Lena wishes the way Taylor is like her would be tiny, indiscernible, so it wouldn't be so damn obvious ; but it's not. First there are the eyes, not just their colour, but their careful, measuring, gaze ; there's a certain kindness to them too, though it's something Lena hasn't seen in her own stare for a while. Then it's the jaw, chiseled from marble, almost haughty in the way it dominates their face and the world. There's the lilt of their accent too, a slow Irish drawl, barely there, that can come from nothing but hours upon hours spent in Lena's company.

There's the shadow of Kara too, in their golden skin and light blond hair, in the set of their shoulders, the slope of their nose, the way they carry themself with a weary restrain ; in the crinkle firmly lodged between their eyes.

"Do I have something on my face ?" Taylor asks in a mumble.

Lena blinks, startled out of her deep observation.

"You keep on staring at me and it's weird. So, do I have something on my face ?"

"No, no you don't," Lena says, forcing a forkful of overcooked pasta into her mouth. "It's just." She stops, remembers that she's not supposed to talk with her mouth full, swallows, then remember there's no need to set an example for her adult child. "This is all very weird and I don't know how to deal with any of that. I'm sorry," she sighs, "I shouldn't tell you that. You're not my therapist."

"That would require for you to go to therapy in the first place," Taylor retorts in a deadpan sort of way that would be funny if Lena weren't exhausted.

"Right," she mumbles. "I'm definitely going to need therapy after that." Taylor just stares at her, fork halfway to their mouth, and Lena has never felt more inadequate in her entire life, which coming from her, means an awful lot. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I have nothing against you."

Taylor sighs. They don't look sad, or disappointed, just exhausted in a way that breaks whatever's left of Lena's heart. "I know," they say with a small smile that reminds her of Kara. "It's just this whole situation… I would know, I'm the one stuck in the past talking to someone who looks like my Mum but isn't her."

"I don't understand how I can be a mother," Lena blurts abruptly.

"You fell in love with your best friend," Taylor says slowly, testing the words against Lena's resolve, "and then..."

"Oh no," Lena cuts with a short bitter laugh, "that I understand. I just don't get how it could lead to you instead of..."

"... utter doom ?"

"Yeah."

"You're stronger than you know," Taylor replies with a dismissive shrug like this simple sentence is somehow supposed to solve Lena's turmoil. "Really, you are. I hope you know that, even if I can't tell you too much because it will mess up your brain when I go back to the future. If there is a future to go back to. But you are strong. And the version of you I know is kind and loving and a great mum. I get it if you can't be my mum right now, I get that it's too much and not what you want and that I messed up your life when I landed here but, but I don't know, just don't give up. Please."

There's something distinctly Kara in the way Taylor looks at her and it downs on Lena that she doesn't have a choice. Not because everything has been thrown at her without her consent but because her heart knows best. Slowly, giving Taylor all the time in the world to move away, she reaches out and wraps her hand around their's, squeezes lightly before letting go. "I'm not giving up," she says though this single sentence might be the hardest thing she's ever had to say. "I'm nowhere near ready to be your mother, but I'm not giving up on you, nor on myself. Now, I'll make some tea and you can tell me everything about time travel so I can get you home safe."

Taylor wakes up alone. It's not the first thing they notice, no, first they take note of how quiet it is, how the penthouse is high enough that the city is dulled down around them, and before that, they realise that they're alive, something they didn't dare to assume they would be. They stayed up late last night, talking with Lena and trying not to fall into old patterns with her, trying, almost desperately, to keep her separated from their Mum. When they did go to bed, it took them eons to fall asleep as they tossed and turned, the fear of Kara dying because of them and the future being obliterated keeping them awake until the early hours of the morning. They are not particularly well rested, but the world around them is quiet and welcoming.

They pad out of the guest room, their feet careful on the cold floor, their ears heedful out of habit. There are two notes on the kitchen table. One from Lena, with instructions on how to navigate these antic times along with a phone and a black mate credit card ; and one from Alex, sticked on top of a bundle of clean clothes with an access pass to the DEO. It seems like what they're going to do of their day has already been decided for them ; and it's a relief, because 2019 is different from 2044 in such tiny and insidious ways that the most basic of tasks could become overwhelming at any turn.

