i'll crawl home to her.

The first time Kara sees Earth, it’s faster than the speed of light. She sees clouds as she plummets through them, the combustion of her pod smoking around her. She sees the buildings and their lights, sees mountains and oceans and eventually trees, orange with what she was taught means a seasonal change, of something new.

She hits the ground before she sees it, hard and fast and it throws her sideways inside the pod, makes her head ache, and suddenly she hears everything too.

Hears too much too quick, hears it all. Its overwhelming, it's too loud .

She passes out, swallowed by the night of this new world.

//

When she wakes up, things are a bit lighter. The sun of this world is yellow, and Kara feels it warm her skin through the glass, feels it give her the strength to lift her head, to really look at Earth.

There’s people, people everywhere, around her pod and the dirt it's wedged into. Yellow tape surrounds her, and she wants to get away so badly that she feels herself speed up faster than ever, runs away so quick that her feet burn against the solid and harsh ground.

She’s far away now, everything is still loud, still bright, still too much. Further off, she can make out a building, tall and luxuriously old, with stone pillars and a bell that tolls. It reminds her of the temples for Rao, of home .

She runs.

//

A woman finds her in the pews of this place, reverent and silent and horrified, head bowed and fingers digging into the wooden seats so hard it splinters beneath her.

“Are you lost?” The woman asks, a hair falls loose from where its swept into a bun, and Kara cannot answer.

No , she isnt lost. She’s meant to be where she is, mostly. She’s on Earth, she’s safe, she’s alive . She can’t explain that to this woman, not when her English is so raw that it’s equivalent to a child’s.

So, she shakes her head, bites her lip and tries not to cry because where is Kal, where is the last connection to her home that she had, where is her - their - future?

“Do your parents know where you are?”

She nods this time, grave and slow and the woman seems to understand the severity of it, at least somewhat because she’s resting a hand on Kara’s shoulder, and Kara’s fingers lessen their pressure on the pews.

“Are your parents okay?”

She can’t nod, she can’t shake her head. She can’t move .

She feels her eyes heat up, closes them, tries to rinse her parents’ faces from her memory, tries to burn them in at the same time. She wants to hold onto them, wants to move on like they asked. She wants to remember Krypton, be Krypton - her parents are martyrs and she hasto be the prophet.

The woman guides her to stand, and Kara can feel herself shake so violently that it threatens to throw her over, to collapse into the ground and implode on herself.

But she doesn’t, she stays upright, moves at this woman’s touch because this woman is patient and doesn’t expect answers and doesn’t ask anymore questions after that.

//

The woman walks with her hand in Kara’s, and Kara has always been warned of the intentions of strangers, but she cannot find it in herself to believe this woman capable of any harm. She is sturdy and compassionate and Kara thinks that maybe this woman reminds her a bit of Astra, the grey in her hair outweighing the false auburn that fades, the strong hand in hers that Kara can feel the pulse within, the steady beat of her heart that Kara can hear .

She couldn’t hear heartbeats on Krypton, only knew of them because that’s what she had been taught. Anatomy was different here, things were obvious, humans gave their humanity away in spades.

Kara envies them, even if she walks among them.

The woman takes her to another building, it’s smaller than the temple (church, they’re called churches here), and nowhere near as old.

The steps towards the door aren’t very large, and Kara resists the urge to race up them, to leave this woman in her wake. She stalks up them one by one, feels the ground beneath her feet give a little if she stomps too hard, resists the urge to crumble this world to pieces too.

The woman knocks on the door and Kara feels the sun on her back, and maybe things are a little warmer when another woman, younger than the one holding her hand, answers. Her eyes are green, the kind that reminds Kara of the foliage she read about in school, the kind Krypton could not grow.

“Hello,” the young woman says, widens the door to let Kara in. “My name is Sophie, what’s yours?”

Kara points to her chest with upturned brows, and Sophie nods.

“Kara,” she settles on, because Earth seems more subtle in their announcements of lineage. There’s no need to state she’s a daughter of a lost world, of a whole ‘nother universe beyond the human conception.

“Kara,” Sophie repeats, rolls it on her tongue. “Do you have a family, Kara?”

It feels like she’s been gutted, strung up for this world to see. Is it so glaringly obvious that she has no home, no family to return to, that she is so clearly and undoubtedly lost here.

She shakes her head, feels tears well up in her eyes, so fat that they sting. There is no way to explain it to Sophie, to make her understand.

Sophie bends at the waist, rests her hands on her knees to be eye level with Kara. There’s a soft smile on her face, similiar to her father’s whenever he’d seen her break something but promise to not tell her mother.

“How old are you, Kara?”

She does not count the time spent in the Phantom Zone, cannot count it. She did not age, laid within an abyss, knowing the fate of her planet but not of herself.

“Thirteen,” she says, hopes it is the right answer on Earth.

“And do you need a home, Kara?”

The weight of it hits Kara square in the chest, wrings her lungs of air and she almost falls over, steadies herself with clenched fists and a tight jaw.

She wants to say more than anything , but knows she cannot translate it yet. So, she nods, breathes in and hears herself quiver.

Sophie reaches out, slowly, lets Kara decide.

Kara falls into her, buries herself into the fabric of this woman’s shirt, of the closest thing to maternity she will ever receive again.

She pulls away quickly, wipes her eyes with her fingers and her nose with her sleeve, and when Sophie tells her to follow, she doesn’t think twice.

