You’re standing outside of a burning building as people were thanking you for having helped them out of the building. The city had been in chaos for the last few hours with the first responders having their hands full trying to do damage control. Unfortunately, the real targets of the attack were left completely alone.
Many of the buildings that were owned by the Luthor family were attacked, along with the prison that Lex and Lillian were being kept in. Reaching out, you grip your arm a bit as it was still hurting quite a bit from where you had gotten hurt from the fire.
A rolls Royce is quickly speeding toward you and stops near where you were standing with the people. Lena gets out of the car and she hurries over to where you’re at as she throws her arms around you.
“I’m so glad you’re okay…” she buries her face against your neck as she starts apologizing. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know you weren’t invulnerable to fire….I thought…I thought you were fireproof like Supergirl”
You smile a bit and rub her back gently. “no, it’s alright, I never told you about it”
“Why not?” Lena looks up at you trying to get a read on you….did you not want her to know because you were afraid that she would use it against you? Had you always doubted her intentions toward you….her mind was racing as she was getting anxious…did you not trust her?
Taking a bit of a breath you glance back toward the building for a moment. “Because of Supergirl”
Lena’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “Supergirl? What does she have to do with this?”
“…I could not bear to look weaker than her.” As a white martian, rushing into a building being consumed by fire was probably not the smartest thing…but then again, you never claimed to be the smartest one. Reckless though…you would probably rank in the top five.
She let out a breath at that and hugged you tighter, as if afraid to let go. “…Supergirl isn’t completely indestructible, no one is,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “And what I asked of you… it’s like asking Supergirl to jump into a building with kryptonite on every floor.” She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her own glistening with regret. “If you had gotten hurt—or worse—because of me… I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”
You tried to smirk, but it almost faltered. The weight of her words pressed heavily on your chest. You could have brushed it off with a joke, pretended it didn’t matter, but the truth was burning at the back of your throat threatening to come out. The last thing you had wanted was to step into that inferno. Every instinct, every fiber of your being had screamed at you to stay away.
Fire wasn’t just dangerous; it was a primal terror, something that stripped you bare of all your powers and left you vulnerable in a way you hated to admit. As a Martian, fire was more than a threat—it was basically a death sentence.
When Lena had called, her voice frantic, begging for your help to save the children trapped in the hospital, you’d frozen. For a single, gut-wrenching moment, you thought about saying no. About telling her you couldn’t do it. That you wouldn’t. You knew, that she would understand. That she wouldn’t force you to put yourself in danger like that. After all, she would be able to reach Supergirl with a single call… But then her voice cracked—just slightly—when she mentioned how much those children meant to her, how she couldn’t bear to lose them. And you knew. You couldn’t tell her no, not when she believed in you so completely.
The fear had kept a grip over you as you stood outside the burning building, staring into the flames that seemed to mock you with their merciless hunger. Your knees had locked, your heart racing so loudly it drowned out the sound of the panicked crowd. You had had every reason to walk away, to wait for someone else to come and get them. But you didn’t.
You didn’t because you saw her face in your mind—her confidence in you, her faith. And somewhere deep down, you knew you couldn’t let her down. It hadn’t been about the children. It had been about her.
Still, it wasn’t pride alone that forced your feet forward. The reality was…you still loved Lena more than anything…and you had always told yourself you would do anything for her … now…now it was time to prove that those were just empty words. After all…what was one little into the very thing that could destroy you?
The fire greeted you hungrily the moment you had crossed the threshold, its heat biting at your skin, making every step feel like a battle against the instinct to turn and run. Your hands trembled as you fought to steady your breathing, your vision blurring with the haze of smoke and terror. Every heartbeat felt like an eternity, every second a test of your resolve.
You’d always prided yourself on being strong, invincible even. But in that moment, you had felt anything but. You felt small. Mortal. Vulnerable. The fire consumed everything in its path, and you couldn’t help but feel it was coming for you next. And yet, you kept going. Step by step, heartbeat by agonizing heartbeat, you pressed forward.
The cries of the children had pierced through the roar of the flames, but you could barely hear them…the sound of your heartbeat beating louder and nearly freezing you in fear…but you forced yourself ahead. For Lena. While you would love to say you did it for the kindness of your heart…for wanting to save sick kids…that wouldn’t be the truth. The only thing that had helped was to think of her, to remember the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the hospital and the lives it saved. That had been your anchor, pulling you through the suffocating heat and despair.
When you’d finally emerged from the inferno, carrying the last of the children to safety, you were shaking. Not from exhaustion, but from the sheer force of will it had taken to face what you feared most. The pain in your arm from the burns was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the weight in your chest. You’d faced death, not because you were invincible, but because she had asked you to. And that was enough.
Now, standing here with Lena, her arms wrapped around you, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You wanted to tell her how scared you’d been, how every step felt like a betrayal of your instincts. But instead, you simply held her, grateful you were still alive to spend one more moment for her side.