They've been doing well until then, or relatively so, but time disorientation is a looming possibility, threatening to take hold of their brain with every action they take. It would have been easier to land farther back in time, at a less technologically advanced age where things would have been different enough that they wouldn't have had to constantly remind themself that nothing works the way they think it does. For now though, it's nothing that they can't figure out. Sure, the kettle is comically complex and the phone doesn't turn on the way it's supposed to ; but it remains relatively easy. The problem comes from all the horror time travel stories they've heard in which people went insane over inconsequential things just like these ones, and it's hard to remain level headed.

Not having much to do, they take their time getting ready, scrubbing inexistent layers of dirt in the shower and enjoying a long breakfast on the balcony. The impersonal rented penthouse is a blessing. There isn't a picture in sight, no throw blanket that smells like their Yeyu, no furnitures that they know will make the trip to their future home. Lena has been mercifully containing her own things to the master bedroom and so there isn't even a book, or a stray science journal, abandoned on the kitchen counter, a habit Taylor knows she most likely already has. Nothing is out of place, there is not so much as a speck of dust on a countertop, and with its white wall and smooth flooring the penthouse is almost too clinical. It even smells of the detergent that was used to erase all trace of its previous occupants. Right now though, it's all they need. The sun is high in the sky, already hot on their skin and full of the promise of a warm summer day ; and for the first time since they landed here, Taylor can truly relax. That is until Jessica Huang strides in at the head of an army of movers and they have no over choice but to superspeed to gather their things and climb down the facade of the building. Well admittedly, there are other possibilities, but it's the one Taylor choses.

Once the door of Taylor's temporary bedroom closes, Lena doesn't consider sleep for even one second. She's running on residual adrenaline and painkillers and she knows she won't get the luxury of unconsciousness tonight. Instead, she abandons her sweatpants in favour of her less business-like slacks and Kara's sweater, making a note of asking Jess to gather her clothes for her, and marches back to the DEO.

Kara is still asleep, but the sunlamps have been turned off and it loosens a knot in Lena's chest ; Kara is going to be okay. No matter how complicated things are right now, at least she's alive, if not well, and Lena still has time to forgive her. Kara grunts in her sleep and Lena brings her chair closer, hesitating for a second before laying her hand on top of hers. This time, she doesn't think she'll leave when she wakes up. She wants to stay, not just because she cares and needs to show it, but because she's had enough of leaving ; it's time to let Kara in again, even if it hurts. The pain will be worth it, or at least she hopes so.

At first, she tries not to look at Kara too much, out of some self-consciousness that appears more and more superfluous with each breath she takes. When she gives in, she's thankful that no one is around, because a small gasp escapes her parted lips, and from then on, she stares to her heart's content. The bruises have all faded away, and there's no trace left of her attempt at wrangling a kryptonite wave, no hint of her short stint with death. She looks at peace, and beautiful in ways that go beyond Lena's comprehension. She squeezes her hand, and would swear Kara returns the pressure in her sleep.

Bit by bit, she starts to see it, how things can get better for them, how they can climb out from the hole they dug themselves in, how they can hold each other up. It's in the frown on Kara's face when Lena gets up for some water, in the sigh she releases when she brushes the hair on her forehead, in the way her raw strength melts away when she's asleep and Lena can see her best friend again. And the more she stares, the more she can see how Taylor fits into this, how they're part of the natural progression of their story, how some day Kara and Lena could become Kara, Lena and Taylor, a unit, a family. Kara mumbles in her sleep, tugs at her hand so she can shift position, and Lena sees with a frightening clarity how this woman will make her want to be a mother. A long, long time ago, she was loved by her Mum, and someday, she will love her own child too.

Alex swings by in the early morning, mumbling fondly about Kelly forcing her to get some rest, before going through a series of check on Kara. She doesn't comment on Lena's presence, doesn't ask her to move her hand, but she does nod in appreciation, and Lena knows she's on the right path.

The last thing Kara remembers is pain ; a pain so intense actually, that this word doesn't seem fitting enough to name it. Her head splits in two, her eyes are gouged out of it, her brain melts. Every single one of her nerve screams, acid eats her from the inside, her lungs fill with concrete and sink into herself under their own weight. Then, death. At least that's what it feels like, even if Kara isn't sure she's supposed to be aware that she's dead.

It's more of a long stretch of semi-consciousness during which she can hear voices but can't tie them back to anyone or make out the words they're saying. She feels warm too, her body tingling with sunlight and either knitting itself back together or spreading itself into the void. Either is fine with her.

