Chapter 11: Monroe Elliot Valour
###TRIGGER WARNING - MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE AND DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD###
"Yesterday was my birthday. It was not a great day. Nothing I did was right. I just wanted to go home. Come home to you." Kara reads the words from Mon-El's journal, tracing the words on the page, absorbing the weight of Mon-El's confession. The weight of his confession settles in her chest, and she wishes she could have been there with him.
"My favorite part of my birthdays was that I could spend it with you, and at night, I wouldn't get nightmares. But I did last night. And it felt exactly the same as when it happened. Just as traumatic. Just as horrible." Kara's brow furrows as she absorbs these words. The term "horrible" lingers in her mind, and a subtle unease creeps over her, sensing that Mon-El might delve into the very thing she has always dreaded.
"I have tried so hard to tell you. There have been multiple times when I wanted to tell you. But I could never get the words out. I could never write the words. But I will try. For you." Kara lets out a small smile, appreciating his effort to share his struggles with her. With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, she continues to read.
"My mom, Rhea, she never wanted me. She wanted kids, but she didn't want me. She would always remind me of that fact. She told me countless times, whenever she would get angry. She was angry a lot. One day she even told me that she tried to get rid of me but it didn't take. It was too late in the pregnancy. I was never meant to be bor-" Kara abruptly shuts the journal, the weight of Mon-El's painful revelations pressing on her chest. His mother's emotional abuse, using his very existence against him, strikes a chord within her.
Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady herself, Kara opens the journal again, sensing that what she has read so far is just the tip of the iceberg in understanding the depth of Mon-El's trauma.
"born. But once people found out she was pregnant, she received attention and praise. Gifts and my father's familial money. So she kept me. I never met my father. He died before I was born, but he was wealthy. And he left me everything. So that's what I was. Her bank account. That was my value. And I know she never loved me, I do understand her. I was forced upon her. To her, I was a burden, a nuisance that never did as she wanted. I guess I could have made things easier for her." Kara shakes her head, absorbing the weight of Mon-El's feelings, and takes a deep breath. She fights the urge to rip the page into little pieces, her empathy and anger colliding. If she could meet Rhea, she'd certainly give her a piece of her mind.
"She was a single mom and a CEO of a company. It must have been hard. And it seemed to get harder after I started kindergarten. Whenever Genie, my caretaker since birth, would pick me up, I would always hear my mom yelling over the phone. I didn't know who she talked to, but she was always angry. I would mostly avoid her, ask Genie for help doing my homework or signing permission slips. Genie was like a mother to me. She bathe me, she fed me, she clothed me, she cared about me, she loved me and she made me feel safe. But one day, Genie wasn't there anymore. And I had no one else." The mention of the name 'Genie' triggers Kara's thoughts. 'Jeans?' Could that actually be what Mon-El's mumbles in his nightmares refer to? The unfolding layers of his past reveal a complex tapestry of pain and abandonment.
"She was fired the day before my 6th birthday. Genie had planned a whole day out. She planned every one of them. We were going to the amusement park, eat ice cream sundaes at my favorite dinner, and camp outside. But she was gone, and I didn't know why or where she went. I asked my mom through tears, desperately seeking answers before heading to school. But she wouldn't tell me. So school that day was a blur, I couldn't stop thinking about Genie's random absence. At the end of school, I waited for hours, my mom had forgotten to send someone to pick me up. So I walked home in tears, but each step closer to the house I got angrier and angrier. So when I got back, I threw my book bag and marched into her home office. I made the mistake of yelling at her while she was on the phone. I was inconsolable, I made a scene, I embarrassed her. And the look she gave me was nothing short of terrifying."
Kara gulps, contemplating whether to delve deeper into Mon-El's painful recollections. The realization dawns on her — she now understands the origins of his scars, both emotional and physical. His mother inflicted wounds that ran deep. As she hesitates, torn between the desire for knowledge and the fear of the painful details awaiting her, she recognizes that Mon-El entrusted her with this journal, urging her to comprehend the depths of his past.
