evermore

by FutureIndigo

Summary:

They saved Kara from the Phantom Zone, defeated Nyxly, and this should’ve been their happily ever after. But Kara’s unraveling. She’s lost in sleepless nights and midnight flights that end on Lena’s balcony.
Lena can only watch as Kara struggles, desperate to believe her pain won’t last for evermore.

Notes:

My only prompt for this was: “I can’t sleep. Can I stay here?” How we got all this from that, who’s to say...Trigger warning for themes of anxiety, depression, and PTSD.

evermore

this pain wouldn’t be for evermore 

She was just starting to drift off when a knock jolted her awake. She’d never normally answer the door in the middle of the night. But it wasn’t the front door. It was the glass slider. The one only reachable from the outside, fourteen floors up. Which meant there were very few people in the world who could be knocking right now. Really, only one.

She slipped on her silk robe. It wasn’t nearly warm enough for the November chill, but the heated floors evened it out. Rubbing her eyes, she padded out of the bedroom, down the hall, and through the kitchen toward the glass doors.

She expected Supergirl in full uniform, amped from a late-night call or weary from a fight, looking for a moment’s reprieve before flying home. But it wasn’t Supergirl at her door. It was Kara, dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a faded t-shirt. No glasses. No shoes. Not even socks.

“It’s three thirty in the morning,” she said to a frozen Kara. Not just frozen in place, but cold to the touch, moving only when Lena pressed a hand to her shoulder and guided her inside. Kara didn’t get cold. She radiated warmth, no matter the circumstances. 

“Kara, are you alright?” She asked again, locking the door behind them. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kara mumbled, standing in the middle of the kitchen like a ghost. The look on her face was one Lena wasn’t sure she wanted to understand. She pulled her robe tighter, a chill creeping up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Come sit down,” Lena said gently. She guided her toward the couch and reached for the cardigan she had left there earlier, draping it over Kara’s shoulders. 

Logically, she knew Kara would warm up on her own. It’s not like she could catch a cold. But logic was always harder to hold onto around her best friend.

Ever since she got back from the Phantom Zone and defeated Nyxly, Kara had been struggling. Silently heroically, but not secretly. She never talked about what she’d endured, what she’d seen, or how it wasn’t her first time lost in the Phantom Zone. Kara carried her ghosts quietly, reaching for comfort in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The first time it happened, she texted Lena to meet her in one of the private rooms at the Tower. When she got there, Kara was sitting on the floor, knees to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Lena had held her and reassured her that she wasn’t in the phantom zone. 

Alex had been there the second time. She called to tell Lena they wouldn’t be making it to game night, that they needed an emergency sister night. She didn’t ask what had happened. The look Alex gave her the next day was enough.

The last time, Supergirl had a panic attack after fighting a mind reader who showed her visions of her worst fears coming true. Lena had been there by chance and quickly pulled her through a portal back to her apartment before anyone else noticed. 

She hadn’t known how to help her then.

Kara had been frantic, clawing at her suit, and she stepped in to work at the tiny zippers until the fabric loosened. The next hour passed on the couch, Kara half out of her suit, cape tossed somewhere across the apartment. Eventually, Lena coaxed her to lie down, resting her head in her lap. She stayed there, fingers combing through golden hair, until Alex arrived and took her home. 

After that, it became a pattern. The incidents grew closer together. Kara was starting to lose it, even behind the bright smiles and loud laughs. Lena could see her drifting further away. She’d catch her staring into space, brow crinkled until she blinked herself back. Sometimes she’d repeat a question. 

It wasn’t until her AI flagged an unusual pattern that Lena truly began to worry. She watched the footage, slowed it to human speed, and zoomed in. Dozens of clips showed Kara standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by friends, a single piece of paper in her hands.

PROOF YOU’RE NOT IN THE PHANTOM ZONE:

– Alex knows who you are. She ALWAYS wears her wedding ring.

– Lena smells like lavender and vanilla, with a hint of cleaning solution.

– Coffee isn’t supposed to taste like orange or rose.

– James is alive. Call him.

– If you smell ginger, none of this is real.

She hadn’t told anyone about Kara’s list. She kept it to herself. She didn’t check to see if it kept happening, but sometimes she’d wonder, in passing, if Kara was reading it before flying out of the Tower. She had a feeling Kara had noticed her noticing. They never talked about it.

“Where’s your note?” she asked.

“I lost it,” Kara said, not at all surprised that Lena knew about it.

“Are you really Lena Luthor?” Her voice came out small, younger somehow, as if she were twelve again, just having landed on Earth.

“Yes. This is real. I’m real. You’re not in the Phantom Zone,” Lena said, brushing silent tears from sun-kissed cheeks. 

Kara caught her hand, brought her wrist to her nose, and inhaled. A strangled sound escaped, and tears spilled down her face. Then she was on her feet, moving toward the door as if to leave.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Lena said, stepping between her and the exit.

“I should go home,” Kara said, eyes on the floor.

“No, stay, please,” Lena’s hand gripped the doorknob while the other hovered in front of her, a silent barrier keeping Kara from moving closer.

“It’s late, Lena.”

“If you leave like this, I’ll spend the whole night worrying about you,” she said.

“I can’t tell what’s real,” Kara whispered, turning away from the cityscape. Panic flickered across her face, and Lena suddenly wished she’d installed blinds for the wall-to-wall windows.

“I’m real,” she said, threading their fingers together and guiding her toward the bedroom. She usually stayed in the guest room, but Lena didn’t want her to be alone tonight. They’d share hers instead.

Lena disrobed, and Kara took off the cardigan. As soon as they were both under the covers, Kara curled into her side like a kitten. If she weren’t so concerned, she might’ve had time to enjoy how close they were.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, playing with her hair and saying nothing when tears dripped onto her chest.

“It’s hard sometimes, especially at night,” was all she got. 

They drifted off to sleep, and when she woke up, Kara was gone. 

She didn’t say a word about it to anyone. 

A week later, Kara returned. 

Shorts, tank top, no glasses, barefoot. It was four in the morning when the knocking woke Lena. Groggy and disoriented, she stumbled in her rush to let her in.

“Can I stay here?” Kara asked, her eyes dark and stormy.

“Of course,” Lena mumbled, taking her hand and leading her to bed. 

This time, she curled into Kara’s side, the steady heartbeat beneath her ear lulling her back to sleep before she could remember to ask what was wrong. She woke up alone. 

Clark came to visit a few days later.

She knew his relationship with Kara was complicated, that it stirred up memories of Krypton. Lena suspected she’d get a visitor, and this time she was ready. The knock came at 2:00 a.m.

“It’s unlocked,” she called softly, knowing Kara would hear. 

Moments later, she heard the familiar shuffle through the apartment. Kara slipped into her bed like it was her own, like maybe she belonged there. Lena shivered as she curled into her side and pressed an ear over her heart. Her hair was damp, her skin cold to the touch. She wore shorts, a T-shirt, and socks. At least this time she had socks. 

Kara’s whole body shook with tears. The sound was enough to break her heart, and she held on a little tighter.

They didn’t speak for a long while. Lena felt the weight of her against her, the warmth slowly returning to her skin, and the ache of everything unsaid pressing between them.

“I wish you’d talk to me about what’s going on,” she murmured, her fingers tracing slow, steady circles across Kara’s back. She felt the muscles beneath her hands go rigid.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” she added softly. 

The second she said it, she wanted to take it back. Kara’s head lifted, eyes wide and glassy in the dim light. For a second, she thought she might say something. Then came the rush of air, and she was gone. Lena pulled the covers over her head and groaned.

A week passed without a single visit.

She hadn’t wanted to talk about it with anyone, not even Alex. She knew the former agent had a sense of what was happening, and she had overheard an argument between her and Kara a while ago. Alex definitely knew that Lena knew, but they didn’t acknowledge it.

Every night Kara didn’t show, the worry made her sick, and she wondered where she had gone. She caved and checked Supergirl’s tracker, seeing that Kara hadn’t just disabled it, but had removed it entirely. She knew she couldn’t keep it to herself anymore, despite wanting to protect her on her own.

She knocked on the Danvers’ door just as the sun rose. Kelly let her in and sat her down on the couch before going to get Alex. 

The three of them sat together in heavy silence, no one wanting to be the first to speak.

“We need to talk about Kara,” she said finally.

Lena didn’t share every detail, only that Kara had been showing up at her apartment at all hours of the night.

“If she’s stopped visiting you, maybe it’s time I call Eliza,” Alex said, frowning.

“I don’t want her to think we’re talking about her behind her back,” Lena said quietly.

“I’ve been wanting to tell Eliza for weeks,” Alex admitted.

“Are you sure that won’t just make things worse for you?” She asked. Alex and Kara hadn’t been speaking unless absolutely necessary, and this was bound to drive them even further apart.

“She’s my little sister,” Alex shrugged.

“I feel like I should be doing more,” she confessed.

“You’re doing your best, Luthor,” Alex said with a small smile.

“It’s hard to help someone who doesn’t want help. I see patients like that every day. The best thing we can do for Kara right now is be here when she’s ready to reach out,” Kelly said.

Talking about Kara like this felt like a betrayal, but Kelly’s calm, measured tone eased some of the tension in Lena’s chest.