Lena had not seen a new face in what felt like years, and to see this small girl, blonde and shaking and confused - well, Lena didn’t know what to make of it.

She had never seen another teenager, not one that had not grown here. They were always babies, sometimes toddlers, never teenagers. Teenagers meant something bad , something taboo and unspoken of - something painful.

Lena watches Sophie introduce this girl to everyone on the lower level of the foster home, from the small children that make the girl smile to those her own age that grunt at her in acknowledgement. Sophie does not notice Lena until she nearly walks into her.

“Oh, Lena,” she stops, breathes. Lena can’t blame her for the hesitance, she never was very welcoming. “I was just showing Kara around, perhaps you could help her to her room?”

She sets her lips to a thin line, flexes her fingers. “And which room would that be?”

“That depends,” Sophie looks to this girl - Kara, Lena makes herself remember. “Would you like to be alone?”

It seems to take Kara a few moments, and Lena watches as she processes the words, perhaps English is not her first language.

“No,” Kara shakes her head, drops it to look at her feet.

“Then, if you could, Lena,” Sophie nudges Kara forward, making her walk three steps upwards, to stand one below Lena. “Show her to your room, you have the only other free bed fit for someone as tall as Kara.”

“Of course,” Lena nods stiffly, wipes her palms on her jeans. “It’s just up here, this way.”

Lena makes it two steps up before she realises Kara isn’t following, head still bowed, eyes flickering despite being downcast.

Lena clears her throat, and Kara looks up this time, her lips are pursed and Lena isn’t sure if Kara even wants to be here, like, at all. She sighs, clicks her tongue before she offers Kara her hand.

Kara takes it, slowly but surely, grips tight enough that Lena feels like a lifeline.

“Play nice, girls,” Sophie calls out to them, winks at Lena and Lena groans. “I’ll call you when dinner's ready.”

//

Kara does not let go of Lena’s hand the whole time, and it’s only the tiniest bit inconvenient, because Kara’s hand is warm and Lena hasn’t had someone hold her in a very long time and it’s confusing because she’s not sure what she feels about it.

Lena sits on her bed, Kara following to sit beside her. Their hands switch, maneuver so that Kara’s rests beneath Lena’s, fingers locking together and Lena tries not to concentrate on how ragged Kara’s breathing is.

“Your bed is that one,” Lena points in front of her and Kara, to the only other bed in the room, made and kempt with a red blanket and blue pillow. “I haven’t had a roommate before, so I’m sorry if I’m bad at it.”

Kara takes some moments to think, Lena watches her brow crease. “It’s okay.”

Lena feels Kara’s thumb brush over hers, and she cannot help but ask, “Do you speak English?”

Kara laughs under her breath, and Lena takes a moment to just watch because she has not seen a smile as bright as Kara’s - well, ever.

“Yes,” Kara bites her bottom lip, scrunches her face. “It’s tricky, there’s a lot to learn.”

“So it’s not your first language?”

Kara shakes her head, neck flaring red, “No.”

“What is, then?”

Kara thinks again, and Lena tries to commit this all to memory, because if Kara is going to be her roommate she needs to learn her tells.

“Foreign,” is all Kara says, and her voice cracks the tiniest bit when she continues. “I’m from very far away.”

Lena sees the way it hurts Kara to say it, and she thinks maybe Kara hadn’t just lost a family but a home, so she squeezes Kara’s hand a little tighter and nudges her shoulder with her own.

“You don’t have to tell me where,” she smiles, just a tiny bit, enough to make Kara look at her like she’s golden. “You’re okay, you’re safe here.”

Lena can tell that Kara wants to hug her, but she knows neither of them really need it right now, so when Kara holds her hand all the way down the stairs and only lets go to inhale two servings of roast potatoes, Lena is content to leave it at that.

At first, Kara dreams of Krypton. She falls asleep to Lena’s soft breathing and the rain against their window, and she feels a rush to see her home again, with its red sun and her cousin and her parents and her family .

She dreams of it so often that she does not notice their slow descent into nightmares, the way the inevitable crashes over her in her sleep. Even when she knows the truth, when she knows without doubt what’s going to happen, she awakes in a cold sweat and cries until the sun rises.

//

It’s after a week of nightmares that Kara eventually screams from the pain, of the crushing and debilitating hurt , of the loss and the sacrifice and the pressure of being all that’s left.

She screams and she tangles her hands to the roots of her hair and tugs because she needs to feel real, needs to remember she is alive and that she’s safe.

She does not feel safe, feels the walls slowly close in and the floor drop from beneath her, feels her breath catch and she closes her eyes and squeezes them so tight that her head throbs.

“Shit,” she hears, its distant and cracked and she can't tell where it's coming from. “Shit, Kara.”

Hands shake at her, and she shakes with them, knows she’s reciting prayers in Kryptonese, wishing and wanting and yearning for her parents to come back to her.

“Kara, look at me, damn it,” there are hands on her face, pulling her, forcing her to look. She sees Lena, sees her frightened eyes and tight lips. “Kara.”

She breathes again, takes her hands from her hair. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lena’s shoulders drop, less tense. Her hands stay where they are, thumbs deft across her cheekbones. They come back wet, but neither of them say anything. “You’re safe. Here, with us, with me. You’re safe, I promise.”

