Chapter 14

It takes Kara over two more years—each spare moment spent soaring across cities, continents, oceans, her search meticulous and relentless. She searches inch by inch, her ears tuned to a frequency of hope, listening for the heartbeat she's feared she'd never hear again. And then one night, under the whisper of distant waves, it reaches her—a familiar rhythm that pulls her from the sky with an ache that feels like coming home.

Night after night, Kara circles the island, gathering courage, feeling the weight of words left unsaid and the fragile bridge between them. Finally, one evening, she finds herself standing at Lena's door, her hands cold despite the island's warmth, her heart an unsteady beat beneath her ribs. She hesitates, shifting her weight, feeling the cool wood beneath her knuckles as she finally lifts her hand to knock.

Footsteps approach, slow, cautious. The door creaks open, and there stands Lena, shadowed by the glow of a dimly lit room behind her. For a long moment, neither speaks, the air between them thick with all that has passed. Lena's gaze, steady yet filled with a vulnerability she can't quite hide, meets Kara's, and a flicker of something soft, almost hopeful, passes over her face.

"Can I come in?" Kara asks, her voice a tentative whisper, her fingers tightening around a bottle of wine she's holding, as though it could somehow soften the edges of her presence.

Lena blinks, surprise mingling with something more uncertain, and for a second Kara sees that hesitation, the smallest waver in Lena's stance. And then, Lena steps aside, opening the door wider, a silent invitation. Kara enters, the scent of salt and something warm and familiar enveloping her, grounding her as she steps inside. The room is dim, bathed in the gentle light of the setting sun streaming through large windows, filling the space with amber shadows that dance across the walls.

Kara takes in her surroundings, her gaze lingering on the soft, muted colors, the shelves lined with books and small treasures—a seashell, a smooth stone, a framed photograph. It's so different from Lena's city loft, which had been sharp-edged and sleek. This place feels softer, wrapped in warmth and memories, like each piece belongs to a quieter, more personal rhythm.

"It's… beautiful," Kara murmurs, her voice reverent, as if she's afraid to disturb the stillness that fills the room.

Lena gives a slight nod, watching her, her gaze unreadable, caught somewhere between surprise and the faintest trace of longing. She moves toward the kitchen, the faint clink of glass breaking the quiet. Kara follows, her footsteps cautious, her senses alive to the familiar scent of Lena's perfume lingering in the air, the soft murmur of waves just beyond the walls.

Lena turns, two wine glasses in hand, her movements deliberate yet hesitant. "Why did you come here, Kara?" she asks, her voice soft but steady, as though she's bracing herself for the answer.

Kara takes a breath, feeling the weight of years passed between them, the fragile thread of a connection she's never let go. "I needed to see you, Lena. I needed to talk… about us."

Lena sets the glasses on the kitchen counter, stepping closer, her gaze searching Kara's face as if trying to read the intentions hidden in her eyes. Kara watches the subtle shift in her, the way her shoulders seem to relax and tense all at once, a quiet longing flickering in her gaze before she catches herself and looks away.

But before either can say more, a small, tremulous voice breaks the stillness.

"Mama?"

Lena's body tenses, her posture shifting as if something deeply personal has been unexpectedly laid bare. Kara's gaze follows hers to see a small boy standing in the doorway, clutching a worn, well-loved stuffed bear that nearly dwarfs him. Dark curls spill over his forehead, and his wide, gray eyes—haunted, tear-streaked—gleam with a mixture of fear and wonder.

Without hesitation, Lena crosses the room, her movements instinctive, as if pulled by an invisible thread. She kneels, gathering him into her arms with a tenderness that softens every line in her face. The boy buries his face in her shoulder, his small body trembling, breaths shuddering as he clings to her, his fingers fisting into her sweater, desperate, as though afraid she might disappear.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Lena murmurs, her hand smoothing over his hair, her voice a gentle balm against his soft, stifled sobs. "It was just a dream… I'm here." She holds him close, her murmured reassurances woven with a quiet strength, her presence grounding him, calming him.

Kara watches from a few steps away, her own heart catching at the scene before her, an unfamiliar warmth filling the quiet space between them. In this small boy's tearful gaze, the way he looks at Lena with unwavering trust, she sees a bond so pure, so deeply rooted, that it leaves her momentarily breathless.

