Chapter Text
One of the first things that Kara notices about Earth, is how similar it seems to be to Krypton. Sure the sun is yellow and not red. And yeah, a large portion of humans’ lives seemed to revolve around a weird obsession with seeking out other humans to mate with, by sticking weird parts in weird places. It wasn’t just to reproduce which Kara shudders just thinking about.
Krypton was similar enough to Earth, that when Kara closes her eyes and imagines a scarlet shadow casting it’s glow over golden fields, when Kara tries hard enough, gets tired quick enough, the English language begins to roll and reverberate in her head until she is back underneath Rao, smothered in a blanket and her mother’s crooning lullaby.
Kara thinks it would almost have been better, to have landed on a completely different planet altogether.
Kal seems to agree.
A planet where she didn’t land 13 years after she was supposed to. A planet where she didn’t fail her baby cousin, who by now was all grown up. Kal, or Clark as he insisted that she call him, was a teenager now. Who had no memory of Krypton or Rao or Argo City.
Or her, not even her.
Kal, who would never know all the colours of the evening sky. Who would never see the spires of Argo City and the way it seemed as if the sky would crack open and spill the secrets and stories of gods that only existed as harsh whispers in the back of throats and in the half-gasped questions of,
Did you know that you can live forever?
So that when it finally came it wasn’t just the taste of a dying planet and a bleeding sun on the tips of people’s tongues, it was also the knife edge of hope, of standing on a cliff edge and praying that they would be caught if they jumped.
Kal had flinched when Kara had attempted to speak to him in Kryptonian. His features twisting in hurt and disgust. Eyes glinting with something sharp and a shadow of something else Kara couldn’t quite place. Fear trickled down her spin into her lower stomach and something must have flashed across her face because Kal’s gaze instantly snapped away, instead choosing to focus on the wooden kitchenette, just above her left shoulder.
“You need to speak English!”
Even Kal seems shocked at the aggression in his voice, wincing slightly as the growl echoed around the empty kitchen. He pauses and for a split second Kara thinks he might actually apologise. Instead he just shakes his head and looks at Kara like she’s an overeager puppy who he can’t get to sit.
Kara grinds her teeth.
“You need to speak English, it’s the only way your safe ok?”
She nods, eyes fixed to the floor.
Kal waits.
Kara waits. She’s not quite sure what game they’re playing.
Kal waits. Arms taut, a vein pulsing in his neck.
“I..look.”
Kal says eventually. He pauses for a second, running his fingers through his hair and Kara is positive she can see him counting out exactly how many steps it is to the door from where he is standing.
“Are.. are you ok?”
Kal doesn't actually look at her. Instead he stares at a stain on the carpet, as if he’s afraid that she might actually answer. As if he’s afraid of what he’ll see if he looks at her.
Kara chokes back a sob.
Rao!
She wants to punch him in the face, wants to shove him into the wall, wants to scream at him for all the blood he has never shed, for all the grief he has never known, for all the guilt that he has never choked on. For all the family he has never known and all the family that Kara has.
Kara wants and wants and wants.
Kara stays still.
Her nails digging into her palm. Eyes clenched shut.
She unfurls her hands. No marks. No cuts, no raised edges.
No, of course not.
Of course not.
Kara closes her eyes again.
Stay?
She doesn't quite say, the words tasting like bile in her throat.
Kal waits.
He turns his attention to a piece of drywall that has fallen off the ceiling.
And Kara says nothing.
And Kara says nothing.
And Kara says nothing.
“Right, well than.”
Kal doesn't know what to do. Kara can see it in the way his leg jiggles and the constant biting his lips. In the way that his brow is furrowed and the fact his gaze never settles in one spot, darting and flitting between kitchen appliances and the carpeted floor.
Kal doesn't come across as someone who feels helpless in a situation very often. Kal doesn't know what to do.
She feels a giggle rise in her throat and quickly coughs.
Kal raises his eyebrows and says nothing.
Kara says nothing.
She watches as Kal nods to himself as if deciding something and then with a quick shuffle of his feet and not so much as a sideways glance, Kal makes for the door, diving out of the room like he was drowning and needed to come up for air.
The door swings shut.
Kara looks up.
There’s a mirror on the wall just behind the sofa.
Kara won’t look.
She won’t.
She won’t.
Kara looks.
Her reflection looks back.
She looks tired and gaunt, dressed in a band t-shirt several sizes too big and a pair of grey sweatpants tied at her waist with a piece of green twine. Her hair is up in a loose ponytail and the still visible tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes, swollen and red, leave little doubt about how she’d been handling things.
She’s fine.
Honestly.
She’s not, it’s a complete lie.
Kara doesn't think she’ll ever be ‘fine’ again.
Her brow furrowed, and by Rao!
She looks like Kal when she does that.
Rao.
A sharp pain slashes its way through Kara’s ribs and she slams her eyes shut and watches as Krypton catches ablaze. Watches as Kal runs away.
The air in the kitchen suddenly seems too thin. Heaving breaths and shuddering shoulders form a straight jacket around her and Kara isn’t sure she’s ever heard a silence quite so loud or heavy.
She wishes he’d stayed.
And oh, Kara has seen so many people die.
So, so many people.
Kara wonders what it would be like to go to sleep and not wake up drenched in sweat, with tears caked and dried to her cheeks.
Kara wonders what it would be like to not have seen her mother’s desperate and hurried expression as she had been bundled into the last pod.
Kara wonders what it would be like to not fail at the one thing that was her sole objective.
The one thing she was kept alive for.
“Look after Kal. Protect him.”
And Kara had promised, in between choked sobs and shuddering shoulders.
Kara wonders what it would be like to have the very last thing she ever told her mother not be a lie.