Chapter Text

Idling on the fringe (staring at the sun)

“The Final Sun?” Alex places her hands on her hips, there’s skepticism, but most of all a concern that deepens the crease between her brows. “And she just told you?”

“Yes,” Lena replies. She sets down several stacks of papers in her hands, folding her arms and resting them on the table. She raises an eye curiously. “You didn’t ask?”

Alex’s lips press thinly, “I did.”

The women ruminate, bewilderment on one side and calm on the other.

“You think she withheld that detail from you,” Lena concludes, sitting back into the chair with wide eyes.

“She’s not the best conversationalist out there,” Alex explains, “Omitting information works to her advantage.”

Lena tilts her head, unsettled at the statement. “Advantage to what end exactly? If she was working with the Kryptonians that changed her, then don’t you think any of them would’ve showed up by now?” she prods, “Supergirl doesn’t have a goal , she’s just here to play hero until we can get Kara back—why would she lie?”

Alex deflates slightly, but her tone and features are still visibly bothered. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking things. She’s just been a little weirder than usua—”

There’s an automated whirring and the entrance to the room slides open.

“We’re going into outer space?” Nia asks excitedly, dressed in her Dreamer garb and Brainy following swiftly behind.

Lena nods, “To Argo City, I’ve combed through the Fortress’s archives already and found nothing—I imagine the information we want is more ancient than what’s there.”

“Kara talked about something called the Grand Athenaeum,” Alex recalls, hand under her chin in contemplation.

Lena’s ears perk, intrigued. “The giant library?”

“Yeah, it might have something we can use, but we’re gonna have to appeal to the High Council for it first.”

Lena’s shoulders drop. “Kara also talked about how Kryptonians tended to dislike visitors, to put it lightly. How do we know they’d allow us anywhere near it?”

“Ever the pessimist, aren’t you?” Alex jabs with a playful smirk, but the seriousness squeezes itself back into her voice, “Maybe they won’t welcome us with open arms, but they made an exception for Lois.”

“Because she’s pregnant with a child who has Kryptonian blood,” Lena argues, “Did you even read her briefs?” She picks up the stack of papers she set down in one hand and shakes them. “They took their time deliberating her move even with Superman vouching for her—what if we don’t have any time left?”

Brainy stiffens. “I have to admit I share the same sentiments as Lena. My fellow Coluans were wary of visiting Krypton for our intelligence records before its destruction—their military was renowned for their brutality across the universe, and I do not imagine Kara will be joining us on this endeavor for protection.”

Alex rubs her temples as she thinks. “Fine, I see your points, but we still have more pressing issues.” She raises her fingers as she lists them, “First, how we’re traveling to Argo City, and second, how to deal with its gravitational force.”

“What’s wrong with the gravity?” Nia asks.

“It’s more of an issue for human physiology, you and Brainy should be fine,” Alex details, “Krypton was over a thousand times bigger than Earth, and even though Argo City is a small portion of the planet, it still sits on material that has a lot of condensed mass.” She gestures between her and Lena. “We won't be crushed instantly, but our bones will fracture and break.”

“Slowly,” Brainy adds, “The only reason Lois is able to resist it is because she is pregnant with a Kryptonian, so they are sharing biology until her term ends.”

“I’m pretty sure Clark made it clear to Argo’s High Council that he wanted an area constructed for Lois’s safety from the gravity once she gives birth,” Alex states, scrolling through her phone. “I can message him and ask if we could stay there. My only concern is that you,” she points at Lena, “haven’t fully recovered from the bombing at Noonan’s.”

“I’m fine,” Lena says confidently, though she knows it’s possible her hand and side could give her a bit of trouble, the tissue is still sore. “I could use Lex’s warsuit, it can withstand that kind of force.”

“ War suit?” Alex repeats, “That doesn’t exactly shout ‘we come in peace’, weren’t we just discussing that they didn’t like strangers?”

“I’ve been here long enough to know that the D.E.O. doesn’t set aside funds for interplanetary travel. Your focus is primarily alien threats on Earth, not outside of it,” Lena defends, lifting her head challengingly, “Unless you have an extra space suit I can use.”

Alex rubs her chin. “Fine. I’ll tell Clark to give the Council a heads up, but it’s not my fault if their tractor beam incinerates you.”

Brainy claps his hands. “Excellent! So, how will we get there?”

Alex grins, “Don’t worry, I’ve already got that covered. We’re using J’onn’s jump shuttle.”

Nia expresses her doubt immediately, “Didn’t you almost crash his cruiser the last time you and Kara went on a trip? How’d you get him to say yes?”

