Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

6:00 AM. 

The alarm goes off and I know that it’s time I rise to start the day. I yawn and sit up in a rush to shut the alarm off; the damn thing makes an annoying sound, but the sunlight creeping in through the dark curtains that are shut over the windows paints a pretty morning-time picture. 

I look over to the space next to me to see that the sheets are rustled and out of place. I do this all the time; I act as though the alarm is going to wake a certain someone else, but I should know better by now that she would have already been up to start her day well before I would. After all, when you’re a superhero, the world really doesn’t wait; there is no set schedule. 

It really must be exciting to have superpowers and save the day. She may be gone for now, but I know later on we will reconvene, it’s just getting there that’s the trouble. 

6:18 AM. 

By now I’ve completed my shower, though my hair is still a bit damp and I’ve already received some new messages and voicemails to check over in addition to the ones last night. This is not unusual, I have 10 messages or so from the company, 5 more from other sources, and just a couple from Kara that I must have received after I’d already gone to bed. My skin feels refreshed after that hot shower, my clothes are freshly pressed and ironed from the dry cleaners, so they feel absolutely divine to wear as I slip them on. Looking at my image in the mirror, I feel confident and important. Heading your own company ought to feel that way, no? But there is something about my look that is yet incomplete, and as I make my way to my makeup mirror and table to make sure I look the part, my devices are yet again notifying me that someone is trying to reach me. 

Someone with some important message that could almost, absolutely, most definitely wait for another hour or two. Even though I wish the busyness of it all would allow me to catch up once in a while, I know this is the life I have chosen for myself and that if I am to be this important CEO person, then I should expect all that comes along with it, no? 

6:30 AM. 

A full 12 minutes later and I am complete. Lipstick applied in the reddest shade I own (still appropriate for business attire, of course), skirt and jacket all neatly draped along my body, and shoes that will most certainly make that authoritative statement I want, and I know it’s time I head for the door. 

Placing along the finishing touches on my way out, I grab the briefcase placed along a living room chair and my keys, which I shall hold in my palm. My footsteps are swiftly out the door, locking it behind me, of course, the jingle of the keys settling into the pocket along my jacket that I have placed them into. 

The city is hardly awake yet. The sun is still only just on the horizon, and the few cars I do see out and about have their headlights turned on in the little bit of dusk that lingers into the dawn. This time of day, where the brisk, morning breeze can wave through my hair and dance along my skin is always the loveliest. I know it would be quite the easy task to catch the attention of nearly every cab driver here in National City, but it would do me just as well to walk to the office than to ride. It was one of the things I had been particular about when selecting our very first apartment together, you know. And people have the nerve to overlook me and discount my shrewdness. (I jest, of course). 

The clack of my heels along the pavement is all the confirmation I need to know that this is going to be just like any other day. Quite inundated with messages and calls and meetings, quite hardly will I have a second to myself to think or breathe, quite right that I should be thankful this is my everyday operation. Not everyone can be quite so lucky. 

7:00 AM. 

At the office, I find a coffee, black, waiting for me on my desk, along with a scone that looks very inviting, very tasty. One sniff and I can already tell it’s blueberry and it has been warmed, perhaps even freshly baked this morning. My assistant, here before everyone else, except the security guard, has the sense to pick my favorite things and bring them directly to me each morning before I’ve even come in. And it is this kind of consideration I am most grateful for on my busiest days. 

Sitting down, I take the lid off of the coffee, piping hot still, and allow the steam to rise into the air. The smell of its herbal and earthy tones hit my nose, and I am able to break off just a small bite of the blueberry scone, as I log into my computer. Now that I am here, I am ready to review all of the messages and calls and notifications I have received. I have my calendar open so that I do not miss any upcoming meetings, so that I have easy access to all of my files. 

I open up a tab to Youtube and place on some background music, on a soft volume so that it will not disturb me or become distracting at all; it is a nice jazzy mix of piano and other cadences mixed together, an instrumental for mood and ambience, the kind of thing one might expect in a high-society dining experience, or an elevator – really, both apply. 

And there it is again, the familiar sense, as I feel my fingertips clacking at the keyboard, listening to one voicemail left by an important businessman (or so he thinks), that I am back at it. That this is my life. That this is what I have chosen to do with my time. 

My keys are taken outside of my pocket and placed along the desk to rest next to the computer monitor. A keychain attached to it is glimmering in the sunlight, which is more prominently in the sky at this time. It’s the keychain Kara had gifted to me not so long ago. The shape was the symbol of the House of El, I learned later, but everyone in National City knows it just as Supergirl’s namesake. It was brightly colored and sparkling now, as it settled into place, and I can’t help but smile at it every time I see it. 

While I am here doing whatever business I am meant to do, she is out there doing what she is meant to do. Saving others, protecting the city, being a hero. And it pleases me to know that, in our own individual ways, we are both doing the important work that needs to be done. 

2:00 PM. 

I have not yet had a lunch break, but my assistant has gone to fetch me more coffee. The computer has gone idle as I sit here and listen to important men talk about important business and all the important things they intend to do. It is a meeting we have made happen by phone; a meeting of the minds between all of the moguls and magnates there are to name in National City. 

They speak about rather pointless ventures, and I am made to listen to them try to outdo one another as if they are comparing… 

…well, perhaps we won’t go there. 

My assistant opens the door with a squeak and silently I signal to her to leave the coffee on the desk. She does so and leaves me be, as I decide that I have nothing important or meaningful to add to this conversation. Not today, at least. I undo the top to my coffee and take another slow sip, allowing my back to touch the back of the chair, awaiting this tedious meeting to end. 

Looking at the clock, a few minutes past 2, it won’t be long now before I am finished with my day. 

If you count 3 more hours as not a long time, that is. 

I am clicking my mouse through stories on the web, headlines from the latest reporting newspapers and magazines; anything to keep me occupied while these men argue. There is a story about an orphan girl finally becoming adopted; there is a story about a cat running into the street to meet its untimely demise; there is a fire that has broken out on the other side of the city, and alongside the firemen there is a woman there sporting the navy blue suit and red cape National City has become so fond of. The corners of my lips can’t help but twist up just a little in the hope I feel looking at this expertly taken picture of Supergirl saving and protecting the city, as she’s meant to do. 

And I cannot help the way my mind drifts either to the way Kara’s day must be going. Just the things that happen in her day. 

It must be more thrilling than this. 

The meeting reaches a stalemate and all of its participants agree to adjourn for now. That’s 2 hours of my life I shall never get back. I glance at the clock and notice it’s about half past 2 now. 

With nothing pressing happening at the office, I gather my things to go out for lunch, to get some air after being swamped with things sitting in that one chair.  It’s a comfortable chair, don’t get me wrong, but one does need to stretch the legs every now and again. 

