Chapter Text
“My mother killed him in front of me, you know.”
Startled, Kara turned around so she could see Mon-El. “What?”
“My mother,” Mon-El said, like this was just any old conversation. Like they were talking about what they'd be having for lunch. “She killed him. My father. He had the nerve to suggest my ideas for a more democratic Daxam might have merit. So she pulled a knife from her robes and she stabbed him through the heart.”
Kara stared, wide-eyed, not able to move or say a word. Mon-El was far away, in some dark place, and she desperately wanted to reach out to him, bring him back into the light. But she couldn't. And he didn’t want that from her anyway. Didn’t want her.
“‘You’ve betrayed me, my love’ she said. Those were her exact words. ‘You’ve betrayed me.’ And then she watched him—her ‘love’—bleed out," Mon-El continued, "like it was normal, like she hadn't just murdered her husband—my father—because he disagreed with her." Mon-El's voice was low—controlled—but full of something bitter and dark that Kara had never seen in her Mon-El.
Except, this was her Mon-El. Which meant he always had this darkness inside of him, but because he had people he knew loved and believed in him, he never let it take hold—never allowed it to overtake him. But this version of her Mon-El didn’t know Kara loved him and believed in him. Forgave him. Fought for him.
And she couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t say a word.
She’d never felt so helpless.
“I’m—I’m so sorry, Mon-El...” she started, but he waved away her apology.
“Why?" Mon-El shook his head and shrugged. "You didn’t do anything.”
Kara wished she could see his face, maybe see where he was going with this, but he was staring intently at a piece of kindling he'd picked up on his way over to the campfire and his expression was lost in shadows.
“That’s kind of the point, really,” Mon-El continued. “You didn’t—do—anything. You just—let them take me.”
He finally raised his eyes to hers and Kara gasped, not even remotely ready for the pain… and anger... and hatred she saw in his darkened eyes. She sat frozen, caught in his gaze.
“You met them, Kara. You knew what they were. I told you over and over again that my parents were not good people. I told you—” he lowered his voice, which had become louder with each statement—no, each accusation, “—I told you how they treated me growing up.”
Kara gulped, tried again, “I... Mon-El, I—”
Mon-El turned and tossed the kindling he'd been holding into the fire, sending sparks flying, and kept going, ignoring Kara's stuttering attempts at speech. He stared into the flames. “You believing in me? Seeing the good in me?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. Kara knew he was beyond hearing anything but the pain he was reliving in his post-Crisis memories. “It meant everything, Kara. Everything.”
He took a deep breath and Kara noticed his hands clenching and un-clenching. She was fairly certain he wasn’t even aware he was doing it, and once again she longed to reach out and take one of those hands. Soothe him. Be strong for him.
“I told you I loved you, Kara.”
Oh Rao.
Time stood still—Kara would have testified to this fact. Sound, light, time, everything—frozen.
She wondered if this was what it felt like to die, to wither away inside, all hope crushed. Carelessly destroyed. Because she remembered Mon-El’s face that day, the day she found out his true identity—and she remembered the cold way she’d received Mon-El’s first-ever declaration of love. She remembered the satisfaction she'd felt when she saw how it seemed to kill him inside when she told him it was over. And she remembered the deep shame that came later for ever allowing herself to rejoice in his pain.
Mon-El gave a short, mirthless laugh. "And you threw me away.”
The last part he said so softly Kara wouldn’t have heard it without her super hearing. But she didn’t need to hear because it was all there in his eyes, every time she looked at him. You didn’t love me, they accused her. You never loved me. Kara could feel years of Mon-El's bitter disappointment and pent-up pain rolling over her in waves. Did you ever even care about me at all?
Her stomach clenched and she looked down for a second or two, struggling to hold back the hot tears she felt pricking her eyes. The way she—in Mon-El’s post-Crisis memory—destroyed his love for her? Loud and clear. She reminded herself that wanting to clear the air with Mon-El—set him straight about her feelings for him—would not only be dangerous for his mental health, but selfish, like J’onn said. And without being able to tell him the truth, she had no idea what she could ever say that would make him feel better.
Kara lifted her gaze to the stars, which burned cold and clear above them, now that the clouds had parted. Since they'd chosen to set up camp in a valley situated far from the mainland and any major city, she could see way more stars than she'd ever been able to see from her roof in National City. But they weren't her stars. Well, they were, but as with Mon-El, time had changed the constellations into strangers she didn't recognize. Not anymore.
Kara was jolted back to earth when Mon-El slapped his hands on his thighs and laughed again, louder than before, but just as mirthless. In that moment, Kara realized she really didn't care for Mon-El's bitter laugh—a realization that made her heart ache even more. There was no scenario in which she'd ever imagined it was possible to dislike Mon-El's laugh—but here they were.
"But hey, at least that little show of murderous familial dysfunction was all the incentive I needed to stage a jailbreak,” Mon-El said, shrugging. “Escaped in a pod, got sucked into a disruption, bada bing, ended up here—" he spread his arms wide, gesturing towards the Legionnaire encampment "—in the 31st century.”
In the dancing yellow light, cast by the campfire flames, Mon-El's expression was half grave, half amused. But not the good kind of amused, Kara noted. The bad kind. The mean kind.
But before she could figure out what Mon-El could possibly find amusing in any part of the story he'd just told her, he leaned towards Kara until his face was just inches from hers. Paused.
Kara's pulse gave a violent leap. She wasn't sure if it was the darkened expression in Mon-El's eyes or his sudden proximity. But what she did know, in that moment, without even a shadow of doubt, was that no matter what world or what universe they were living in—Mon-El was fire, she was kindling. And she was doomed. Because Mon-El just sat there for a moment, studying Kara's face as if he couldn't figure out what exactly he'd ever seen in her.
And it broke her heart.
Finally, when Kara honestly wasn't sure whether Mon-El was planning to kiss her (doubtful) or tell her to go to hell (far more likely) he sighed deeply and leaned away, turning his gaze back to the campfire.
“So I guess it all worked out,” was all he said.