"It's okay, baby," Lena whispers again, her hand gently smoothing down his hair. Her voice is a lull, soft and soothing, and for a moment, Kara's breath catches, witnessing a side of Lena she's never known—gentle, unguarded, maternal.

As his breathing slows, the boy peeks over Lena's shoulder, his eyes finding Kara, curious and shy. Lena's gaze follows his, her expression softening, her hold on him tightening just slightly.

"This is Kara," Lena murmurs, her voice gentler now, almost as if sharing a secret. "Kara is… a friend." She shifts him carefully so he can face Kara, and for a moment, Kara is captivated, held in place by two pairs of light gray eyes—one wide with innocence, the other clouded with memories and quiet grief. The last rays of the sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, illuminating their dark hair, the pale softness of their skin, the quiet bond between them.

"Kara," Lena says softly, her voice almost catching, "this is Noah, my son."

Kara swallows, her voice soft as she meets the gaze of the little boy in Lena's arms. "Hello, Noah."

He blinks up at her, clutching his bear a little tighter, his eyes wide and uncertain, as if still held by the shadows of his dream. Sensing his unease, Kara tilts her head, her smile gentle. "Did you have a scary dream?"

Noah nods, his voice a small, hesitant whisper. "It was dark… and there were monsters." He glances up at Lena, seeking her reassurance, as if afraid speaking the words might summon them again.

Kara's expression softens, her voice warm but serious, as if letting him in on a secret. "Monsters are tricky," she says quietly, leaning just a bit closer, "but they're actually a little afraid of brave people. And you know what? You seem pretty brave to me."

Noah's eyes widen, his fear beginning to soften into a spark of curiosity and quiet courage. His grip on his bear loosens just a bit as he studies Kara with a mixture of awe and wonder. "Really?" he whispers.

"Really," Kara assures him with a nod, a hint of playfulness in her tone. He stares at her, caught between his fear and a new, cautious hope.

Lena brushes a reassuring hand through his hair, her voice soothing. "You know, sweetheart, Kara fights monsters for a living," she says softly, her eyes flicking to Kara with a small, grateful smile.

Noah's eyes widen, filling with quiet awe as he looks back at Kara. "You do?" he whispers, his fear fading just a bit, curiosity taking its place.

Kara nods, a gentle warmth in her gaze. "Yeah," she replies. "I'm very good at it."

After a moment's hesitation, Noah wiggles free of Lena's arms and steps forward, reaching out a small hand to grasp Kara's. "Will you… check my room?" he asks, his voice earnest as he looks up at her, trust shining in his gaze. "Just to make sure they're really gone?"

Kara glances at Lena, who nods and watches the exchange with a quiet, astonished warmth, her heart catching at her son's trust. Kara turns back to Noah, her voice soft and conspiratorial. "I'd be happy to," she says, nodding. "But I think we need a plan."

Noah's eyes brighten, and he leans in, drawn into the idea. "What's the plan?"

"Well," Kara whispers, glancing toward his room as if assessing their mission, "you and your mom can stand guard at the door. I'll go in first and check all the places where monsters like to hide. And then, if you're feeling extra brave…" She pauses, giving him a gentle, encouraging smile. "You can join me to show those monsters how strong you are. That way, they'll be so scared, they'll never come back."

Noah's face lights up, courage blooming in his expression as he nods. "Can I… come with you?"

Kara smiles, a gentle warmth in her eyes. "Absolutely. It's the perfect plan." She watches him shift on his feet, then sees him stretch his small arms out toward her, wordlessly asking to be carried.

Kara's heart softens as she gently lifts him into her arms, his small hands looping around her neck, clutching his bear close as they move down the hallway. Lena trails behind, her heart caught in her throat as she watches her usually reserved son trust Kara so fully, so instinctively, with a bond that feels somehow timeless.

They reach the doorway of his room, and Kara pauses, looking at him with a playful smile. "Are you ready?" she asks, her voice a gentle whisper.

Noah nods, a grin breaking across his face, and Kara steps into the room, still carrying him as they begin their "mission." She moves with exaggerated caution, scanning the room as though any corner might reveal a hidden monster, casting him a quick, playful wink.