I choose to go to Noonan’s, as it’s one of Kara’s favorite places to visit, and there is a chance I shall run into her there. I will take an hour for lunch and spend the rest of the day updating files before returning home. Sipping on the lukewarm coffee and munching on some lightweight sandwich the waiter recommended to me, I do not see my beloved Kara anywhere. And it figures she wouldn’t be here today, what with everything going on out there in the city. 

Knowing I will be seeing her later, and knowing it is about time to return, I make my way back to the office again. Walking will suffice, and it is good exercise for someone like me, who has a desk to sit at all day. 

4:30 PM. 

It has been another hour in the office. The sun is still out streaming in through the windows, perhaps not as hot as it did before. It is evening, and there are many more cars on the streets below the office floor than there were this morning. The rush of trying to get home, the rush of getting out to that restaurant for dinner plans, those that are traveling out of the city, those that are returning to the city… 

…this is what my everyday life looks like. The burnout that I feel around this time is real, however, and I won’t allow myself another cup of coffee, lest I be up half the night, and I don’t want that. 

“Ms. Luthor?” The demure voice of my assistant echoes into the room as she peeks beyond the open door to my office. 

“Why don’t you go home a little earlier today? We’re all set on all the accounts and the files are all up to date. There’s no reason for you to stay late today. I’ve got this, if you wish to leave.” The assistant is always so kind to me. Her work ethic is incredible, and I think it’s perhaps one of the many reasons I hired her. 

I finally turn to give her a soft smile, returning that same demure tone that is often heard in her voice. My eyes meet hers and I think she has a point in what she is saying. 

“I think I just might take you up on that offer.”  I remark, perhaps a bit playfully.  “You’ve sold it to me.” 

She gives a small laugh, finding the office humor funny, and takes the stack from my desk of things still needing to be checked on and verified and completed into her arms. Like a busy bee she rushes off back to her desk to get a head start on all that work as I gather my bag, my keys and anything else I wish to take with me upon my leave. 

The computer shuts down and locks, displaying a pretty wallpaper and the time and date of today. It reads: Lena Luthor at the bottom of the screen, indicating this is my personal work computer. 

The light switch on the wall clicks off as I walk by and shut it with my finger, and the familiar jingle of the keys as I place them in my pocket; the familiar clack of my heels as I walk along the tiles leading out of the building; the familiar sound of those wishing me well on my departure and a ‘see you tomorrow’ is all I need to know that it won’t be long now. 

5:25 PM. 

The door to the apartment opens and shuts with me, the only entrant. The door doesn’t quite lock behind me, but there is no need for it being that I am now home. I walk over to the same chair I always set my things down upon when I return home, and place my briefcase first along its seat and then my jacket, feeling restricted in it after wearing it all of today. I can feel my stomach rumble, so I do not hesitate in reaching for the phone and calling up the local Chinese place not so far away, perhaps a few blocks over from where we live. 

My hair is in the process of being tied back into a ponytail as I tell the man on the phone precisely what I want, making sure to order an abundance for Kara whenever she returns home. 

Potstickers are what she likes best, so I am always sure to keep them on hand. She knows there are frozen pizzas in the fridge from last time we went shopping if she desires to have her famous pizza and potsticker combo meal, even if I really don’t mind spending the money on her eating habits. 

Sure, in the beginning there I may have found it utterly ridiculous that someone could stomach so much food at one time, but now I find it incredibly endearing and cute. She really isn’t from Earth, but she is totally human. And the irony of that statement is one of the things I love most about her. 

6:15 PM. 

The Chinese food has come and I am sitting down with it to eat and watch some of my favorite shows. I have not had a chance to catch up on many of them given my usual daily schedule, but tonight, thanks to my assistant’s kindness, I have a chance to actually watch before I become so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. I select the title with a few clicks and sit back along the couch, relaxing, as I take my first bite of this delicious food I have ordered, makeup still upon my face, and clothes from the day still on my body. I really only shed the jacket upon coming home. 

8:30 PM. 

My food has been consumed, and it’s now that I feel it’s time to start cleaning up before I grow too fatigued to do so. So, switching off the television, I stand and stretch and move to throw all of my used cartons away in the trash. Kara’s food has been safely put in the refrigerator since it arrived. I move to change out of these clothes once and for all, selecting out my PJ’s of choice for the night. 

Placing them on myself and the work clothes into the hamper to be washed at another time, I make my way to my makeup table to wipe all of the work I’d done hours before off. Another 20 minutes go by of erasing away all my artistry, and once again my skin feels refreshed and new, especially as I go to wash it in the sink of the bathroom with warm water and a facial rinse that is just heavenly in smell and works like a charm when it’s used. 

My teeth do not suffer neglect either. A slab of the minty tasting toothpaste is placed along the brush and I brush my pearly whites till content, before spitting the excess out. Rinsing my mouth and the toothbrush and setting it aside, I know it’s truly time I prepare for bed. 

My only disappointment is that Kara has not returned home yet. I’ve had these nights before where she does not come home until the moon is high in the sky and its silver light is the stuff creeping in through the bedroom windows, even beyond the curtains I will have shut again to cover them up. Even as the stars twinkle in the sky, all its pretty constellations out there dancing about in the cosmos, my mind is eager to await her return, despite having done this song and dance so many times before. 

You’d think a girl would be used to it by now, but I’m afraid it really isn’t that easy. Still, I stay hopeful that I shall see my Kara soon, and occupy my time alone with a book to read. 

11:00 PM. 

My eyes are becoming heavier and it’s harder to keep awake, even if this book is particularly riveting. I place my bookmark along the crease to hold place for me, and shut the cover, returning it to its spot along the nightstand next to my side of the bed. The lamp on my side is also turned off with a small click, guided by my hand, and it is my turn to climb underneath my own covers. The lights in the room are off, the curtains are drawn, and all is still and quiet. There is no one attempting to reach me with any important messages, there is nothing happening on the work detail of my life, there is nothing but this tranquil moment I have, cuddled up warmly in my sheets, as my eyes grow heavier and heavier. 

I am so tired that I did not realize someone had come home. I must have been fading in and out of sleep to not have heard the door close behind someone and lock. The jingle of keys being placed along a counter does not disturb me, nor does the sound of the door to the fridge opening to peek at what’s inside. 

But, suddenly I am enveloped by a pair of arms, and subsequently a warmth that can really only belong to one person. She is the only one I’ve ever known to be this warm all the time, like a literal ray of sunshine. Lips are not far behind, greeting me with a soft kiss bestowed to my forehead and then a touch to my pair of lips, as I open my eyes and settle into her. She startled me a little at first, but I take comfort in the fact that her arms are holding me, and there are kisses upon my skin, and those blue eyes that shine even in dark rooms are looking down at me. 