Kara falls with the weight lifted off her, falls into Lena and Lena catches, soothes the strands of hair Kara has pulled at with the pads of her fingers.

Lena does not shush her when she cries, she does not ask why she’s crying or what the nightmares are about. Lena does not push and Kara isn’t sure if she’s crying for a dead world or revitalised hope.

Lena keeps her word, does not ask of where Kara comes from, soothes her when she starts shaking and keeps her distance when Kara’s knuckles turn white.

Kara realises that whatever is between them, it is a bond, a match, an understanding. Kara does not assume that Lena, too, had lost a world - but she thinks Lena understands.

They’re on their separate beds, the chilled night air seeping through the crack Kara had accidentally hit through it (they don’t talk about it. Lena doesn’t push and Kara chalks it up to being overly upset.). They’re facing each other, and Kara marvels at the sharpness of Lena’s shape in the moonlight, the way it shadows along her jaw - not all humans have the same structure as Lena, she’s noticed.

“How did you end up here?” Kara asks, because Lena seems too good, is too good to be lonely, deserves a mansion and a family who will gift her things each year and celebrate her very existence.

Lena doesn’t answer at first, cracks an eye open and looks at Kara. Her face is pressed into her pillow, but she sits up to lean on her elbow, to let Kara see her when she speaks.

“I came here when I was four,” her voice is dry and low with sleep and it makes Kara wish she hadn’t asked - but they’ve been friends for nearly a month now, they should know these things about each other, she thinks. “I don’t remember all of what happened. Sophie was very nice when she found me, offered me a meal and a glass of milk before she asked how I ended up on her doorstep.”

Kara nods, feels the pull to be closer to Lena so strongly that she doesn’t realise she’s scooting forward in bed until her elbow hits the small set of drawers between them.

“I told her the truth. Or, as much truth that you can know when you’re so young.” Lena inhales, and Kara’s hearing is so much better on this planet but she wishes it wasn’t, because she hears the way it makes Lena ache. “My parents were alone here. They didn’t have family in this country, moved to America from Ireland for some reason or another. I think is was money, but I guess I’ll never know.”

“What happened to them?”

Lena’s eyes cast downwards, Kara watches her fingers fidget and clench at the bedsheet.

“They went missing,” Lena says it without tone, and Kara worries her bottom lip, hopes she hasn’t pushed too much. “I was at preschool when it happened. They didn’t pick me up, and we had no emergency contacts. My teacher was close with my mum, but she hadn’t heard or talked about anything like that with her, they mostly talked about me.”

Kara blows out a small breath, feels tight in her chest. “They just - vanished?”

“They weren’t murdered,” Lena’s harsh, her voice hoarse. Kara tentatively puts her feet to the ground, rolls out of bed and walks to Lena, folds her legs underneath her as she sits, head against Lena’s mattress to look at her. “There were some things left behind, letters mostly. A few of my dad’s shirts, a tie, a drawing I made for them the week before in class.”

“Lena, I,” she pushes up from the ground, sits on Lena’s bed this time, rests her hand against the one not holding Lena up, the one resting on her hip. “I’m so sorry.”

Lena shakes her head, “You did nothing wrong.”

“Still,”

Lena’s hand pushes Kara’s away as she sits up properly, face to face with Kara. This close, Kara can see the way Lena’s shirt hangs off her, sharp collarbone pale in the moonlight. Kara fixes it, props the white cotton onto her shoulder, not noticing the way Lena’s cheeks flush.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lena says it pointedly this time, nudges Kara’s bicep with a knuckle. “Besides, Sophie’s been really good with me. Patient. I wasn’t very nice at the start.”

Kara can’t believe that, hears Lena’s heart beat steady and strong, knows it’s a good heart, that Lena’s good.

“Plus, you have me.”

Lena smiles, smiles the way that makes her top lip curl to just below her nose, and Kara leans in, wraps her arms around Lena’s shoulders and tugs. Lena’s hands rest on her back, thumb rubbing at her shoulder blade and Kara hopes Lena doesn’t feel her shiver.

“Yeah,” Lena says into her hair, into her neck. “I do.”

Lena and Kara sit together during lunch at school, their uniforms untucked and they eat unceremoniously, loud with laughter and jokes, and Lena says nothing when Kara goes back for more mac and cheese three times.

They don’t have any classes together, because Lena is a year older than Kara, but Lena helps her, especially with English. Once they’ve eaten, Kara will pull her notebook out and ask Lena what certain words mean and Lena will explain without making her feel dumb or slow.

One time, Kara asks what a fairytale is, because her latest assignment is to rewrite an ending for one of her choice, and Lena nearly falls out of her chair.

“Really, Kara, sometimes I think you’re from another planet.”

Kara flushes from her ears to her chest, ducks her head, “No, this one. Definitely, very surely, from this one.”

Lena chuckles, leans forward to see Kara’s notes. “If you say so.”

Lena explains fairytales, and Kara tells her that they had them where she’s from. They just weren’t called that, because fairies didn’t exist there. Lena tells her fairies don’t exist here, either, that they’re made up to make kids happy, and Kara thinks its very nice even if people shouldn’t lie to their kids.

Lena gets into a fight just before the semester ends, one that gives her a blue and green bruise on her cheek and the boy a blood nose. One that Sophie has to be rung about because Lena and the boy’s stories aren’t matching up, because Lena is very adamant that she didn’t start it - even if she did hit first.