"She slammed the phone down, rose from her seat, towering over me. She hit me across the face, splitting my lip as her shouts rained down. Reprimanding me while shouting, she dragged me into my room and onto the cold floor, and she locked me inside. The next day, with each passing hour my hunger grew. I missed breakfast and lunch felt like a cruel prelude to what awaited me. Around dinner time, my fuming mother walked into my room wielding a plate of food like a weapon and hurled it in my dire—"
Kara's eyes widen as the vivid details of Mon-El's suffering at the hands of his mother unfold in the journal. His pleas for mercy, the haunting mumbles in his nightmares, and the trauma intricately woven into the fabric of his birthdays unfold before her eyes. The seemingly random words in his distressed mumblings now coalesce into a painful narrative. It all started to make sense — the relentless torment he endured at the hands of his mother, especially on his sixth birthday. The realization that his own mother inflicted such cruelty on him, especially on his birthday, is a brutal revelation that tightens a knot in her chest, making each breath painful, and prompts tears to cascade down her cheeks.
Kara closes the journal, the depths of Mon-El's anguish are too much for her to bear. At the age of ten, he woke up in an unfamiliar place with a name that wasn't his own. The memories of the past week were erased, shrouded in an impenetrable fog of agony. The desire to return home, to assert his true identity as Mon-El Gand, was thwarted at every turn. It now dawns on Kara—his disdain for that name, the relentless attempt to erase his identity—Rhea's cruel endeavor to strip him of yet another piece of himself.
In that moment, the sound of Mon-El emerging from the bathroom, half-clothed and drying his hair, reaches Kara's ears. She sniffs, rises from the bed, and hurries toward him, enveloping him in a tight hug. Initially, Mon-El chuckles and playfully teases, "Missed me much?" However, Kara holds onto him even tighter, tears streaming down her face and onto his bare chest. Concern etches Mon-El's face as he questions, "Kara?"
He's bewildered by her sudden emotional outpour, dropping the towel in favor of reciprocating the hug and gently rubbing her back. As he attempts to voice his confusion with a "Wha—", the words dissolve in his mouth as he realizes she must have read his journal. A sigh escapes him, and he closes his eyes, resting his head against hers. Understanding the depth of her emotions, he breathes her in, returning her embrace with equal intensity.
After a moment, Kara gently pulls away, offering an apologetic smile for her emotional outburst. Mon-El, however, dismisses her apology with a light shake of his head. It's only when she addresses him with a firm "Mon-El" that he looks down into her earnest blue eyes.
"Mon-El," she begins, her voice carrying a blend of sincerity and affection, "I need you to know that I love you. I love you so much, and I'm so happy that you're here. I'm happy that you were born. You're my best friend. You're my home. And I don't want to be without you ever again." As she sniffs and wipes away lingering tears, Kara tenderly pulls his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Mon-El closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of her love. "I love you too, Kara," he replies, his words carrying the weight of his emotions.
Kara pulls away, her lips lingering for a moment before she peppers his face with a series of soft kisses. Laughter bubbles between them, a sweet exchange of affection that erases the shadows of the painful revelations from Mon-El's journal.
That night, as Kara sleeps in Mon-El's comforting embrace, a peculiarly vivid dream unfolds. It echoes fragments of her kidnapping. In this dream, she finds herself attempting to flee alongside Mon-El and Izzy, although the nature of the threat remains elusive. Awakening abruptly, breathless and drenched in sweat, Kara is left haunted by the dream's uncanny resonance.
Glancing at the clock, revealing the early hour of 4 am, she rises cautiously to avoid disturbing Mon-El. Seeking solace, she heads to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping to calm her frayed nerves. Upon returning, she discovers Mon-El's journal has slipped to the floor. Wary not to disturb him, she picks it up and retreats to the living room. The pages, now open to Mon-El's account of other memories with his mother.
The subsequent entry delves into a day spent with his mother, compelled by Genie's family emergency. Mon-El recounts the dullness of the day and the 'ugliness' of the building. As Kara reads, a revelation hits her—the building described in Mon-El's journal mirrors the one from her unsettling dream. A chill runs down her spine. The synchronicity cannot be ignored; both she and Mon-El seem connected to this place. Kara ponders whether she might have visited it before.