“I’m willing to build that building if you make me enough kryptonite,” you offer with a half-smile, trying to deflect the weight of the moment. Humor, as always, was your armor. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel bad for asking you to jump into a hellhole.
Lena looks up at you, but instead of responding, she presses herself against you, burying her face in your chest. Her arms tighten around you, holding on as if she might lose you if she let go. You stroke her hair gently, trying to soothe her, though the weight of her words and the tremble in her body leave you feeling hollow.
“I should have never asked you to do that,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I should have known…”
“How were you supposed to know if I hadn’t told you?” you murmur, your hand giving her arm a small squeeze. You glance down, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s still clinging to you, trying to steady herself.
To you, this wasn’t just her vulnerability on display. It was proof of your failure. You were no longer the unstoppable force she once believed you to be. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. “Lena, the reason I didn’t tell you was because I don’t want you to ever hesitate or wonder if it’s something I can handle. I want you to assume I can do anything… unless it’s technology,” you say, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. “If it’s anything related to that, I’d rather you ask me to walk into hell.”
Lena finally pulls back enough to look up at you, her brows furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing in her eyes. “Why would I ever assume you couldn’t handle it?” she asks, almost in disbelief.
“Because now you now know my weakness,” you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And now, whenever you want to ask something of me, you’re going to wonder if it involves fire. You’ll hesitate, you’ll second-guess, and I don’t want that.”
“But what if I ask you to do something, and you get hurt?” she presses, her voice rising slightly, tinged with both frustration and fear.
“When you ask Supergirl for something, do you assume there’s going to be kryptonite?” you counter.
“Of course not,” she says quickly, as if the very idea is absurd. “There’s not a lot of kryptonite on Earth.”
“Then why is it different with me?”
“It’s different because—” Lena begins, but her words falter as the sound of a car door closing cuts through the air. Her gaze flickers toward the source, and you follow her eyes to see James approaching.
James’s strides over his gaze shifts between you and Lena, lingering a moment longer than necessary on her arms still loosely wrapped around you. His jaw tightens, and even without telepathy, you can feel the tension radiating from him as he addresses Lena. “Is everything alright?”
You see her straighten her posture, smoothing her hair and donning a fleeting smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She moves to stand closer to James, her body language a silent reassurance—to him, and perhaps to herself—that things are different now.
James’s eyes flick to you briefly, an unspoken question in his gaze, but he doesn’t say anything. You see it, though—his hand that brushes her shoulder, a subtle but possessive gesture, and you can’t help but feel like an intruder in a that used to be yours.
You glance at Lena, and for a moment, you catch her watching you, her expression unreadable. But then she turns to James, her hand brushing against his arm, a small gesture that only deepens the ache in your chest.
James’ thoughts are churning. He’d never been naive about the bond you shared with Lena. Even before you reentered her life, it had loomed like a shadow, unspoken but undeniably present. Now, standing here, watching the way Lena had clung to you when he had arrived, how she had sought comfort in your arms… It wasn’t jealousy, not entirely. It was fear—fear that he could never be what you were to her.
Still, James had always prided himself on being steady, understanding. He forces himself to smile, though it feels thin, brittle. “Lena,” he says gently, his tone measured, “why don’t we head back? Things are under control now, right?”
She hesitates, her gaze flickering between you and James. “Yes, I need to start making sure we start moving resources to rebuild the hospital,” she says, her voice soft but distant, as if her mind is elsewhere.
Your mind drifts back to simpler days, before Lex and Lillian had torn into your world. The memory of captivity and torture at their hands rises unbidden, and you have to push it down. Lena had fought for you then, defied her family in ways that had cost her dearly. But in the end, her family’s shadow had loomed too heavily over the two of you. Piece by piece, it had pulled her away until both of you decided the strain was too much.
The breakup was supposed to be for the best—for your safety, for her sanity. But you were wrong. Moving on hadn’t been possible, not really. Every fleeting relationship after her had been hollow, a placeholder for the one person you couldn’t forget. And now, standing here, watching her with James, you remind yourself that she’s happy. Stable. And you won’t take that from her. You wouldn’t let yourself do it.
“Lena, I have to get going, but let’s get lunch soon,” you say, stepping forward and pulling her in for a quick hug. You allow yourself a single moment to savor the warmth of her embrace before pulling back. Silly, perhaps, given how long you’d held her earlier, but this was different. This was your reassurance that you still had a place in her life, even if it was on different terms now.
Releasing her, you catch James’s gaze. You nod at him, while it wasn’t necessary…you refused to look bitter about him holding the place that you used to have. He wasn’t to blame for any of this, after all.
Taking to the sky, you glance back once, catching the way Lena watches you leave, her expression unreadable. James notices too, his hand settling on her back as he leans in to speak softly. You don’t need to hear the words to know what he’s saying—to know he’s trying to draw her focus back to him.