Kara comes home and goes right to her room, where Lena is lying on Kara’s bed, facing away from the door. Her breathing is even, but Kara knows she’s not asleep because she can hear Lena’s heartbeat pick up when Kara gets closer, footsteps creaking the floorboards.

“You didn’t need to hit him,” Kara starts, and Lena rolls over with a flare in her eyes she hadn’t ever seen until today. “But I’m glad you did.”

Lena’s face softens at that, shrugging as she sits up. “Me too.”

Kara sits beside Lena, leans back onto her hands to see her. “Even if Sophie is flipping her lid?”

“Your expressions are getting better,” Lena’s smile is wide, laugh lines deep with pride. “And especially if Sophie is flipping her lid, I haven’t made her do that in a long time.”

“I have a feeling she’s not going to let the school suspend you.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” Lena’s head drops, biting her lower lip and breathing in before she speaks again. “Especially if it was to do with you, I think you’re her favourite.”

“It was to do with me?”

Lena laughs, “I didn’t hit him to defend your honour or anything.”

“Then why?”

“Because, I hear him when he walks by our table, I hear what he says on his way out of English when I come to pick you up.” Lena’s smile is gone, thin line and sharp eyes. “You’re not a freak, and you’re definitely not stupid. I tried to talk to him about it, to tell him that he’s being hurtful and that you’re nothing like what he said. But then he - he just kept going . He said worse things, about you, things I don’t want to repeat.”

She doesn't ask Lena to say them, not even sure if she’d want to know at all. She takes Lena’s hand, unfurls the fist there and twines their fingers together.

“So you beat the hell out of him, because he pissed you off?”

Lena laughs, “When you put it like that, I sound like the bad guy.”

“Hardly,” Kara, in a burst of gut-curdling courage, reaches up to brush her thumb along the bruise, tracing the yellowing splotch. “My hero.”

Lena whines, and Kara thinks it's just because she may have pushed a little too hard on the bruise.

Kara learns of birthday celebrations on Earth through Lena, who is woken early by Sophie and given breakfast in bed, followed by a present - a nice, shiny fountain pen (Lena guards it with her life).

There had been birthdays, of course, on Krypton, but in the lead up to her planet’s destruction, the time for parties had ceased and Kara’s presents were left for her on the nightstand, her parents both at work and her aunt Astra leaving her a written apology.

Lena hadn’t mentioned her birthday, when Kara had asked Lena had always told her it didn’t matter. Kara understands, but she’s also kind of mad about it because Lena’s fifteen now, she should be having a party and going out with friends and celebrating .

Instead, Lena goes over some notes with Kara, helps her with her readings and Kara is grateful but also so, so angry.

“I’m not more important than your birthday.” She tells Lena, their heads nearly bumping together at the dining table, leaning over a novel.

Lena shakes her head, the hair in her ponytail brushing against Kara’s neck with the movement.

“My birthday isn’t important.”

The other kids look at them, silent for a moment, before Sophie comes in with fresh snacks and their attention is divided. Kara and Lena don’t move, Kara looking at Lena, Lena trying so hard to only look at the book.

“Your birthday is important,” Kara stands, chair scraping against the floor loud enough for Sophie to look over at them, crease in her forehead. “ You’re important. How can you not think that?”

Lena looks up at her, jaw slack, “Because it’s just a birthday, Kara.”

Kara huffs, turning away from her, arms crossed. “You don’t get it.”

Lena doesn’t chase her when she walks away, eyes burning.

//

Kara doesn’t come down for dinner, and Lena feels just as hollow and empty as every other year when Sophie brings her a cake, fifteen candles to make a love heart burning bright.

They sing to her, and Lena wishes the ground would swallow her, that she was just back home, back with her family.

Lena blows out the candle and doesn’t wish for that, because those things are of the past and she needs to move on, move forward. She wishes to understand.

Once she helps Sophie get the younger kids ready for bed, she’s cornered, Sophie’s pointed finger threatening and nostrils wide.

“Go tell Kara you were wrong.”

“But,” she starts, the words dying on her tongue.

“Go tell her you’re sorry, because we don’t have time for self pity in this house, Lena,” Sophie’s voice softens, her finger crooking back until her palms are resting on Lena’s shoulders. “I don’t want you being rash, I don’t want you dwelling. You two are good for each other, you make each other better. Don’t throw it away because you think you don’t deserve it.”

Lena nods, and Sophie gathers her into her arms, hugs her fiercely and Lena thinks maybe birthdays are okay.

//

When Lena goes up to her room, she can barely open the door before Kara is rushing into her, arms strong and around her in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” Kara mumbles it into where Lena’s shoulder meets her neck, now wet with tears. “I shouldn’t have snapped, I know you don’t think you’re worth celebrating and I’m so dumb to try and make it about me.”

Kara has her pressed against the door, cold wood contrasting the intense and overwhelming heat of Kara’s body and Lena has to pause to think about anything other than that .

“I’m sorry, too,” her hand rubs along Kara’s spine, the other resting at her waist. “I forget that people actually care, I forget that I should care too. I should have told you it was my birthday, I should have let myself tell you. I don’t - I’m still not worth it, but. I need to let you think I am, because you do and I don’t know why.”

Kara pulls away just enough to wipe at her eyes with her sleeve - Lena’s sleeve, it's her sweater - and smile at Lena.