Their friends had begun to sense that something was wrong with Kara, though they were careful not to treat her any differently. They trusted Lena and Alex to handle it. Still, every time Kara laughed a little too loudly or smiled a little too long, Lena saw the crack beneath it.

Kara hadn’t come for two weeks, and the worry was starting to eat at her. 

Lena stayed up waiting for the sound of that knock, and every night, silence answered instead. Finally, she texted Alex to tell Eliza the L-Corp jet would be waiting in the morning, then fell asleep on the couch, the lights still on.

Eliza had spent the last three days with Kara, and Lena and Alex were desperate to know how it had gone. Was Kara mad at them? Was Eliza getting through to her? Was she helping? Why hadn’t there been any updates?

When her phone buzzed, Lena grabbed it instantly.

“How is she?” she asked, skipping a greeting.

“Mom invited everyone to Kara’s, so we’ll find out tonight,” Alex said, her voice tight with the same anxious impotence Lena was feeling. 

She was nervous about seeing Kara, worried she’d be met with a cold shoulder. But Kara didn’t seem upset at all; she hugged her the moment she arrived. Eliza’s presence had softened her, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She smiled more than she had in weeks. She almost seemed happy. Lena saw through the facade, even if no one else did.

Kara looked exhausted, even for a Kryptonian. She was quiet around Alex and didn’t take her usual seat beside Lena at dinner. Her eyes were dull. Not lifeless, but missing that spark of steel, that glimmer of energy that always made her. 

Esme was putting on a show for everyone, and Lena and Alex had volunteered to help Eliza clean up.

“Not here,” Eliza warned before they could even look at her.

The next morning, Lena was at Alex’s house by eight, waiting for Eliza to arrive. 

“Does she hate me?” Alex blurted out the moment Eliza walked in.

“No, of course not,” Eliza said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“I think it’s time you let Lena take it from here,” Eliza said gently. If anyone else had said that to Alex, she would’ve bitten their head off. But Eliza was her mother. That made all the difference. 

“What!?” The protest came from her own mouth.

“Leaving the door unlocked, giving her the option to come in when she’s ready, that’s enough for her,” Eliza said softly.

“Are you sure that’s a good plan?” Lena asked.

“Kara’s stubborn, but be patient with her,” Alex said, sharing a glance with her mom that Lena didn’t bother trying to interpret.

“I can be patient,” she said, wondering why she seemed to be the only one doubting this plan.

“Great, then keep at it,” Alex said.

“So far, all I’ve managed is to make Kara feel like she has to avoid me,” Lena said.

“She’s never been good at being vulnerable, but she’s trying,” Eliza said softly. 

When she got home, she couldn’t resist checking the balcony footage. Kara had been there every night, her hand on the door, close enough to step inside, but she never did.

Eliza’s words echoed in her mind, tangled with something Lena refused to name. So she kept her routine. Coffee at midnight. Lights left on. Waiting. Just in case Kara decided to come in.

A few nights later, she woke with the book still open on her chest and the light still on. Kara stood at the edge of the bed, fingers twisted together, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Kara?” she breathed.

“It’s too quiet at night. Too peaceful. Every time I close my eyes, I can’t tell if I’m awake or dreaming, or back there,” Kara said, her voice trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks and catching the light like diamonds on the carpet.

Lena set her book aside and began to rise, but when Kara stepped back, she stopped.

“I’m not in control of my body,” Kara said, her hands lifting in a quiet, defensive gesture. She had to fight the urge to reach for her.

“I blink and I’m somewhere else,” Kara whispered.

“I want to help, just tell me how,” Lena’s voice cracked.

“I’m scared that if I tell you what my nightmares are about, you’ll look at me differently.”

“There’s only one way I’ll ever see you, Kara,” Lena said, the honesty in her voice steady and certain.

“You can’t promise me that,” Kara argued.

“Yes, I can. We don’t lie to each other, remember?” she said, setting one foot on the floor and resting her knee on the edge of the mattress. Blue eyes tracked her movements, and she thought for a moment she was going to run. 

“Please give me a chance,” Lena whispered so softly that no human would’ve heard her. Kara looked nothing like the Girl of Steel and everything like the Lost Daughter of Krypton.

“I can try,” Kara murmured.

Lena rose slowly, careful not to startle her. She switched off the overhead lights and guided Kara toward the bed, a light hand resting on her back. They lay side by side, staring at the ceiling in silence.

“I don’t like being alone anymore,” Kara confessed.

“You don’t have to be,” Lena said quietly.

“You really don’t mind that I keep showing up in the middle of the night?” Kara asked.

It was almost funny, a bit ironic, having to be the one to reassure Kara that she was welcome here, instead of the other way around. Lena had already done the unimaginable for her and would do it again without a second thought. 

“I really don’t, darling,” she said, turning her head to find blue eyes already on her.

Kara shifted closer, clumsy in her exhaustion, and tucked herself against Lena’s side. Her nose brushed the curve of Lena’s neck, searching for the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla.

“Do you mind if I think out loud?” She muttered, wrapping her arms around Kara tightly, wishing she were strong enough to keep her here. 

“I like your voice,” Kara said.

She spoke softly, working through a long, tangled equation that she’d been stuck on for months. Lena kept talking long after Kara fell asleep.

She stirred when the weight on her chest lifted. Half asleep, she reached for the fabric and coaxed Kara back toward her. She expected Kara to slip away like usual; instead, she got comfortable. She cuddled back into her, her warm breaths lulling Lena back to sleep.

The next time she woke, she was alone. 

_____________________________

Eliza got into a car accident. 

Nothing major, just a fender bender on her way to the airport. It was enough to send Kara over the edge. Lena hung up on Alex and joined Kara on the floor. She cupped her cheeks, hoping the touch would ground her.

“Kara, listen to me. Eliza is at Alex’s house. Her neck’s sore and she’s got a headache, but she’s okay.” Lena spoke slowly, clearly, and clinically. It didn’t matter. Kara’s face had gone pale, her breath coming too fast.

“She’s dead. I killed her,” Kara said, her voice flat and mechanical.

“Eliza is alive, and none of this is your fault,” Lena said, tears slipping down her cheeks as Kara unraveled.

“Everyone I love either dies or leaves,” Kara whispered, not to Lena but to herself, as if she were reciting a truth she’d long accepted. “It’s only a matter of time before I’m alone again.”

Lena wished someone else could take over for her. Someone stronger, someone who wasn’t in-who didn’t… She wanted to run, to block her ears, to drink until she forgot what Kara looked like when she broke. But she wouldn’t ever leave her like this, even if she could, even if she really wanted to.

“Get up,” she ordered. 

Her voice was firm, demanding, and intimidating. It was a tone she’d perfected as a Luthor. When she used it, no one in the world dared argue. It carried authority, expectation, and the promise that disobedience wasn’t an option.

Kara blinked at her, stunned, frozen in place.

“Now, Kara,” Lena said, pulling the strongest woman on earth to her feet as if she weighed nothing at all.

She guided Kara into the elevator, her hand firm around her arm. Out through the lobby. Into the car. She opened the passenger door, pushed her gently inside, and leaned over to buckle the seatbelt before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Kara’s quiet muttering filled the silence, a low, broken loop Lena wanted to drown out with the radio but couldn’t bring herself to. Her hands locked around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

She screeched to a stop outside Alex’s house, unbuckled Kara’s seatbelt, then her own, and hurried around to open the door. She expected Kara to rush inside in a blur. But she didn’t. She sat motionless, her murmuring slipping into Kryptonian, which was a relief. Lena understood enough of the language to recognize it, but not enough to let the words haunt her for weeks to come.

“Darling, please,” she pleaded, her hands framing Kara’s face, thumbs catching the tears as they fell.

Kara’s fingers tightened around hers, and she pressed her nose against Lena’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Lena forced a smile, relieved that her own tears had stopped.

“Eliza’s inside. Come on, sweetheart,” Lena murmured. Kara’s grip tightened, almost painful, but she let herself be guided toward the house.

The moment she crossed the threshold, Eliza was there, wrapping her arms around her daughter and drawing her toward the family room.

Alex and Kelly stayed behind with Lena, worry etched across their faces. Kelly reached for her first, drawing her into a hug. She sank into it, the warmth breaking something loose inside her, and she began to cry quietly. 

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Alex said softly. Kelly kept an arm around Lena’s shoulders and guided her onto a stool.

“Thanks for getting her here,” Kelly murmured. 

Lena felt anger spike at that. Why hadn’t they come to help her? Why didn’t they do more? The look on their faces told her they were asking themselves the same thing, and her anger vanished.

“Thank God Eliza is okay,” she said, Kara’s words from earlier still echoing in her mind, sharp and insistent.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, her voice softer than Lena had ever heard it. Then she pulled her into a hug, holding on as if she could pour every unspoken feeling into it.

Kelly excused herself to bring Eliza some tissues and give them a moment.

Lena had never hugged Alex like this. She could count on one hand the number of times they’d hugged for real, never like this. When she finally pulled back, she felt a flush of embarrassment. The pink in Alex’s cheeks told her she wasn’t alone. They both wiped their eyes and cleared their throats in unison.

“It was horrible, Alex,” she confessed.