Metal jingles as Alex reaches into her back pocket and swings the keys around her finger.

“Ask for forgiveness, not for permission.”

“You partake in numerous offenses of insubordination for a high-ranking soldier,” Brainy comments pensively.

Alex rolls her eyes and ignores him, but the twitch in the corners of her lips indicate amusement. “Ah, I forgot to mention. The cockpit only has two seats.”

“What?” Nia exclaims, communicating the rest of the party’s shock. “Then why are all four of us here?”

“I have it figured out already,” Alex reassures confidently, diluting their concerns. “Nia, you’re gonna be inside the pit with me, and Brainy can use his Legion ring.”

“What about me?” Lena asks, “My suit doesn’t have enough power to travel five lightyears—the destination is all the way in Alpha Centauri.”

“And while I’ll be able to survive in the vacuum of space, my flying capabilities are not up to par,” Brainy admits.

Him and Lena share confused and worried glances with each other.

Alex smiles mischievously.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Lena can hear the smugness in Alex’s voice as she floats through space, her suit dragged by the ship’s wired attachment.

“I did say I had it figured out!” comes the static through the comms, and she can hear how Nia lets out a humored chuckle.

“I don’t need this right now,” Lena deadpans.

“You know,” Brainy grins, “I find this relaxing!” He lays on his back as the wire tows his body behind the ship as well, resting his arms behind his head.

An incessant beeping alerts the group.

Alex presses a button and sees J’onn’s face on the heads-up display.

“I see you’ve already gotten comfortable piloting my ship.” It’s endearingly annoyed, but he doesn’t sound surprised.

“You let me take the keys, didn’t you?”

“Just figure out a way to bring Kara back,” he grumbles, “Good luck, every—”

“Woah!” Alex swerves to avoid an asteroid.

Brainy shouts, flailing his limbs around in an effort to right himself.

“Hey, pay attention!” Lena shouts through the speakers, “You could’ve killed us!”

Alex swerves again and this time it knocks the two rear passengers together.

“Oof!”

“You did that on purpose,” Brainy grunts, “I will not forget this, Alex Danvers.”

“Alex!” J’onn scolds.

“Sorry, gotta go!” she shuts the line with the press of a button. “Alright, folks, we don’t have that much longer, warping should take us there in the next five or so minutes.”

Lena and Brainy glance at each other.

“I am not sure warping is the most logical idea,” he chuckles nervously.

“Don’t worry, the wires conduct a photon barrier to whatever cargo it carries, it’ll be fine!”

“Oh,” he breathes a relieved sigh, “That is good news.”

“I think.”

“What? You think ?” Lena shouts into her mic, “Alex, wait! Don’t—”

But it’s too late, a tingling feeling overcomes them as the ship accelerates to a great speed within the blink of an eye.

If Lena could describe what it was like, it was as if her entire body had been pulled and elongated for a split second before snapping back to its original proportions—it’s supremely nauseating. It’s almost enough to make her vomit, but she doesn’t want to deal with barf floating around in her helmet for the rest of the journey.

Brainy doesn’t seem to share the same effects, and she makes note to ask him about crafting an extra Legion ring.

“Destination reached,” the computer system announces, “Argo 139-65.”

“I’ll kill you, Alex Danvers,” Lena dry heaves, hands on her knees. She didn’t think she could hate flying even more than she already did. “You’re getting the cargo attachment on the way home.”

“Sure,” Alex laughs, then pats the woman on her back, the metal of their suits clanging together, “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Nia stays a little behind to support Lena as she walks, Alex and Brainy following a Kryptonian guard out of the landing base.

Before they make it into the more populous parts of Argo, more troops assemble and then they’re escorted by a large number of officers that surround them, tight enough where they can barely see outside the open slits in the military formation, one that also obscures the curious citizens trying just as hard to see what their enforcers are hiding.

So Lena takes to the skies, and finds that Kara’s stories about Argo City didn’t do it justice; it’s a massive colony with helicoidal architecture and hyperboloid structures almost akin to Gaudi’s work on Earth, except that their shapes are more extreme. Lena can only marvel at the natural and unfamiliar mathematical elements fused into the buildings, and the slight cardinal tint from the neighboring red dwarf over the horizon—it’s magnificent.

Is that Proxima Centauri?

She recalls seeing it in her astrophysics books as a child, but to see it in person is an entirely different experience, and she forgets how nauseous she is from flying.

They arrive at the ‘safe-for-humans’ construct where Lois greets them, the bump on her belly is significantly larger.

“It’s so good to see all of you,” she embraces, “You won’t have much time before your meeting with the High Council, it’s going to be in half a wol.”