I glance at the clock to read the time: 11:48 PM. 

“Busy night, was it?” I murmur, coming out of sleep to greet her. 

“Yeah, I’m really sorry to have kept you waiting, Lena. It was just one of those days, y’know?” Kara whispers in my ear. 

“Don’t be silly. You have nothing to apologize for.”  I answer.  “I knew you’d return home to me eventually. And you are doing a rather important service for National City, Supergirl.” I say, playfully, and she gives me the cutest little giggle, I swear I may just die right here. 

She moves in to give my lips another gentle kiss, and climbs into bed with me, having already shed most of her clothes for comfort. The sheets have never felt so warm and welcoming before. They feel like home, the home Kara and I have made here together out of this apartment. 

“I hope your day was okay even though we didn’t get to meet up for lunch or anything. Was it good, at least?” Kara asks sweetly. 

I sigh and place my head into her chest as one of her hands strokes through my hair and I answer: 

“Yes, it was fine, love. Thank you. But…”  I trail off, snuggling closer.  “This is good. This is the best part. This, right now.” 

“You’ve really been looking forward to snuggling with me all day? I don’t know whether to say that’s cute or obnoxious. Maybe a little of both, but I’m leaning towards cute. No, wait, adorable. It’s definitely adorable that you’ve been thinking about me all this time. I mean, you’ve got a pretty important job to do too, Miss CEO of L-Corp. You’re a part of all the big and important decisions that make National City what it is. How could I ever be such a… well, beyond just a detail to you and your daily life?” Kara really doesn’t understand. 

So, I suppose I’ll just have to tell her. 

“You, sweetie.” I lean up to bestow a kiss upon her cheek and look in her eyes, to make sure she knows I mean it.  “You are the best part of my day. Always.” 

And the clock seems to become meaningless almost as quickly as it caught meaning this morning. I am no longer watching it, I am no longer working with it to make sure my days run along on time. 

No, this is my life right now, at this present moment. It was what I chose for myself when I fell in love with Kara. It is the only thing I should be doing right now, and it is almost, absolutely, most definitely, undoubtedly… 

…the best part of my day.

Chapter Text

I don’t recall when the world got to be so dark. 

Maybe I’d never noticed it before, because there was always some form of light at the end of the tunnel. I guess all that ever did for me was keep me distracted from what was really there. But, here I am sitting on a friend’s couch staring at the translucent end of another bottle. There’s an empty one, skinny and tall and made entirely of glass on the table nearest me, towards the edge. The one in my hand is my second. 

Doesn’t take much nowadays to get drunk. Just like it’s a sad, but true notion that it doesn’t take much for the public to distrust you. All it takes is one slanderous guy who calls himself a businessman making a statement on air about how you’ve poisoned the children and they’re going to suffer and die because of you. Seems like I’m cursed to walk a path of infamy, only a matter of time before I get to where my brother or my mother has gotten. 

And as much as I’d like to shove my foot right up his ass, I know that isn’t a practical solution either. 

Que sera, as they say. 

What do they put in this stuff, anyway? And why does it taste so heavenly when all you feel is like you’ve been dragged through hell? 

“Lena.” 

“What are you doing here, Kara?” I don’t really need to look over in that direction, I know her voice by heart now. 

“Can’t you even look at me?” The hurt in her voice is more than I can bear, so I rotate my body some small amount of degrees on the couch and twist my head to look at her. 

 I must look like an utter and complete mess to her. She’s seen me at lows before, but this must be the lowest. This must be what my worst looks like. 

“Much better.”  She smiles kindly and doesn’t comment about how rough my appearance has become. 

How my eyeliner from two days ago is starting to cake on under my eyes and run a little bit from all the crying I’ve been doing; how my hair has become all oily and knotted and I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days now and I most definitely need a shower, none of it.  Instead, she’s glad I simply spared her the look, and she comes to sit by me, unafraid of the way I look or smell. 

Though I swear, someone could mistake me for bigfoot right now, if I’m being honest. The only way to make the pain a little easier is to joke about it, right? 

Well, that’s always worked for me in the past, anyway. 

“What did you come here for? Definitely not to see me. I can’t think of a soul on the planet who would want to be around this right now.” I gesture with my hand, and I can feel the fatigue from the crying, the leftover tears that haven’t been shed pooling in my eyes; glossy, for emotional reasons or alcoholic or a touch of both, but she doesn’t dare look away from me. 

If I were in the company of my mother, she’d tell me I look like I’ve been through hell and promptly order me to clean up and look more presentable. And I could only imagine Lex’s high-brow insults being slung at me when I’m at my most vulnerable mocking the way I look and feel.  But Kara’s warmth from next to me, it’s enough to make things feel okay for just a minute. For just a moment, the splitting headache I’ve had for a day and a half eases up on me, and I feel the first signs it’s time to stop looking at the bottom of the bottle. 

Lucky for me, Kara snatched it from me and placed it on the table in front of us. 

“I came here for you, Lena. I know you’re going through a hard time right now, and… drinking… your sorrows away. Which, I think you’ve had enough of that for tonight, but that’s something else entirely…”  Kara adjusts the glasses on her face and resumes her thought, a twitch of hers I know well at this point. 

“And Edge is definitely going to pay for what he’s doing. I’ll prove it somehow because I know it wasn’t you that poisoned those kids. It just has to be true.” Kara Danvers, the sweetest person I know. 

“I appreciate the blind faith you have in me, Kara.” I begin, but she interrupts to mutter: 

“It’s not blind if you’re my friend.”  But I don’t hear her, and I’ve got more to say. 

“But it’s in my blood at this point.” When she gives me a quizzical look for what I mean, I elaborate, happy to share the darkness and evil that’s always been there, a part of me, though I was too stupid and blind to realize it. 

“I’m a Luthor. It’s what we do, don’t you know? With names like Lex Luthor and Lillian Luthor in the running – running Cadmus or trying to take over the world and destroy Superman, a symbol of hope – it’s all the same in the end. I knew eventually I’d meet my demise, despite my desire to only be good. And you see how far helping’s got me, haven’t you?” She looks at me like this isn’t me who’s talking, but it is. It’s all true, and she can’t dispute that fact. 

“Lena, I–” She tries to intervene, and a pause happens as I reach for the bottle on the table once more. 

“I want you to just leave this alone, Kara. Leave me be, please.” I grumble, taking another sip. 

“I can’t just leave it alone, Lena. This guy is dragging your name through the mud based on something we can’t prove yet and–”  

“I said leave this alone. I don’t want you anywhere near this.” After another sip, my head swivels to look in her direction, swaying in that drunken stupor sort of way. 