“Kara has so much light in her that when it gets dark,” Alex trailed off, sitting next to her, a hand on her back. 

“It feels like you’ll never see the sun again,” Lena finished softly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Alex sighed.

“Kara will get through this,” Kelly said, returning to the room.

“So says my wife, the therapist,” Alex said with a faint smile, sounding a little relieved to have someone else here to share the weight.

“It’s starting to feel like she…The things she said in the car,” Lena shivered at the memory.

“She will get better,” Alex said, a little too defensively.

“She knows that, babe,” Kelly said, keeping the peace.

“She’s getting worse, not better,” Lena said.

“I agree,” Alex said with a frown, her sharp edges softening. “But if we push her before she’s ready, we could make it worse.”

“She’ll ask for more when she needs it. I know it’s hard, but we have to be patient,” Kelly said.

“What if she doesn’t ask?” Lena’s voice was tight, fear gripping her chest like a vice.

“Then we’ll step in. We’re not anywhere near that point yet,” Kelly said firmly.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Lena said, looking to Alex for guidance.

“She usually pulls herself out of it faster, but a lot’s happened,” Alex said, her expression softening.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Lena said. She was in over her head, though no one else seemed to think so.

“She’s never given herself the time to really mourn all that she’s lost. Maybe going back to the phantom zone brought it all back up, and it caught up to her?” Alex said. 

“I know what Eliza said, but I don’t think I can do this,” Lena said, angrily wiping at her tears.

“I’ve never known Lena Luthor not to be able to do anything,” Alex said.

“This isn’t all on you, Lena. We’re all doing our part in the ways that Kara lets us. If it’s too much for you to handle, then tell us, and we’ll figure something out,” Kelly said, sounding very much like a concerned mental health professional.

“We don’t need you falling apart, too. We can form a more united front, people can take turns staying with you, or we can just stay with Kara,” Alex said, sounding every bit an older sister. 

“She’s right. We love you, both, and just because Kara’s coming to you for help doesn’t mean that you’re supposed to do this by yourself. You’re allowed to ask for help, too,” Kelly said, a comforting hand to her back. 

She stayed quiet, taking in their words. She took the time to really think about what they were offering, what she could handle. 

“Have you seen your therapist recently?” Kelly asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, I haven’t needed to,” She said, appreciating how Alex pretended to be busy.

“Might be a good idea to make an appointment so that you can talk this out,” Kelly said. She nodded her acknowledgment.

“Why are you so content to step back and let me handle this?” she asked.

“Because it used to be just me looking out for Kara. She’s got great friends now, people who genuinely care about her. But you, Luthor, you’ve always done whatever it takes to protect her. You’re reliable. I trust you with her. We’re in this together, teammates, partners, whatever you want to call it,” Alex said.

“You really trust me with this? With Kara?” she asked, her chest tightening with a strange flicker of pride.

“I trust you with her life,” Alex said, with no room for doubt in her voice. She felt her worry wash away at the words.

“I can do this, I’ll do whatever it takes to help her,” Lena said, a new determination setting in. Alex looked relieved that they didn’t have to add her to the list of people to worry about.

She heard her name from the other room and moved toward it before she could think. Kara was lying on the couch with her head in Eliza’s lap, eyes following Lena as she stepped inside.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, Eliza,” Lena said, a little unsure what to do now that she was here.

“Thanks, Lena. Can you grab that blanket for us?” Eliza asked, and she eagerly obliged.

She draped the blanket over Kara’s body and started to step back when a hand closed around her wrist. She sank into a crouch in front of her. Kara brought her wrist to her nose and breathed in, eyes closing for a moment. Lena lifted her free hand and brushed away the tears on her cheeks.

“You’ve been crying,” Kara observed with a pout.

“I’m worried about you,” Lena admitted. Kara pressed her lips to her wrist for the briefest of seconds in an apology. 

“I can give you a bottle of my perfume if you want,” Lena said, ignoring the fact that they had company. The corner of Kara’s mouth twitched, and she took it as a win.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but I’ve been talking to Eliza and we agreed that it would be good to have some company for a few days,” Kara said, sounding nervous. Lena’s eyes flicked up to the older blonde who smiled gratefully at her.

“You’re welcome to stay with me, for as long as you’d like, Kara,” She said. 

“Are you sure I’m not asking too much of you?” Kara asked, although she looked relieved.

“No. I’ll see you later, darling,” Lena said, resisting the urge to lean and press her lips to Kara’s forehead.

“See you later,” Kara said, inhaling one more time before dropping her hand. 

She offered a quick wave to Alex and Kelly before going home. 

The events of the day circled through her mind as she drifted from one task to another. She unpacked the light strips she had ordered weeks ago and placed them carefully behind the TV, under the bed, and along the doorframes. Their soft glow filled the room, dim but steady. She hoped it would be enough to make Kara feel safe.

She made up the guest bedroom, leaving a bottle of her perfume on the nightstand in case Kara wanted it. A strange feeling settled over her as she fluffed the pillows and adjusted the sheets, something she chose to ignore by ordering far too much food.

At nine sharp, a knock sounded at her door. Kara stood there with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her work bag in hand.

“I got Chinese,” Lena said with a small smile. She stepped forward without thinking and brushed a quick kiss against Kara’s cheek in greeting. It was only when she pulled back that she realized what she had done. Kara just smiled at her and dropped her stuff in the guest room.

It turned out to be a good night. They watched movies on the couch, ate too much, and finished with cookies for dessert. When Kara hugged her goodnight, Lena held on a little longer than she meant to. It almost felt like things might be alright, and she breathed a little easier as she drifted off.

She couldn’t say what woke her. It might have been a sound, a shift in the air, or a gut feeling. She tried to stay put, ignore it, mind her own business, but she was too restless. She crossed the hall to the guest room, and the bed was untouched. She went to the living room to find it empty. 

The entire apartment was eerily quiet, but the balcony door was unlatched. She curled up on the couch and waited for her to come back. 

Morning light woke her hours later, warm on her face, and the apartment was still empty.

“She just left, Sam,” she said quietly as she got ready for the day.

“I thought she was visiting you in the middle of the night?”

“She was.”

“Then why would she leave now that she’s staying with you? Are you sure there wasn’t a Supergirl emergency?” Sam asked, her concern clear, more for Lena than for Kara.

“The suit’s still here,” Lena said under her breath.

“Where would she have gone?”

“I don’t know. It’s freaking me out. She isn’t back yet, and Alex hasn’t heard from her either.”

“It’ll be okay, Lena. She probably just needed to clear her head,” Sam said, her voice steady in a way that always calmed her.

“I don’t know about—” A crash cut her off, sharp and loud enough for Sam to hear through the phone.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call you back,” Lena said quickly as she zipped her dress pants. She ran out of her room, her heart pounding, not caring that she was only in her bra.

The sight that met her stole her breath.

Kara stood in the doorway, blood streaking her arms, clothes torn and soaked, eyes wild with fear.

“Lena! You’re safe?” Kara stammered, her hands trembling as if she was afraid Lena might vanish if she reached for her.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Lena asked. She guided Kara to a chair in the kitchen and immediately began checking her over for injuries.

“I—I saw you. I thought you,” Kara’s voice broke, the rest catching in her throat.

“I’m fine, Kar,” Lena said softly.

“It must’ve been…” Kara trailed off, the sentence dying before it could form.

“What the hell happened to you?” Lena asked, cupping Kara’s face and gently urging her to meet her eyes. The skin beneath her palms was ice cold, and it made something twist inside her.

“I don’t know,” Kara whispered.

“Where did you go?” Lena asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could while her chest tightened.

“The fortress, I think. Then I flew around for a few hours?” It came out sounding more like a question than an answer.

“Kara,” Lena said softly, the name carrying everything she couldn’t find words for.

“I needed to feel something,” Kara muttered, her gaze dropping to her blood-stained clothes as if only just realizing what she looked like.

“What does that mean?” Lena asked, her voice quiet but sharp with worry.

Kara didn’t answer.

“Whose blood is this?”

“I think I flew through a flock of birds,” Kara said after a long pause. 

“You think?” 

“Or maybe I came into contact with something in the fortress.” Her words were slow and uncertain, as though she was afraid of what admitting the truth might sound like.

“Are you hurt?” Lena asked, having not found anything visible.

“I think I was, but I’m fine now,” Kara said, standing stiffly.

“Fine? Kara, honey, this isn’t fine,” She said, following her through the apartment.

“Leave it alone, Lena.” Kara’s voice didn’t sound like her own.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Lena argued, just as the bathroom door shut in her face.

“I needed to feel something, and I did,” Kara said through the door. 

She let out a slow breath and rested her forehead against the wood as silence settled between them.

“This would be easier if you’d talk to me,” she whispered. 

When the sound of running water started, Lena straightened. She didn’t have the patience or the temper to try again. She finished getting ready, grabbed her things, and left.

By the time she reached the Tower, the anger had nowhere to go. She snapped at Nia and spent the rest of the day regretting it. Kara didn’t even look at her.

Later, at the office, she turned off her phone and buried herself in work until the building emptied.

That night, she cooked enough food for one and poured herself a whiskey. The apartment was empty and quiet, and she sat on the couch waiting for her.