Biting her lower lip, a sudden resolve takes hold. The local library's computers could be her gateway to unraveling this mystery. Glancing at the clock once more, it's only 4:30 am. If she acts stealthily, she might have time to figure it out before Mon-El and Alex wake up, ensuring her return before any harm is done. Before Kara can second guess this incredibly bad idea, she rushes over to take a quick shower and brush her teeth, gets dressed and quietly leaves the house, walking in random directions to avoid being followed and then she enters the library.
In a hasty attempt to recreate her covert research skills from the time she was searching for Izzy, Kara nervously glances around the library, apprehensive about being caught. The minutes tick by, extending into a tense 40 as she methodically sifts through information. Finally, she locates the building from her dream and she swiftly jots down the address on a post-it, tucking it into her back pocket.
With a sense of urgency, Kara erases her search history, signs out, and heads towards the exit, eyes flickering nervously. However, the library cafe, a smaller branch of Noonan's, catches her attention. A twinge of longing for their coffee courses through her. Perhaps a quick order wouldn't hurt, she thinks, a fleeting moment of indulgence.
Placing her usual coffee order, Kara takes a moment to survey the small café, noting paintings adorning the walls, seemingly crafted by school children. When her name is called, she swiftly picks up her coffee, the aroma filling her senses as she drinks it down in haste. Time is of the essence, and she rushes back to the safe house, the lingering taste of coffee an odd contrast to the urgency of her actions.
Returning to the safe house, Kara realizes she needs to manage the aroma of coffee on her breath, so she starts brewing a fresh pot. Engrossed in Mon-El's journal, she delves deeper into his past, learning more about the enigmatic Genie. The nickname turns out to be a childhood moniker, and Mon-El didn't possess the knowledge of her full name. Lost in the narrative, Kara is caught off guard when Mon-El, with a chuckle, greets her from behind and plants a soft kiss on her lips. She smiles at him, the warmth of the moment lingering as he goes to prepare breakfast.
As she flips through more pages of the journal, a question forms in Kara's mind. "Hey, Mon?" she asks, her gaze still fixed on the journal. "Yeah, babe?" Mon-El replies smoothly, eliciting a blush from Kara. "Your caretaker Genie, did you write more about her?" She bites her lower lip, contemplating the idea of helping Mon-El reconnect with her.
"Not much," Mon-El responds, "I was pretty young when she left. I don't even remember what she looks like most of the time. But I did have some guesses about her later in there. I wondered where she went and why she left." His attempt at a smile is accompanied by a knot in his throat, a lingering pain from her unexplained departure. Kara nods, understanding, and resumes reading as Mon-El returns to the kitchen to continue cooking.
A few minutes later, Mon-El joins Kara at the table, each plate full of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and tater tots. He sets a plate before her and takes his seat across from her.
Nervously, he notes her continued reading of the journal, aware that she's delved into the depths of his most challenging memories. He wonders if it's too much, if she has questions that he might struggle to answer. "I see that you're still reading it," he mentions, watching her closely. "Is it...uh okay? I-I mean does it sound okay?"
Kara smiles reassuringly, putting the journal down and picking up a fork to indulge in the delicious spread. "It's perfect," she affirms before taking a big bite of bacon. A contented hum escapes her as she savors the flavors, and soon, she's enthusiastically devouring the entire meal. Mon-El watches with amusement, appreciating her hearty appetite. She's always eager to try whatever he cooks, making her an ideal taste tester.
"Slow down, Kara," he chuckles, observing her voracious eating habits. He continues to enjoy his own breakfast, occasionally sipping his coffee. Suddenly, Kara starts to choke on her food, and Mon-El swiftly rises from his seat, grabbing a glass of water. "Wrong pipe, huh?" he teases, placing the water in front of her. His hand gently rubs her back, providing comfort as she navigates through the momentary coughing fit.
However, when Kara attempts to drink the water, it fails to alleviate the situation, and she starts coughing it out, inadvertently dropping the glass on the floor. "Don't worry, I got it," Mon-El reassures, bending down to pick up the broken pieces. His movements halt abruptly as he notices blood mixed in with the water. Concern etches his features. "Shit!" Mon-El stands up, gently patting Kara's back. "Are you okay?" he asks, but she can't respond as her coughing intensifies.