As they reach the bed, Noah wriggles down from her arms, landing with a soft thud and immediately reaching up to take her hand. Together, they continue the search, his tiny hand in hers as they check under the bed, behind the closet door, and even peek behind the curtains. Kara's expressions are serious yet playful, drawing small giggles from Noah with each exaggerated glance around the room.

Lena stands in the doorway, her heart swelling as she watches the scene unfold. She's rarely seen her son this light, this happy, his usual reserve replaced by a joyful excitement. Kara's presence seems to bring out a side of him that feels both new and yet completely natural, as if he's known her his whole life. Lena finds herself watching them with a quiet, bittersweet ache—a happiness softened by the beauty of this unexpected connection.

Finally, Kara gives Noah's hand a gentle squeeze, a look of triumph in her eyes. "All clear," she announces with a soft smile. "Those monsters don't stand a chance against you."

Noah's face brightens, and he looks up at her with wide eyes, filled with admiration. "Thanks, Kara," he murmurs, his voice sleepy yet full of gratitude. He lets go of her hand, climbing up into bed with his bear held close, his head resting on the pillow as he begins to drift off.

Kara pulls the blanket up around him, her movements tender as she tucks him in. As his eyes grow heavy, he gazes up at her, his voice soft. "Can you… keep mama safe, too?"

Kara's heart tightens, a faint ache threading through her voice as she whispers back, "If she wants me to, I'll make sure she's safe." She brushes a gentle hand over his forehead, lingering a moment before stepping back.

She leaves quietly, her gaze lingering on him one last time as he drifts into sleep. Kara returns to the living room, and Lena steps softly into Noah's room, her face softened by a tender smile as she watches her son nestled, safe and content. She bends to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, murmuring a quiet goodnight before returning to find Kara waiting, the silence between them filled with unspoken gratitude and warmth.

"Thank you, Kara." Lena's voice is soft, almost a whisper, each word carrying a weight unspoken. Kara nods, a quiet understanding passing between them. They stand in silence, gazing at each other, the stillness filled with so much that words feel almost too loud. Lena glances back at the closed door of Noah's room, and Kara tilts her head, listening to his slow, steady heartbeat. She smiles gently, her voice low. "He's sleeping… soundly."

She steps a little closer to Lena, her presence warm, grounding. Kara's eyes are soft, searching as she struggles to put words to the questions swirling in her mind. "I didn't know you… Is he… Are you…" she stammers, her voice trailing off, the unspoken questions lingering in the space between them.

Lena sighs, her gaze shifting, as if gathering herself. She nods toward the kitchen, the gesture almost tentative, and turns, relief flickering through her when she hears Kara's quiet footsteps following her. In the soft glow of the kitchen, Lena reaches for the two forgotten glasses of wine, fingers brushing the stem of one as she carries them over to the sofa, settling onto the cushions. Kara sits beside her, their knees close, almost touching, a silence stretching between them, heavy and raw.

Kara's eyes are questioning, but gentle, as she watches Lena. Lena knows there's no sidestepping this conversation. She takes a slow breath, fingers tracing the rim of her glass, before she begins. "It was… it was a beautiful lie," she says quietly, her voice wrapped in a bittersweet ache.

"Jack was on business here. We met. He was… kind, attentive. Maybe I was even a little in love. Those first few weeks were casual, simple. And then… I found out I was pregnant. He wanted something solid, stability… a family. And I thought I could give him that." She pauses, her gaze drifting, the words catching. "But he wasn't you," she finally whispers, her voice cracking, and her eyes meet Kara's, a depth of vulnerability laid bare. "We separated long before Noah was born. Almost three years ago now."

Kara's brows knit together, pieces falling into place as she watches Lena, her own heart catching. "Three years?" she echoes softly.

Lena nods, her gaze dipping. "It was… the charity event," she says, her voice barely audible, as if the memory itself were fragile. "I broke up with him that same night."

Kara's lips part, a quiet understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh…"

For a moment, there's only silence, thick with the ache of what could have been, and what was lost. Kara reaches across the space between them, her hand gentle as she takes Lena's, steadying her fidgeting fingers with a soft touch. With her other hand, she lifts Lena's chin, her gaze soft, steady, meeting Lena's.