“I’ve already given up. You should too.” A smile decorates my lips, but she knows well enough by now that it betrays what I’m really feeling. I am not happy, but there’s nothing else I can do but smile at the destruction before me, right? 

After all, there’s a certain peace in knowing you’ve lost. There’s a grace in knowing when it’s time to throw in the towel, so to speak. 

“I mean it.” I say softly, next. “Do not , Kara.” 

But my words may as well fall on deaf ears, though I think I’m speaking clearly and firmly enough just maybe for her to listen for once. I can’t really tell because she doesn’t give me any indication she’s going to stop with her determination, but I should know better by now she has no intention of leaving anything alone. 

And I suppose that’s just a testament to her heart, isn’t it? The heart I simply cannot muster for myself at this time, no matter how badly a part of me knows all this cannot be real. 

It’s 1:00 am and I can’t sleep. I have my head in Kara’s lap as she brushes a hand softly through my hair. I’ve made myself so sick I can’t bear to sit upright; actually, this is the only position in which I don’t feel like I’m going to upchuck, so it’s here where I will stay for now. 

She hasn’t said a word to me in a while, even after watching me cry, and holding me. Even after helping me to calm down and nap for an hour. Even after I’ve taken my frustrations out on her and how she seemingly will never give up on me, despite the fact that I’ve given up on myself. 

“Why do you insist on the fact that I am not the cause of those sick children in my hospital?” The question grumbles forward from some unknown depth within me. 

Some part of my inner being is unsatisfied, or uncomfortable with the way Kara continues to fight for me, when the war has all but been won by Morgan Edge. 

He’ll soon have my company, my livelihood, as if he hasn’t already taken that much. I’d really like to put a cap in his skull, but I know Kara would disapprove of those methods no matter how much the angry part of me fantasizes about it. 

“Because I know you didn’t do it.” She makes it all sound so simple.  

“You saved the Earth, Lena. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know that we could have gotten rid of the Daxamites. And if they were still here, who knows what would have become of National City?” Her fingers are so nimble that she’s able to play with my hair, which is only freshly washed now because of her insistence I ‘try a shower, it’ll be good for me’. 

“We’d probably be some Daxamite colony by now if it weren’t you. You had this… this… genius idea to recalibrate Lex’s destructive device into something good, and that heroism you put on that day… that’s what made sure we remained National City, on planet Earth, and not some… sister kingdom to a planet thousands of light years away from here.” Kara gestures with her other hand to accent her words, and she’s right. 

Every bit of what she is saying should be correct, because I do remember feeling proud of myself that day. I was feeling so euphoric about being able to do something heroic, partnering up with Supergirl to save the world – it’s more than my mother or Lex could ever say for themselves. At that rate, I’d finally break free of these shackles and chains that link me forever to what’s most dark and selfish about the world. 

But, I should have known there’d be a catch. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think I could actually celebrate myself for once. You become too loose and it’s when those chains need to come to reel you in again, a reminder that this is who you are and you dare not stray from it. 

“And I know that Lena, who only wanted to help, definitely could not have done something so evil as poison children. No. There has to be some other explanation for all of this, and I think it has to do with Morgan Edge, and something he’s hiding from us. There’s absolutely no way you’d do a thing like harm children. In fact…”  Kara tilts my head up gently so that we can lock eyes, so I can know she means this, what she says next. 

“I don’t think you’d harm anyone.” Her voice is so gentle. And she’s right again, I wouldn’t. I’m not like that, and I do not resort to violence at the first sign of trouble, no matter what my anger is begging me to do. It is not the sort of behavior I want myself associated with, so, of course she’s right; right in everything she says. 

And it’s now that I think, in this beautiful moment, I owe her something. Some truth in all of these clouded, dirtied sentiments I’ve had these past few days – weeks. 

“You know…”  I trail off, thinking about how I want to say this, because the sentiment is there in my heart, but I need to find the words to express it.   

“I have asked you to stop believing in me. Stop, just stop. Because this… me? I’m not worth it. But you refuse. And you believe everything is good and kind, and though that is not the real world, at least not in my book, it is one of the things I love most about you. But do you want to know what is at the top of that list? The thing I love absolutely the most about you, Kara Danvers?” 

I manage to sit up because of everything I’ve said this week, this has to be the most important. It’s incredibly important that she hear this above all, and that she knows I mean it, with every fiber of my being.  A finger comes forward from my body, and I resist the urge to sway, sitting up cautiously so I don’t make myself nauseous any more than I already am. I focus my eyes on her as my fingertip presses to her chest, right over her heart, and I spit out the words I’ve been meaning to say: 

“It’s this.” Sounds simple, but trust me, it isn’t.    “You have the best heart.” 

I can see in her eyes that there’s something important she wants to convey to me too. She appears nervous, like the thing she has to say to me isn’t so simple to say either. Kara looks almost like she’s going to leap forward at me and give me a great big– 

Kiss. 

Her lips meet my forehead, softly. She means to comfort me, and though I may have been almost hoping for something else to happen, I take solace in the gentle caress of her skin against mine. This moment is really only a moment, but it feels like it can occupy forever, and I adore that she can fill my world with something else other than this darkness. 

No, right now it’s all Kara and her light. The sunshine she brings into my life has done it again, and like a fool I’m hoping again to pull through this okay. As if some bit of evidence will bring me out on top and prove my innocence, and that son of a bitch Morgan Edge will see his end as a businessman. 

“Thank you, Lena. I hardly know what to…”  She adjusts her glasses again, and refocuses the subject of our conversation. Clearing her throat, she begins again:  “And I think I have a new idea on where to start in looking for clues against Edge. It has to be him, it just has to.” 

But either way that comes about – my hope winning out or my despair the champion – I’ll know I have someone on my side who just doesn’t know when to quit. 

Someone at my side who won’t give up on me, even when I’ve thrown in the towel on myself. 

Someone at my side who can be my guiding light when all I see is darkness abound. 

Someone whose heart is good, and kind, and pure; all that Kara has been – all she is – to me.

Chapter Text

The beauty of everything cast in a crimson light; a red filter, fair and pleasant, filed over every building top right down to the pebbles below on the ground. 

Everything always looked so peaceful and almost royal, the way it shined. The way the buildings towered over the soil, shining and regal; the way vehicles floated between those buildings idly, the people in them on their way to work, surely. 

Serenity. 

It seemed like no one suffered here. No starvation, no struggle, only peace. Everything was as fair and as honest as it could be - just and good. A true community existed here that saw the survival of the species as paramount, rather than to turn against one another. Punishments and evils existed but only as a means to an end, a necessary prohibitive action taken so that it would not happen again. Good and goodness, for that matter, was what reigned here, with Rao’s guiding light to shine down and provide them that good, kind way of life. 