“Dummy,” she says it around a sob, and Lena laughs, gets up to her tiptoes to kiss Kara’s forehead. It’s too dark now to be certain, but Lena thinks she sees Kara go red. “I, uh. I have a present. Um, for you.”

Lena lets herself be dragged by the hand to their window, watching Kara open it with ease even though Lena’s pretty sure she jammed it when she was ten.

She lets go of Kara’s hand to follow her, onto the tiles of their roof. Lena doesn’t look down, refuses to.

Kara must notice, because she reaches for Lena’s hand again.

“We’re going to go higher, to the very top, but,” Kara takes a deep breath, Lena tries not to concentrate on the way Kara’s muscles move. “I need you to hold onto me.”

Lena holds up their joined hands, “I am?”

“No, no, I mean,” Kara sighs, huffs, stamps her foot in a personal tantrum before she tugs Lena by the hand, until they’re flush together. “Just. Oh, Rao - just put your arms around my neck. Please?”

Lena wants to laugh, because seeing Kara this nervous is brilliant and refreshing, but she can’t because it’s impossible to ignore the way her stomach swoops when she does what Kara asks.

“If this is your way of asking me out,” she trails off, figures she can get away with jokes like this now because she’s fifteen and this is what humour is to people her age.

“What? No, I,” Kara shakes her head, laughs when Lena laughs. “Just shut up and hold on, Casanova.”

Lena laughs all the way up until she realises Kara isn't helping her climb to the top of the roof, that they’re moving without walking, that Kara is flying .

This time, she looks down, watches their feet hover, tightens her grip on Kara and feels her neck bob as she swallows.

They land on the roof and Lena is holding onto Kara so tightly she thinks she may have broken skin, but Kara is taut and unbreakable beneath her no matter how hard she presses or pushes.

“Are you scared?” Kara mumbles the question into her hair, and Lena can feel her quaking, wants to ask Kara the same question.

“No, just,” she searches for a word, pulls away from Kara enough to see her. “I’m confused.”

Kara nods, moves to sit against the chimney of the house. Lena follows, slowly, sits beside Kara but resists the urge to touch her.

“Do you remember when you said I wasn’t from this planet?”

Lena nods, sits forward to lean on her drawn up knees, rests her chin there to look at Kara.

“That’s because I’m not,” and Kara says it so shortly, so simply, that Lena can only believe her. “I told you I was from very far away, which is true. My planet, Krypton - my home - it. It was dying. My father, he was a scientist, he tried to stop it, but.”

Kara has her head leaned backwards, against the chimney to look up at the stars. This time, Lena reaches for her, rests her pinky next to Kara’s on the tiles.

“You came here to be safe, didn’t you?”

Kara nods. “My parents sent me to Earth, me and my cousin, Kal. But my pod, it went off course, the explosion from my planet - it sent me into something called the Phantom Zone.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Kara shakes her head when Lena tries to respond. “It’s literally nothing. There’s no time, no gravity, it's completely void. I was there for years, I don’t remember how many, but it was easily over twenty.”

Lena feels her mouth open, “Shit. Kara I’m,”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Kara’s voice is tight, Lena shuffles closer. “You couldn’t have done anything, not even my parents could. Earth is nice. The sun here is beautiful, and I’m stronger and faster here, and I can’t get hurt because my skin is tougher here - I’m not weak here.”

Lena gathers enough sense to lift Kara’s hand, fold it into hers. “You’re here, that’s what matters. Your parents would be proud of what you’ve done in nearly a year.”

Kara rolls her eyes, “All I’ve done is go to school and eat.”

“That too,” Lena smiles at Kara, and she thinks Kara looks at her the same way she looks at the sun. “But you’ve learned here, grown here. You have a family, you have friends, you’ve helped people.”

“Helping Sophie with the dishes isn’t heroic.”

Lena clicks her tongue, nudges her shoulder. “You know what I mean. You helped that one girl in your math class when she failed the last test. You skipped lunch with me for a week just to make sure that boy from your homeroom wasn’t by himself, even if your English grade dropped. And, you’ve helped me.”

“You?”

Lena nods, “I’m smart, Kara, but I’m not good with people. I don’t trust easily, and then suddenly you come in, looking like a deer in headlights, and before I know it you’re cracking open nearly every part of me and making yourself at home.”

Kara stops looking at the stars, brings her head low enough to look at Lena. With eyes as wet as morning and smile as bright as the moon, she stands, bringing Lena with her.

“I forgot to give you your present.”

“Telling me you’re secretly an alien wasn’t it?”

Kara’s whole body shakes in disagreement. “No, that was just to make sense of it.”

“Go on, then.”

Kara seems to pause then, a full stutter in her movements before, “You need to put your arms around me. Maybe, um, a little tighter this time. Just in case.”

Lena keeps her mouth shut, doesn’t make fun of the way Kara blushes and stammers, puts her arms around her neck, locking her hands behind Kara.

“Okay,” Kara says, and Lena isn’t sure who it’s meant for. Kara’s arms loop around her waist, wrapped tight enough to hold her either side, and Lena has to remember to focus on Kara’s heartbeat to forget her own. “Hope you don’t get motion sickness.”

//

Kara flies in the straightest line she can while being surrounded by Lena, by the smell of her perfume and the way her fingers dig into Kara’s back and the way she yelps when they shoot into the sky.

