Set on the evening of Alex's wedding
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After having put Esme to bed, and having sent Alex and Kelly on their way, Kara and Lena sit together on Kara's burgundy couch, glasses of wine and juice on the TV table, snacks spread out but mostly untouched; the setting familiar and novel all at once.
There's a glint in Lena's eyes, and a tear begging to fall from Kara's.
Kara clutches her hands in her lap, studiously avoids looking at her former best friend. The one she betrayed. The one who came back, and begged her for forgiveness. The one she never deserved.
Kara breathes in, lifts one hand to fiddle with the glasses that she'd laid out on the table minutes ago, narrowly avoiding poking herself in the eye.
Lena's lips curve up slightly, the same expectant and worried expression on her face.
"Lena- do you remember during the wedding, when I told you that I was afraid to be myself? That I was a coward?"
Lena inclines her chin to indicate that she's listening. Kara can read Lena, she has always been able to read Lena, it's- And yet- She'd ignored all the signs. All the signals that she was unwell, that she was suffering. What miracle has made Lena transparent to her again?
What bottomless kindness and forgiveness has driven this woman, who has been hurt and betrayed over and over and over again, to extend her such magnanimity?
Kara has done nothing to deserve it, even now, and she suspects (fears, she fears, she is so afraid) that it has less to do with her and more to do with Lena blaming herself. Punishing herself. Taking responsibility for the crimes, the faults of others.
Taking responsibility for Kara's cruelty.
Except that, now, it's Kara's turn to make herself vulnerable. Kara's turn to bleed, and hope Lena will heal her - Lena has always healed her. Kara aches. Kara would rather hand her a knife.
She'd like it carved out of her, her cowardice, her cruelty, her selfishness, her fear. She'd like it carved out of her and burnt and buried.
Kara has never made herself bleed in front of Lena, has never dug that deep for anyone. She's too afraid of what it entails; too certain her blood will come out tainted with the wretchedness of her sins.
Isn't that what drove Lena away in the first place?
Kara clenches her fists, wills her nails to pierce her skin and draw blood - draw something out of her and purify it, dilute the stain that radiates from her soul.
Lena stays silent, observant and perceptive. Stays Lena. Kara would readily thrust a Kryptonite knife into her hands, beg her to use it. Lena wouldn't.
Kara's nails don't draw blood. Lena's hands are glaringly weaponless. Kara's chest clenches. There won't be any distraction from the pain. Won't be any diversion from the shame.
"What I said, Lena, it-" Kara's gaze is fixed on Lena's hands. These beautiful, delicate, scarred hands from too much tinkering and one too many assassination attempts. These hands that have wielded weapons and saved universes. These hands that stay horrifyingly still now, ready to receive Kara's burden in all its corrupting glory. "I was not only a coward about Supergirl."
Lena lifts one eyebrow, the way she always does, and Kara's gaze has not lifted from her open palms, but she knows. She knows, as surely as if she'd witnessed it herself. She knows Lena like an extension of her own body.
"I've always been afraid, Lena", Kara whispers. "I've always been so afraid, ever since I came here. Scared of who I am. Scared of the person I could be, if I wanted to. If I dared. But I am not a daring person - never have been. What I wanted - what I want - I always made sure I couldn't have it. Made sure it would always be out of my reach. And now-"
"And now?", Lena prods, ever so gently.
"Now, I haven't changed", Kara breathes, like a confession, like an admission, her voice breaking. And it's absurd, assuredly. Doesn't make sense that she would cry, that she would act like this is new. Like this is news. Because what Kara said wasn't a surprise.
Lena already knows. Lena already sees.
Kara allows herself to cry.
Lena doesn't move, doesn't make to wipe her tears or stand from the couch or fetch a few tissues.
Lena knows.
Lena stays.
"What do you want, Kara?", Lena asks, and Kara hadn't handed Lena a weapon, she's sure of it, but then-
Her words are like an arrow through the heart.
Kara's breathing stutters.
"I want", she says, and her voice is hoarse. "I want- I want something that I shouldn't. Something that I don't deserve. Something that I won't survive losing."
Kara's sight is blurry, so she doesn't see it until it's too late - Lena's right hand intertwining with hers. It burns - burns high, and up, up, up, all the way to her perforated heart and her overworked lungs and her treacherous face.
"What if you don't? What if we fight for it?"
And Kara was already crippled, but Lena's proposal hits her like a punch to the gut.
What if we fight for it? What if I fight for you?
Kara has never lost with Lena by her side.
A sob hiccups its way to Kara's throat as she finally lifts her eyes to Lena's ethereal, strikingly open features, underlined in violet paint and abject understanding.
"Haven't you given me enough?", Kara wonders.
"Oh", Lena utters, and her thumbs starts tracing blazing circles on the skin of Kara's hand, injecting burning hope into her throbbing veins. "Haven't you noticed by now, Kara?"
And Kara stays transfixed, too open to the likely finishing blow, tears running on her cheeks and gaze lost in emerald.
"I would give you everything."
Kara gasps, and lets go of Lena's hands, jumping up and away from the couch and from her best friend and against the plaster, fragile wall of her apartment. She molds her back to it, wants to take solace in the sturdiness of the contact, but she knows that if she pushes, or just lays her full weight against it- it will crumble to dust.
Her ramparts have always been made of papier mâché.
