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Imra’s soulmark had always been unusual.
Special.
While most marks, no matter their size or shape, consisted of one ongoing symbol, hers was smattered across her whole torso in the form of dozens of small flecks.
Varying in size they were all the same round shape and glowing a gentle blue with the affection of her family.
The biggest one, a little wider than a thumbprint, sat right over her heart, echoing its beat.
“This means your soulmate will love you very fiercely.” Her mother had told her when she was still a child sitting in her lap. “Because small marks and fierce love shine the brightest.”
She remembered her mothers mark as an elegant band of green around her upper arm, her fathers a spiral across his shoulder. Both bright enough to be visible though casual clothing.
She remembered making up stories with Prey, about handsome princes from neighbouring planets or brave adventurers from far off galaxies, how they would meet and realize they were meant to be by the twin flames of their marks.
“Yours already looks like it’s made of stars.” Preya used to say, with a little envy and a lot of admiration.
(Preya’s mark had been a leafgreen vine, springing from her navel to circle twice around her waist before ending just under her ribs. She had never gotten to meet the person to make it shine brightest.)
(At least she never had to feel it turn grey and cold as ash the way Imra had when she lost everything.)
*
Mon-El was not her soulmate, they both knew that, but he loved her enough to return some of the light, gave her something to fight for (She liked to think she did the same for him, once).
And Imra loved him, too, first as a friend and eventually as a partner.
And if it hadn't been the blinding bright love she had imagined during her childhood years, then, well, Imra wasn’t a child anymore.
If it was possible for someone to die before meeting their soulmate then it was equally possible to never meet them at all.
And it seemed increasingly likely that she never would, but she had come to terms with that.
Right until they ended up in the 21st century and everything Imra had made herself believe came crashing down around her.
Mon-El’s inability to let go of Kara, his insistence that this was a second chance for them, did not shock Imra as much as she would have expected.
That didn’t mean she was not hurt by his willingness to throw away the relationship they had built to pursue a woman destined for someone else.
(This, Imra knew. She’d grown up with her mothers countless tales of fate bringing people together as well as every story featuring Supergirl there was, so the one of her childhood idol finding her Soulmate - in someone who’s mark was not just the same colour as Kara’s but it’s perfect match, something so rare many doubted it was even possible - was one she could recite from memory alone. And Mon-El, unfortunately for him, had not held a starring role.)
But, as he had once told her, there was nothing logical about falling in love.
A sentiment Imra was unable to fully understand right until she did.
*
It began right after Fort Rozz -
Or maybe during, with the lights flashing around them and the panic rising in her veins and Psi, steady and confident, and Don’t be afraid, Matilda -
Or even before, in the command centre, when her eyes had moved past heavily armed guards to fall on a strange device nestled between blonde locks and then down to eyes as blue as a lightning strike, had felt the whole world hold its breath for a second -
No, for Imra it began after Fort Rozz, when she was stripping off her suit and found her mark glowing - still only half as strong as her family’s love had made it yet brighter than it had been in years.
And Imra could have deluded herself that it was Mon-El, that his worry had made him recall what they had in each other, had rekindled his love for her.
Or that her contribution to this mission had impressed Kara enough to fully embrace her as a friend.
But Imra had never had the patience for self delusions and she knew it was neither of those options (or maybe, deep down, she just hoped. It had been an exceptionally captivating shade of blue).
And that left her with Psi - convicted criminal, prisoner of the D.E.O., enemy of Supergil turned reluctant ally, Psi - coming to appreciate her as the most likely option.
Staring down at the flecks of blue sparkling up at her she thought -
Well, only one way to be sure.
*
Finding out the location of Psi’s new cell was as easy as asking one of the agents tirelessly buzzing about the halls.
Then it was just the act of getting there before her nerves could catch up with her.
When she arrived Psi was reclining on her cot, arms cushioning her head, one booted foot braced on the floor and eyes staring sightlessly through the ceiling.
She did not stir at Imra’s approach, appeared to not have noticed her at all and so Imra took a moment to take her in unopposed.
She was no longer clad in all black leather - that was probably her battle attire - but in a dark grey shirt and matching pants. D.E.O issue, same as what Imra had been handed upon arrival and apparently the only clothing readily available at all times.
Her posture was relaxed, bored even, her gaze gliding along the ceiling with whatever was running through her mind.
The psychic blocker glowed a steady clue from between her light hair.