-
The sun hung low in the sky as you and James arrived at the bustling charity gala. The event, held at one of National City’s grandest hotels, was meant to raise funds for the children’s hospital. Philanthropy wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time, but when Lena asked, you couldn’t say no. Not to her.
The ballroom was a picture of opulence—glittering chandeliers, polished floors, and elegantly dressed guests mingling over champagne. The soft murmur of conversations and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air, but you couldn’t shake the tension that tightened your chest. Your gaze swept the room, every instinct on high alert. There had been too many attacks on Lena’s life lately. Too many for you to ignore.
And yet, Lena wasn’t taking the threats seriously enough. She still walked into events like this as if nothing had changed, refusing to let fear dictate her life. Sure, she carried her gun, and you knew she could handle herself if it came to that. But knowing she had a way to defend herself didn’t make you worry any less.
James walked beside you, his demeanor calm and composed in stark contrast to your own. You envied that about him sometimes—his ability to appear so unbothered, so steady. Maybe that’s why Lena cared so much for him. Unlike you, he didn’t carry the same edge, the same restless intensity.
“You seem tense,” James observed, his tone as neutral as he could manage.
You glanced at him briefly, resisting the urge to tell him that he didn’t need to try to befriend you just because you were lena’s friends. “Just keeping an eye out. Someone has to.”
James raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. His altruism often grated on you, but tonight, you were too preoccupied to care.
As you exchanged strained pleasantries with other attendees, a sharp commotion from the entrance caught your attention. The heavy doors burst open, and a group of armed men stormed in, their faces hidden behind masks. The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by a few panicked shrieks as the lead assailant raised his weapon and fired a shot into the ceiling.
“Everyone, get down on the floor! Now!” he barked, his voice commanding and cold.
You tensed, your hands clenching into fists as you instinctively prepared to strike. But before you could make your move, James grabbed your arm, pulling you back.
“You’re not going to kill them, are you?” he whispered sharply.
“Of course I am,” you hissed back, your voice low but resolute. “Why wouldn’t I?”
James’s jaw tightened, and his grip on your arm didn’t waver. “Because this is a charity event held by Lena. Do you want people to blame her for this night stained with blood?”
You hesitated, his words cutting through your fury. He could have appealed to your morality, but he knew better. Bringing Lena into the picture was the only thing that could make you pause.
“I’d rather it be stained with their blood than her guests’,” you shot back, your voice clipped.
“And Lena would rather it not be stained at all,” James countered, his tone firm. There was no way he was going to allow any lives to be lost if that was possible.
You exhaled sharply, the fire of your anger simmering just enough for reason to edge its way in. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated that. You hated that he knew you well enough to know how to stop you. Pulling your arm free, you let out a reluctant breath and turned your attention back to the assailants.
The lead assailant stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the room like a predator sizing up his prey. “We’re here for Lena Luthor,” he announced, his voice dripping with malice. “Bring her to us, and no one gets hurt.”
At his words, your vision tinged red. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as the implications sank in. Lena wasn’t even here—she’d been delayed by a last-minute meeting. But that didn’t matter. The mere mention of her name turned this into something personal.
You took a small step forward, ready to make your move, but James moved in front of you again, his expression taut.
“You need to keep calm,” he urged, his voice low and desperate. “If you act recklessly, you’ll get people hurt.”
“Would you be saying this if I were Superman?” you bit out, your frustration boiling over.
James’s eyes narrowed. “No, because he has experience handling situations like this. And because Superman’s first instinct is to help people. You? You’re only thinking about yourself and Lena.”
The accusation stung, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. The lead assailant turned his attention to you both, his frown deepening. “What the hell did I just say?! Get on the ground!” he shouted, firing a warning shot near your feet.
The sound of the gunshot made the guests flinch, but you didn’t. If anything, it only made you angrier. You shoulder-checked James as you stepped forward.
The assailant’s gaze locked onto you, and he raised his gun. “Don’t try to play hero.”
“I’ve never been a hero,” you replied, your voice steady.
The man rolled his eyes, grabbing a woman by her hair and dragging her to his side. He pressed the muzzle of his gun to her temple. “Don’t make me kill her. I’m a nice guy, after all and I hurt hurting innocent women.”
You kept walking, refusing to stop, but James lunged forward, grabbing your arm again. “Stop,” he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly.
You turned your head, glaring at him. “Stay out of this,” you snapped, your patience with him fraying.
James didn’t back down. “If you do this,” he said, his voice laced with quiet intensity, “you’re no better than him. And Lena doesn’t need someone who acts without thinking—she needs someone who keeps her world together, not tears it apart.”
