquake and Lena's heart felt like it was being crushed in a metal vice.

Kara was always so cheerful and went out of her way to help people, but here she was, falling to pieces in Lena's arms.

They stayed like that until Lena's legs feel asleep but she didn't move, tracing patterns on Kara's arm with a gentle hand. When the sun started to set she unzipped her light windbreaker and covered the blonde's shoulders, her hand resting on her back.

"Kara?" Her voice was scratchy from hours of silence. "Are you asleep?" Her friend didn't answer, just shifted, her head resting on Lena's thigh. If Lena had checked she would have seen Kara's blue eyes staring at the gravestones, red-rimmed and half-open.

But she didn't check.

"I don't know what's going on," she whispered, smoothing out her blouse on Kara's back. "And I know you have other people you've known longer. But I just want to help. I want to be there for you in whatever way you need."

Her hand hit what felt like a large wrinkle and she rubbed it out, feeling the ridge through the fabric. A second later it was still there and Lena frowned, rubbing in a different direction.

It didn't feel like a wrinkle anymore.

"That's my scar. L2 injury."

Kara's voice startled her and she jerked her hand back.

"How are you feeling?" she asked once she got her voice back.

"Better," Kara admitted, her face not losing its sad, resigned look. "Why is it so hot?"

"My fault." Lena pulled the jacket off. "I thought you'd get cold."

"I never get cold." Kara sat up with an embarrassed look at Lena's pants. "Did I just ruin a hundred dollar pair of jeans?"

Lena shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

Kara hummed, leaning her head on Lena's shoulder. "You must think I'm such a loser," she said with a twitch of her lips. "It's been nine years and I'm crying like a baby."

"I don't think you're a loser," Lena said sincerely. "I think you went through something terrible and it could be decades before you can talk about it without hurting the way it does right now. It's a sadness that never goes away, not really."

Kara wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes fastened on Lena's jaw and without thinking she reached out and traced it, leaving a trail of tears along the curve. "You're wearing my shirt," she commented, her voice more muted than Lena had ever heard it.

"I'll wash it before I give it back; I slept in it, I'm afraid," Lena said sheepishly, holding very still at the sensation of Kara's fingers on her cheek.

Kara let her hand fall and Lena shivered at the cold air. The blonde frowned. "You're cold. We should go inside."

"No, we can stay—"

"I'm getting cold too," Kara lied. She wanted to leave the graveyard with its ghosts and marble blocks and unwelcoming nature, her family lying buried in front of her. She wanted to tell Lena everything, and the sudden realization was as surprising as it was forceful.

"I thought you didn't get cold?"

"I could use a cup of tea." Thankfully, Lena caught on and let Kara help her up. The pins and needles lingered but she didn't notice, laser-focused on Kara.

The drive from the cemetery to Kara's house was over half an hour. They sat in silence, Lena trying not to wonder about the scar and failing miserably, her imagination running wild.

"You can ask." Kara broke the silence as she pulled into her driveway.

Lena recoiled at the idea. If someone had asked her about her family she would've rejected them, cut them down with a few well-chosen phrases about minding their own business. It had earned her something of a cold reputation in her mother's social circles but it was better than the alternative, fielding questions from man after man about her life, her interests, her hobbies.

"What do your tattoos mean?"

A startled chuckle filled the car and Kara looked over at her. "That's your question?"

"That's what I've been thinking of since I saw them," Lena confessed.

Kara sighed. She needed to get it off her chest and she knew the house would be empty. Alex had always told her to tell someone but she hadn't found the right person; the closest she'd gotten was Veronica and it certainly wasn't Mike. He always ribbed her for not drinking, always complained about her lack of energy whenever she felt depressed—like it was her fault for not smiling all the time.

She hadn't told anyone about her last tattoo, the roman numeral that had more meaning than anyone could have guessed.

"Do you want the full story?"

"Only if you want to tell it to me," Lena said sincerely.

Pursing her lips, Kara got out and Lena followed her inside. "We'll have the house to ourselves until midnight. Jeremiah's away on business and Eliza's working, and Alex said she had a date." She led Lena to the kitchen and put a kettle on, her dogs at her heels.

Just like last time, Oisín was partial to Lena, resting his head on her knees once she sat down. A little while later they were facing each other, two steaming mugs of tea on the counter. Kara was fidgeting with her tea bag, dipping it in and out with an agitated air.

"Last chance to get out of it," she said nervously adjusting her glasses. "You can leave and we can pretend this never happened." Her voice cracked and she braced her hands on the counter.

Lena felt Kara's pain like a slap to the face. She licked a finger and wiped a few tear tracks from the blonde's cheeks, though she suspected they would reappear in a few minutes. "I don't want you to have to pretend with me, Kara."

Kara blew out a shaky breath, taking her glasses off and resting them on the table.

"Here goes nothing."