“Hey,” Kara said softly when she came through the door after ten.

“You don’t get to do this. Not to me.” Lena’s voice was calm, but her hands were shaking. 

She walked past Kara without another word and closed her bedroom door with more force than she meant to, her heart pounding as she leaned against it.

When sleep finally came, it filled her mind with Kara, bloodied and falling through clouds, slipping farther and farther away. Lena woke with a gasp, her chest tight, and crossed the hall without thinking. She slid into bed beside her.

“You’re scaring me,” she confessed, her voice trembling with a vulnerability she didn’t mean to show. Kara’s breath caught before she pulled her close.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Kara murmured against her hair.

“Where do you go at night?” she asked, sliding her hand beneath Kara’s shirt and resting it against the firmness of her stomach. She didn’t think about it. She just needed to feel her.

“I fly around. As high as I can go,” Kara said quietly.

She hesitated, but she had to ask, “When you say as high as you can go?” 

“I don’t go into space.”

Lena didn’t like that answer. She didn’t like any of it, but at least Kara was talking.

“You said you want to feel something, but I don’t understand what that means,” she whispered.

“I’m not asking you to.” Kara took her hand gently and moved it away from her skin.

“I’m not saying you are, but it sounds like you’re trying to…” She trailed off, the thought alone making her feel sick.

“Don’t say it,” Kara murmured, pressing her lips to Lena’s wrist. It wasn’t romantic or sweet. It was desperate, like she needed the taste of her skin because the smell alone wasn’t enough.

She lifted herself onto an elbow, studying Kara’s face as her mind raced to understand what she wasn’t saying.

“I’m really starting to worry about you,” she whispered, her chest aching like something inside her was breaking.

“I know,” Kara murmured, pulling her close again.

“I feel like you’re slipping away from me,” Lena whispered, as she grasped Kara’s shirt, as if she were strong enough to hold her there. 

The rhythm of Kara’s heartbeat beneath her ear, her hands on Lena’s back, and the warmth of her breath on her forehead were just enough to pull her back into sleep.

The world tilted beneath her, and for a moment she thought it was an earthquake. Until she felt Kara’s hand on her shoulder, guiding her onto her back. The movement was careful, almost apologetic.

The clock across the room said it was just before sunrise.

“Please don’t leave,” she whispered, her hand catching Kara’s wrist and holding on.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stay,” she begged, even as Kara’s fingers loosened her grip with ease.

“I can’t.” A gust of wind in place of goodbye. 

The emptiness of the apartment felt suffocating. Lena lay there staring at the ceiling, her palm still warm from where she’d tried to hold on.

She went through her morning routine on autopilot, answering emails, saying what she was supposed to say, and keeping her phone facedown on the desk. It buzzed sometime around eleven.

Back on the ground.

Four words. Barely anything. But it was enough. Her lungs loosened, and for the first time all day, she could breathe a little easier.

She stopped Kara in the hall that night. 

The air between them felt thick, charged with something unspoken. She reached out, their fingers weaving together.

“Stay with me,” she said softly. She meant for longer than tonight, but Kara didn’t need to know that. 

Kara nodded once, her eyes unreadable, and followed her into the room. Lena fell asleep to the sound of slow, uneven breathing beside her. The comfort of having her beside her was enough to let her eyes close. 

When she woke hours later, the space beside her had gone cold. Kara was gone, and she didn’t come back until after sunrise.

They developed a routine over the next few weeks.

Lena would pull Kara into her bed. She’d wake in the middle of the night and ask her to stay. Kara would whisper an apology and disappear, not returning until morning. 

She’d climb back under the covers, her body ice cold, her hair slightly damp, and somehow they’d always end up tangled together again.

There were nights when Lena watched her sleep, her touch light against blonde hair as she memorized the rare calm that settled over her. 

Sometimes Kara would cry, soft and broken, until her breathing steadied. Other nights, she’d fall into bed and be asleep in an instant, as if her body couldn’t bear to stay awake any longer.

She wasn’t sure what they were doing.

It felt like they’d crossed a line, though she couldn’t say which one. She didn’t know if Kara felt any better, but she wasn’t about to risk ruining their routine.

If she were honest with herself, she might admit that she knew exactly what they were doing.

Kara wasn’t an open book. If anything, they talked less than ever, but Lena caught glimpses. Small, unguarded pieces of what was happening inside her.

I can’t tell what’s real anymore.

It’s getting harder to remember who’s dead and who’s alive.

I couldn’t fly in the Phantom Zone. I was powerless.

I have nightmares about Alex killing me because she doesn’t know Supergirl is her sister.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I’m lost, and I don’t know how to get back.

Each confession made her stomach turn, turned her blood cold, and broke her heart a little more.

Kara had stayed much longer than two weeks, and in that time, Lena wasn’t sure if she was getting any better. It felt like she was sinking deeper into something darker.

Kara had started having nightmares, the kind that frightened Lena to the core. More than once, she’d had to talk Kara down from bolting, from burning a hole through the ceiling. It had been like this for four nights in a row, and tonight was no different.

She woke to an empty bed and the steady rush of water. Kara sat in the shower, fully dressed, knees to her chest, whispering words in a language Lena didn’t know. She turned off the water and took her into her arms, right there on the cold tile. Kara pressed her face into Lena’s neck and sobbed, broken and desperate.

“Please tell me how to help you,” she whispered, her own tears streaming down her face. Kara rocked against her, unable to form words.

When the worst of it passed, Lena helped her out of the shower. She stripped away the wet clothes slowly, wrapped her in a towel, and guided her to the bed. Kara let her, quiet and pliant, while Lena dressed her in soft sweats and braided her damp hair.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said, her voice small. Every apology felt like added weight on Lena’s shoulders. She knew Kara meant it, but it was still heavy.

“I know you are, darling,” she said.

After getting dressed for the day, Lena found her in the same spot.

“What are we going to do about this?” she asked, crouching down and resting her hands on Kara’s knees.

“I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

There was no answer. She didn’t push for one, too afraid Kara would go over the edge.

The next night was more of the same.

Kara woke up screaming and ran for the balcony. Lena caught her before she could take off. Kara turned to her, fury in her eyes, but then she stopped.

“It’s killing me to see you like this, talk to me,” Lena said.

“Sometimes when I get too comfortable, I start to worry I’m trapped in my pod again. Or that I’ve become a phantom… I couldn’t fly when I was there,” she whispered. She didn’t tell Lena about the nightmare, but she told her enough.

“So that’s why you go flying,” Lena muttered, mostly to herself, as the pieces started to fit.

“It makes me feel something. It makes me feel like I’m alive,” Kara said quietly.

“That’s not a good coping mechanism,” Lena replied, her chest tightening at the thought of Kara flying that high.

“I’m trying,” Kara said, her eyes glassy the way they so often were now.

“I wish you’d try harder,” Lena said, not bothering to be delicate.

Kara didn’t come home that night. Lena waited for her anyway.

She fell asleep after two glasses of whiskey and dreamed of Kara dying all night long. Kara falling from the sky, frozen, her body shattering into thousands of pieces when it hit the ground. Lena spending years searching for a missing Kara via satellites, only to find her body floating through space, lost forever. Then there’s the one she’s been having for weeks now, the one where she goes to Kara’s funeral and they bury an empty casket.

She dragged herself to the Tower for a debrief she didn’t care about with bags under her eyes and a headache. Alex was droning on about a sea witch alien that had been sinking ships, as if it mattered when Kara was drowning right in front of them.

Kara stood beside her, composed and untouchable, as if nothing was wrong. Except for the small downturn of her mouth that only Lena ever seemed to notice.

“Where were you?” she asked under her breath.

“Flying,” Kara said, her hands on her hips.

“All night?” Lena asked, ignoring the look Nia shot her.

“Mhmm,” was all she got in return. By the time the meeting ended, Lena was done. She grabbed her coat and tried to leave before anyone could stop her.

“Where are you going?” 

Lena spun on her heel, forcing Kara to stop short to avoid crashing into her.

“That’s none of your business,” Lena snapped.

Nia and Alex awkwardly turned away from them, with nowhere to go.

“Why not?” Kara asked, the suit making her look untouchable, like she hadn’t spent the last month unraveling.

“Lena,” she tried again, catching her arm. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” she said, flinching from Kara’s touch like it burned.

“Do what?” Kara asked, that stupid, endearing crinkle forming between her brows.

“Don’t say my name like you’ve earned it,” Lena said, the words sharp enough to sting.

“What are you talking about?” Kara asked, her voice small now.

“Why won’t you let me help you? I’m begging you to let me in,” Lena said, her voice cracking.

“I’m trying, I have,” Kara muttered, the steel finally slipping from her tone.

“You mean just enough for me to keep the door unlocked. Just enough for me to worry myself sick when you vanish. Just enough for you to find your way into my bed when you need comfort.” She knew how it sounded. She didn’t care. 

Kara stood there, her mouth opening and closing in stunned silence. Good.

“Not enough to tell me the truth about why you were covered in blood. Not enough to stop flying so high you can’t breathe, only to come back cold as ice because it’s the only way you can feel something.”

“Lena,” Kara said her name like a plea, and it almost made her melt. 