For a moment, his words hung in the air between you, cutting deeper than any weapon could. You wanted to punch him hard enough that his ancestors would feel it….that his descants would come out with the dent you were about to leave on him…..You knew that the only reason his comment stung so much…was because it was true. After you manage to calm yourself and force yourself to not hit him… you lowered yourself to the ground.
“You have five minutes to bring Lena Luthor to us,” he warned, his more confident than before now that the two that seemed like they would give him trouble were now on the ground. “before we start shooting”
“Then you should start shooting, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask Lena to come here” you tell the man while you’re on the ground and he walks over toward you.
“What was that?!” He hissed.
You glance up at him a calm look on your face. “Are you deaf? I said you should start shooting right now”
“She doesn’t mean that” James quickly added before the man would really start shooting.
“Stay out of this” you snap at him getting tired of his interference.
The assailant grabs his gun and hits you on the head with it but the gun ends up breaking in contact. “what the hell…what the hell are you?”The assailant staggered back, his broken gun clattering to the floor. He stared at you, wide-eyed, a flicker of fear crossing his face.
You smirked, leaning forward slightly as you locked eyes with him. “just a little roach, nothing you need to worry about”
The room was deathly quiet, the tension a living thing as the assailant hesitated, trying to regain control. Around you, the hostages lay prone on the floor, some glancing your way with a mix of hope and fear. James remained beside you, his eyes darting between you and the armed men, hoping you weren’t about to do something stupid.
“You think you’re invincible?” the lead assailant sneered, his bravado returning as he gestured for his men to circle around you and James. “Roaches are meant to be killed. They’re just pests that need to be removed”
“Yes yes, I have heard it all before. Now, either follow through your threat or just get lost. I promise to give you a five minute head start” you said evenly, your voice carrying a warning.
The lead assailant laughed, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Trying to act tough is not going to get you anywhere. Lena Luthor is going to come, and we’re going to get what we want.”
You clenched your fists, anger bubbling under your skin. His confidence grated on you, but you forced yourself to remain calm, every fiber of your being straining to hold back. It hurt to stay still, to not rip the weapons from their hands and end this farce. The seconds stretched into an eternity, each heartbeat amplifying the tension. Then, suddenly, the far doors of the ballroom swung open.
Lena entered.
She walked forward with a steady grace, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The calm mask she wore didn’t falter, but as she scanned the room, taking in the terrified guests huddled on the floor, you caught the flicker of anxiety in her eyes. You didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking—she was already blaming herself.
She blamed herself for holding the event. For putting people in danger. And maybe, deep down, for putting you and James in this position.
The lead assailant turned, his face lighting up with triumph. “There she is,” he declared, gesturing to his men to hold their positions. “The lady of the hour.”
Lena kept walking, her head held high, until she stood in front of the group. “I hope you know this event is invitation-only,” she said, her voice smooth and unwavering. She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly, her sharp gaze assessing each of them as if she were meeting them in a boardroom. “There’s also a black-tie dress code,” she added coolly, her tone cutting.
The assailant sneered, stepping closer until he towered over her. “Women today just love playing the tough guy, don’t they?” he snarled. But Lena didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Her poise remained intact, her hands steady, though you noticed the slight tension in her shoulders—a tell she couldn’t quite hide.
“We need to make a statement,” the man continued, his voice rising with bravado. “And what better way than to use the richest woman in the city.”
“Well, that’s offensive,” you interjected from the floor, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s the richest woman in the world.”
The lead assailant glared at you and swung his foot in your direction, aiming to kick you. Instead, he recoiled with a groan, a loud crack ringing out as he stumbled back in pain. You smirked, pushing yourself to your feet in one swift motion as his men turned their attention to their wounded leader. Taking advantage of the distraction, you leapt forward, disarming two of them before throwing them out of the doors with practiced ease.
Chaos erupted as the guests screamed and rushed for the exits. Lena moved quickly, helping those nearest to her stay low and guiding them toward the doors. She barely had time to turn when another assailant came charging toward her. Without hesitation, she ducked under his swing and landed a sharp punch to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
“On your left!” Lena shouted, her voice sharp and clear. You sidestepped just as the man she had incapacitated stumbled toward you. Grabbing him by the shirt, you hurled him toward the bushes outside, joining the others.
For a moment, you allowed yourself to glance at Lena. She was already turning back to help another guest, but the quick look she gave you—a mix of relief and something else unspoken—lingered longer in your mind than you wanted to admit.
The lead assailant, now furious, charged at you. His steps were clumsy with rage, and you smirked, readying yourself for the perfect kick that would end this nonsense. But then he did something you hadn’t anticipated—he grabbed Lena, shoving her into your path.
Your blood ran cold as you realized it was too late to pull back. Twisting your grounded foot mid-kick, you forced yourself off-balance, the motion sending pain shooting up your leg. Something snapped, and you hit the floor hard.