It seemed to be the only thing standing between her and freedom, judging by what Imra had heard from others and experienced herself.
And the attack at the fort had been unfocused and uncoordinated - and in all probability involuntary.
(Psi had seemed sorry for it, in her own standoffish way.)
She had managed to drive away Reign.
And yet, when they had been back on the ship and Kara - still sombre with the loss of her friend - had ordered her to put the device back on, to surrender her freedom once more, she had done so without complaint (or rhyme).
Had simply placed it back around her head and turned to Imra to lock it.
(Hand on her cheek again, like she needed steadying, like she wasn’t still as stone under her palm)
She had grit her teeth when the blue light came back on, proving the device functional and Imra had wondered if it was painful, having her powers suppressed.
(She hoped it didn’t. She didn’t want her to hurt.)
Without them, there wasn’t much threat to her.
Imra could see in the way she carried herself that Psi had never found need for a weapon but her psychic abilities and therefore never learned how to fight with anything else.
Which in her current situation meant she had little at her disposal besides bared teeth and an unpleasant attitude.
The prickling sensation of being watched drew her from her musings.
In her cell Psi’s position had remained the same, except for her eyes, which had released the air above her to lock onto Imra.
A sudden thrumm went through the stars across her body, like the pluck of a guitar string.
It left her oddly short of breath.
“Hello.” She managed eventually.
Psi did not move, only continuing to watch her impassively.
Imra was struck by the unprompted image of a grumpy housecat with a blue-jewelled tiara on its head, tail wagging furiously.
She didn’t attempt to hide her amusement at the thought, which finally caused the blonde to react.
“Matilda.” She drawled, voice like woodsmoke, while slowly rising to sit. “I did not anticipate seeing you again so soon.”
The if ever went unsaid. Imra’s smile dimmed, just a little.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Psi’s head was tilted in curiosity, but there was also something sharp in her gaze, something wary and cautious, as though readying herself for an attack.
The remainder of Imra’s amusement curdled in her chest.
I think we might be soulmates, how do you feel about that? was not how she intended to open the conversation, of course, but now it felt as if bringing it up at all would be idiotic.
What was she even trying to accomplish here?
She had deluded herself after all, there was no way Psi saw her as anything but a necessary evil (or rather, necessary good), a temporary ally she was forced to work with.
Means to an end
Just as Mon-El -
“Matilda?”
The star above her heart leaped.
Her eyes snapped back up from where she had unconsciously let them drop to the floor to find Psi standing directly opposite from her, wearing a frown that could easily be mistaken for concern.
Imra willed whatever emotion she had allowed to show on her face to fade into polite neutrality.
“I just wanted to see how you like your new cell.” She said and with a nod to the window above the cot continued. “If you enjoy the change in scenery.”
“The view is just lovely.” Psi answered while still looking directly at her. “And the cell … is a cell.”
“It does seem a bit spartan …” Imra noted.
An understatement, truly. The cell was bare of anything but the cot with its flimsy blanket, a door she assumed to lead to an equally bare-bones bathroom of sorts and Psi herself.
She had to be bored out of her mind in there.
All her own fault, Imra reminded herself.
Psi rolled her eyes but she also permitted her lips to curl into a smirk.
“It’s a prison cell, little sparrow, not the presidential suite at Luthor Lodgings.”
That one is new, Imra thought distractedly.
(She had not even had the time to figure out ‘Matilda’ yet, could only guess at its meaning or origins. She would, though, sooner or later)
“Seems like it would get boring fast, window or not.”
“It would defeat the purpose of a punishment if it were fun.”
“And what would you consider fun?”
Psi blinked, taken aback.
“I - what?”
Imra shrugged innocently. “You know, what would you want to pass the time? I doubt I can get you anything to fancy, but maybe a book? Or a puzzle?”
For a moment Psi continued to stare at her, speechless.
(And was that all it took to shut her up? An offer of kindness? That was just sad)
When she found her voice again she somehow managed to sound sharp and gentle at once.
“Why would you do that?”
I don’t know, Imra did not answer, I just want to.
“If there is a lesson to be learned by staring at the walls all day and you still haven’t gotten it you’re a lost cause either way.” She said instead and at this Psi actually grinned.
A sharp, quick grin immediately forced back down but undeniable for the moment it existed, flashing teeth and all.
And Imra could not stop herself from smiling in return.
