Chapter Text
The first two weeks of Kara’s summer inch by at an unreasonably slow pace.
Alex is busy more often than she used to be (with Maggie, with finding an apartment, with trying to worm her way into the Auror training program), but that’s not what’s anchored time to the ground.
It’s Lena, or more specifically, a lack thereof.
She knows that Lena’s doing important work, helping to track Lex, and she’s proud that her girlfriend is facing her demons, catching them.
But she misses her.
Kara tries to distract herself. She bakes (burns), swims, paints, flies, and just about every other verb she can think of. It doesn’t work. She still worries about Lena, wishes that she was with her.
///
“I bet she’ll be finished with the Aurors soon,” Alex tells her, one afternoon as they’re playing wizarding Cluedo (the Albanian vampire, in the dungeons, with the killing curse).
“I know.” Kara glances up at the pictures strung up on her wall, eyes lingering on the new ones from last year, the snapshot with Lena kissing her cheek.
Alex pulls her into a one-armed hug. “Come with me and Maggie to the city tomorrow. I’ll drop you off at James’ before I go to the Ministry, and he’ll take your mind off things. You guys can have a chocolate frog eating competition.”
Kara rolls her eyes, smiles. “We haven’t done that since we were eleven.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, we did it at Christmas, but don’t tell anyone. It’s savage sport, very high stakes and really gross.”
Alex grins.
///
The water in her painting is being really stubborn. She can’t get the light to reflect off it the way that she wants, and currently it doesn’t really look a whole lot like the Hogwarts lake. As she debates between trying white or light blue to capture the glimmer, there’s a knock on her door.
“Kara?” It’s Jeremiah, but he’s not smiling in that jovial way she’s so used to. His brow is cinched and the only other time she’s seen him like this was when those people from the Department of Mysteries came to their house years ago.
“Hey,” she smiles. “I thought you weren’t coming home till late?”
He gives her a tired look, and says the only two words that could really rip her spine out her rib cage. “It’s Lena.” He tells her more things after that, but she has trouble distinguishing them, cutting them up to form sentences.
A minute passes and then he’s taking her hand and they’re Apparating and all she can think is please let her be okay.
///
He must’ve got in contact with Alex somehow, because she’s waiting for them in the lobby of St Mungo’s, and then they’re all piling into the elevator, which isn’t going nearly fast enough. Haven’t engineers heard of emergencies? She wishes she’d just flown up the staircase instead.
Kara runs down the corridor, Alex calling after her, until she reaches Lena’s ward. A quick scan shows that a few beds are occupied, but only one has the curtains drawn around it. Chase sits on a hard-backed chair nearby, standing guard.
Jeremiah pats her gently on the shoulder, tells Alex to look after her, and leaves to find Lena’s Healer.
Kara moves over to the bed like she’s drifting through water.
Chase – who seems to be made of exhaustion, an angry cut across her right cheekbone and bruises under her eyes – leaps up as soon as she sees them.
“Alex. Kara,” she greets, hands shoved in her pockets. “Look, before I pull the curtain back – before you see her – I have to explain. She, um, she looks like she’s sleeping. But she isn’t.”
Alex asks if Lena is dying, and her panic drowns out most of Chase’s words, but she does catch the end of her sentence, the bit where she mutters, “… she’s gone.”
The tears start to roll down her cheeks, and she’s just starting to taste saltwater in her mouth when Alex’s arm comes up around her, and she sinks into the warmth. The universe has taken so much from her and Lena in such a short time, it’s not fair, it doesn’t get to take them from each other, too.
So she shouts at Chase, because being angry is easier than being devastated, and maybe if she fights this, fights them, it won’t be real. They argue about traps and trust and secrets, and then finally – finally – the curtain is pulled back.
Lena is as pale as the starched hospital sheets, except for the dark outlines around her eyes. Her chest falls, shallow and rhythmic, but other than that, there’s no movement, not even the flicker of eyes shifting under lids. She’s far too still to pass for just asleep, and instead looks as if death just forgot to completely shut her down, distracted at the last second.
She reaches out, brushes her hand along Lena’s cheek, thumb dusting along the bone. Her skin’s cold, and Kara’s imploding, because she’s touched her like this a thousand times, but Lena’s always smiled at her, or reached up to tangle their fingers, or kissed her palm, and now there’s nothing. Lena is a house with the lights off, and no matter how many times Kara knocks, no one answers.