Holding back a cry of pain, you forced yourself up just as the man shoved Lena toward you. You caught her with one arm, your other hand snapping out to grab the assailant’s wrist. You squeezed, the bones in his arm giving way with a sickening crunch before you flung him against a nearby pillar. He crumpled to the floor, motionless.
Lena turned to you, her eyes wide with shock. “...I heard that sound... Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her usual composure. She reached out, her hand brushing your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the chaos around you.
You smiled faintly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine,” you said, the pain in your leg a distant second to the warmth of her concern. “It’ll heal in a bit.”
For a moment, her hand lingered, her eyes searching yours as if to confirm your words. She seemed to forget everything else—the gunfire, the fleeing guests….even James. It was just the two of you in that moment, her fingers trembling slightly against your skin.
You gently let her go, turning back to handle the remaining attackers. As you limped forward, you felt her eyes on you, her worry palpable despite her efforts to maintain her composure. Even as she moved to help others, her attention flickered back to you.
In her mind, she told herself it was because she didn’t want anyone else hurt tonight. But in her heart, she knew it was more than that.
The lead assailant, slumped against the pillar, let out a low groan as he shifted slightly. His jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. He hadn’t anticipated things spiraling this far out of control, but he still had an ace up his sleeve. His fingers fumbled into his pocket, closing around the detonator he had prepared for an escape. Glancing at you with thinly veiled contempt, he pressed the button.
The explosion shook the building, the ground trembling beneath your feet as the distant rumble grew into a cacophony of destruction. Heat and smoke filled the air almost immediately, the acrid scent stinging your nose.
You moved quickly, faster than you thought possible given your injured leg, pulling guests out of the building one by one. Each trip was harder than the last, the fire spreading faster than you could manage. By the time you reached the last of the remaining guests—James—the flames had consumed nearly every exit.
You stared at the inferno, its oppressive heat licking at your skin and making the air nearly unbreathable. The fire roared, a living, breathing thing that mocked you with every second you stood frozen. J’onn’s lessons on fire suppression and focus echoed faintly in the back of your mind, but they felt distant, unreachable now. You hadn’t completed the training, missing too many sessions. And fire—fire was still your undoing.
James coughed beside you, pulling his shirt up over his mouth in a futile attempt to filter out the smoke. “We need to get out of here!” he shouted, his voice rough but urgent.
You nodded stiffly, trying to steady your breathing. Every instinct screamed at you to turn, to run, to save yourself. Your powers, already unstable from the proximity to the fire, felt unreliable. Phasing through the flames wasn’t an option. Flying was out of the question. You were grounded, powerless in the face of something primal and consuming.
“Stay close to me,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.
James nodded, his faith in you unshaken despite your obvious hesitation. Together, you moved through the thick smoke, searching for any gap in the flames that could serve as an exit.
As you neared the door, a beam gave way, collapsing in a shower of sparks and embers. You reacted instinctively, shoving James aside as the burning debris crashed down. The pain was immediate, the heat biting into your skin as the flames licked at you. You pushed the beam away with a snarl, ignoring the searing agony as you turned back to James, who was coughing uncontrollably now, barely able to stand.
Your survival instincts screamed at you to leave him. To save yourself. The fire was relentless, closing in on all sides, and every step closer to James felt like stepping into the jaws of some ancient, monstrous creature. But then you thought of Lena—her face when she had run to you earlier, her relief that you were alive. The thought of her losing James, of carrying that guilt, was enough to make you push through the terror clawing at your mind.
“I’m not leaving you,” you said through gritted teeth, your voice raw from the smoke.
James managed a weak laugh, though it quickly dissolved into a hacking cough. “Not exactly inspiring confidence here.”
You didn’t reply, your focus narrowing as you summoned every ounce of willpower to force yourself forward. The fire seemed to mock you, its heat stripping away your resolve with every passing second. The edges of your vision blurred, the world narrowing to just the flames and the faint silhouette of James.
With a sharp inhale, you reached out, your powers flickering erratically as you pushed the debris aside, clearing a path just wide enough to drag James through. The fire roared in protest, the sound almost deafening. The flames bit into your skin, the pain sharp and immediate, but you ignored it. You had to.
The last few steps were the hardest. Every breath burned, the smoke filling your lungs as the heat clawed at your body. But finally, the cool night air hit your face like a blessing.
You stumbled through the doorway, half-carrying James, before collapsing onto the grass. The damp earth felt like salvation beneath you as you gasped for air, the sting of the open air against your burns almost unbearable.
Every breath a searing reminder of the inferno you had just escaped. You lay on the grass, muscles trembling, lungs burning, and your leg screaming in protest with every movement. But you were alive. James was alive. That counted for something.
Your fingers dug into the earth beneath you, grounding yourself as you tried to push past the nausea roiling in your stomach. The image of the flames, the suffocating heat, the roar of the fire—it was all still too vivid, too close. For a moment, you closed your eyes, trying to block it out, but the fear still clung to you like a second skin.