Kara stops before she can reach the lowest of clouds, knows that’s too high for humans and she wants Lena to remember, to be safe and not lightheaded and hopefully as blown away by Earth as Kara.

“You can look now,” Kara tells her, loosens her grip just a little so Lena can swivel in her grasp. She hears Lena’s intake of breath, sharp and maybe a tiny bit frightened but mostly in awe and Kara is so happy to watch Lena’s face light up. “Like it?”

“Kara, its,” and Kara doesn’t expect Lena to finish, expects nothing, if she’s honest. Everything Lena gives her is unprompted and generous and makes Kara’s heart swell. “Yes.”

“Thank Rao,” she lets her breath leave her in a laugh, a quiet one meant for them. “I wanted you to see Earth the way I do. It was really scary at first, everything was loud and new and I wanted to go right back home. But, Earth is home now. This, you, I - you make me feel like I belong here, Lena.”

Kara thinks Lena looks ready to punch her, eyes so wide and jaw so clenched that Kara is almost lowering them to the ground to let Lena walk away.

Instead, Lena’s grip moves from the back of her neck to her jaw, thumbs on her cheeks and Kara watches Lena’s eyes flutter shut before she kisses her.

Kara doesn’t move, can’t move, freezes up because she’s fourteen and she’s an alien and Lena is her best friend and can best friends do that?

“I’m sor-”

Kara doesn’t let Lena finish her sentence, pulls Lena in by the hips and lets herself not think for once. She kisses Lena slowly because she’s scared, because she’s only seen this in movies and on television and it’s never been two girls, never been kilometres in the sky where the wind whips and no one cares, where it's short and sweet but it doesn’t stop and Kara remembers that humans need air more than she does so she pulls away.

Kara sees Lena and wants to tell her she’s never done that before, never felt like doing it before, that Lena keeps showing Kara all the things Earth has to offer and that she wants to kiss Lena for the rest of her life.

Instead she says, “Shit, sorry.”

Lena takes a moment, and Kara kisses her forehead to keep it from creasing.

“Not for the kiss. Kisses,” Kara explains, starts lowering them back to the roof. “Because, I, um - I sort of, maybe, flew higher when we did.”

Lena freezes, starts to look down but Kara rushes to say “don’t”, lifts her chin and then Lena’s kissing her again and Kara has to remind herself down not up .

//

They climb back in through the window, make sure to be as quiet as they can through a mass of giggles and hushed whispers.

Lena hugs Kara once the window is shut, with so much force that Kara falls back against her bed. Kara laughs and Lena’s chuckle rumbles low into her chest and against Kara’s neck.

“Happy birthday?”

Lena pushes up onto her hands, flushing at the realisation that she’s on top of Kara, on Kara’s bed . Kara sits up, steadying Lena, pressing their foreheads together.

“Without question,” Lena presses into Kara, against Kara, soft and warm and adoring. “Thank you.”

Kara presses a kiss to Lena’s temple, leans back and throws the covers around them, somehow less embarrassed by it all than Lena.

It’s only when Lena is asleep, when her heart slows and her face is smushed into Kara’s collar, that Kara speaks again.

“ Thank you, ” she whispers, Kryptonese rolling off her tongue in waves.

For the first time, it doesn’t hurt.

For the first time, she is free of nightmares.

Kara expects something to change, to shift between her and Lena, because that’s what usually happens after the people in movies kiss. They go on dates, they tell everyone or keep it secret, they make out and all of those things .

But they don’t. Lena still holds her hand, still helps her with English, still snaps at her when she’s had a rough day and apologises as soon as they’ve both cooled down.

The only thing that’s changed is that Kara can kiss Lena and Lena can kiss Kara, whenever they want, because they can .

They don’t make out, sometimes Lena will kiss her for a really long time (not that Kara’s complaining) and sometimes Lena’s hands will be quick but they’re never rough or pushy and Kara melts into her all over again because Lena knows they don’t need to do any of that - that they can if they want but they’re both content to read together and talk about Krypton and to fall asleep together.

Kara thinks she likes it much, much more than the movies.

Lena is reading over Kara’s essay when there’s a knock at their door, Kara looking up right away, fingers still sifting through Lena’s hair.

“You have visitors, Kara.”

Lena puts the essay down, tilts her head to look at Kara, gnaws her bottom lip.

“I’ll be okay,” she scratches at the base of Lena’s hairline, runs her hand down Lena’s neck. “I mean it. Be right back.”

Kara isn’t sure what she expects to find at the bottom of the stairs, but a teenager with wide eyes and a grin was probably the last on the list.

She makes it to the second last step before the girl fills her space, and Kara notices that when the girl smiles one of her front teeth is crooked.

“I’m Alex Danvers,” she sticks her hand out, and Kara takes it, shakes it twice. “This is my mom and dad, Eliza and Jeremiah.”

Kara notices the two of them behind Alex now, two smartly dressed adults with faces that match an early Earth sitcom.

“I’m Kara,” she tells them, and Alex bounces on her toes and tells her she knows, and her mother rests a hand on Alex’s shoulder to settle her.

“We’d like to speak to you, Kara, if that’s alright.”

Kara follows the voice to Jeremiah, a big man with rosy cheeks and she nods because these people seem lovely.

She realises that Jeremiah meant speak alone, without Alex or Sophie or Lena, and so Kara tells Alex that she can go up to her room and talk to Lena if she wants, and Alex smiles at her before running up the stairs, screaming down a “thank you”.