The warmth you’d feel when you stood directly in that red sunlight compared to no earthly sensation; the warmth you’d feel huddled up underneath the coziest blanket inside where the red sun could not reach was pure heaven. 

The smell of the tastiest pancakes ever to be made; the stench of freshly brewed coffee in the morning short to follow the pancakes’ scent, all to be enjoyed with a wide smile and a light in your heart unmatched by anywhere else in the universe. Or so, it felt like that. 

A home, comfortable and familiar where friendly voices and laughter could be heard, coming from people who mean the most. The sought after memory of sitting around a table for breakfast with these very same people feeling like nothing bad could ever happen. 

It was all so lovely. 

It is all so lovely. 

And then….

I realize it’s all in my head. 

“Kara?” A warm voice calls out to wake me, but everything’s fuzzy yet and I’m not quite there. No, I want to remain here for as long as I possibly can. 

Just let me sleep five more minutes, just five more – I was having such a good dream! 

That’s right, it was all a dream, wasn’t it? I’m starting to realize this more and more as the voice persists in attempting to wake me. 

“Karaaa~?” The voice is sweet and low and says my name in a soft, sing-song tone. Except this time, it’s accompanied by a hand to my arm, gently trying to shake me awake. It’s placed there on my shoulder, and I swear it feels like those cozy blankets back home for a moment. 

Doesn’t she know that sleep is important and precious? I mean, I hardly get any rest with all of the saving the city, and oh yeah – the world – couldn’t she just let me rest for a bit longer? But, no matter how hard I try to remain asleep and ignore the calls to awaken, I know it’s moot. 

I can’t get it back; I can no longer picture the red sun and its light, or feel its warmth, or smell those amazing pancakes, hot and fresh from the pan… 

“I know you’re sleepy, but Kara, sweetie, it’s time to wake up.” A gentle kiss is pressed to my cheek and then my forehead, and it’s now that my eyes open. 

Anyone would have a hard time ignoring that, wouldn’t they? 

Everything is blurry and I feel a yawn come upon me too quickly, then a stretch makes its way through my muscles and bones. It’s clearly going to take me a little longer to return to the world properly, or feel like I could get up and fight crime happening in the streets, for that matter, but for the most part, I’m here. 

“Mm.. yeah… okay.” I sigh.  “I’m awake now.” Groaning as my hands come up to cover over my eyes and rub the fatigue away from them once and for all. That and it would be useful to be able to actually see. 

“Lenaaaa.”  I whine.  “I was having such a good dream too. Why did you have to wake me? I wanted to be in that dream a little longer.” The whining continues, and even if she isn’t the biggest fan of my whining, she understands. 

After all, who wants to be taken away from paradise, right? 

“I’m sorry, love, but I miss you too much when you’re sleeping. And I don’t get much time with you, what, with the flying here and there attempting to save everyone all at once. Can you blame me for wanting to get you up a little earlier than usual so that I can have my fair share with National City’s heroine?”   Lena has an answer for everything, but I can’t say it isn’t fun sometimes. 

Lena presses another soft kiss on my nose before she swings her legs over the side of the bed to fully awaken for the day. The sunlight is pouring in through the curtains, and I can’t deny, it is a beautiful sight. There is a little breeze that is creating these little bumps on my skin, but it’s nothing that won’t go away soon. I wrinkle my nose a little as she kisses it, and she giggles. 

“You’re so cute, you know that?”  Lena pauses, but then makes her exit for the doorway to our room, avoiding all the messy clothes strewn on the floor. By now, she’s gotten dressed at least in her underwear and bra and has closed up with a comfy robe as she saunters her way to the kitchen.  

“I’ll be making one of your favorites for breakfast, so don’t be too long, okay babe?” Her hips sway as she walks and she’s out of view now, and I place a hand to my forehead, really trying to put my energy into getting up out of this cozy bed. 

I really don’t know when it was that this started to feel like home. I mean, I was always hesitant to call Earth my home, even years after I’ve been living on it and growing on it, and existing on it. I always thought Krypton would forever be my home. I am visited so often by its memories, and memories of my mother, and all that we had there. 

But then, it’s not so different from here on Earth. With some adjustment, I have the same things here that I did there, and then some. I’ve grown to be a full person here, experiencing human things. Would I have had this back on Krypton? Are the two undoubtedly interwoven together, the two experiences I was meant to have in my lifetime? My two homes, Earth and Krypton? 

Well, if I stay here and contemplate this, I’ll never get up. 

So, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up and stretch one more time, allowing my shirt to fall more comfortably over my belly and my arms to rest at my sides again. I peer out at the yellow sun that has started to rise in the sky, one of the many reasons I am known as the Girl of Steel. I can feel its warmth, even through the breeze rolling in through the window, swaying the curtains in its gentle gust, and I smile. It feels somehow different from Krypton’s red light, and yet, if I close my eyes, I’d swear it was the same. 

I’m glad I’m being visited today by good memories of Krypton, instead of the bad. 

A scent hits my nose soon enough and I realize Lena is making pancakes in the kitchen, and I can hear the coffeemaker brewing fresh coffee to be drunk, though mine will have to be fixed in the way I like. I can’t do that black thing that Lena does, yuck! 

And it’s just like then… 

“Kara, sweetie, come and eat your pancakes before they get cold. And if you want, I’ll even give you a little sip of my coffee. But just a taste, alright?” 

I can hear my mother’s voice, and I imagine whatever Lena has said that’s been tuned out by the memory is similar to what my mother said to me so many mornings before. 

I shouldn’t linger anymore. 

I make my way into the kitchen and softly wrap my arms around Lena from behind, kissing at the curve of her ear with my lips, as gently and as lovingly as I can. She smiles and places one arm over mine that are currently holding her, as we sway a little back and forth. Lena is, or has grown to be, my greatest comfort here on planet Earth; she is like one big, cozy blanket I never want to get away from. Being wrapped up in her is like being wrapped up close and tight, the very thing that people will spend their lives here on Earth searching for. 

“What’s all this for?” She asks me, voice just as gentle as she goes to turn the pancake over in the pan.   “If this is all for pancakes, I should make them more often.” 

“As much as I love pancakes, this is about you, Le.”  I answer. Hey, sometimes, I’m quick-witted too. 

“What about me, then, Kara, is this all for?” Lena asks, curious, never accusatory. 

“I just…”  I take a moment to think. There are many things about Lena that I love that make me want to give her my whole heart. She’s so intelligent and tough – I mean, she runs a company! 

She’s soft and caring at the same time, despite being a total badass during the daytime when she’s playing CEO. 