“‘Wol’?” Nia asks.

“You have about an hour and forty minutes to prepare,” she explains.

The entire party groans, and Lois shares a hug with everyone. Lena keeps her distance and politely declines, she knows the Kryptonite in Lex’s suit would hurt her even as she dampened the emitters.

“Wow, I take it the trip here wasn’t very smooth sailing,” Clark chuckles as he makes to stand beside Lois. The group descends into conversation, and he gazes at the armor Lena is wearing, looking upon the familiar ‘L’ plastered on her chest.

Pain flashes in his expression as he remembers Lex, there’s fondness and despair, however brief—it’s apparent the suit brings back many unpleasant memories.

Lena notices his melancholy, and there’s a pang of remorse, an apologetic turn of her lips.

Clark dips his head slightly in acknowledgement.

If they had anything in common, it would be their love and disappointment for Lex. And their devotion to Kara.

“What makes you think we’ll honor your request to access our archives?” a council member scoffs, “Why would we share our knowledge with a group of taiium [outsiders]?”

“Because it could save my sister,” Alex insists, “Kara Zor-El , the one who fought and won against Yuda Kal’s cult and figured out there was a traitor among you?”

This back and forth has gone on for too long for Lena’s liking, her analytical eyes scanning the five members.

Null-Kor, he’s a Kryptonian with a shorter stature, tan skin, and dark long hair, and also one of few words—she’s not sure what his views are, but she hopes it’s not as parochial as the other member.

Ram-Kenth is towering and nimble and bald, his oblong face is gaunt and whiskery—her first impression is that he’s not as scrupulous, and is easier to reason with as he’s contemplated everyone’s suggestions.

Thula Ko-Vall is a well-fed, aged, and wise lady, and seems much more open than her fellow xenophobic council member Jul-Us, who possesses an average build and a graying clipped head and beard—he readily used term for off-worlders against Alex, so Lena doesn’t imagine he’ll alter his stance.

Ama Se-Vuk appears the youngest member. She looks physically no older than thirty, tall and lithe, brown eyes, umber complexion, shaved head with peeking coils; she hasn’t contributed to the debate, preferring to watch with an unreadable expression, but Lena hopes that she doesn’t share Jul-Us’s prejudice.

The oligarchy are adorned in ivory regalia and gold accents. Despite their differences, they all have authority in their postures—it feels aristocratic. Lena is also fascinated when they speak English, their native Kryptonese gives them a cadence that’s a harmonious and elegant cross between Arabic and British accents.

This trial feels almost as sleep-inducing as some of the board meetings Lena has at L-Corp with the other upper echelons of society. Although, the ebullience in Jul-Us’s tone when he demeans them keeps her wide awake.

“I can guarantee you that we just need information. In and out,” Alex insists, “We’re not a threat.”

“You may speak for yourself, and perhaps the Coluan and Naltorian,” Null-Kor begins, and it’s the first time he’s spoken at length. His voice has a deep timbre and he glowers at Lena. “But what of her ?”

Jul-Us and Ram-Kenth nod while the others mumble to each other in Kryptonese.

Well, Lena’s hope for Null-Kor’s neutrality was short-lived—off-worlders are just as much an anathema to him as they are to Jul-Us, and they both seem to be as stubborn as they show.

Ram-Kenth looks at her. “We’ve heard of your name, you hail from a powerful house on Rth [Earth], the Luthors. Your family has dogmatically hunted our kind and others alike, and even killed numerous of your own. Whatever you may think, your infamy doesn’t stop on your home planet.”

“Yes, my family ,” Lena repeats tiredly, “I’m not my family.”

Of course they’d know me here, just our luck.

“You arrived with kryptonite woven into your armor,” Ama speaks softly. It’s not meant to sound accusatory, merely an observation, but it sure feels like one.

Lena’s attention to the councilwoman also piques, her Kryptonese accent is significantly less strong than the rest of the tribunal.

“She didn’t have a choice!” Nia cuts in, her frustration with them visible. “This is an emergency, she couldn’t just build a new suit and—”

“You were not addressed, Naltorian ,” Jul-Us spits.

Lena sees Ama’s and Thula’s brows twitch in revulsion.

“Her name is Nia ,” Brainy corrects angrily.

“Ah, Coluan,” the councilman hums, intrigued. He glances between the two, noting their clasped hands, “How … peculiar.”

The disgust is apparent on his face, and Alex is fed-up, but before she can say something that’ll get them kicked out of the city, Thula clears her throat.

“Ram-Kenth is right. Your renown doesn’t stop on Earth.”

The other members are outwardly surprised.

She continues, “However, that also means we’ve heard tales boasting your heroism, all of you.”