“No, Kara. I’m terrified that one day you’ll go too far,” she said, her voice low enough so only Kara could hear.

“I won’t,” Kara said.

“We promised never to lie to each other,” She said, her eyes burning.

“I don’t want to,” Kara said, avoiding her gaze.

“I don’t believe you,” Lena muttered, turning away and digging through her bag.

“Don’t leave,” Kara said quickly.

“Now you know what it’s like for me,” she said with a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Lena, I-” Kara stepped in front of her, hand closing around her wrist to stop her from opening the portal watch.

“I wish you’d stay when I asked, at least once,” she said, disappearing through the portal.

She barely made it past the threshold of her apartment before the weight of it all hit. The anger, the exhaustion, the ache that came from loving someone who didn’t seem to care enough to let her help.

She got drunk at ten in the morning. A bad coping mechanism, but there were worse ones. At some point, she passed out on the couch, the alcohol dragging her into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

The sound of knocking on glass pulled her awake. She rubbed her eyes, disoriented, and glanced at her watch to see that it was only seven at night.

“Come in,” she said, knowing Kara would hear her.

“You left it unlocked,” Kara said, sounding slightly surprised.

“I always do,” Lena replied, watching as Kara unclipped the cape from her shoulders.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said with a sigh.

“Me neither.” Kara’s shoulders eased a little, relief flickering across her face.

They were in this together, or not at all. 

They ate dinner in silence on the couch, Friends reruns filling the quiet. Kara cleaned up afterward, and they talked. Small things, things that kept the peace. They had crossed a line, and things were different on this side of it.

“Night,” she murmured, going to get changed. She hadn’t reached for Kara, and she didn’t follow. Their fight from earlier was over, but she wasn’t exactly over it. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I let you see me falling apart and then acted like I didn’t need you. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry you think I don’t care,” Kara blurted out.

She pulled on the first clothes she could find and stepped out of the closet. Kara was standing in the doorway, looking guilty. Lena crossed the room and met her in the hall, each leaning against opposite walls, as if they were suddenly afraid to get too close.

“Stop fighting and let me in, Kara,” Lena said softly.

“I feel so weak. So human,” Kara said, her voice shaking.

“You don’t have to have it together all the time,” Lena said quietly.

“Supergirl isn’t supposed to be this weak!” Kara shouted, her voice echoing off the walls, her hands trembling at her sides.

Kara’s breath came quick and uneven as she paced the hallway. Lena stood helpless as she watched her unravel. On the fourth pass, she reached out and caught Kara’s arm, fingers tightening around her bicep. Her feet dragged against the hardwood for a few feet.

“I can help you be strong,” she whispered, her voice rough. Kara stepped forward, arms wrapping around her waist, face pressed into her neck. It took a moment for Lena to catch up, then she melted into the hold.

She lost track of how long they stayed like that. Kara’s breath was slow and deep against her neck, her nose brushing the skin as if checking that she still smelled right—like her Lena. No, not hers.

Would it be so wrong to call herself that, though? She was hers, as in the real Lena. Not a phantom, not an alternate universe version of herself, she was technically Kara’s.

It’s not like Kara was hers, even if it sometimes felt like she might be. Could be. Lena wanted her to be. The thought wasn’t as alarming as she expected it to be. Maybe it should have scared her, or felt wrong, or inappropriate, but it didn’t.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” She urged.

“Lena,” Kara murmured, tilting her head in that soft, uncertain way that always undid her.

“Let me help carry some of the weight,” Lena said quietly, afraid to be any louder, 

“What if it’s too heavy?” She asked.

“It won’t be,” She promised, holding Kara’s face in her hands.

“What if I can’t come out of this?” 

“You will. We’ll get through it together, like we always do.” 

Kara’s eyes flicked back and forth, the cogs in her mind turning. She was actually considering it. Her thumbs brushed over soft skin, a steadying touch more than a comfort.

The air between them grew heavier, thicker, laced with temptation. She couldn’t look away from Kara, didn’t realize how close they’d gotten. Some unknowable force drew them together until they were sharing the same breath. She gave the smallest nod, her heartbeat drowning out every reason not to do this.

She leaned up, Kara leaned down, and their lips met.

God, it was better than she’d ever imagined. Kara tasted sweet, her lips soft, her tongue firm against Lena’s. Lena’s fingers tangled in blonde hair as strong hands found her ribs. She tilted her head, breath catching, as Kara pressed her back against the wall.

It felt so right, and yet the warning bells in her mind wouldn’t stop blaring. She pulled away, gasping for air.

“Oh, Rao, I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara blurted out. She stepped out of Lena’s personal space, eyes wide, and her cheeks flushed.

“Hey, whoa, slow down. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lena said, catching her hands before she could bolt. Her grip tightened, fingers aching as she refused to let go.

“You were just being nice, and I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Kara said, shaking her head. 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay? We kissed. It was consensual. That’s it. We don’t have to do it again, or talk about it until you’re ready,” she said, each word a lie. 

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered, shoulders sagging in relief. She slipped her hands from Lena’s grasp with ease. She rubbed at her face, the shadows darker somehow.

“Don’t be. It doesn’t change anything for me,” she said, brushing invisible lint from her shirt.

“Are you sure?” Kara asked.

Her sad nod must have convinced her, because when Lena went to her room and got into bed, Kara followed. She curled into her side, head resting on Lena’s chest, arm draped over her waist like it belonged there. 

Kara fell asleep within minutes, her body heavy, her breathing even. Only then did Lena let a single tear slip free, wondering how she had kept her composure. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. Heartbreak? Rejection? Relief that Kara had finally let her in? Maybe all of it. Perhaps none of it.

Either way, it wasn’t the time to wonder what it meant for her love life.

She was going to be a good friend. She’d do what she promised and help Kara get through this. That’s what she told herself, over and over again, until her mind finally eased enough to follow Kara into sleep.

The weight on her chest lifted, and cold air brushed her skin. The bed shifted beneath her.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.

“I don’t know how to stay.” She snapped her eyes open when she heard the tremor in Kara’s voice.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. 

“Okay,” Kara said, her eyes showing just how much she was struggling. She got back into bed, the tension coming off her in waves, her breathing erratic as she fought off a panic attack.

Lena sat up without thinking and pulled her shirt off. Thank god she forgot to take her bra off last night. Kara’s eyes lingered for a second before she looked away. 

“Skin-to-skin contact can help reduce anxiety,” she mumbled, half-asleep as she tugged at the hem of Kara’s shirt. 

She had read the study a few weeks ago, but hadn’t exactly planned to try it out until now. There was no argument, no question of blurring lines. Kara nodded and pulled her shirt off, a true testament for how mentally drained she was. 

She traced her fingers across broad shoulders, trying not to feel too proud of the way Kara melted into her. Their breathing synced at some point, a sense of something neither would ever name, too tired to consider what it would mean in the morning. 

“That feels nice,” Kara said, her lips brushing over Lena’s pulse.

“Is it enough?” Lena asked softly. 

“Mhmm.”

Lena woke to sunlight and the blanket being pulled up to her chin. She blinked at the sight of the Supersuit and pouted.

“It wasn’t enough?” she asked.

“It was. For a little while,” Kara said quietly. 

“Don’t go too high.”

Kara leaned down, hesitating before pressing her lips to Lena’s forehead. Then she was gone without a word. It was better this way. Whatever she would’ve said would’ve been a lie, and they didn’t lie to each other. 

A few hours later, she got a text: Boots are back on the ground. 

That night, Kara came in through the balcony. She disappeared into her room to change out of the suit, then joined Lena on the couch. Lena set her book down when she realized blue eyes hadn’t left her.

“How was your day?” Kara asked, knees drawn up, chin resting on them.

“Nothing special. You?”

“Different,” Kara said. She didn’t elaborate, and Lena didn’t ask. She tucked her legs under her, turned to face Kara head-on, and waited for her to say whatever it was that was on her mind. 

“You make me feel like I’m real,” Kara said softly, breaking the silence. Lena pressed her lips together, giving her the space to find the words she was searching for.

“You really see me when you look at me and remind me that I still matter. I just wanted to thank you for that. For everything you’ve done for me. It means a lot,” Kara said, shifting closer, fingers tracing the edge of the couch before she found her nerve and took Lena’s hand.

“You’re welcome, darling,” Lena said, not knowing what else to say. 

“I haven’t felt like myself,” Kara said quietly. “Well, I have, but I don’t know which version of me that is anymore. Supergirl, Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El, I can’t separate them like I used to. None of them… I don’t know who I am.” Her smile faded into a frown.

“It’s okay to feel lost,” Lena said softly, studying her. She wondered what had happened that made Kara want to open up to her.

“It’s never happened to me before. I don’t feel like Kara Danvers, or Supergirl, or Kara Zor-El. I feel like an imposter, like I shouldn’t- I don’t belong here,” Kara admitted, her grip on Lena’s hand tightening.

“There is room for every version of you here,” Lena said, her free hand resting on Kara’s knee. 

“I don’t know who that is.”

“You don’t have to know. It doesn’t matter to me. There’s enough room,” She said softly, hoping Kara believed her.

“Even this one? The one who acts like this?” Kara asked, gesturing vaguely.

“Especially this one,” She smiled.