“Alright then, Matilda. If you have to play the good samaritan, see if you can’t get me a book or two. It would certainly help pass the time.”
“And what kind of book would you like?”
Psi shrugged with demonstrative nonchalance. “I’ll love whatever you’ll bring me, I’m sure.”
A beat, then: “I’d take a phone book at this point.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to find one of those …”
“Shame.”
Another moment of silence.
Imra took in the hint of a smile on Psi’s lips, how the blue of her eyes came alight with it.
How her posture had loosened into comfort.
(Do I make you feel comfortable? Are you really mine? Am I even yours?)
Imra could spot no obvious soulmark, no glow besides the blocker in her hair (and those blue, blue eyes).
“Does it hurt?” She blurted before she could think better of it.
Once again, the blonde regarded her with confusion.
“The blocker.” Imra clarified.
Psi froze.
“No, sparrow.” She offered eventually. “It’s uncomfortable, but not painfully so.”
There was something in her expression, a flicker of uncertainty that had Imra hold onto her gaze and her own breath as she waited for the more underlying her words to emerge.
It was a short wait.
“It feels as though the energy builds up inside my head with no way out. So when an opportunity presents itself I have trouble controlling my power.”
Her gaze had dropped from Imra’s to the floor, somewhere by her shoes.
It was the first time Imra saw her be less than completely self confident while not in immediate danger - although a sizable portion of the time they had spent together so far had been just there and for most of it Psi had still acted pretty cocky.
“What I’m trying to say is - I lost control. And … and for that I’m sorry.”
Now it was Imra’s turn to blink in mute astonishment.
She had not come here for an apology, hadn’t expected one ever. But then …
“It - It’s alright.”
Psi gave her a look.
“Okay, so alright might be stretching it, but I’m fine so - it’s fine. I appreciate the apology, thank you, but we’re fine.”
Somehow she managed to wrangle her mouth shut, feeling the heat of a blush rise to her cheeks at her rambling and the wry grin shining back at her from Psi.
“If you say so, little sparrow.”
Imra cleared her throat, yet her quiet “I’ll go get those books then” still came out a little choked.
Before either of them had the chance to embarrass her further she turned and fled, feeling Psi’s gaze on her like a gentle weight until she was well out of it’s reach.
Her stars sung.
(Well. That answered that.)
*
On her way back from the holding cells she ran into Kara - which was preferable to running into Mon-El, if only barely so.
She had been hoping for Brainy, they hadn’t really had time to talk one on one since … everything and she was starting to miss her friend.
But then Kara shot her one of her trademark kind-with-a-touch-of-awkward smiles and really, none of this was her fault.
Kara had done nothing but tried to be her friend. Who could blame her for being hard - impossible - to get over?
Who could dislike their childhood hero anyway?
“Kara.” She greeted the Kryptonian with a smile that felt mostly genuine.
“Hey, Imra. Are you doing okay? You know, because -.” She made a hand motion that was apparently meant to encompass ‘since someone dug through your mind like old laundry, plucked out your greatest fear and shoved it in your face (accidentally)’.
Luckily for Imra she was getting quite good at decrypting the quirks of ‘Danvers communication’.
“I’m fine, no need to worry.” Then, after a moment's hesitation. “In fact, I just talked to Psi.”
Kara’s eyebrows rose. “You did?”
“Yes. She - well, she apologised for … that. For losing control.”
Kara’s eyebrows rose higher. “She - she did?”
“Yes. So I was wondering -” If I could get her something to entertain herself with? - ”You know, she always calls me Matilda.”
Had they not been attached to her face, Kara’s brows might have deserted her. “She does?”
Imra nodded, perhaps more serious than the situation strictly demanded.
“I have no idea why.”
“Oh.” Kara said as her eyebrows returned to safe territory. “Because you’re telekinetic, I’d guess.”
When Imra only waited for her to elaborate she did so bemusedly.
“There is this children’s book called Matilda. It’s about a girl named, well, Matilda who loves reading and has telekinetic powers and an abusive family. I think. It’s a classic but, but it’s been a while since I’ve read it. Or watched the movie.”
Imra hummed distractedly. “Do you think that means she likes the book?”
"Psi? I don’t know, maybe?” Kara’s smile was tipping more and more towards the awkward end of the scale and her eyebrows were climbing again. “Hey, are you sure you’re fine?”
Again Imra only hummed her assurance, before resuming her search for Brainy.