"Fuck. Alex!" Mon-El panics, the urgency evident in his voice. Something is seriously wrong with Kara. "Alex!" he calls out again, hoping she can hear him through the microphones she's planted. He wraps Kara in his arms as she clings to his shirt, attempting to speak but unable to break through the persistent fit.
"Alex! Help!" Mon-El's desperation grows. His eyes dart around the room, searching for Kara's FBI-issued phone. He finds it by the couch, where she left it the previous night. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his injured leg, Mon-El lifts Kara and places her gently on the couch, hoping for a swift response from Alex.
The room echoes with the desperate rhythm of Kara's coughs, each one seemingly tearing a piece of Mon-El's soul. Panic courses through him as he fumbles to grab her phone, his trembling hands dialing Alex's number. "Come on. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!" he pleads, his voice strained with a mixture of fear and urgency.
Alex answers after what feels like an eternity, annoyance quickly replaced by alarm as she senses the desperation in Mon-El's voice. "Alex, help. I don't know what's wrong with Kara. She's coughing up blood," he blurts out, his words rushed and desperate. He rushes to the front door, flinging it open, and then hurries back to Kara, ensuring she remains upright.
"Take her to the bathroom and turn on the shower all the way hot. I will be there in a few minutes," Alex instructs, her professional demeanor cutting through the chaos. Mon-El nods, his mind a whirlwind of worry, and complies, his cast forgotten in the urgency of the moment.
In the bathroom, the steam envelopes Kara and Mon-El, a desperate attempt to ease her distress. The air is thick with tension as they sit beside the tub, watching and waiting. The initial relief as the steam seems to have an effect is short-lived. Kara's strength wanes, and her eyes flutter closed, succumbing to unconsciousness.
"No! No, Kara!" Mon-El's panic reaches a crescendo, the raw emotion etched on his face. His fingers gently move her hair away from her face, and he shakes her in a desperate bid to rouse her. The seconds stretch into an eternity as he pleads with her to wake up, the fragility of the moment hanging heavy in the steam-filled room.
Mon-El's breath catches in his throat when Kara opens her eyes, her voice barely a whisper as she calls his name. "Mon-El..." she manages, a hacking cough interrupting the feeble words and staining his face with crimson. Panic tightens around his chest like a vice, and he pleads with her, "Kara, stay with me, please," as if the intensity of his embrace could offer her solace.
The bathroom door swings open, and Alex rushes in, her authoritative presence bringing a momentary sense of relief. "Alex!" Mon-El calls out, his voice a mixture of desperation and confusion. "I didn't know if I should have call the ambulance," he stammers, worry etched across his face.
"Mon-El, shut up and help me get her to the car," Alex commands, taking charge of the situation. With Alex's guidance, Mon-El carefully lifts Kara into his arms. As they navigate their way to the car, Mon-El's mind is a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty.
During the tense drive to the hospital, Kara loses consciousness once again. Mon-El pleads with her, his voice raw with desperation, "Kara, no! Wake up! Stay awake, please." His cries fill the confined space of the car, the urgency palpable.
Kara slowly opens her eyes once more, and Mon-El, a mixture of relief and fear in his eyes, encourages her softly, "Just like that, Kara. Just like that." He holds her close, stealing a glance at a grateful Alex through the rearview mirror.
As they pull up to the emergency room, Mon-El rushes to get Kara out of the car, yelling for help from the medical staff. A couple of ER medics swiftly approach, instructing him to give them space. Alex, using her badge, efficiently communicates Kara's symptoms, and Mon-El is left standing there, barefoot, blood-stained, and with a somewhat wet cast, watching as the medical team takes Kara away for urgent care.
He doesn't understand. What happened? Why did she start coughing like that? Was it something he gave her? Was it his fault? Once a nurse is done assessing him. Mon-El runs around to find Alex. He sees her in one of the hallways arguing with one of the ER doctors. "Alex!" He calls and runs over to her. "What happe-"
"What did you do to my sister, Mon-El!?" Alex's furious voice pierces the air, leaving Mon-El shaken and startled. Desperation fills Mon-El's eyes as he tries to defend himself, "I—I didn't... I—" But before he can finish, Alex forcefully pushes him back, demanding answers.