A long-buried memory claws its way to the front of her brain, and suddenly she remembers that she’s seen this before, or at least, she’s almost sure she has. It barely matters if she’s wrong, because at this point, she just needs something to believe that isn’t Lena’s never coming back.
So she explains about her friend, raw magic, and frightened souls hidden deep in minds.
Alex and Chase think she’s scrabbling, reaching for some secret Option B, and she is, she is, but how can she not?
When Jeremiah comes back she wants to say that she won’t leave, wants to stage a small revolution against visiting hours. What if Lena can still think, still hear?
What if she’s all alone, trapped inside herself, and Kara’s just abandoning her?
It’s only the promise of returning tomorrow, of returning every tomorrow until Lena wakes up, that pries her away. She kisses her girlfriend’s forehead gently, hopes she can feel it, hopes she knows how much Kara loves her and misses her and wishes she would just come back.
///
The days become a vague, flickering montage. Winn and James join the scenery of the ward, but it’s hard to participate in the conversation when all she can think is Lena would disagree there, and Lena would laugh here or Lena would make a joke about that. Kara wants to steal a time-turner, to go back to the school term, when Lena was walking and talking and smiling and kissing her and her eyes burned with life.
In that bed, she looks a lot like the little girl that Kara met on the train all those years ago. Empty.
///
She wraps Lena in her Hufflepuff scarf, mostly to keep her warm and give her something to remind her of them, of home, but also because it’s the only bit of colour in the ward, and she hates how it looks like Lena’s already in a morgue.
///
She and the boys go to the Muggle library and read up on coma patients. Kara closes the book after she comes across the description for being “brain dead”, because she can see Lena if she shuts her eyes, still and silent, just like the textbook tells her. She needs for it to be raw magic, because that means there’s hope. Alex’s words about Lena’s childhood haunt her, though. Because she might be right – Lena could be simply trapped, but they have no way to lead her out of the dark.
///
One night, she sneaks back to the hospital, flying quietly through the window after she’s sure the nurse has gone.
She knows Lena has nightmares – likely even more after a trauma like this – and the idea of her going through them alone tears at her heart. It’s more than probable that Lena doesn’t dream anymore, doesn’t feel or think anything at all, is just bones and blood and skin. But Kara shuts that thought down lightning quick, instead filling her head with afternoons by the lake and adventures in Hogsmeade and the sneaking sugar cookies in the kitchen.
As hard as she tries to keep her eyes open, she eventually loses her footing on consciousness, and stumbles backwards into sleep.
When Lena’s hand twitches though, pulling lightly at her hair, she wakes up faster than she ever has in her whole life.
///
Kara watches Lena carefully for hours, scanning for any sign of further movement, and finds none. It’s only a while shy of dawn when she whispers, “bye, babe” and flies to Alex’s new place. She’s exhausted and trying to be sneaky – London is full of Muggles – so it takes a lot longer than it should.
Luckily, the window in Alex’s bedroom is open, so Kara just crashes straight through, flopping gracelessly onto the mattress.
“You’re lucky Maggie isn’t here,” Alex mumbles sleepily, reaching out with a heavy hand to pat her sister’s cheek.
“Gross,” Kara replies. Then – “No, Alex, don’t go back to sleep. It’s important!”
Alex looks at her blearily, but sympathetically. “Are you having more nightmares about Lena?” she asks, and shifts over so Kara has room to lie down.
“No. I was at the hospital just now -”
“Kara, it’s way past visiting hours.”
“I know that, Alex. But – Lena, Lena’s hand moved!” Kara shakes Alex’s shoulder, feeling perhaps she’s a little too out of it to grasp the gravity of this.
“She moved?” Alex demands, blinking, sitting up. “Are you sure? You didn’t imagine it?”
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Kara rambles. Of course, there’s the possibility that she did imagine it – desperation breeds delusion – but she’s choosing to ignore that.
///
The next day, Lena doesn’t move at all, and all the Healers are asking her the same thing Alex did: are you sure?
Just as they’re about to write her off as someone having trouble clawing their way to the acceptance stage of grief, Lena’s finger twitches.
This brings in a flurry of Healers, and Kara’s pushed to the side.
They’re poking Lena and prodding her and after nearly an hour, conclude that this movement signals one of two things: either Lena is indeed beginning to stagger down the arduous road to recovery, or the last of her muscles and nerves are relinquishing their grip on life.
The next twenty-four hours, they tell her, will be crucial; after that, they will know.