Psi had used a nickname from a children’s book and several rhymes back at the Fort that had a certain childishness to them as well. That was something to work with, at least.
Kara could only watch her departure in bewilderment.
*
By the time she had both found Brainy - easy, command centre, bickering with Winn - and a possible list of books - difficult despite both their help -
(“Are you sure about this one? It’s a kids book-”
“Kara said it’s a classic.”
“Sure, but like for kids. Does she like kids books?”
“I have no idea.”
“The quote you relied to me stems from the 1744 original version of “Sing A Song Of Sixpence” first published in Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book. This suggests an affinity for older texts or, as you said, classics, although with so little data that is mere speculation.”
“Thanks, Brainy.”
“I propose a collection of poetry.”
“Thank you, Brainy. Really.”)
- it was nearing midnight and far too late to go get them.
Psi probably wasn’t expecting same day delivery anyway.
So Imra decided to let the boys return to their squabbling - not that they’d ever actually stopped - and headed for her room.
Winn had offered to accompany her to the bookstore the following morning and Brainy had promptly invited himself along.
And Imra slept better that night than she had in a while.
*
“You’re back.”
It was the first thing Psi said when she returned to her the next day, an offering of three books carefully cradled against her chest - their list contained several more, but this was the trial run.
Suddenly feeling shy, Imra lifted them for Psi to see. “And I’ve brought your books.”
But Psi hardly paid them any mind, her lightningstrike eyes wide with wonder and remaining glued to Imra’s face.
“So you have.”
There was genuine awe in her voice. It send a pang through Imra’s chest.
Psi had not believed that she would come back, with or without the promised books.
Yesterday Imra had been wondering if she could be Psi’s soulmate. Just because Psi was hers that did not have to mean the connection went both ways.
Such was the chaotic cruelty of the universe.
Today she found herself wishing she was.
A long shot from love, but still …
“Aren’t you curious at all?”
She shook the books at her like one might a bag of treats at a feral kitten.
And just as cautiously Psi offered her the tiniest smile.
“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
*
Getting the books to Psi however turned out to be a whole other hurdle, since the D.E.O. had opted to deal with the risk of any unauthorised objects entering a cell with the brilliant security measure of having only the one main door as means for entering - or removing - anything.
Which required security clearance and a corresponding code.
Of which Imra currently possessed neither.
To Psi’s obvious amusement.
“This only means you won’t get your books.” Imra pouted.
It did nothing to lessen the grin directed at her.
“I’ll survive somehow, I think.”
And Imra would have to get herself access to Pi’s cell.
Which would probably involve an uncomfortable talk about why she wanted access to Pri’s cell.
The thought alone was enough to make her stomach roll with nerves and Psi must be able to tell because now her grin did soften.
“Show me anyway.”
So she did, holding the covers up against the glass for Psi’s consideration.
Alice in Wonderland earned her a - fond - chuckle, One Hundred Years of Solitude an appreciative hum and Emily Dickinson’s Complete Poems dead silence.
When she peered past the tome she most certainly had not been hiding behind Psi’s expression was unreadable.
“Not a fan?” Imra guessed, catching her gaze.
It was less like being struck by lightning and more like getting stuck in an electric current. Staying put would make you catch fire, leaving would stop your heart.
And Imra would have willingly burned alive if it meant Psi would continue to look at her like this but the blonde let her eyes flit away.
(When she was nervous, Imra tended to ramble. Psi, it seemed avoided eye contact)
“Heaven - is what I cannot reach. The Apple on the Tree - Provided it do hopeless hang - That, Heaven is to me.”
The words curled around them like a warm breeze before settling right in Imra’s chest, where her soulmark hummed,
“Don’t tell me you have all of them memorised.”
Psi shrugged. “Not all of them.”
“Then I better get that code so you will finally be able to learn the rest.”
She placed the books directly in front of the window so Psi would be able to keep an eye on them and went looking for Director J’onnz. All the while telling herself that she was not fleeing from her own racing heart.
*
Before she could find J’ohn she once again ran into Kara.
Literally, as the hero was deeply engrossed in a conversation with a familiar dark haired woman walking alongside her. So much so that she had no attention to spare for her surroundings.
“Imra! I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed after almost bowling her over, the apology emphasised by fluttering hands.
Imra waved her off, too distracted by Kara’s companion to care about the near collision.
“You’re Lena Luthor.” She said.