And Kara doesn't miss the hurt that flits over her ex-best friend's face. She doesn't miss it even though Lena valiantly tries to hide it. She doesn't miss it, because even if she hadn't seen- it's burnt into her retina, this expression; the one reminiscent of Kara's betrayal.
"No, Lena, I-"
Lena shakes her head forlornly. "It's okay, Kara. I understand. After what I did-"
Kara chokes on another sob. "Stop!", she wants to yell. All she manages is a whimper.
"Stop, Lena, please- Please stop."
And for the first time that evening, surprise crosses over Lena's features.
"The truth is- I want you, Lena. I want you. After all that I've done, all that I've taken, I want you, and it's selfish, and it's crazy, and it's downright cruel in its irony."
"Oh", Lena lets out, from her spot on the couch.
"But I don't deserve any of it, I don't deserve any part of you, not after all I have done. Not after all I have taken. I have seen what you became in my hands, Lena, and-"
There is silence, the words hanging between them like a guillotine.
Lena was always one to stick her head out.
"And you don't want that", Lena completes, her tone cold, clinical.
Kara's laugh rings out, but it's an empty, bitter sound that sends needles coursing through Lena's veins.
"Oh, no", Kara chuckles, devoid of any humour. "No, Lena, I want that. I want it so badly that I lied, and hid, and lashed out, just so I could keep you. Just so I would have you a moment longer. I want it so much that- that I hurt you, over, and over, and over again, that I pushed you to your breaking point, just for one more day. Just for one more week. Just for one more month with you. I wanted that so badly that I would have done anything. Anything, anything at all to stay in your life, whatever the cost. Whatever the cost, even to you."
Kara shudders. She doesn't dare look up at her best friend's features. Even now- every second Lena isn't mad, every second Lena isn't hurt (every second Kara doesn't see) is a second stolen from paradise.
"Rao, Lena- the way you look at me- after all I've done- all I have been is poison, and, still, you haven't pushed me away. And I am too selfish to keep myself away from you."
Kara's voice trembles with pain, disgust, and barely repressed anger.
Lena knows it's not directed at her. It's still hard, though, to convince herself of that fact, when Kara raises her voice at her like an accusation.
Lena lifts her eyes to Kara once again, willing her to see. To understand.
Kara hardens.
"You're doing it, now. You're doing it, still, and I haven't even apologised, Lena."
"Then do", Lena snaps, and it's such a sharp contrast to her previous tenderness that Kara halts and stares. "If you need to apologise, even though I have already forgiven you, then do it, Kara, because I won't let you ruin this anymore. I won't let you throw us away. If you want it, then fight, Kara, damn it. Fight."
Kara inhales, gathers whatever remains of her strength in her vocal cords, channels her will into her gaze to look down at her friend.
"I'm sorry, Lena. I'm sorry for placing the blame on you. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry for letting you down, over and over and over again. I'm sorry for glossing over my responsibility in pushing you away. I'm sorry for calling you a Luthor, and I'm sorry for calling you a villain. I'm sorry for being so cruel, and selfish, and scared. I'm sorry for all that I am, Lena, and I'm sorry that I couldn't stay away from you."
"I'm not."
Kara's eyes widen. Lena doesn't wait for an interruption.
"I'm not sorry for who you are, Kara. I'm not sorry that you bulldozed through my defences. I'm not even sorry for the lies, or the betrayal. I see you now, Kara. What you did, it gave me the missing piece, the one I couldn't explain away, the one that took you off the pedestal and made you real, and tangible. The one that made you Kara Zor-El. And I wouldn't go back, wouldn't take back any of it, because I've feared, and hidden, and lied, and destroyed, and somehow, Kara, all it did was lead me back to you; like an inevitability."
"And now, Kara- I don't want to wonder and doubt anymore, because- I don't think there's much of me that doesn't already belong to you.”
This is it, the ultimate blow, the dagger twisting into Kara's heart.
But it feels like a balm, and like a caress, and Kara falls to her knees from the gentleness of it all.
"I love you. I love you, Lena," Kara sighs, her voice wet, the treacherous, tainted tears still rolling on her cheeks; and it sounds like a surrender. "And I am so, so sorry for what my love has done to you, but I- I don't think I will ever be sorry for feeling it."
Lena stands from the couch, just to drop on her knees, too, in front of Kara.
Lena smiles with her hands and soothes with her eyes and hugs with her words and caresses Kara's fears with the pad of her cold fingers on Kara's cheek.
"Kara," she breathes. "Oh, Kara."
Kara's name has never sounded more like a victory. Never been closer to a gift.
Kara's gaze struggles to find Lena's smouldering eyes, stumbles a little on her purple lips.
Kara’s hesitant, disbelieving smile lights up the room but her hands tremble in Lena’s - still do when Lena brings them to her lips and kisses Kara’s fingers, gently, soothingly, the brush of her lips feather-like in its tenderness.
Kara’s hands are still trembling as she slides them across Lena’s marble cheeks, still trembling as she shuffles over to Lena’s side and brings their lips together, the taste of violet plums in her mouth as she drinks Lena in like an oasis in the immensity of the desert.
Lena responds hungrily, and Kara forgets herself against Lena’s tongue - doesn’t notice her hands have steadied as she relinquishes all control to penetrative green eyes and kindness that rivals the sun.