///
Every slight, miniscule movement means the world to Kara. Over the next few days, Lena manages to curl her hand into a fist, wriggle a few of her toes, and even turn her head a fraction at one point.
Kara feels pretty useless – she’s not a Healer, there’s nothing she can do to make this process easier, less painful for Lena. So she just holds her hand tight and whispers in her ear how proud she is of Lena for trying, how much they all miss her, all the things they’re going to do when Lena wakes up.
///
“I know you like to read your textbooks over the summer, because you’re a giant nerd,” Kara tells Lena, who looks more like she’s sleeping than anything, these days. It’s comforting; to not have to just pretend she’s still alive. “And I hate studying, but I thought you’d like to keep your tradition going, so I brought Alex’s old sixth year books. We’re going to read them, okay?”
Kara starts to read aloud from the coffee-stained pages, adding her own commentary as they go. Mostly, it’s a few lines of facts, then a “why on earth would you be taking A History of Magic, Lena, you know we were allowed to drop it”, or a tangent along the lines of “oh, that’s like this one time, when Alex and I were younger, and…”
After a particularly embarrassing story about Alex, Kara swears she can see Lena’s lips turn upwards, just slightly, almost too small to count, but it’s enough that Kara knows she’s trying to smile.
///
“So, James and I have developed a movement-incentive program,” Winn tells Lena, who is currently completely still, despite having managed to move her whole arm this morning. “And we thought, what better motivation than annoyance? So, it took ages, but we’ve narrowed down the worst topics in the world, which we’re going to talk about at length until you give us the signal to stop. Now, if it was Kara in your position, we’d just talk about math or something, but you love that stuff, so that won’t work.”
“Anyway, we went and found a bunch of old Muggle literature,” James chimes in, clapping Lena delicately on the shoulder. “Specifically the kind written by old white guys. It’s mostly about cigars and hunting and calling women wenches, so we know that’s gonna drive you nuts. Now, Winn’s got your left hand and I’ve got your right, and you’ve got to squeeze if you want us to stop reading, okay? Only both at the same time will stem the tide of seventeenth-century privilege. We’re gonna work on those Quidditch reflexes of yours. Keep ‘em sharp for next term.”
Kara watches them in a mix of exasperation and amusement. She’s not sure if this is technically a proper medical procedure, but they’re having fun, and that’s the most important thing. To let Lena have a summer, even from in here, to remind her of what’s worth clawing her way back to. Which includes the boys being idiots.
James gets most of the way down the page of some dusty tome before Lena manages to tighten her fingers around his. “Nuh-uh, L, it’s got to be both at once. You can do it. I know you can.”
Winn reads the second page, and by the line “and of woman; that most delicate of species, and like that of a flower: to be regarded, but not valued” Lena gets them both to shut up.
“You did it!” Winn whoops. “You got mad motor skills! Way to go, Lena.”
///
Lena’s eyes open over the course of four days. It’s an achingly slow process, and seems to frustrate Lena no end. Kara isn’t sure what she can see – silhouettes, smudges, blurs? – but it’s enough that Lena can reach out for her, now.
When her eyes finally do manage to focus, they focus on Kara, and she nearly cries.
///
“For ten points, the most cutting remark you ever heard Professor Grant say, go!” James announces gleefully. He and Lena are sitting (sitting up, which is new – she still needs about three pillows behind her to do it, but they’ve all decided that it’s a total win), judging Winn’s new, home-made Hogwarts trivia game.
Kara is losing terribly, Lena is smiling, and she can almost imagine that everything’s okay.
///
One night, she goes to Alex’s apartment and just cries. Cries for the fact that she nearly lost Lena – for a few moments, there, really thought she had; cries in relief that the world is slowly righting on its axis.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, deep breaths,” Alex soothes gently, rubbing Kara’s back as her face buries in the crook of her older sister’s neck.
“I – I just thought she was gone,” Kara stutters, words wet with tears. She’s haunted by how grayscale everything had seemed in the worst of times, how much she’d missed Lena (and in a lot of ways, still misses her), and it’s all overflowing.
“Yeah.” Alex’s voice cracks a bit. “Me too.”
///
It’s the end of visiting hours, and Kara knows she has to leave. But Lena’s been awake and smiling and holding her hand all day, and she doesn’t want it to end.
When she leans in to hug Lena now, her girlfriend can hug her back, and it’s the best feeling in the world. She holds on probably a bit too long and a bit too tight, but Lena doesn’t seem to mind.