Eliza’s hand guides her to the front porch, and Kara sits without hesitation, Eliza following suit on her right, while Jeremiah leans against the railing of the stairs on her left.

“Kara, neither of us know exactly how to approach what we came here for.” Jeremiah admits, and Kara watches him fold his arms, pull at the thread of his jacket.

“So just tell me, you can explain it if I get confused.”

“Okay,” Eliza nods, leans forward a little so her height is level with Kara’s. “We know someone, someone like you. And, he wants us to take care of you from now on.”

“Like, you wanna adopt me?”

Jeremiah nods. “We helped him, the person like you. We showed him how to hone in on his - his powers. He didn’t grow up with us, but he learned from us, while also living with his family.”

“So, I can still live with my family, right?”

This time, he shakes his head, and Kara is even more confused than she was at the beginning.

“Things aren’t as safe as they used to be, and Clark,” he clears his throat. “Kal. Kal wants us to keep you safe, because he can’t right now.”

Kara feels her chest go tight, her shoulders tensing as she looks up at them.

“ Kal ,” she says, with the inflection of her native tongue, with the weight of Krypton settling between her ribs. “He knows I’m here, he’s known all along. And only when I start flying and being happy, that’s when he wants me to be safe? Not when I was breaking windows or setting things on fire every time I was mad?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt you,” Eliza rushes, rests her hands on top of Kara’s. “He wants you to be safe, wants the people around you to be safe. He wants you to live with us, for a little while, just until you learn how to control everything, so you don’t hurt people and people don’t hurt you.”

She balls her hands, nails digging into her palms, “Nobody has hurt me.”

“But they could,” Jeremiah runs a hand through his hair. “Kal changed his name, became someone that couldn’t be hurt for what he is. Your parents sent you down here to live , Kara, not to be lynched for being different.”

Her head feels fuzzy, everything is suddenly loud again and she can’t control it, can’t make it stop.

“You want to teach me how to control this, these powers. You want me to learn how to be normal, so I don’t get hurt. So I don’t,” she thinks of Lena, of how she whined when Kara pressed on her bruise, how scared she was when Kara broke their window, how she’s strong enough to turn Lena to dust if she wanted, if she couldn’t help it. “So I don’t hurt people I care about.”

“Yes,” Eliza gathers her in her arms when she begins to cry, holds her close and Kara can’t even concentrate on Eliza’s heartbeat. “We just want you to be okay, and we’ll take care of you, Kara. You will - can be our daughter. We have room for another, Alex would love to have a sister.”

Kara sniffs, “You mean, like, a proper family?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

Kara thinks about it, about how she lost her whole world with her family, lost Kal when she came here, how Lena is lovely and beautiful and hers but she certainly doesn’t feel like Kara’s sister. Kara has learned to love and she’s learned to adore and she’s learned so much of everything, except how to control her powers, how not to hurt people.

So she nods, asks if she can have a few more days here and Jeremiah nods, says they’ll come back on Saturday night - so they have time to buy more food because Kal warned them of Kryptonian metabolism, to redecorate the spare room that will now be hers, to leave the spare mattress in Alex’s room in case Kara doesn’t want to be alone.

Kara hugs them, hugs Alex, who tells her she can’t wait to show her the stars she’s stuck in the middle of her bedroom roof, how she made Jeremiah find sticker glue at a stationary store so she could draw Krypton for Kara, and Kara’s heart feels so full in her chest that it threatens to burst.

It's not until the Danvers have left that the fullness in her chest turns hollow, because she has to leave Lena to protect her, to keep her safe and she knows neither of them are going to take this well.

For Kara and Lena to have a world together, Kara has to leave the one they’ve built behind first.

Kara doesn’t know how to tell Lena, if she even needs to. Lena holds onto her a little tighter, a little longer. She kisses her without that forced restraint, never taking but always giving, hands in Kara’s hair or down her spine or in her own.

Kara aches to tell Lena, wishes it didn’t have to be this way because it's not fair . She’s only been on Earth a year, she needs more time.

She thinks maybe even if her and Lena had forever, she’d still want longer.

She fidgets the day she tries to tell Lena, nearly tells her every time there’s silence between them, but Lena’s head will rest in Kara’s lap and Kara will tangle her fingers in Lena’s hair and try to commit the feeling to her memory.

Lena asks for her, in the dead of night in a whisper so small Kara’s almost sure she missed it.

“You’re going to live with the Danvers, aren’t you?”

Lena’s sitting between Kara’s legs, her back against her front, Kara feels Lena’s heart pick up when she stays quiet for a moment, hands tracing down Lena’s forearms.

“They want to teach me how to control my powers,” she says, realises she sounds clinical so she tries again. “They want me to stay safe, to keep the people around me safe. Kal came to them, Lena, he’s the one who wants this.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I want to keep everyone around me safe,” she admits, head dropping to Lena’s shoulder. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Then it’s an easy choice,” Lena’s voice cracks but they both pretend it didn’t. “You have to go.”

“I don’t, I can learn on my own.”

Lena’s laugh is dark, she shakes her head, swivels to face Kara, legs folded beneath her.

“You can’t, your powers - they’re extreme,” Lena says, and Kara feels her stomach drop to her knees, her eyes starting to sting. “I’m not afraid of you, Kara. I know you would never hurt me, or anyone else, willingly.”