She’s honest and good, and her heart is beautiful. At least, with me, she’s always been. So vulnerable and determined, yet the same. She never wishes to stop helping, to give up on doing good. She wants to do right and step away from all that the world has labeled her with, a rebel in her own right, fighting for her own just cause. And I wish I could tell her each day how amazing that is. 

Lena is so many things to me; my girlfriend, my safe space, my happiness, my dose of reality when I need it, the person who raises me up and keeps me in check; Lena is the person who makes me feel superhuman and also somehow simultaneously reminds me that there is a limit to what I can do on my own. Reminds me that sometimes, though I am from a different planet, I am human too, just like everyone else, and I operate under human limitations that no one would blame me for. 

Lena is… 

She’s… 

“Kara, my greatest wish for you is that you will be happy. You have so much love to give, so much light inside you that someday someone will come along and cherish that the same way that I do. You must be patient. You mustn’t demand that it come to you. Remember, Rao sees all. Rao guides all. May his goodness give you an easy life on Earth, and his light see to it you can protect and love others, the way he protects and loves us.”  A distant echo of her voice plays in my mind. 

I can hear it as I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of Lena’s hair, smelling of the shampoo she uses, an herbal combination of sage, and lavender and all the smells that are connected to this Earth. 

“Be happy, Kara. I love you. And may you find someone else you can say that to as well. May you..” 

“...find somewhere, a place, a person, or a thing… that feels like… home.”  I hadn’t realized I had said the last part of that sentiment out loud. 

Lena turns her head to make sure I’m okay, and soon her green eyes meet with my blue as they flutter open. Normally, that memory would make me cry, and I can’t deny it still tugs at my heartstrings, even now. But, today I’ve got a reason to smile. 

“Kara, hun.”  She turns around, turning the gas off to the stove in the process so the pancake doesn’t burn. It’s mostly done, anyway. 

I feel her soft hands along my face and her worried gaze search mine for some kind of answer here. Why had I just said that? What was that supposed to mean? The slightly sad tone in my voice is a detail Lena is sure not to miss and wants to know all about immediately, as soon as she hears it. 

But, I finally know what I want to say. 

“Are you alright?” She asks. 

“Never better.” I answer, softly.  “And to answer your question before…”  I lean in to press my forehead softly against hers.   “I just never thought I’d be home again, y’know?” 

My eyes open to find her again, forehead still pressed to hers as if I never want to let go. I feel her arms wrap themselves around my neck and my shoulders, caressing my shirt as she does so. She returns the sentiment, rubbing her nose with mine. 

“I can quite understand that, babe.” 

“That dream I had… was about Krypton. I’ve been… visited this morning by a lot of memories from it, you know, back when it was still… standing.”  Lena seems worried, but this has a happy ending, and I have to make her see that. 

I don’t give her a chance to apologize for what those thoughts and images must be doing to me, because they are only reminding me of good things right now, not the bad. I have to make her see that… 

“Don’t worry. I’m fondly remembering my home back on Krypton. The way my mom used to make me pancakes and let me steal sips of coffee, just like you. Only now, I’m able to have a whole cup on my own. Because… I’m an adult.” I giggle a little. 

“And, how warm our bed feels with all the blankets, and your hugs and…” I trail off. 

“I’m also thinking about how I have all the things I had there, here. On Earth. I also have a home here, I’ve made one. I’ve become… in some way… partially human. I’ve grown to love and care for this place and the people in it, and… it… well it just got me thinking of one of my mother’s last wishes for me before the planet exploded.” 

A pause, but I know I’d better hurry up with this. Sometimes words are hard, though. Especially around Lena. No matter how long we’ve been together. 

“And she used to wish happiness for me, that I’d find someone here that would appreciate my light and all the love I had to give the same way she did when I was a child. That I’d find someone who would truly care for me when she no longer could. That I could find someone that would…” 

I search her eyes this time, trying not to get too emotional here, but gosh I can’t help it. You try saying all this with a straight face, I dare you. It’s not that easy. And I can already feel the water pulling at the back of my eyes, but I simply won’t allow myself to cry. No dammit, this is a happy moment, not a sad one. Even if I have been known to happy-cry here or there too.

“...remind me of home.”  I rub my nose gently against Lena’s, returning the favor from before. 

“I used to think it was only a place. You know, the place where you lived, or went back to at the end of the day. But now I see it’s so much more. And uh… let’s just say I finally understand that ‘home is where the heart is phrase’ everyone’s always been saying to me. No, really.”  Lena’s laughing, but it’s true. 

“Really, I was like ‘what’ this whole time, but I… I finally get it now.”  I smile, and blink away the tears, as she removes my glasses. I don’t know why I need to wear them anymore, anyway, it’s not like she doesn’t already know my secret. Force of habit, I guess. 

But I’m thankful that she does, so that she can wipe away the water with her thumbs, and I can see her eyes more clearly as I finally say what I’ve been meaning to say for the past 20 minutes. 

“That is… I’m at home with you Lena Luthor. You are simultaneously Krypton and Earth. And also… something else entirely to me too.”  I pause, leaning forward to give her lips the gentlest, sweetest peck I possibly can. 

She returns it, with a loving smile on her face, and nothing but the affection she has for me resonating in her eyes as she looks at me. 

“And thank Rao, I’ve found you again.”  I lean forward to give her a more proper kiss, which she returns, and a beat later, she separates to look at me quizzically. 

“Again?” She raises her eyebrow. 

I can’t help but laugh, feeling the tears immediately evaporate. My heart feels light, and my body warm, as I finally answer her in the manner she’s always answering me in, yet somehow with a note of happiness, the likes of which my mother would have wished for me. 

“Home.”  I smile as I say, and I can’t help but nuzzle noses with her again. She does the same and I know, I’ve found it. For real. 

And I’ve finally realized something else:  I’ll never forget Krypton. But… 

I don’t need to dream anymore. Not to feel home.

Chapter Text

Beige couches and the walls painted in a calm, neutral tone. Everything here appears soft to the eye, even the glass desk that is behind me in the background, with almost nothing on top of it. A computer, perhaps a file or two, but everything is neat and organized, the way you might expect these places to be. I never thought I’d be in a place like this, but I was told it might be good for me to go, so I’m here. 

I’ve been here for the past couple of months and all I’ve discovered is that I don’t need to talk about this stuff. 

Which, she remarks, is the whole reason I need to talk about this stuff, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. 

It’s not like she’d been there through everything, or that she’d have a close personal understanding, and I’m not just supposed to share my identity with people. So, that was off the table from the moment I began these sessions. 

“Kara?” The gentle calling of my name is what breaks me out of my thoughts for like the seventeenth time today.  