“You were right, I do see you.”

“What do you see?” Kara asked, her eyes intense. 

“I see my favorite person in the world.”

Kara was the one to lead them to bed. No dance, no words needed. Lena reached for a pair of silk pants, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Kara watching her, shy and uncertain.

She was in boyshorts and a bra, nothing more.

“Skin to skin,” she muttered. 

Lena hid her smile. It had helped. Good. 

She nodded, grabbed something else to wear, and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

When she came back, Kara was in bed, waiting for her, twisting her fingers together. Lena slipped under the covers, turning onto her side to face her. She reached out and laid a hand over Kara’s, stilling the nervous movement.

“Alex used to be the one to ground me. She could pull me out of anything, talk sense into me, keep me from falling apart,” Kara said.

“Used to be?” Lena asked.

Kara turned onto her side, mirroring her, so they were face-to-face. When did they get so close? Had she moved closer, or was it Kara? When had their legs tangled together? When had Kara’s hand found her hip? Why did it make her heart flutter? Why did it feel so good?

“At some point, Alex stopped being that person for me, and you took over,” Kara admitted.

“Oh.” Pride swelled in her chest, and she had to fight the urge to grin like a kid in a candy shop.

“Is that okay?” Kara asked nervously.

“Considering you’re that person for me, yeah, it’s okay,” she said instead of pumping her fist in the air.

“I am?” Kara asked, pulling on her hip so Lena’s body was draped over hers. Their legs were entwined, bodies pressed together, and it was thrilling and intimate in more ways than one. 

“You know you are. I came to this city hoping to find my way, to make a name for myself apart from my family, and you were the first person who gave me a chance. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’ve believed in me when no one else did. You’ve stood by me through everyth—” Lena didn’t finish. 

Kara’s lips found hers, her hands gripping her sides like it was the only thing keeping her there. Like she never wanted to let go. It took Lena a moment to catch up, then she was kissing her back with everything she had. 

It was hot and hungry, impossible to put into words. When Kara’s tongue met hers, a sound escaped before she could stop it. Her body felt like fire, and the longer they kissed, the greedier she became. She had wanted this for so long, and just a taste left her dizzy with desire.

“I feel like I’m drifting away,” Kara said, her voice shaking. Her teeth felt sharp on Lena’s bottom lip, hands wandering across her bare skin.

“Kara,” she whispered, without knowing what for.

“I need to feel something,” Kara said, her breath hot on Lena’s neck, a thigh pressed between her legs. 

“I don’t know if this is the best idea,” she said, pulling back just enough to see Kara’s face. The look in her eyes tugged at something deep in Lena’s chest, urging her to stay close instead of letting go.

“Okay,” Kara said, already moving away.

“Wait, don’t go,” Lena blurted, the words catching.

“I don’t want to,” Kara admitted, voice low and torn.

This was a bad idea. Lena knew it, felt it in the pit of her stomach. She accepted every version of Kara and had promised to do anything to help her. The worst part was realizing she meant what she said. Would it really be so bad if Kara stayed? 

“Stay,” Lena said, her voice softer now as she straddled the Super’s hips.

Kara surged forward, meeting Lena’s kiss with renewed energy. She tilted her head back, giving Kara’s mouth room to roam, grinding her hips into her lap as a moan escaped at the feeling of being claimed.

She fisted her hand in Kara’s hair, pulling her in for a kiss that was all teeth, desperation, and bad decisions.

She had wanted this for so long, had dreamed about it until her heart broke, and she’d forced herself to stop. Now it was real. It felt incredible, intoxicating—Kara’s hands on her, her mouth moving lower. Then something twisted in Lena’s chest. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Kara froze, her nose resting just over Lena’s heart. She looked up, eyes wide and knowing.

“You don’t want this,” she said.

“I do want this. I’ve wanted this for a long time, but not like this,” she confessed, feeling Kara’s hand slip from her body to the bed, leaving her cold.

“I have to go,” Kara murmured, eyes avoiding hers. Then Lena’s back hit the mattress, Kara’s weight pressing between her legs.

She didn’t move. Didn’t dare speak. One wrong word could shatter whatever this was. Kara’s nose brushed over her pulse, soft and lingering, before she slipped out of Lena’s hold.

“Please don’t leave like this. Please,” Lena said, her voice breaking.

“I don’t want to,” Kara whispered, grabbing the first clothes she could find.

“Say something, Kara,” she said, barely stopping herself from yelling in frustration. 

She was met with silence.

“Don’t run away, don’t make me keep asking you to stay,” Lena pleaded, her own desperation scaring her. 

“I don’t know how,” Kara admitted, eyes wide and pleading.

“Let me show you, let me try,” Lena said, not knowing if Kara replied, not knowing if she would’ve heard over the sound of her own heart. 

“Let’s get some air,” Lena murmured, draping the thick sherpa throw from the end of the bed over her shoulders and holding Kara’s hand like a lifeline. 

She led them out to the balcony and gently guided Kara onto the outdoor couch. Then she straddled her for the second time and felt the tension running through her body, feeling how hard she was fighting not to fly off. 

“Do you want the blanket or not?” Lena asked, adjusting the sherpa around her shoulders.

“I want you,” Kara whispered. Her heart stopped.

“I want to be close to you, please,” Kara corrected, eyes wide as they fought the darkness.

Lena lifted the blanket and let her in, shivering as the cold air slipped under the covers. Kara’s arms circled her waist, her nose pressed to her neck as she breathed her in. She ran a hand down Kara’s back and sank fully onto her lap, letting the warmth between them chase away the chill.

“What else can I do?” Lena asked, feeling Kara’s heartbeat race against her.

“Tell me a story, I like hearing your voice,” Kara murmured, her arms tightening around Lena’s waist as if she were afraid she’d drift away. Her lips brushed her neck, and Lena couldn’t hide the shiver that followed.

“Once upon a time, a girl with glasses and a pink sweater came into my office for an interview, even though she wasn’t a reporter.” She began telling the story of the day they met, and suddenly, she was being lifted and set gently beside her, like a child.

“Kar,” she said, her fingers closing around Kara’s wrist.

Lena caught the flick of blue eyes toward the sky, and a moment later, she was gone. She fell back onto the couch with a quiet breath. 

How could she be Kara’s anchor when she kept slipping away? She couldn’t keep her here, couldn’t make her stay, couldn’t keep her on the ground. She had tried, and it didn’t work. Kara left, and she was here all by herself.

“I’m sorry I’m not enough,” She whispered into the night, hoping Kara was still listening. 

“We can forget about the kiss, and what happened earlier, it’s not- I’m still here for you. I still want to help you, if you want that.” I still want you.

She wrapped the blanket around herself and stayed outside, on the off chance that maybe Kara would come back. Perhaps she wouldn’t be gone for that long. The cold stung her face, but it wasn’t unbearable. It almost felt good. 

Regret crept in, heavy and hot. They’d fucked everything up. She’d fucked it up. She was supposed to help Kara find her way, but it felt like she’d been pulled under instead. 

“Don’t fly too high,” She spoke the words into the night. They were a wish, a hope, a desperate plea. It didn’t matter if Kara could hear her; she needed to speak it into the universe. Maybe it would keep her safe for one more night. 

She meant to go inside, meant to forget the whole night, but instead fell asleep on the balcony. She dreamt of kissing Kara, only to find herself kissing a ghost. She dreamt of screams, of Supergirl falling from the sky, her body tearing through buildings while Lena could only watch. She dreamt of Alex’s voice saying they couldn’t find her, that no one had seen Kara in days. She dreamt that Kara lost to the darkness and blamed Lena for it. That everyone blamed her for it, because it was her fault.

She woke quietly, as if they had been pleasant dreams instead of world-ending nightmares. In a few days, she’d be back to her normal self. She was determined to help Kara. She needed to be strong enough to save Kara. Or else the world would lose her, and she didn’t want to see what that world was like.

Blinking against the morning light, she tried to sit up, but a weight held her down, warm and solid and unmoving. Her hands were trapped between their bodies, and when she shifted, she felt a pillow tucked beneath her head. Blonde hair brushed against her nose, and she caught the faint scent of salt and wind.

“You smell like the ocean,” she murmured. Kara stirred and propped herself up on her elbows.

“I didn’t fly too high,” She said, her voice low and rough.

Lena freed her hands and brushed the dried salt from Kara’s temple. She couldn’t bring herself to move away, her thumb tracing gently along a perfectly sculpted cheekbone.

“I’m sorry about last night. For the position I put you in. It was manipulative and unfair, and it was my fault,” Kara said, leaning into Lena’s touch.

“I don’t regret what happened, only the way it did,” Lena said honestly.

“I love you, Lena,” Kara murmured. “I know you know, but I wanted to say it.”

She did know, didn’t she? They’d never been shy about their love. They’d been through hell and back more than once and come out stronger every time. This wasn’t new; they’d been doing this dance for a long while.

“I love you too,” she whispered. 

This wasn’t how she’d imagined they’d confess their love. It didn’t feel the way she thought it would. There was relief in saying it out loud, and it was incredible to hear it returned. But it was heavy too, not as freeing as she’d hoped.

“Where did you go?” Lena asked.