James coughed violently beside you, clutching his chest. Despite his state, he managed to glance at you, his expression a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks,” he rasped. “For a second there, I thought you were going to leave me behind.”
You let out a hoarse laugh, the sound almost foreign in your throat. “Yeah, well, I thought about it.”
James rolled onto his side, his coughing finally easing as he pulled the shredded remnants of his shirt away from his mouth. “You really thought about leaving me in there?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with a dry humor that only he could muster in a moment like this.
“I did, but then I figured, who’s going to take my wedding photos for free if I let you die?” You close your eyes taking in controlled breaths the best you could.
James chuckled weakly, shaking his head as he lay back against the grass. “You’re impossible.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, the cool air filling your lungs as you let yourself rest, even if just for a moment. The fire still danced behind your closed eyelids, its heat lingering on your skin and in your mind. You knew it wasn’t over. The fear hadn’t disappeared, and the memory of the flames would haunt you.
But you’d done it. You’d faced it. And as you sat there, feeling the sting of your burns and the ache in your body, you knew one thing for sure—you couldn’t afford to not be able to deal with your pyrophobia.
The chaos around you was a blur as emergency services arrived, firefighters working tirelessly to contain the blaze. Despite the danger, you’d managed to keep control. Your burns were already healing, but the searing pain and the rawness of your skin still made every breath feel like a victory. As you glanced up at the night sky, a fleeting sense of relief settled over you. You knew now that skipping J’onn’s lessons on controlling your fear of fire wasn’t an option anymore. It had gotten you nearly killed twice now…and you weren’t about to try your luck for a third.
Then you heard hurried footsteps. The sound cut through the haze, your mind forcing itself to look at the sound in case it was another threat. Turning your head, you saw her—Lena—sprinting toward you. Her composure, always so carefully crafted, always in control, was nowhere to be found. Her wide eyes shimmered with fear, her movements urgent, unguarded.
James and you both started to push yourselves up, your raw skin protesting against the movement. Every nerve screamed, but you weren’t about to let him outdo you.
"Lena—" James began, his voice steady, calm as always. He started to push himself up, his natural instinct to reassure her he was okay evident. But Lena didn’t even glance his way. She rushed past him, her focus singular, her concern written all over her face.
She dropped to her knees beside you, her hands hovering uncertainly, as if afraid that even the slightest touch might hurt you further. Her emerald eyes scanned your injuries, and the anguish there you’re your heart ache…how many times had you told yourself you would never worry her or cause her any pain…yet here you were doing just so. “Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling in a way that betrayed the strength she usually wore like armor.
Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. Her immediate focus on you, the rawness in her tone, sent a warm, foolishly petty satisfaction through you. She’d come to you first. Was it selfish to relish in that? Maybe. Did it make it any less gratifying? Not at all.
“I’m fine, Lena,” you said, your voice hoarse but steady. You managed a weak attempt at humor. “Did someone order a well-done alien?” Okay…it wasn’t your best work, but you couldn’t really focus.
She exhaled sharply, a shaky breath she must have been holding, and the relief on her face was undeniable. Her hands finally lowered, brushing lightly against your arm as if she couldn’t help but make contact. “When I heard the explosions, I thought—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Her eyes flickered to the burns on your skin, the way they were already healing but still looked painfully raw. She bit her lip, her usual composure slipping as her thumb ghosted over an uninjured part of your arm. “I’m just glad you’re alive,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the chaos around you.
James approached slowly, watching the exchange with his usual calm, though his eyes betrayed him for just a moment. He had seen Lena’s reaction after all and for all of his patience and understanding, even he wasn’t immune to moments of doubt. Still, he held himself with quiet grace, a small, understanding smile on his lips.
“Hey, I’m okay too,” he said lightly, his tone laced with gentle humor, not wanting to create any tension.
Lena’s head turned, and her lips curved into a small, fleeting smile in his direction. “I’m glad you’re both okay,” she said, her voice steadying now as she shifted to include him in her concern. Her words were sincere, and the warmth she offered James was real, but there was something quieter, more raw, in the way her gaze lingered on you before she finally looked away.
James crouched beside her, his movements deliberate, almost careful. “You did good in there,” he said to you, his tone calm and measured which made you want to hit him. His voice was sincere but honestly? It pissed you off. It was condescending for a human…okay…maybe only him…to say something like that to you. As if you would ever want his praise, you would have left him there if it hadn’t been for Lena. “Even if you scared half of us to death in the process.”
You smirked slightly, ignoring the way your body protested every movement. “Looks like Kara’s going to have quite the story for the news tomorrow,” you said, trying to inject some levity.
Lena’s lips twitched, the faintest chuckle escaping her, a sound that was more relief than humor. “I think she’s going to give you an earful for being so reckless,” she replied, but there was no heat in her tone.