“Today seems like the perfect day to let those thoughts you keep inside that head of yours out. We could… talk about them. I’m not going to force you, and I can only imagine how hard it must be, especially when you’re used to keeping them inside, but… I assure you… it’ll help.”  She sits there with her leg crossed over the other and a clipboard rested in her lap, and a pen in her hands. 

Her eyes are asking me to say something, to let anything out that I may be thinking or feeling. I was never known for not trying. I sigh, here goes attempt number one. 

“I… I don’t know. I guess… it’s just…”  I trail off, adjusting my glasses. My gaze shifts to a corner of the room, and I feel my body shift into a different position, hands placed before me to talk and gesture. 

“I…”  I take a moment to think about how I want to say this. She’s right, this isn’t easy, whatsoever.  “Sometimes, I close my eyes… and I can… see or hear these things. You know? Fires breaking out and sirens throughout the city. Car crashes down the roads of National City, or Metropolis at hours where people should be sleeping; the crying of people, afraid of whatever alien is going to attack the city next. And the worst of it… the evil you can just… sense… in the air when one of them does attack. The poor defenseless people, y’know, as they can only just stand there… helpless and powerless to do anything about it. I…”  My hands were busy overlapping one another and gently grabbing at the tips of my fingers as I looked down at the carpet beneath my feet.

The space between them presented me with a nice view of a very neutral colored carpet. There’s clearly a theme in here. I don’t know if it’s meant to be calming or professional or what. 

“...I can’t possibly help them all and sometimes… it’s too much all at once. Y’know? Does… that make sense? What I’m saying?” I adjust my glasses again and look at the clock on the wall towards the door. The second hand ticks by, but really we’ve only just started this session. 

3 minutes down, 42 more to go. 

“I imagine the news and what’s been going on in our city for the longest could be a lot for anyone. An average person can only handle so much stress before they crack or shut down. I really don’t want that to happen to you, Kara.” The therapist remarks, and I can tell she’s sincere, but somehow distant. 

There’s a faraway quality in the way she looks at me, and the way she speaks. Even if her words are kind and true, there’s a professionalism that all doctors of this kind have when speaking to one of their patients. Something about that bugs me, but I can’t get angry with her; after all, she is just trying to help. 

“Lena tells me not to push myself too hard.”  I remark, off-handedly, though I don’t know why I’m saying this. I look down at the ring on my left hand, that golden ring that glimmers in every kind of light. 

It’s one of my most prized possessions since I got it, and I intend to keep it spotless for as long as I possibly can. Rotating it on my finger a little bit, idly playing with the spinning motion, I continue to spew thoughts out of my mouth; will someone please provide me with a reason why I’m saying these things to a perfect stranger? I mean, I’ve been known to be too trusting here and there, but come on now. 

“She says you can’t possibly…”  I keep my gaze down at the ring, focused on the little distorted reflection I see of myself in it. My brain autocompletes the rest of that sentence, and I thank Rao that I hadn’t completed that out, else my therapist may have gotten smart about something.  

Save everyone.   Is what I want to say, but instead I choose to take this in a new direction – to say something else entirely. 

A sigh is what helps preface my new sentiment.  “Sometimes I’ll come home from…”  My gaze shifts as I try to come up with a different word to use, because I can’t very well say fighting so instead I choose: 

“...work, and I’ll be exhausted and anxious, y’know? To the point where not even pizza and potstickers can cure me, and those things cure anything.”  It’s true, they’re a literal godsend. 

I see the therapist write down something on her clipboard briefly before looking back up at me, and I wonder if she’s taking notes on the things she finds interesting, if she’s trying to classify me as some type of insane, or she’s doing a crossword and every now and again I give her an idea for a solution. You can never tell, really. But I have to assume it’s the first one because she looks at me with that same look everyone gives me when they find out that these two things together are my favorite meal, and that yes, I can stomach it all at the same time. 

“So what do you do when you feel this way?” Doc throws an unexpected question my way. 

“Huh?” 

“When you come home from work and you’re feeling anxious and exhausted – overwhelmed – what do you do that helps you to feel better? Besides the pizza and potstickers. Or even especially on those nights where that doesn’t seem to work for you.”  The therapist leans closer, elbow resting on her leg as she squints, really studying me. 

And I have to will my brain to not say something that would indicate I’m Supergirl for like the nineteenth time today. My brain scrambles for an answer, and finally settles on something that is both true and sounds good: 

“Uh… well, usually… Lena’s there. So… she suggests we watch a movie or a show to take our minds off of things, or take a bath together. Sometimes we just sit and talk, but that doesn’t usually help me, so we don’t do it too often. Honestly, a lot of the time is spent holding one another, cuddling, and before I know it I’m asleep and everything’s good again.”  I ramble, because honestly, that’s the best thing I can come up with. 

Lena is always there for me, especially when everything is so hectic and chaotic. 

“Do you still feel that way when you wake up in the morning? Is it a continuous feeling?” The therapist shoots another question my way. I feel like I’m in an interview. 

“No.”  I say, easily. This question I know how to answer.  “It’s a new day, as they say, right? You can’t go dragging the stuff from yesterday with you, at least that’s what I’ve always tried to do. There are moments where it stays, but that doesn’t happen often, and I mean… that’s everyone sometimes, isn’t it?” I gesture with my hands again, as if asking for corroboration. 

Doc nods and says:  “That is true. You’re only human, after all, Kara. And like the rest of us, sometimes things can really shake us and they may take longer to go away.” 

Well, not really. My thoughts say, almost correcting her. But I don’t dare say that out loud. 

“You can’t be expected to deal with everything all at once. It’s just not possible, no matter how strong you may be.” Doc has a point.  

“I’m more interested in why you think you have to handle all of this alone, anyway. I mean, you clearly have a great support system, I’ve heard you speak casually about a few of your friends, your sister, your wife. There is a lot of love there, a lot of people who would do just about anything for you. They’re there for you, Kara. I wish you would remember that when you feel this way.” The therapist reinforces and she may be onto something just stating the obvious again and again. 

This goes far beyond the ‘if you say something enough times, it’ll start to become true, and you’ll start to believe it’ schtick. 

Krypton was an intellectual planet. We strived to make the biggest leaps and bounds in research and development, our technology was advanced; the thing we were always most proud of was how progressive our society was, much more than other planets in our same galaxy. Though emotions were a thing still on the planet, mental health and emotions were not the priority; Krypton may have been full of intellectuals, but it was full of fighters too. I mean, give us a yellow sun to live with and we could become some powerful people and do some really destructive things, should we choose. But, the planet was unstable, and that pride we had was enough cause to ignore the declining health of the planet, and everyone who was a part of that proud society went down with it. 