Alarm flashed across the woman's - Miss Luthor's - face. Next to her Kara tensed.
“The Lena Luthor, founder of L-Corp.” Imra continued, despite the mounting discomfort around her. What could she say? When she got nervous, she talked.
“It is such an honour to meet you!”
And just like that, all the tension evaporated.
“I’m - huh?” Lena stuttered, taken aback while Imra cringed at herself for being so awestruck. But then again, this was Lena Luthor.
“You know Lena?” Kara asked with an uncharacteristic edge to her voice, poised to rush to Lena’s defence like the world's most vicious golden retriever.
“Not personally, no, but I know of her. Everyone does, I’d imagine.” She turned to Lena, who's eyes were almost wider than her own now.
“You founded L-Corp. You invented the kryptonite dissolvant and the thermal splitting procedure and pioneered an entirely new field of inter-speciacial medicine.
Most of our methods would be unimaginable without your work. You - there is no counting how many lives you saved. And that’s just with your medical research!”
The legends of Supergirl had been Imra’s childhood, had influenced who she wanted to be, what standards she held herself to even now - but Lena Luthor - once Imra had been old enough to understand that being a hero meant more than flashy suits and glorious battles - Lena Luthor had shown her what a single person, a human without extraordinary powers besides her - still very human - intellect could accomplish.
That it was possible to want to better the world and then do it.
Across from her Kara was beaming, alight with pride and affection.
Lena on the other hand was swallowing roughly, her eyes shining with tears.
(There was another shine as well, an actual shine, warm and golden and strong enough to pass through the dark material of her shirt. Brighter where the first button was left undone.)
“I’m sorry.” Imra began. “I shouldn’t have-”
But Lena stopped her. “It’s quite alright, I just - Thank you.” She paused, gathering herself and putting on a wobbly smile. “I’m glad to meet you as well. Kara already told me about you.”
That shot a bolt of dread through her stomach. What could Kara really have told her other than that she was her (ex)boyfriend's (ex)wife, the one he could no longer pretend to want?
But just as sudden, there was a spark in her chest, a flicker through her mark and Imra was able to look past her self doubt at the two women in front of her.
Lena had turned to face Kara, smiling fully now, warm and golden, and full of adoration that Kara reflected back at her with her whole being
And Imra recalled the meaning of that little burst of warmth, remembered -
(I think I made a friend roday!
Oh blossom, that’s wonderful! What’s their name?
Ceren. He’s in my class and I helped him with the spelling today and we played together after and when we said goodbye my mark got tingly!)
- Preya.
When you love someone enough it bleeds over into everyone who loves them as well. You can’t help it.
And while Lena and Kara were still figuring things out - well, at least Kara was, Lena seemed to be a little ahead from what Imra could see - she already knew the ending of their story. Her mother had spoiled that one for her, more than once.
I think I made a friend today.
They would find their way, she knew.
But the thought of soulmates - and, maybe, of making a friend - drew her mind back to the reason she had come here in the first place.
“Kara-” It came out more urgent than she had intended and she winced along with the two lovebirds she had unceremoniously startled out of their … whatever it was. “Sorry, but have you seen J’ohn? Or, wait, do you have access to the holding cells?”
Kara blinked. “I - Yes? J’ohn went out to the waterfront to check something. But I should be able to help you, depending on where you need to get into?”
“Psi’s cell. I, uh - I got her something to read.”
And there went the eyebrows.
Otherwise however Kara remained perfectly calm. “Okay. That should not be a problem, I’ll get you full access. Tell Psi I said hi.”
*
“Kara says hi.”
Psi’s head snapped up so fast Imra was half worried she was going to hurt herself.
The other half was busy being amused at her position, sitting cross legged on the floor next to her books, close enough for her knee to bump the glass.
Evidently she had taken her duty to guard them very seriously.
Imra kneeled down to collect them, failing to hide her grin - not that she was really trying that hard to begin with.
Psi had yet to say anything, to move at all.
When Imra raised her head to look at the blonde she found her staring back with a mix of awe and disbelief. It was the softest expression Imra had ever seen on her.
It settled in her chest like glowing embers.
“You’re back.” Psi eventually said.
It struck Imra with a sense of deja-vu.
“And I got the code for the door.” She replied for the sake of completion while getting back to her feet.
Psi rose with her. Her posture shifted, eyes flickering away - to her cot, the window, the corner of the room.
Nervous, but why -?
Oh.