As the emergency services continued their work, Lena’s gaze returned to you. She tried to make it subtle, tried to hide the depth of her concern, but it was there in every glance, in the way she shifted slightly closer, as if needing the reassurance that you were still there.
For all her outward calm, her thoughts were a tempest. She wanted to berate you for it, the way you had thrown yourself into danger—without hesitation, without regard for yourself—unsettled her. She needed to demand why you always had to shoulder so much, but she couldn’t find the words. Not now.
James, stayed at her side, his hand briefly brushing her shoulder. “We’re lucky to have you,” he said to you, his voice even, though there was an edge of something softer beneath it. “Lena is lucky to have you”
For a moment, you caught the flicker of uncertainty in his expression, the way his gaze lingered on Lena as if trying to read her thoughts. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced by the quiet confidence he so often projected.
You leaned back slightly, ignoring the sting of your raw skin, and glanced between them. It was probably the stupidest thought you’d had all night, but knowing that Lena cared this much—that she’d run to you with such urgency—made the risk feel worth it.
Sure, you’d nearly gotten burnt alive, but it was probably only in the top three dumbest things you’d ever done for her. Maybe top two.
As the night unfolded and the chaos finally began to settle, Lena immersed herself in checking on the remaining guests. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she moved with a quiet efficiency, ensuring everyone was accounted for and receiving the care they needed. She paused occasionally to offer a comforting word or a steadying hand, her calm presence anchoring those still shaken by the events of the evening.
But even as she worked, her thoughts kept straying back to the two of you—James and you. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on where the two of you stood. Relief washed over her as she took in the sight of you both upright, talking quietly, though the tension in your postures was unmistakable.
She told herself she needed to focus on the guests, that you were capable of taking care of yourselves. But no matter how much she tried, her concern for both of you clawed its way back to the surface. The image of you stepping out of the flames earlier, burned and battered, replayed in her mind, and the memory made her chest tighten.
She had always admired James’s calm under pressure, the way he could steady others with just his presence. But tonight, even he seemed less sure of himself. His voice had carried a measured calm, but she had seen the flicker of doubt in his eyes when she ran past him to get to you. And she couldn’t deny the sharp pang of guilt that followed.
Finally convinced that the guests were safe for the moment, Lena let herself pause, leaning briefly against a pillar to catch her breath. She rubbed her temples, willing the pounding in her head to subside, but her eyes inevitably drifted back to you and James.
James stood beside you, his arms crossed as he watched her from afar. There was something contemplative in his expression, as though he were turning over a decision he hadn’t yet made. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but clear. “She still cares about you a lot, you know.”
You glanced at him, wary. “She cares about a lot of people. It’s what makes her who she is,” you replied, your tone measured but guarded.
James nodded slowly, though his gaze didn’t waver. “True,” he said, his voice steady, “but I saw the way she ran to you first. That wasn’t just concern for an old friend.”
You shifted, your discomfort evident. “It’s complicated,” you admitted after a moment, your voice carrying a reluctant honesty. “I don’t want to get in the way.”
James chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “I’m not blind. I can see how she feels, and honestly, it’s hard to ignore.” His eyes drifted back to Lena, who had returned to speaking with a group of guests. “But I also see how much you care about her. Staying in that fire... that wasn’t just loyalty. That was something deeper.”
You let out a tired sigh, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. “I’m a White Martian,” you began, your voice quieter now, as though the admission weighed on you. “We’re all about extremes. We don’t do anything halfway. Green Martians had peace, family, religion to ground them. Us? Violence, conquest, ego.”
James listened, his expression unreadable but his focus unwavering. He had always been good at listening, even when he didn’t agree. “So,” he said after a pause, “you replaced conquest with... her.”
You winced slightly at his bluntness but nodded. “Lena showed me a different way. Gave me a reason to care about something beyond myself. But I’ve tried to move on. She’s with you now, and that’s okay. As long as she’s happy, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she stays that way. Even if it means stepping back.”
James’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice remained calm. “I appreciate that,” he said, though his tone carried a weight of understanding. “But this it’s not just about us. It’s about her and what she wants.”
The words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. You hesitated before replying, your voice quiet but sincere. “I want what’s best for her, too. Whatever that means to and for her.”
James nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a happy smile, but a resigned one. “Let’s just make sure she’s safe first,” he said, stepping forward and patting your back lightly.
The action drew an immediate hiss of pain from you, and James winced. “Oh, damn! I forgot—you’re still...”
“Fried?” you finished for him, smirking slightly despite the pain. “Yeah, I noticed.”
James chuckled, his composure slipping into something warmer. “My bad,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“You’re lucky I don’t throw you back into the fire,” you replied, shoving him lightly as you took a step away.
Across the room, Lena caught the exchange out of the corner of her eye. For a moment, a small, genuine smile softened her face. She could see the bond between the two of you—the grudging respect, the banter. It should have reassured her, but instead, it left her feeling... conflicted.