It's easy to pick up the moment the world comes back in focus. Her hearing sharpens, her nose tingles with familiar smells, a hand makes itself known around hers. It's one that's clearly recognisable, with its long fingers and slightly calloused palm, and Kara resists the urge to squeeze it, choosing instead to exist in this limbo a while longer, delaying the moment she'll have to ask Lena to leave. She can't allow anything like that to ever happen again. She lost focus for a minute, allowed herself to fall in love for a second, and all it brought is disaster. Who knows what will happen next time ; who knows how long she has until her actions inevitably bring about the end of the world. The hint of a rational thought springs at the back of her mind, but she squashes it. It's hard enough without having to fight herself.

Disentangling her fingers from Lena's is like ripping a bandaid, she does it quickly, hoping to spare herself the pain ; still, it's like tearing away a piece of her heart. She opens her eyes to find Lena smiling at her and she pushes back with words as scathing as she can manage.

"What are you doing here ?" she asks, failing at infusing ire in her question.

"I was waiting for you to wake up," Lena says slowly. She looks at her empty hand for a second, before she puts it on her lap, seemingly confused as to what is happening. "I came to extend an olive branch. I did some thinking and was hoping we could talk."

"I think you should go," Kara bites back, forcing herself to look away. Lena looks soft, clad in her college sweater and she doesn't want it to melt away the ice she's trying to grow around her heart. "I don't want you here."

"Kara..."

"I don't want to talk to you," Kara pushes again.

Lena looks taken aback. She frowns, a hint of sadness shading her eyes before she schools her face and gets up. "Can I ask why ? You seemed pretty intent on talking to me up until now."

"Haven't you seen what happened ?!" Kara explodes, throwing away the covers to spring out of bed. "I can't let my guard down."

Lena takes a step back. Kara hates it, but it's for the best.

"You can't seriously think this is your fault..."

"Isn't it ?" Kara asks, seething. "Isn't it ?" she repeats. "Thara, Kenny," she says, shoving a finger in Lena's face with each new name, "James, Mon-El. Every single time, it brings nothing but catastrophe, and this time is no different."

"This is ridiculous," Lena says, swatting her fingers away and taking another step back.

"It's not." It is. "You don't understand."

"You're, right, I don't," Lena fires back, her face contorted between anger and exhaustion. "I don't understand how you can confess your undying love for me only to push me away the second I take a step toward you. I don't understand how you get to turn my life upside down, how you get to ruin me and play hero only to refuse that I stay by your side. You're right, I don't fucking understand."

She looks hurt, and angry, furious even, in a way that has Kara taking a step back of her own and thinking she might have done this the wrong way. "I don't want to push you away," she whispers, "but I have to."

"Bullshit. You don't get to do that. You don't get to retreat to your ivory tower for some heroic reason. You're not alone in this, you're not the only one who's going to get hurt if you do that. Think about Taylor."

It's like a slap in the face. Kara's breath gets stolen from her lungs and she falls seated on the bed. Taylor. "Where are they ?"

"At my place," Lena says slowly, hesitant in front of Kara's reaction. She's convinced that her face mirrors her own, she wants to reach out, but there's no way she'll allow herself to.

"Good," Kara says, shaking off all emotions. "I can't be near them."

"But they need you."

"I don't care about that," Kara lies. "I don't care about them."

There's movement behind her and when she turns she finds Taylor lingering on the threshold. They're dressed in Alex's old clothes, a shopping bag in one hand and a bakery box in the other. Kara refuses the ache that this sight brings.

Taylor takes a step into the room, then another, before they stop abruptly. "I brought donuts," they whisper.

Kara's hand reaches out on its own but it's too late. Taylor deposits the box on the floor and marches right out.

The silence that follows their exit is jarring, Kara feels herself burn under Lena's intense gaze. Unspoken words fly between them and Kara doesn't know what to say. Lena wanted her to make it better, and all she's done is make it a thousand times worse.

"You know," Lena says eventually, her voice rendered rough by a sob, "even after everything that happened, I didn't believe you could be cruel."

Kara doesn't give herself the right to look away when tears start streaming down her face.