“I wanted to stay,” Kara said, her voice unsteady, “I hovered over the building for a while. I tried to come back. I really did.”

“I believe you,” Lena whispered, because she did.

“I heard you say you weren’t enough. That’s not true,” Kara said, her tears falling onto Lena’s face.

“I couldn’t make you stay,” Lena said, the words quiet but sharp. The ache of it still burned.

“You made me want to… Not enough? You’re everything,” Kara whispered.

Lena looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying. Kara needed her to be strong, the way she’d always been for her.

“I flew across the ocean, swam through the Arctic, and was dry again by the time I reached the Pacific. I didn’t go too high, I promise,” Kara said.

“I know, honey. I know, I believe you,” She murmured, pulling her back into her arms. 

Things were different. They would never be the same. 

She called Alex, just like Kara had asked, and told her to come over. Then she made Kara take a shower and waited outside with a towel. When Kara was dressed, she brushed her teeth and let Lena braid her hair. 

Alex arrived less than an hour later. She looked terrified, then instantly relieved to see Kara sitting on the balcony.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning at the hand on her arm that stopped her from rushing to her sister.

“She’s agreed to get some help, but in her own way,” Lena said. “I need you on board, and I need you to back me up, okay?”

“Of course I will, Lena,” Alex said softly, pulling her into a hug. Their shared love for Kara always seemed to bring out their softer sides.

“Thank you,” She sighed in relief.

“So what happened?” Alex asked, glancing over her shoulder. They both knew whispering was pointless; Kara was probably listening.

“She had a bad night. A bad week, really,” Lena said, shaking the nerves and emotion from her hands. She wasn’t going to share what happened. It didn’t matter now. 

Alex seemed to understand and followed her to the balcony. She kissed Kara’s forehead and sat on the coffee table across from them. She didn’t mention that Lena had taken the seat beside her, or how her sister relaxed the moment their hands found each other.

Lena stayed quiet and let her speak. Kara skipped a lot of the details, leaving out the worst nights and darker thoughts. She told Alex enough.

Kara was leaving.

She needed a break from reporting, from being Supergirl, from everything. She had never really taken one before, and when Lena suggested it, she said yes.

She packed the duffel that had lived in her closet for the past few months. Inside went extra socks, a bottle of her perfume, and her worn MIT hoodie, which she knew was Kara’s favorite.

“You’re my favorite person,” Kara whispered, pulling her into a hug so strong Lena stumbled back against the wall.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to come home,” Lena said quietly.

“We’re still in this together?” Kara asked, pulling away with a sad look in her eyes.

“El Mayarah,” She said, a pathetic attempt at a smile on her face.

Kara rested her forehead against hers, and they stayed like that for a long time, breathing the same air while the rest of the world waited.

“You should get going,” she whispered, her fingers playing with the strings of Kara’s hoodie.

“I love you,” Kara said.

“Me too. I’ll miss you, ” she murmured, unable to say it back. 

Kara pulled away, her eyes flicking to Lena’s lips and back up again. She was looking at her like she’d never see her again, and Lena couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t goodbye. It couldn’t be. 

She leaned in, and Kara’s lips found hers with ease, as if she’d been waiting for it. Everything that needed to be said was in that kiss. Lena didn’t even know what it meant. Were they together? Was it her saying she’d wait? Or was it Kara saying goodbye? Whatever it was, they both knew not to dwell on it. It meant I love you. Nothing more.

“I’ll come back to you,” she said before walking out with her bag.

The sound of the front door closing echoed through the apartment. Lena felt her knees give out, but caught herself against the wall.

“It’s okay,” someone said, steadying her until she sank to the carpeted floor. She wiped her tears and found Alex watching her.

“I’ve got it from here, teammate,” Alex said gently, brushing a tear from Lena’s cheek. She made a call, her voice too soft for Lena to follow. Then she was gone too.

Not long after, Kelly appeared and helped her to the couch. Kara’s hoodie was draped over the back, still warm. Lena pulled it on, the fabric snug and familiar.

Kelly stayed with her until Sam arrived the next day with two suitcases. 

She held her while she cried, made her watch stupid movies, and did everything she could to make her feel less alone. She waited until Lena was ready to talk about what had happened.

She didn’t hold back the way she had with Alex or anyone else. Sam was family. She was safe. Lena trusted her more than anyone, except maybe Kara, and that made it easier. It helped that Sam was hers. She wasn’t Kara’s friend, or her sister, or her family. She could unload all of it onto Sam, and she’d help hold the weight of it. 

It took two days to get through everything, and by the end, she felt lighter. 

She had been so focused on Kara, so wrapped up in her worry, that she hadn’t noticed how tired she was. She’d been carrying the weight for longer than she realized and hadn’t known how much she needed a reprieve, too.

It made her sick to admit how relieved she felt with Kara gone, but that was why she went to therapy. In time, the guilt began to fade, along with the weight of responsibility. 

Three weeks passed, and Lena missed her like crazy. She’d gotten so used to having Kara around, in her space, in her bed, by her side, that being without her felt harsh and cold and lonely. She missed her in a way she hadn’t let herself miss anyone since she was a kid.

When Sam finally left, Lena felt rejuvenated and was able to stand on her own two feet. 

That was when the messages started. Kara would text her pictures of a dog she’d seen or something random she thought was worth sharing. Every message left Lena wanting more. She wanted to ask how she was, but Kara never opened the door for conversation.

Sometimes, Kara would call late at night. They wouldn’t talk much, just stay on the line together until Lena woke to find the screen dark and the call long ended. It was stupid to feel the same sting of abandonment, but love had no room for logic or reasoning as much as she tried to tell herself otherwise.

Alex assured her that Kara would be coming back, as she had promised. As the weeks passed, she could see that certainty beginning to fade the same way it had for Lena. 

Four months of missing Kara came and went.

Then a package arrived, addressed to her in familiar handwriting. She tore it open, and something warm bloomed in her chest. Something that felt love. Inside were dozens of letters, each numbered. Eighteen in total, one for every week Kara had been gone, and one marked Open me first.

Eliza had flown in Kara’s old therapist from when she first got to Earth to Midvale. There was already established trust there, and Kara could be completely honest with her without worrying about secret identities. At home, she attended sessions every day, and when she started traveling again, they transitioned to calls.

The therapist had suggested she try journaling; apparently, Kara hated it. Still, she didn’t mind writing letters addressed to nobody. It helped for a while, until she wasn’t writing to a nameless face at all. She was writing to Lena. At first, she meant to keep them to herself, but after a few months, she realized she wanted Lena to read them. A few weeks later, she finally found the courage to send them.

Lena read them all. She savored each word, each doodle in the margins, every small glimpse into the way Kara saw the world. As cliché as it was, it was exactly what she needed. Proof that Kara was still out there, still hers in some small way. She spent the entire weekend holed up in her apartment, reading and rereading every letter.

It eased the ache in her chest.

___________________

Kara returned with a fresh face and eyes clearer than they had been in months. To everyone else, she seemed like her old self again. Lena could tell she was still finding her way. 

Not as desperately or aimlessly as before, but still a little lost. She was now more confident, less sad, and less hopeless. There were still moments, though, when her eyes went distant if the room stayed quiet too long, or her fingers twitched at her sides with the urge to take off into the sky.

She’d been back a week, and they still hadn’t found a moment alone.

First, there was her welcome-home party. Then Sister Night. The next evening, Lena filled in for Sam at a charity gala, and after that came game night. The night after, Nia texted her a picture of Kara asleep at her CatCo desk.

They’d hugged a few times, exchanged the usual catch-up talk, and even managed to sit together more often than not. But every time they tried to slip away, they were interrupted.

She let go of her expectations and focused on how happy she was to have Kara back. Every day she’d been back, the blue in her eyes had gotten a tiny bit brighter. 

That was enough. 

She had dinner, showered, and slipped into bed with her book. Her eyes started to blur, so she set it down along with her glasses on the nightstand. When she turned off the lamp, she wasn’t surprised to see the familiar shadow in the doorway.

“It’s three in the morning,” she said, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Kara whispered, slipping out of her shoes and crossing the room.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” Lena said, her voice quiet but sure. 

She waited where she was. When Kara reached the bed, Lena let the covers fall away and rose to her knees to meet her halfway.

“I’m ready to come home now,” Kara said, her hands cupping Lena’s face.

“Are you sure?” She asked, her palms sliding down Kara’s sides.

“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.”

“I left the door open for you,” She said, and the grin that spread across Kara’s face told her she already knew. They both knew. That door hadn’t been locked in six months.

“I just wasn’t sure where we stood.” Her eyes flicked down, only then realizing that Lena was wearing nothing but a lace bralette and thong.

“I’m right where you left me, Kara,” she said, her fingers finding the loops of Kara’s jeans and pulling until their bodies were flush.

“I keep thinking about how good you smell. How pretty you are when you’re half asleep. I haven’t stopped thinking about being in this bed, with this body. I can’t stop,” Kara whispered, her voice trembling. 

“Then don’t.” Lena’s hands moved on their own, unzipping her jeans.

The moment their lips met, Lena knew she was done for. 

“I’ve thought of nothing else,” Lena said, biting Kara’s lip as she tugged at her shirt.