The exception of my cousin Kal and I escaping as children comes to mind next. But I was twelve and I had been old enough to retain some of the teachings; my heart matters, but matters of the heart don’t always have a place in doing what I’m meant to do here on Earth. I can be the cold, Kryptonian warrior I was made to be when I dropped here, and sometimes I can’t. I actually often have trouble distinguishing between the two, despite being happy most of the time. 

And I wonder if… well I wonder… 

“Is there something you learned as a child maybe that… you have to somehow shoulder these feelings all by yourself? That… you don’t have a right to feel your feelings? To put it bluntly.”

Only halfway through the session and she’s already reading me like a book. Where in the heck did she get all of this from in my ramblings from earlier? I am dumbfounded and relieved all at the same time that she’s starting to see and understand, and perhaps just a bit terrified that this is all happening so quickly. 

Yeah, nope. That’s enough for one day. Too close to home.

“IIIIII… don’t think I want to talk about this right now.”  I remark, uncomfortably, holding that syllable on ‘I’ for way too long.

“Fair enough. We don’t have to go down that route today.” The therapist leans back in her chair, and I think I’m spared for the time being. 

“But I do want to try something, if you’re okay with it for the last half of the session.”  I am very wrong. 

“What…?” My eyes shift a little, worriedly. 

“I would like for you to close your eyes.”  Alright, they’re closed.  

“And I want you to imagine the world when it feels the most chaotic. Those feelings you talked about – the anxiety, the exhaustion, the overwhelm. I want you to hear the sounds of the city, picture the people in it, and experience those thoughts and emotions the same as you do then.”  Is this really such a good idea? 

I can hear the sirens and the screams and cries of the people of National City; 

Bank robberies and violence happening in the streets at ungodly hours; 

Aliens screeching and trudging through, attacking and destroying whatever’s in their path; 

Aliens, the more manipulative, higher-order beings, that pull the strings and give us a mental war we shall not soon forget; 

Being beaten and thrown and battered; 

Kryptonite;

Villains and villains defeating heroes, however rare that occurrence may be; 

Alex going to fight, J’onn going to fight, James and Winn being involved; 

The destruction of Krypton and the loss of my family, my mother; 

The memories, the nightmares; 

The uncertainty against certain villains; 

Powerful psychic aliens; 

Those that know my weaknesses;

Those that threaten humankind and Earth; 

Uncle Non; 

Queen Rhea; 

Reign… 

I can feel the emotions creeping up on me, causing my heart to beat faster. Electricity dances along my nerves in a bad way, the way that makes me nervous, and unsteady. The kind of energy that makes me want to move and spring into action; the kind that senses when danger is near and knows a fight is imminent. 

I can picture the city, burning, smoke rising into the air; 

Drowning in waves of water or blood; 

Buildings collapsing and coming tumbling down; 

Dust and ashes; 

Flashes of lights going out as a brightly lit city loses its spark; 

The near-apocalypse; 

Planes crashing and cars colliding and animals fleeing or whimpering for the dangers yet to come; 

The cold, brisk wind that follows a tragedy, and my inability to save everyone; 

Bodies in cars or in the ocean, or in those buildings on fire, the unfortunate victims; 

The news stories I don’t get a hold of until it’s too late; 

The heavy feeling I have in my chest when I return home, knowing that there were lives lost because of all the fighting and destruction I tried to prevent; 

That sinking feeling in my stomach wishing I could have done more; 

That heartbreak I experience when I know I can’t help anyone, even though I am not human; 

That rage and regret that I have become somewhat human being here, and 

The panic I get when I feel I’m backed into a corner, not unlike now. 

“Now, please picture where you feel the most calm. Your happy place, if you will. Something that never fails to quell that storm that forms inside you whenever the world seems… unrelenting.” She guides me into this next step. 

It’s hard to part with the thoughts I just had, but even as I listen to her words, I can see the place she’s talking about. 

I can hear the sounds of the TV on low in the background;

I can hear the sounds of popcorn being made at night, or coffee being brewed in the morning; 

The shower turning on, or the sheets rustling in the bed;

The breeze as it blows through the curtains, and the alarm on someone’s phone going off; 

The heat clicking on or off to warm the apartment, and even the soft breaths and sighs as her chest rises and falls. 

I can see the the angles of sunlight and moonlight streaming into the rooms, and the city from the windows; 

I can see the closet door open, and clothes littered on the floor; 

The blankets decorating the couch, and the kitchen neat and tidy, perhaps a stray cup or two left to the side; 

The mirror in our room, the steam rising from the bathroom with the sound of the water coming on; 

The curtains swaying in and out with the wind, or the lights flickering from the TV left on in the backdrop; 

The comfortable and cozy sheets to our bed and the outlines of bodies that once slept there, and her hips as she walks away into the bathroom to get ready for the day; 

Or the raven color of her hair as she holds me and runs her fingers through my own set of locks, till I feel my eyes close and the world melt away. 

My hand is idly playing with the golden band on my left ring finger again, something my therapist has taken notice of, no doubt. Though my eyes are still closed, I can feel the smile on her face, almost, as she looks at me doing as instructed; she sees my shoulders relax, and all that stress from before melt away as I picture these things, as I return to calm. 

She waits the appropriate few beats and then says: 

“Where are you, Kara?” She asks softly. And I know she means where have I imagined as my happy place, my place of calm when everything is too much. 

I feel my lips twist into a curve and I can’t help smiling as I answer, very easily:  “With Lena.” 

“You certainly have a great relationship, one I can say is very admirable if she is your happy place – your place of calm.” The therapist remarks, sincerely, not analytically. 

It’s almost like that distant, faraway tone she had before went away, replaced with something… warmer. Closer. More personal. 

2 minutes left. 

I have something else to say, something so natural and easy that it just spills out of my mouth, even if I still have no clue why I’m saying anything like this, anyway. 

“Lena… helps me feel calm when the world feels crazy.”  I share. 

“It certainly seems that way.”  The therapist is watching me idly, lovingly play with the band around my finger; the one I have maintained in perfect condition all this while. 

I can see it: 

The beige couch; 

The white bed sheets;

The pale walls;

The gray bathroom tiles and kitchen countertops, black, gray, white and pale; 

The carpets a brown color to match the curtains; 

Everything in our apartment matches everything in this office; 

And I finally understand what the theme is here, and why it’s all neutral. 

I mean, I’ve been here for a couple months and it’s now that I’ve discovered something. It’s now that I understand why I need to be here; why Lena said it would be good for me. 

Neutral is remaining still, in one place, at peace. 

Not skewing one way or another -- just completely relaxed. 

It is a happy place, it is professional, it is easy. 

Neutral is calm. 

Lena is my neutral when the world feels too light or too dark.

And I can always find my neutral when I’m with her.