The exceptionally weird security concept meant Imra would have to open the door.
She had been aware of that, obviously.
It was what would come right after - standing directly opposite Psi with nothing between them that she had not given any thought to.
Except - what was there to think about?
With her powers locked away, what could Psi really do to her?
Not that Imra actually believed she would do anything. She trusted Psi -
(Don’t be afraid, Matilda. I lost control. I’m sorry. You’re back.
Oh.)
Imra opened the door. It slid aside soundlessly, leaving nothing to separate them but a foot of empty air.
Psi’s gaze had moved from the floor back to Imra, her eyes wide and impossibly blue, and it once again reminded her of trying to approach a feral kitten without spooking it.
So she did not move from her spot, only held the books out like a peace offering.
“Here you go.” She said with more confidence than she necessarily felt.
Psi took them with the care one usually reserved for newborn children or a cantankerous great-aunts good china.
One of her thumbs brushed the cover of Dickinson's poems. It looked like reverence.
“Thank you.” She replied softly.
And that was the point where Imra should smile, relock the cell and leave her to it.
But that was not what she wanted to do, she realised with a twinge of embarrassment.
“Would you mind if I stay a while?” She blurted before her brain had fully processed that last thought.
She did not want to leave but Psi seemed increasingly ill at ease and that she wanted even less.
“I’m not exactly in a position to tell you what to do, Matilda.”
Imra shrugged, hiding a wince. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”
During their quest for more information on Reign the blonde had not really struck her as expressive. Her countenance a consistent mix of boredom and annoyance, save for a few moments of mortal peril and whatever had passed over her face when Imra had, as Kara had phrased it, cut her loose.
But now Imra was beginning to feel as though bored and annoyed had just been Psi’s default emotional state at the time, because standing here, observing her as she struggled to formulate an answer Imra could read the warring emotions on her face - her whole body - clear as day.
She could see the nervousness in the flicker of her eyes, the ongoing disbelief in the furrow of her brows.
The movement of her throat as she swallowed down what she wanted to say - no, what had come to her first - because she would not hold something back to be polite.
The slight frown as she came to a conclusion she did not particularly like.
“You can stay, if you want. I don’t mind.”
And there was that thrumm again, running from star to star and pushing her to step closer.
It felt a lot like hope.
It felt a little like please don’t leave.
So Imra stayed.
*
After that it became part of her daily routine.
Sparr with Alex, check in with Brainy and Winn (and their never ending bickering. They had to be doing it on purpose, right?), give Kara a hand with the daily hero-ing, avoid Mon-El like the plague - or rather Blight - and search out Psi every chance she could get.
(Until she would stop being surprised every time Imra returned to her.
Until she figured out how to take that thrumm of please don’t leave and respond I won’t for as long as you want me I won’t)
She still had no idea about Psi’s soulmark, had not been able to catch even a glimpse of it so far.
It might just be that she took precautions to cover it up, many people did and she was private like that, or that it was positioned in a really awkward spot.
Still the fact that she had yet to see so much as a flicker sat in Imra’s stomach like a clump of ice.
Because what if it was her? What if the affection that bloomed in her chest every time she met lightning blue eyes or saw her mouth curl into a cheshire grin or listened to her woodsmoke voice wrap around pieces of her favourite poems was not enough to even spark a glimmer in Psi’s soul?
To return a fraction of the starfire that lit up her own whenever they spend time together and kept her warm long after (literally, during her investigation in Antarctica with Brainy she had barely felt the cold, while her friend had shivered himself through a tirade on this centuries primitive understanding of thermodynamics and proper insulation),
What if she could not be for Psi what the woman was for her?
I want to be her soulmate. I want us to belong together.
Which was a very, very stupid notion, seeing as Imra was a time traveller on a mission to save the future - her present - and Psi was a convicted criminal with no plans of redeeming herself.
(There is nothing logical about falling in love.)
*
The moment Brainy and her had returned from their trip to the south pole they had been called back into the field to assist Supergril and Mon-El with National Cities Daily Date with Disaster.
(“The chance of a man-made catastrophe striking this city is between 59% and 78% everyday, with the highest risk every Tuesday. That is 13.6% higher than every other metropolitan city. About the same can be said for the general crime rate and the risk for a massive infrastructural failure-”
“What’s your point, Brainy?”
“Noone should live here!”)