“Willingly,” Kara repeats, it tastes like venom. “I need you to know that I don’t want to leave, I need you to be sure of that, okay. I’m not leaving you, I’m not going to vanish.”

Lena nods, “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara lets herself be hugged, lets everything wash over her because she actually doesn’t know if she’ll see Lena again, needs to pretend for the both of them that there’s a chance she will. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lena says it against her shirt, Kara knows it's because she can't look at her. She’s never seen Lena cry, and she doesn’t think Lena would show her now. “You have a chance at a family, a normal life. Take it, don't let it slip.”

Kara threads her fingers through Lena’s hair, wishing she went to a different home, one where they hated her so when the Danvers came it would feel like rescue instead of abandonment.

“You’re my family, too.”

She feels Lena take a shuddering breath, doesn’t let go of her when she pulls back, traces her eyes over every part of Lena, needing to remember her.

“Which is exactly why we’ll find each other again,” Lena hooks their pinkies together, holds them between their faces, smiles but Kara can see it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just like you and Kal.”

Jeremiah helps her carry her things to the car, even if things are three shirts, a pair of jeans and a duffle of whatever she shoved into her dresser drawer. Alex offers to help but her face falls when Kara tells her that’s it, doesnt mention that the only sign she lived here were dog-tagged books and Lena.

Eliza takes Alex’s hand, lets Kara have some time to say her goodbyes.

She hugs all the kids, tells them to not give up, gives each of them a sneaky dollar she’d saved under her pillow that she wanted to spend on candy when the holidays rolled around.

She has no choice in hugging Sophie, the woman folding her arms around Kara, lifting her by the underside of her arms to spin her before complaining about her back. Kara laughs into her shoulder and thanks her for everything.

She stops halfway up the stairs, turning back to Sophie. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe she should just go, let her and Lena’s night on the roof be their goodbye.

“Go to her,” Sophie says, waves her hands at her. “Go on, go tell her you’ll miss her and write to her and that you won’t forget her.”

Kara nods, breathes, tries not to run too quickly for a human, knocks on Lena’s door. It’s not hers - theirs - anymore, it’s Lena’s, just Lena again.

She hears Lena grunt on the other side, so she comes in.

Lena’s eyes are red rimmed, but not wet. Her cheeks are raw, her palms too, Kara pretends not to know.

“You’re leaving,” its not a question, and the leaving me goes unsaid. Kara nods, makes her way to Lena.

“Yeah,” she stops in front of Lena, Lena in her bed, with the red blanket up to her hips. “The Danvers, they’re outside.”

“Best to not keep them waiting,” Lena’s voice is rough, gravelly. “Go on.”

“Lena,”

“Kara, don’t,” Lena breathes, shaky and caught in her chest and Kara can’t help it, she rushes into her, buries her head into the crook of Lena’s neck. “Don’t.”

Kara isn't sure if Lena wants to say don't leave or don't make this harder . She’s glad Lena doesn't finish, can’t finish.

Kara leans back, holds both Lena’s pinkies with hers.

“I’m going to write to you until you tell me to stop,” she starts, and Lena laughs, wet and sad but real . “I’m going to think about you - a lot, probably - it’s kinda hard not to. I’m going to miss you, Rao am I going to miss you.”

Lena smiles, bittersweet and she bumps her forehead with Kara’s.

“Ditto.”

“And I’m definitely, not ever, never ever, going to forget you,” her hands shake as she says it, but she needs to make sure Lena knows. “Just go to the roof whenever you need to, because even if I’m not there with you - I kinda will be,” she brings one of their hands to Lena’s chest, “here.”

“That is the sappiest bullshit,” Lena’s laughing against her, smiling when she kisses her once, twice. “But thank you. You can go to the roof of the Danvers’ place too, if they let you.”

“You forget,” Kara hovers a few inches off the bed. “I have a slight advantage over them.”

Lena pulls her back down to the bed, kisses her again, hands on her cheeks, in her hair, committing Kara to memory and Kara’s sort of relieved she’s not the only one doing that.

“You should get going,” Lena says, Kara chasing after her mouth. “I mean it, Supergirl, get outta here. The sooner you leave, the sooner we can see each other again.”

Kara nods, drags Lena with her all the way to the front door.

She stands on the porch, Lena in the foyer, a doorway between them. Their hands are still clasped, and Kara leans over the threshold to kiss Lena, just in case.

Alex whistles at them from the backseat of Jeremiah’s car, winks when Kara flushes bright red. Lena laughs, and it feels like fresh air in Kara’s lungs, because it's not bitter or tainted with longing, it's just Lena .

“I’ll see you later.” Kara says, because goodbye is finite, goodbye means never again.

Lena nods, squeezes her hands before letting go. “See you, Miss Danvers.”

When Kara tears herself away and makes it to the car, Alex asks if Lena is Kara’s girlfriend.

“Something like that,” Kara answers, and Alex smirks.

“So an alien and gay,” she says, seems to roll it over in her head as the car begins to move. Kara wants to correct her, tell her that she likes boys too, but she can see the playful jeer in Alex’s eyes and doesn’t bother. “Sister jackpot, we’re gonna have so much to talk about.”

Kara can see Eliza smiling at them from the passenger mirror, fond gaze on Alex and Kara watches as it drifts to her, staying just as fond.

Kara thinks she may have hit the jackpot, too.