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Laurel isn’t sure why she ended up a lost soul stranded in another Earth - or why Kara Danvers is the only one who can see her. She’s thankful someone can, at least, and she’s grown close to Kara over the past few months of haunting her. But it’s still all so strangely Not Right to her. Some things are only a little bit off, but then others are completely different.
There’s no Oliver Queen, no Lance family, no Tommy Merlyn. None of the friends she left behind, not even their mirror image doppelgangers that belong to this world. Not even a Cisco or Barry Allen.
Perhaps it’s better that way. Seeing those she loved in this world, versions of them that are different to fit in with this world and its history, might just make the pain of missing her Ollie, her father and mother and Sara, her friends, all that much worse.
So she sticks with Kara, a shadow from another world, struggling just to be able to touch or feel, unable to smell or taste anything anymore. Always something less than warm but not quite cold. Her skin paper thin, almost an illusion, hiding the silent, empty nothingness of her insides. That might be the most frightening part of being a ghost.
Laurel thinks she could go mad over the constant, vain effort to hear and feel her own heartbeat, the steady pulse of blood, the sensation of being flesh and bone. Matter . Now she exists as nothing but a vision. And she can’t even cry over the fact - all she can do is scream.
Kara has been there for her. A stranger - not just to her, but someone who knows what it’s like to be a stranger in a strange world, cut off from almost everything that she knew and understood. To go from something like human to something so very different, her own body something she has to relearn. She’s spent countless nights soothing Laurel with stories of mishaps with her powers, of the feelings of otherness, of coming to love and fit in with her new family, her new world.
Laurel wishes she had met Kara before her death. She thinks that Kara has to be warm, like the midday sun on a spring day. She’s certain that if she was alive - if she was still pumping blood and living flesh - she could hug Kara and soak in that warmth right down to her bones. She wants to know what Kara smells like, the feel of her hair in Laurel’s fingers, the taste of her lips, her sweat, her sex.
Somewhere along the line of haunting this strange, off kilter world, Laurel fell for Kara. For the warm smile and the compassionate almost touches of her fingers where Laurel’s hand should be. For the angry, grieving girl still lingering inside her, like her own personal ghost that rarely comes out. For the woman who believes in truth and justice and doing what’s right, even when the odds are stacked against you, even when it puts your safety and security on the line. For the woman who hesitates, afraid to lose it all again, afraid of this world’s rejection.
Laurel wishes that Black Canary could have fought alongside Supergirl, just once. But if she’s stuck, stranded in another dimension, with only one person to haunt for however long she’s here, Laurel is thankful it’s with Kara.