"I'm so sorry you went through that alone," she murmurs, her voice thick with quiet regret. Her thumb brushes over the back of Lena's hand, tender and careful. "I wish… I wish I could have been there. I wish…" Her voice trails off, and she reaches up, her hand brushing softly over Lena's cheek, the touch lingering. Lena closes her eyes, leaning into Kara's touch, her heart caught in the warmth of it.

"I don't regret it," she whispers, her voice fragile but firm. "We can't change the past, Kara. And Noah… he's everything. He's the sun in my solar system."

A gentle smile tugs at Kara's lips as she watches Lena, her gaze softening with something deeper. "He's adorable and beautiful, Lena, just like you," she murmurs, the words hushed, almost reverent. "And he has your eyes."

Lena's cheeks flush, a faint color blooming as she glances down, a soft, unguarded smile lingering. Kara's gaze remains fixed, taking in every nuance—the way motherhood has brought a tender, radiant ease to Lena, an added warmth that wraps around her like a quiet light. Without thinking, Kara reaches out, her fingers catching a loose strand of Lena's hair, brushing it back behind her ear. Her touch lingers, her thumb grazing the curve of Lena's cheek in a gesture as delicate as it is deliberate.

"It suits you," Kara whispers, her voice carrying the weight of admiration. "Motherhood."

Lena's eyes lower, her fingers curling around her wine glass, cheeks faintly pink. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible, vulnerable in a way that catches Kara off guard. The movement draws her just close enough that their knees graze, a fleeting touch that settles like an electric pulse between them.

The silence stretches, deep and full, letting the warmth of their proximity linger, unhurried. Kara's hand rests over Lena's, steady and grounding, her thumb tracing slow, gentle circles over her knuckles. The contact feels delicate, unspoken, as if each touch might carry the words they're not yet ready to speak. Kara's thumb drifts upward, tracing a slow, reverent path along Lena's cheek, moving to brush the soft line of her jaw before skimming over her lower lip. Her gaze follows the motion, captivated, lingering as her thumb rests there, feeling the warmth of Lena's breath.

Lena's lips part softly, and her breath catches, the faintest tremble running through her as her eyes finally lift, meeting Kara's gaze with a vulnerability that makes Kara's heart tighten. Kara's other hand moves, settling gently on Lena's shoulder, fingers tracing a subtle line across the fabric of her sweater, grounding her in the delicate intimacy of the moment.

Kara leans forward, voice barely above a whisper, her words hesitant, filled with quiet longing. "May I… kiss you?" Her gaze searches Lena's, a delicate question lingering there, open, waiting. Her thumb lingers at Lena's lip, the warmth of their closeness wrapping around them both.

"Kara…" Lena's voice is filled with uncertainty, a tremor she wishes she could hide. She wants nothing more than to fall into this, into the familiar warmth of Kara's love. But it's no longer just about her; she feels the weight of the responsibility she now carries, the gentle pull of the life they'd just tucked into bed.

Kara's voice is quiet, steady. "I've been clean for over four years, Lena. We've both changed… but I haven't stopped loving you. Will you… give us, give me, another chance?"

Lena's gaze falls to their intertwined fingers, her hand trembling slightly against Kara's. Her voice is barely a whisper, but steady, laced with the words she's held for too long. "I still love you too, Kara," she says, her eyes lifting to meet Kara's, raw and unguarded. "I never stopped. But it's not just me anymore. He's a part of everything now. There's no me without him."

Kara reaches up, gently cupping Lena's cheek, her thumb brushing softly over her skin. "I know," she whispers, leaning in, her breath warm against Lena's skin. "I'm pretty sure there's room for two suns in my solar system."

Lena's eyes close, a soft breath escaping her as she lets the words settle over her. "Okay," she murmurs, a quiet acceptance, and Kara's lips find hers, gentle, careful, like a promise wrapped in the sweetness of something long-awaited. Lena tastes the warmth of her, the fruity sweetness of Kara's lip gloss, and the faint salt of a single tear she hadn't realized she'd let fall.