Taylor doesn't go too far. Lena finds them on the DEO's balcony, looking forlornly at the sky in true Danvers fashion. She hesitates before stepping next to them, wondering what her place in this is, if she's even allowed to have one. This situation is so foreign to her and she doesn't know how to act. Kara should be right beside her to help ; and yes, she realises the hypocrisy of this thought, when she herself didn't want to be with Kara mere days ago, but this is different and she needs her now. She feels like her feet are too loud when she pads closer to Taylor, and when she stops next to them, shuffling uncomfortably, she can't help but think she takes up too much space. She looks at Taylor, and Taylor looks at her ; non of them talks.

The city bustles below their feet, Lena stares for a moment, almost hypnotised by the ants carrying on with their lives like it doesn't matter that hers has been turned around on its head. When vertigo catches up with her, she looks away, shaking her head to get rid of the mental image of the building tipping forward and sending her hurtling to the ground. Taylor keeps their own eyes firmly turned to the sky ; Lena wonders what they're looking at, or what they're looking for.

"She'll come around," she says eventually, when the silence between them has lasted long enough.

Taylor chuckles with no joy. "It's funny," they say, "she said the same thing about you."

"And she was right. I'm here now. And you're here too, which mean she'll come around."

"That's not how it works," Taylor mumbles. The statement is somber, enigmatic, and Lena needs to ask, needs to know what more could go wrong ; but she doesn't have the words. Thankfully, Taylor supplies her with an answer. "There's a delay," they sigh, "a very short one but still. Some sort of failsafe in case someone really fucks up. So I'm not going to be erased right now. No, I have just enough time to see it coming before my future stops existing, and not enough to do anything about it."

"It won't happen," Lena retorts immediately, overtaken by the need to comfort ; not the need to be useful, or to help by fixing something, but simply to comfort, to be there for them. "I won't let it happen."

"Just find a way to ship me back home," Taylor snaps, their voice harsh in a way that has Lena thinking about Lillian. Her mother would have never allowed her to speak like that to her. "Please," they add after a second, their body going slack against the railing.

"We could ask Brainy's help. His cruiser has a time beacon, right ? It could be used to fix yours."

"He used his to send Mayo back to the 31st century," Taylor says flatly before turning away from Lena like this doesn't require some kind of explanation.

"Mayo...?" she probs tentatively.

"Yes, Mayo. White bread. Mon-Ew. Mon-El, Kara's ex-boyfriend ?"

Lena can't hold back the sharp laugh that escapes her. She does try, but it bursts out of her like cool water out of a spring ; and though it's definitely crude, it makes Taylor smiles, so it's worth it. "That's certainly original," she says once she's managed to regain composure.

"He visits from time to time," Taylor elaborates. "And he's not a bad dude, but Rao, he is so boring. He took personal offence that I don't see him as some sort of father figure, but according to everyone, he's vastly improved in every department."

"I never liked him very much," Lena grimaces.

"She's always deserved much more than him."

The rest of their thoughts are heavily implied, and when they look back at Lena, there's a mutual understanding of who Kara should be with that settles high and warm inside of her chest.

Kara doesn't stay in the med bay long enough for Alex to circle back. She dodges out as soon as she hears her sister's footsteps getting closer and, with the use of a little bit of superspeed, finds herself on the other side of the DEO before she's really figured out where she intends to go. The door is grey, made of smooth metal, and rigorously identical to most of the doors of the DEO, yet, Kara knows exactly where she is.

She quickly scans her hand and slips inside of the room before the door is fully open, closing it behind her and laying heavily against it, feeling like she can breathe properly again for the first time since she woke up with Lena next to her. The room is mostly bare, home only to a hexagonal platform in front of which Kara goes to sit cross-legged.

The hologram room has evolved past its primary function and instead of simply housing Alura's memories, it serves now as a direct line to Argo City. Kara fiddles with the dial for a moment until she hears the telltale sound of her signal being properly sent. A translucent blue ball appears at eye level, rotating slowly until it's replaced by her mother's face. It's not really her though, but a pre-recorded message indicating that she's busy.

"Hi Kara," the hologram says, "it's good to hear from you. I'm away at the moment but you can leave a message and I will call you back."

A short beep annoyingly fills her ears and her mother's face disappears, replaced by the hovering ball.

"Hey Yeyu," she whispers. "I. I really fucked up."

She doesn't know what more to say, doesn't know how to unravel all that's happened, where to begin. Instead, she lets her time run out, and when the hologram asks her if she wishes to send her message, she deletes it instead. It's better if no one else is involved in this mess anyway.