"I don't know!" Mon-El shouts, recoiling from her intensity. "I just made breakfast, and she just started, and I don't..." His words stumble, lost in the chaos of the moment.
"Just go, Mon-El!" Alex orders, turning away from him. He watches helplessly as she flashes her badge, demanding access to the operating room with authority, "This is an active investigation."
Doubt snakes its way insidiously into Mon-El's mind, a relentless inner voice preying on his conscience. Could it really be his fault? Did he do this? A searing pain, like a vice clenching his chest, tightens its grip, and his breaths quicken uncontrollably. Each inhale is a desperate gasp for air, and he stumbles out of the hospital in a frantic attempt to find escape. The world around him blurs as panic takes hold, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. What did he do?
Kara drifts in and out of consciousness, her words a disjointed melody of incomprehensible murmurs. The doctors explain that Kara was poisoned. They managed to counteract the toxins using charcoal, but she'll need close monitoring for the next few days. Luck was on their side; had she arrived any later, the outcome might have been fatal.
Alex absorbs the information, nodding solemnly as she updates John over the phone. His first concern is whether Mon-El is with them. John emphasizes the need for the medics to check Mon-El as well.
Alex searches for him but can't find him, speculating that he might be in the food court. John instructs her to locate him before his arrival, sensing the gravity of the situation. The undertone of disappointment in his voice hints at his feelings about Alex only prioritizing Kara's well-being over both. Alex sighs, promising to find him, and hangs up as Kara starts to stir.
"Moh..." Kara moans, tossing in the bed, the discomfort evident in her every movement. Alex attempts to provide comfort, urging her to take it easy, but Kara's restlessness persists. Her breathing intensifies, and she continues to move erratically, "help..."
"Stay down, Kara," Alex insists, interpreting Kara's agitation as physical discomfort. However, the frown on Kara's face adds a layer of confusion and concern. "Alex," Kara manages, her mouth dry and her speech labored. "Mon...El...mom..." she stammers, struggling to convey her message. Despite her weakened state, she attempts to free herself from Alex's grip, her eyes reflecting a sense of urgency and dread.
"Kara, relax. You're draining your energy," Alex advises, trying to ease her distress. But Kara shakes her head determinedly, the urgency to convey her message intensifying. "No. He... in..." she gasps, her words fragmented by the struggle to breathe, "trouble." Kara looks directly at Alex, her fidgeting slowly down. "Find..." she starts, her voice weakening with each word, "him."
Alex goes over Kara's fragmented words, deciphering the urgency in her message. "Moh help. Alex, Mon-El mom. He in trouble. Find him." The confusion is palpable, but the intensity of Kara's plea prompts Alex to take immediate action. She decides to search for Mon-El more closely, sensing that both John and Kara are worried about him for some reason. The mention of "mom" adds an extra layer of mystery to the situation.
With a determined stride, Alex heads to the security offices, asserting that she's investigating an important matter and needs access to the cameras. The security personnel comply, and she directs them to rewind the footage to the moment when she confronted Mon-El. Watching the events unfold, she sees him running out the hospital doors, a concerned expression etched on his face. Alex dials John's number as she makes her way outside the hospital. "John, he should be outside," she informs him.
Mon-El's anxious steps echo in the parking lot as he battles his internal turmoil, consumed by worry for Kara and shouldering the weight of guilt. Abruptly, the screech of tires and the sudden halt of a van seize his attention. He halts, a few steps backward, just as the van's side door swings open, and before he can react, he's unceremoniously tossed inside. Darkness engulfs him as a blindfold shrouds his vision, and the pungent scent of sedation lingers in the air.
When Mon-El regains consciousness, the confinement of a tight cell surrounds him. Blinking away the haze, his gaze locks onto a pair of legs on the other side. As he slowly rises, his eyes ascend, and upon meeting the person's eyes, fear tightens his expression, eyes widening with apprehension.
"Mom?"