Chapter Text
Sunlight spilled through the Danvers’ living room windows, scattering warm gold across space. The air felt lighter than it had in years, buoyed by a kind of laughter Kara hadn’t made since childhood- bright, unguarded, almost dizzy with happiness. She stood near the couch, radiant, fingers laced tightly with the man beside her.
Her Father, “Jor- El”.
Returned from the dead.
Whole. Present. Smiling.
Alex watched from the doorway, her smile a meticulously maintained mask. Every instinct she had was screaming: the story was too perfect, the warmth in the man's eyes too deliberate. It wasn't direct suspicion of him, but rather a deep-seated wariness towards the nearly flawless perfection of this "miracle" itself. A secret, hastily conducted DNA test had confirmed the familial link, yet it only deepened her dread—in her world, "perfection" was often the most dangerous signal.
Later in the kitchen, Kara's joy overflowed as she tidied glasses, chattering excitedly.
"It's a real miracle, Alex! After all this time… a part of my family, finally returned."
Alex set down the plate she had been carefully wiping, choosing her words as if navigating a minefield.
"It is incredible. Truly. We just… need to be careful. Verify everything, make absolutely sure—"
"Careful?"
Kara's smile shattered.
The transformation was instant.
“What more proof do you need? He’s my father. His memories, the tests— how much more do you want?”
Her voice quivered, not with anger alone but with the tremor of old wounds resurfacing. The ache of never belonging. The fear of losing family— again. A fear Alex had soothed countless times… but this time, Kara’s desperation twisted it into something sharp.
Her next word were a direct strike and a part of her flinched even as she said it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't true. But the hurt and the desperate need to defend this fragile new hope overwhelmed everything.
"Or is it that you're not the only person I need anymore?"
The blow didn’t land like an insult— more like a knife strike straight into the insecurity Alex kept buried deeper than bone. A tightness seized her chest. Still, she forced herself to breathe.
"Kara, that's not it—" she began, her voice low, trying to stem the tide.
"Isn't it?" Kara pressed on, old wounds of being the outsider, the burden, clouding her judgment for the moment.
"You always have to be the protector, the one who knows everything. Can't you just be happy for me? Are you afraid I'll forget who my real family is?"
Alex flinched. It was small, barely perceptible, but it was there— and Kara saw it. Panic surged inside her, twisting grief, joy, fear and anger into something reckless. She reached for the worst weapon she had, desperate to make Alex understand, a twist of the knife,
"I won't let what happened with Astra happen again. I won't let suspicion and distrust cost me the only family I have left."
The name hit Alex like a punch to the sternum. Her blood went cold. Astra— Kara’s aunt. A Kryptonian Alex had fought, who had threatened the world, whose death had left a permanent scar of guilt on Alex and complex grief for Kara.
A ghost Kara had just weaponized against her.
Alex didn’t argue.
Didn’t defend herself.
Didn’t remind Kara that Astra had been an enemy.
She just absorbed the blow, her face draining of color, her eyes wide with a pain ran too deep for sound. Kara expected anger. A fight. Fire. What she got instead was surrender.
A tiny nod— barely there, but full of defeat.
"I would never want that for you, Kara," Alex whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Never."
With that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Kara alone with the echo of her own cruel words and the haunting image of Alex's wounded eyes. The "victory" was bitter. She had wanted reassurance. Connection. Proof that Alex still cared enough to push back.
Instead, she had destroyed the one person who had always stood by her. The silence in the kitchen changed — no longer warm, no longer safe. It was cold, heavy, and entirely her doing.
Kara’s breath caught.
“Alex—wait!”
She hurried after her sister, heart pounding, but as she stepped out of the kitchen, she heard the soft click of the front door closing. A quiet finality.
Alex was gone.