Today an oil spill at the docks had turned into an oil fire at the docks (plus surrounding areas) which had then intersected with a rally against the existence of aliens (in general, apparently?) turning the whole waterfront into a perfect set for a Michael Bale movie with a side of flaming stampede.
It had taken the four of them plus a small army of D.E.O. agents to get the situation back under control.
The fact that nobody had been seriously injured was nothing short of a miracle.
Imra was relieved to see that their ability to work as a team had not been impacted by the strain in her relationship with Mon-El.
When they returned to headquarters, worn out and lightly singed, but unharmed, he shot her a grateful nod and she managed a smile in response.
Maybe they would figure out how to be friends again.
When she finally made it to Psi’s cell it was late in the night and the light in the holding area already shut off.
Psi had to be asleep by now, but Imra had not seen her in almost two weeks and just wanted a moment to look at her, to quell the restlessness bubbling under her sternum.
In the low light her soulmark was easily visible to her shirt these days and she wondered if she should have bothered to put on a second layer to hide it.
The cell’s were too dark to make anything out, but Imra knew that Psi was there and awake nonetheless.
The slight uptick in the pulse of the star over her heart told her as much. A beat that no longer matched her own but would be perfectly mirrored in Psi should she ever get a chance to check.
“I’m back.” She spoke softly into the darkness.
A rustle of cloth was her answer, followed by Psi’s winedark voice.
“And you bought some starlight with you.”
“Oh, that was cheesy.” Imra told her so she would not say That’s you, They shine because of you.
They shine for you.
So she would not fold to the yearning clawing at her chest, telling her to get closer, to remove the last barrier between them and pull Psi into her arms.
She couldn’t even tell if it came from the mark or herself - if there had ever been a difference.
“What brings you here so late at night, little sparrow?”
She could barely make out the lines of her face, but she knew the softness of her tone would also be plain visible in her expression.
“I missed you.”
She knew she should not have said it the moment the words left her lips but she could not help herself.
It was the truth, after all, even if it made Psi tense up at the threat of affection.
Part of Imra wondered if that was why her soulmark was so hard to catch, if it did not show because Psi refused to accept any love directed at her.
It pressed on her heart like a bruise.
But the cover of darkness must have softened the blow of her admission, because while Psi did stiffen and let out a quiet, pained noise she also murmured “You too, Matilda.”
And the bruise in her chest bloomed into an ache that choked the breath from her lungs.
Psi went on, oblivious to the effect of her words. “And I’m glad. That - that things worked out with Beard- with your boyfriend.”
She continued before Imra had time to be properly confused. “He - back at the Fort, when I - I saw -”
She paused, took a breath, and sorted her words.
“You should never have to doubt that you are loved.”
Oh.
What was Imra supposed to reply to that?
How could I ever doubt when I can feel you with me with every heartbeat?
It’s you, not my boyfriend, not anyone else but you?
Beardy and I are done, so no need to worry about that?
I love you, too, I wish you would let me?
Can I please just hold you?
Oh.
She unlocked the cell door.
Imra had not opened it since she had brought Psi her books, mindful not to ruffle any feathers, least her friend (?) suffer the consequences.
But right now she needed Psi to know that - She needed to tell her -
Words were failing her and she needed Psi to stop being an oblivious idiot and understand.
“What-?” The blonde began before all the air left her as Imra threw her arms around her neck and pulled her close.
She breathed her in, the bland smell of the soap they gave all prisoners, the cotton of her shirt and underneath by something distinctly her.
Warmth. Home.
She could hear her heartbeat ricochet in her ears, feel it all the way through her chest and every star on her skin.
Her eyes slipped shut almost involuntarily.
Slowly, slowly Psi’s hands came to rest on her waist, her cheek against dark hair.
“Imra?”
It brushed softly past her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
No nickname, no deflection, just Imra.
And - finally - with a soft sigh Psi’s arms slid fully around her, holding on just as tight.
Imra would have been content to remain this way for the rest of the night.
She never wanted to let go
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
She never wanted to let got, but she had to.
Because Psi did not belong to her the way she belonged to Psi, the way she wanted Psi to belong to her.
And now the warmth in her chest was turning to dread, dropping into her stomach and making her eyes sting.
She should have just gone to bed, should have waited until morning for their reunion when she was well rested and less inclined to emotional outbursts (Brainy always told her she got illogical when she was tired).
She should untangle herself and tell Psi goodnight and come back tomorrow ( or later today? What time was it?) for a proper conversation, because Psi deserved to know -
You should never have to doubt that you are loved.