Kara pulls back to say goodbye, and oh, their faces are really close. And she really shouldn’t, but she hasn’t kissed Lena in forever, and that sucks. So she catches Lena’s eye, waits for her small nod, and closes the gap, brushing their lips gently together. Her girlfriend kisses back, and it’s amazing, it’s everything, and Kara feels like she’s filled with bubbles, the way she does when she flies. It's their best kiss ever, but then again, she thinks that about every kiss.
She needs to go, but – she kisses Lena again.
///
Lena’s got most motor function back, but she still can’t speak. Kara starts to teach herself IWSL (international wizarding sign language), just in case that particular ability never comes back.
///
“Hey,” Kara smiles, “How’s it going?”
She’s not after an actual reply, just a slight movement of the head. A shake if it’s a bad day, the kind where Lena’s filled with numbness and has trouble with gestures and motion. A nod if she’s feeling okay, if she thinks that she’ll be able to stay awake, if her senses are operating as they should.
Lena waves her over hurriedly, and Kara gently sits on the edge of the mattress, anxious. What could have gone -
“I love you,” Lena whispers, in a voice like gravel, and Kara shivers, gasps. Because it’s not just words, it’s those words, and it’s Lena and Kara’s never been so happy about anything.
“I love you, too,” she promises softly, and she does, she does, she does; so much.
///
When Chase comes to visit, Kara always finds somewhere else to be, because she’s pretty sure she’ll start shouting again if she’s around the Auror too long. Kara rarely gets mad at anyone – she just doesn’t, because people are lovely and trying their best and you never know what’s going on with them – but Chase is an exception, because she lied, because she was supposed to keep Lena safe, because she didn’t.
///
“Actually, I was thinking that Lena could come stay with me,” Alex tells her over breakfast in the small café across from St Mungo’s, while they wait for visiting hours to begin.
“Oh.”
Alex reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. “Kara, you guys are together, and it’s going to be weird for her if she stays with Mum and Dad. She’ll worry that they’re mad at her for dating you, or will kick her out if she kisses you or something.”
“They would never -”
“I know,” her sister interrupts. “But Lena’s experience with adults… it’s going to be nearly impossible to override that. She’s probably never going to be able to really believe that a grown-up’s care is unconditional. I just think that with everything that’s happened, it would be easier.”
Kara runs a hand through her hair. Alex is right. She wants Lena to be healthy and happy and safe, and right now, that won’t happen at the Danvers’ house. “Okay. Yeah. Good idea.” She grins. “You’re like the alpha big sister; you know that?”
Alex laughs. “The what now?”
///
Whenever she sees Lena walking, talking, laughing, she feels like she has to blink, remind herself that it’s real. They’re in an arcade in London (“Come on, Kara, I promise you’ll like Pac Man, it’s a video game where you get to eat things.”), and Lena seems fine, seems happy, but Kara’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
They’re walking up the dim aisles between the ancient machines when Lena slows, using her grip on Kara’s hand to pull them both to a stop.
“Are you okay?” she asks, brushing a lock of raven hair behind her ear. Kara can’t help tracing the movement with her eyes, remembering that no matter how easy it looks now, just two months ago, it would’ve taken a mammoth effort.
Lena’s hands lift up to settle on her waist, tugging them close together, and that makes Kara choke on her answer a little bit. “Y-yeah, yeah, I guess.”
Her girlfriend frowns in concern. “You guess? Kara, if you don’t like Pac Man, we don’t have to stay, you know?”
“It’s not about Pac Man,” Kara explains hurriedly, fidgeting slightly. Lena’s thumbs start to move in slow, rhythmic circles on her skin, and that calms her. “It’s just – I can’t believe you’re here, you know? Everyone thought you were going to die, but now we’re playing video games, and we’re going back to school in two days, and I just… I just…”
“Kara.” Lena hugs her tight, kisses her cheek, holds her gently. “A lot happened. It’s okay to be a bit dizzy with it all.”
“I’m so glad you came back,” Kara mutters, and it’s like her knees go weak, like in Lena’s arms (working, strong, controlled, no longer just horribly still), she can relax for the first time in three months.
“I’m glad you brought me back,” Lena whispers, pulling away slightly so Kara can see her face, see how much she means it.
Then what she says clicks in Kara’s brain. “What? Me?”
Lena nods, smiles, bites her lip. “Of course.” Kisses Kara quickly, barely giving her time to kiss back. “You’re home.” The next kiss is longer, deeper, and it’s lucky the arcade is dark. “You’re my safe.”