Kara pulled back just long enough to tear it over her head and then remove Lena’s, too. She sank to the floor, like she was going to crawl up Lena’s body, but blue eyes met green, and she hesitated.

“I want this, Kara,” Lena assured her.

“I love the way you say my name like you’ve earned the right to,” Kara murmured, still not moving from the floor.

Lena sat up, head tilting in silent question.

“Most days I’m okay,” Kara said quietly. “But I’m still struggling. I know what I want now, though. I know who I want to be.”

“I love you. That’s all you need to know,” Lena said, her voice soft but sure.

“I don’t know if I’d be here if it weren’t for you.”

“I’d never let you disappear,” Lena said.

Kara moved first, pushing her back onto the mattress. The kiss was heated, messy, and desperate. One of them was crying. Probably both.

“I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if you were mine,” Kara said. She flipped them over so she was straddling the Kryptonian.

“I’m already yours, Kara,” she murmured, pressing their lips together in a hungry kiss.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if we keep going,” Kara said. Her hands were everywhere — on Lena’s hips, her back, her ribs.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said, smirking.

“Oh, thank Rao,” She said with a smile so bright it blinded her.

It wasn’t a flash of the old Kara. It was the new version of her, the one that Lena already loved just as much as every other version. 

She kissed down Kara’s neck, her hands sliding over her breasts before her mouth joined in. She could have stayed there forever, teasing and tasting, tongue and teeth drawing out sounds that made her pulse quicken. When Kara came, it felt like the air around them was electric.

“Sorry,” Kara breathed, grinning, the blue in her eyes nearly gone at the sound of sheets tearing.

Lena only smiled and kept going, rougher than she usually would. Kara wouldn’t bruise, no matter how wild they got. Soft, breathy sounds spilled from her lips. Sometimes she slipped into a language Lena didn’t recognize, but most of the time, it was her name she whispered.

She settled between Kara’s strong legs and got drunk on the taste of her. Her wrist ached, her jaw was tense, but she didn’t let up until she was moaning her name like a prayer. She wiped her chin on a sun-kissed thigh and wiggled her fingers. 

Kara looked divine like this, a true goddess. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed, and a lazy smile softening her face. She was heaven on earth, and Lena knew she’d beg to stay in her presence, no matter how many times she was turned away, if it meant one more second with her.

Whatever snarky comment she had died the moment Kara’s mouth found hers. The kiss stole her breath, overwhelming and unrelenting until she thought she might burst into flames. 

“Humans, air,” She gasped as Kara tugged on her lower lip.

“Sorry,” Kara murmured with a grin. 

Her hands slid back to Lena, pulling her closer until they fit together perfectly. The heat built again, slow and steady, as Kara’s mouth traced her neck. She caught Lena’s hips and urged her to grind against her thigh.

Kara’s mouth dropped to her breasts, and Lena lost control. She was sweating and cursing as pleasure tore through her unexpectedly. Before she could get embarrassed, Kara flipped her onto her back and disappeared between her legs.

Kara wasn’t as sweet and delicate as she imagined. She was unrelenting and precise, and surprisingly good at this. Lena wondered how, when she was positive, she had only slept with two people, and neither of them had been women. 

“What are you thinking about?” Kara asked, her voice rough as she reached up with one hand to twist at a nipple. Desire sparked low in her body, sharp as lightning, and even more dangerous.

“How did you get so good at this?” She asked, trying to push Kara’s mouth back to where she needed it most.

“I pay attention,” Kara said vaguely, ending her suffering.

She didn’t care to ask more; all she could focus on was the building feeling. It took no time at all for her to fall over the edge again.

“Holy fucking shit,” She sighed, feeling satisfied and hungry for more.

“You shouldn’t swear like that,” Kara said, grinning.

“Why not?” Lena laughed.

“Because I find it incredibly sexy coming from you,” Kara admitted, kissing her passionately. 

“You taste like me,” Lena said, chasing Kara’s lips. 

That started a second round that ended in the shower, and with them sleeping in the guest room. 

______________________________

Kara stayed over for the next week, only leaving for work or to grab clothes she’d end up bringing back anyway. She had a habit of stealing Lena’s shirts and wearing them out like they were her own. She loved having her there. Loved seeing Kara in her clothes. Loved the version of them that existed in the same space. 

She hadn’t noticed it the first night, or even the second. Their lovemaking had left her so deliciously spent that she’d slept through it. By the third night, though, she started to notice. 

Kara kept waking around five in the morning, slipping out of bed and into the night. Lena never asked why. She knew she was still finding her way back. She had no right to be upset. It still hurt.

She woke to an empty bed and couldn’t fall back asleep. Restless, she pulled the sherpa over her shoulders and padded out into the empty apartment to make tea.

It wasn’t empty.

Kara sat out on the balcony, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When Lena stepped outside, she looked up, guilt flickering across her face before she lifted the blanket in silent invitation.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I just needed some air,” Kara replied.

“No flights tonight?”

“Not since I came back.” Kara’s hands found Lena’s hips, pulling her closer.

“Really?”

“You told me not to fly too high, so I don’t,” Kara murmured.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t clear your head if you need to,” she said, trying to be supportive.

“I’m okay here.” Her thumbs traced small circles against Lena’s hips.

“Is this where you’ve been going when you get up?” Lena asked, her fingers lightly scratching at the nape of Kara’s neck, almost as an afterthought.

“Every night,” Kara confirmed.

“I don’t like waking up without you,” Lena admitted softly.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Kara whispered, her blue eyes finding hers.

“Why?” Lena asked, unable to hold it in.

“I’ve been traveling for months, never staying anywhere long enough to get used to it. My body’s all out of sync. Kinda like Kryptonian jetlag,” Kara said.

“Stupid crinkle,” she muttered as Lena pressed her lips to it. 

“Don’t get mad at the crinkle,” She smirked. 

“I know you’re right there. I know this is real. I know I’m not in the Phantom Zone. But when I wake up, I can’t fall back asleep. I start thinking, and then I start overthinking. I worry that I’m not enough, you know? Like I’m disappointing everyone—disappointing Alex and you,” Kara said quietly.

“You could never disappoint me, darling,” 

“I abandoned the city, and I put you and Alex through so much. I see the looks, can hear the way your hearts drop when I leave the room, like you’re afraid I’ll fly out the door and disappear forever,” Kara said, her voice calm but true.

“The city survived without you, and would if you decided not to be Supergirl anymore. Alex and I love you as you are. You’re more than enough for me,” she replied, the words flowing out of her with ease.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Kara said. 

She leaned in and captured her lips before they could twist that super-powered pout. She pulled away breathless and a little more in love.

“Can I worry just a tiny bit?” she countered, earning the faintest of smirks from Kara.

“I asked to come home because I was ready. I don’t have any plans to leave, I won’t disappear. I want to be here with you.”

Kara’s sincerity hit her like sunlight after a long storm, and it took Lena a few moments to remember how to speak.

“I’m not worried about that anymore,” she said with a small smile.

“Then why haven’t you asked me to stay?” Kara asked, her voice so vulnerable it stole the air from her lungs.

“I want to,” Lena said, voice breaking a little. “But you keep coming out here alone. You never ask me to follow.”

“Oh.” Kara’s voice was quiet, resigned, as if she’d only just realized what that meant.

She’d stopped running. She’d made progress, was more open and honest, but she still hadn’t let Lena all the way in. There was nothing left to say. 

A week passed, and the routine continued. Kara always tried to stay in bed as long as possible, but she never managed to make it through the night. She’d kiss Lena’s forehead, whisper an apology, and promise to be back in a few hours. Lena wanted to go after her, but she hadn’t been invited. 

She loved Thursdays because it meant Kara came home early, and they got a few more hours in bed before the ghosts chased her onto the balcony. The sound of movement stirred Lena awake; she rolled onto her back and stared at the familiar shadow. Kara sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, head in her hands like she carried the weight of the world.

Lena watched her back, the intensity alerting Kara. Blue eyes met green in the dark. The air seemed to thicken until it felt like neither of them could breathe. She stood at the edge of a cliff, wondering if she should jump, risk it one more time. She swallowed her fear and ignored the sound of her heart hammering in her chest.

“Stay,” She said. 

“Okay,” Kara said, sounding relieved. She slipped beneath the covers and drew Lena close, lifting her wrist to her nose, breathing her in before pressing it gently over her heart.

When Lena woke, Kara was still there. 

After that night, she didn’t wake up to an empty bed again.

Over time, Kara grew lighter. She smiled more, laughed louder, and worried less. She rarely disappeared anymore and met Lena’s gaze when she spoke.

Nothing stood between them now: no glass doors, no secrets, no ghosts. Where one went, the other followed. They hosted game nights, travelled the world, and woke each day eager for the next.

When one of them slipped into the dark, the other reached in and pulled her back toward the light. Their good days far outnumbered the bad.

Lena didn’t have to ask her to stay anymore, though she still did, just to hear Kara say she would.

Notes:

If you’re struggling, reach out to someone or call 988 in the United States and Canada. The world is better w you in it.

I really didn’t plan to write any of this. The idea flowed out of me. I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into what love can sometimes look like. It’s not always sunshine; it’s rainy days too. Happy Halloween & next time I'll write something happier lol ~ K