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When she finds Ruthye, she finds her still.
In the time she’s known her, though it has been admittedly brief, it feels like she’s rarely been still. A small thing against a grand backdrop.
She looks her age, she looks familiar.
“Is that the antidote?”
Kara looks down at the vial. Also a small thing, light in her hand.
“Yeah.”
It is almost aggravatingly small. That a man so insignificant could drag them across plains so vast in the search of something that fits in the palm of her hand makes her want to scream.
Ruthye seems to think the same as she takes it in, though her cause can’t be made to fit so neatly. Her reason is deeper and greater than a vial.
Kara thinks she can shape her reason twice.
Into the shape of her dog, blurry around the edges because he moves too quickly to be captured, and then into the shape of a girl kneeling next to him. Captured properly, her attention always focused. Not much taller or younger than she was when she realised she wouldn’t live to capture Krypton forever.
“Is he – ”
Ruthye’s voice brings her back.
She takes a seat beside her, her cape surrounding her. She uses it as a shield to wipe the point of the sword on her skirt.
Then she extends it, the blade towards herself, presented as it was when they first met.
“Here.”
That appears to be all the confirmation that Ruthye needs.
She takes the blade as though it is some anointed thing, staring at it down from the hilt.
Maybe she’s hoping to see something different in it. Or maybe she’s just hoping for a scrap of the blood that is now camouflaged in Kara’s skirt.
“Why?”
When Kara looks over, she’s finished examining the blade and has begun to examine her face instead.
It’s an understandable question. If there is one thing she’s preached since they met, it’s the damage of killing.
She wouldn’t blame Ruthye for deciding she’s a terrible hypocrite, but she does appreciate the opportunity to explain herself. No matter the outcome.
“Because – ”
She tries to find a suitable way, something that will both satisfy Ruthye and justify her decision.
But she is tired, and she has been tired. And she wants, more than anything, to save her dog and go home to a warm bed. Wherever that home might be.
“I’m older.”
Ruthye looks like she’s going to protest to that. She’s more than prepared for the fight, though she will make the argument that it happens as they travel.
But, for some reason or another - perhaps because she too is tired and wants a warm bed, wherever that might be – Ruthye chooses understanding.
“Like Superman?”
That makes her smile.
At least she’s taught her something lasting.
She nods when a few moments have passed, towards the sky, away from the wreckage. At home, wherever it may be.
“Come on. It’s time to go.”
She stands, and the antidote comes with her. The sword with Ruthye.
When they get a few paces away, Ruthye asks again. Differently.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
Kara leads them away from the wreckage, and the body.
“Nope.”
To her surprise, Ruthye doesn’t break stride.
She simply looks ahead, driven by some new cause.
She wishes for that strength.
“May I choose the music?”
She meets Ruthye’s eyes as they trudge along this – whatever it is on this awful planet.
“Who taught you that?”
“You have a great archive, do you not?”
She has to teach Ruthye the word for iPod soon.
She nods, her eyebrow slightly raised, smiling once more.
“Alright. – Sure, you can pick the music.”