She needed to know -
You’re back.
She -
You too, Matilda.
“You know I love you too, right?”
See? Should have gone to bed.
Psi froze.
Her heart thundered so loud Imra would have been able to hear it even if she was not pressed up against her, but other than that she stayed silent.
It was making Imra a little nervous. And when she got nervous …
“And you know it’s not Mon-El, right? My mark?
That’s all you. Well, mostly you.
Mon-El is still my friend. And Brainy and Kara. And Alex, maybe.
But the rest - it started after Fort Rozz and it got stronger the more time we spent together and I know it's you.
I’m glad it's you.
And - and -”
She took a stuttering breath.
Psi was still frozen, speechless.
Imra wanted to step back so she would be able to read her expression.
She wanted to stay right where she was in case she had just fucked things up so badly Psi would never want to see her again.
“And I’m sorry. Because I want it to be you.
But you never talk about your mark and I’ve never seen it and so I’m probably not yours but -
But I want to be.
I want it to be you.”
And now she was glad she had not stepped back because this way Psi could not see the embarrassment flushing her cheeks.
She could most likely feel it though, radiating of Imra’s skin.
Small mercies.
Eventually Psi was the one to step back, just as slowly as she had been to accept the hug.
Imra willed herself to take the loss with as much dignity as she had left, raising her head to meet shimmering blue.
In the back of her mind she registered that it was bright enough for her to make out the colour of Psi’s eyes because her mark was now blazing so bright it’s usual blue had turned to white.
Brighter than it had ever been.
Like a bunch of stars.
Then she felt soft fingers brush her cheek - there was wetness there, too, but why? - before coming to cradle her jaw, hold her still -
And then Psi was kissing her and her mind went blank.
There was nothing but the soft press of her lips and the sweetness of her breath and the gentle stroke of her fingers against her skin.
When she drew back Imra followed thoughtlessly, chasing her mouth, feeling it tilt into a smile against her own.
I want it to be you, too.
When she opened her eyes again - when had they even shut? - Psi was backlit by familiar blue.
Her entire back was glowing, broad lines of light running from her shoulders down all the way to the back of her thighs.
“Oh.” Imra said, somewhat dumbstruck by the everything of … everything (See?).
Of course Love would give her wings,
And then - “Wait, that - the whole time you-?!”
Psi had the good grace to look apologetic. Or as apologetic as one could while also grinning like an idiot.
“No. No, I -” She shook her head, her smile dimming a little as she gathered herself.
“I wouldn’t have dared. Imra, you’re the bravest, most brilliant, most beautiful person I’ve ever met and I -
My mark has been cold for years.
And then, at the Fort, when I saw that fear in you, of your mark turning grey again, of what that would mean -”
Her smile turned rueful.
“I’m not brave like you, Matilda. I survived that loss once, but a second time?
From the moment you chose to set me free back then, chose to trust me even though you were terrified, I knew you could ruin me if I let you.
And that I would let you.”
Imra swallowed thickly, not taking her eyes of Psi, hardly daring to blink.
There it was again, that awe and disbelief. But mostly awe now.
Fondness as well, deep and heady.
“But you came back, Imra. You kept coming back and I kept getting these flashes of warmth whenever you smiled at me.
And I wanted to be yours so desperately but I would not have dared to hope -
I could not let myself.
How could you ever want someone like me?”
She was still smiling, a bit bashful now.
Imra could not decide whether to (gently) hit her or (not so gently) kiss her again.
She was such an idiot. Imra liked her so much.
“Well, for the record, I do want you.” She stated, a bit teary eyed and refusing to feel embarrassed by it any longer. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“I think I’m starting to get that now.” Psi replied, all smoke and adoration.
What an Idiot.
Imra’s idiot.
She really wanted to kiss her again.
So she did.
*
In the morning Kara would be ambushed by an agitated guard who had seen Psi’s cell standing open and promptly turned tail to find someone else to deal with that potential disaster.
Kara would then superspeed to said cell to indeed find it open, yet it’s inhabitant still accounted for, deep asleep and wrapped in the arms of Imra Ardeen.
Once she had recollected her eyebrows she would then leave to seek out Director J’onnz to suggest a redesign of the security concept of the D.E.O. 's holding cells.
The current one was as flawed as it was plain weird.
Also, Winn totally owed her 20 bucks.