She cared deeply for James, for his steady presence and his unwavering moral compass. He was everything she thought she needed, he was the goodness she wanted to cling to. And yet, as her gaze lingered on you—scarred, smirking, and still defiant—she couldn’t help but feel herself wavering just a bit...
Lena straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to turn back to the guests. There was still work to be done. But as she moved through the crowd, her thoughts remained stubbornly divided.
As you both turned your attention back to Lena, who moved among the guests with tireless dedication, a flicker of doubt crossed your mind. She had run to you first earlier, her concern undeniable. But what if it wasn’t what you thought? Maybe she’d simply seen how badly you were hurt compared to James. Maybe it was nothing more than practical concern, and not something deeper.
The garden eventually emptied, the chaos of the evening giving way to an uneasy calm. The aftermath of the hostage situation left the once-lively gala in disarray. Now, it was just you, Lena, and James remaining, standing amidst the remnants of a night none of you would forget anytime soon.
Lena stood by one of the tall windows, the city lights casting soft, flickering reflections against the glass. Her expression was distant, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the skyline. There was a weight in her posture, a heaviness she was usually so adept at hiding. But tonight, it pressed visibly against her.
Behind her, you and James lingered in silence. The air between the three of you was charged, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.
James shifted slightly, his usually calm demeanor now tinged with hesitation. He took a deep breath, stepping closer to Lena. “Lena,” he said, his voice soft but steady, “can we talk?”
She turned, her brow furrowing slightly as she met his gaze. “Of course, James,” she replied, her tone warm but cautious. “What is it?”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing briefly at you before refocusing on Lena. “I need to ask you something important,” he began, his eyes searching hers. “Do you still have feelings for her?” He nodded in your direction, his words dropping heavily between them.
Lena’s breath caught, her composure slipping as her eyes widened slightly. Her gaze flickered toward you for the briefest moment, then back to James. “James, I…” Her voice faltered. She tried to form a response, but the words wouldn’t come.
The silence stretched, heavy and telling. James nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he exhaled. His face was calm, but you could see the faint shadow of resignation behind his carefully maintained expression.
He paused, gathering his thoughts before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you love me more than you love her?”
Lena’s expression twisted into something pained, her eyes searching his face, desperate to find the right words but finding none. She glanced downward, as though the answer might be written on the floor beneath her feet. Could she say she loved you only as a friend? Would that even be true? Did she love James in the way he deserved to be loved?
James sighed, the weight of his realization finally settling over him. “I see,” he said softly, his tone devoid of anger but heavy with understanding. “Lena, I care about you. I really do. But I think we both know the answer.”
Lena looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “James, I’m sorry,” she began, her voice trembling. She reached out hesitantly, her hand brushing his arm. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just—”
James gently took her hand, holding it firmly but with kindness. “I know,” he said, his tone steady and resolute. “If I’m being honest, I think we’ve been holding onto something ever since our first break up.” He glanced briefly in your direction before looking back at her. “You’ve never stopped loving her, have you? The way you drop everything when she’s around, the way you tell her things you don’t tell anyone else… It’s not something you can hide.”
Lena blinked rapidly, her tears threatening to spill over. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered, shaking her head.
James smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Don’t be sorry. You deserve to be happy.” He gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it. Turning, he started to walk away, stopping briefly as he passed you. He gave you a measured look, nodding slightly, before continuing out the door.
Lena remained frozen, her hand still hovering where James had held it, her face a mix of sorrow and uncertainty. She looked lost, caught between relief and regret as she tried to process the end of her relationship.
You stepped forward cautiously, unsure of what to say. Finally, you broke the silence with a soft, wry comment. “What a prick.”
Lena blinked, startled out of her thoughts. “What?” she asked, a hint of incredulity in her tone.
You shrugged, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Couldn’t he have thrown a fit or at least yelled at me? Made me dislike him like a normal, dysfunctional boyfriend? Why does he have to be so damn calm and understanding?”
To your relief, Lena let out a watery laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. She wiped her tears quickly, as if embarrassed by them. “He’s always been that way. Patient. Understanding.”
“I know,” you said, your voice softer now. “That’s why I could never really push his buttons. Takes the fun out of it.”
You reached out gently, brushing away the last traces of tears on her cheeks. She leaned into your touch slightly, the movement small but unmistakable. The salt of her tears stung your still-healing skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in your chest at seeing her cry.
Lena looked up at you, her hand lifting tentatively as if to touch your face, but she hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You could never hurt me,” you said firmly, leaning your cheek into her hand as she finally allowed herself to make contact.
For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you. Then Lena leaned up, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss fragile yet filled with certainty.
The night had nearly ended, but as you stood there with Lena, you knew this wasn’t an ending at all. It was a new beginning. This time, you were determined to get it right.