Null-Kor protests, “Thula, you don’t know if they’ll use the knowledge to hurt us. Krypton may be gone, but we can’t risk Ahr,go Zrhygrhahs [Argo City].”

“Silence,” she orders, not even looking at him, but her stance tenses and her shoulder-length white hair jostles with the command. “I have centuries upon centuries over you, child . Don’t doubt my abilities to judge an individual’s character.”

Lena can see the other councilwoman tilt her head down to hide an amused smile.

“Something funny, Ama?” the short Kryptonian snaps.

Ama rolls her eyes, electing to ignore him, then turns to the group. Her voice is kind and melodic, “The efforts you’ve put forth to not only save your planet from carnage, but also care for its inhabitants, alien and non-alien alike, is an impressive feat—even when the odds are so against you, you’ve prevailed time and again.”

There’s a sympathy in her warm, brown eyes that’s very reminiscent of Kara’s.

“Her suit has kryptahnynj [kryptonite] embedded in it, Ama!” Jul-Us growls, “You said it yourself! Don’t let your history blind your judgement!”

Interesting. Lena keeps a mental note on their interactions—there’s much discord among them, and she can only assume there’s just as much among the Guilds.

“The Guilds were more separate at the beginning,” Kara explained, “They integrated a lot as time passed, some of them have more overlap than others, but when I visited Argo the Guild dynamics were still stressed—probably even more after the cult was revealed and Selena betrayed the Council for Reign.”

“Is your comment meant to sway me, my friend?” Ama replies. She maintains eye contact with the visitors, her voice still gentle, “I would vote to permit all of you access to the Grand Athenaeum, but …” She glances at Lena. “Your armor will alarm the citizens around you.”

“I suggest someone accompany her,” Thula advises, “I don’t think the Warrior Guild will quietly hand over a spare Breather.”

Ram-Kenth rubs his chin, considering his peer’s suggestion. “Indeed, we could send them with a guard, assign one specifically for the Luthor to ease—”

“No, not a soldier,” she rejects, “Kal-El can watch her.”

“What?” Jul-Us blurts, “He’s advocated for her, he’s just as partial to the situation as Ama—”

“And you’re not? Don’t be foolish,” Thula admonishes, “Argo City’s safety is paramount, yes. That is why I chose Suprman [Superman].”

She looks at the group, and Lena notes that her eyes are a striking heterochromatic shade of blue and green.

“I believe we should vote now, although it seems as if we already have our answer. All those against their access to the Grand Athenaeum?”

Null-Kor and Jul-Us raise their hands, they know their censures left no mark, and bitterness colors their wrinkled features.

“All those for?”

Three other palms rise.

Ama smiles, “And there we have our verdict. Welcome to Argo City, young ones.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to experience a multi-day deliberation,” Lois says amusedly.

“The councilwomen and the tall guy were great, actually,” Nia comments.

“They’re the most reasonable. The other two have their moments, but I wouldn’t expect much from them,” she explains, “Unfortunately, there are still Kryptonians who share similar views and look down on other aliens and interspecies, but there’s also many who are more open-minded when it comes to foreigners. It’s slow-moving, but ...” she shrugs.

“Lois has helped with it immensely,” Clark adds gladly, setting a plate of food down for everyone, then he whispers, “She’s a bit of a celebrity here.”

She slaps his arm playfully. “I’m also the only foreigner who’s been allowed to stay in Argo City since ever, and it’s the first time many of them are witnessing the process of a natural birth.”

Lena remembers Kara mentioning genetic engineering being favored over organic births.

“You’re a test tube baby?”

“Well, don’t say it like that!” Kara protested from the other end of her couch, the light of the TV reflecting in her glasses. She playfully tossed a pillow at her friend and finished the last few bits of her pie.

“Sorry,” Lena caught the projectile and apologized, but she covered her mouth as she continued to snicker at the reaction. “Why was that the case?”

Kara shrugged, “Efficiency, population control, making sure they could curate a child for the different guilds. After a while it was kinda taboo to birth a child, Kal-El is actually a natural conception.”

“Were you in the Thinker Guild?” Lena asked, “I remember you mentioning you lived in the scientific district?”

Kara laughed, “No, actually, I was one of the children they engineered to help with three guilds: the Artisans, Thinkers, and Laborers. My mom was a researcher in the Thinker Guild and my dad was a historian in the Laborer Guild.”

Lena arched her brow. “That’s quite an eclectic set of skills, did you ever feel partial to one over the other?”

Kara thought about it for a minute. “I’m not sure, maybe the Laborers, but I was really interested in both my parents’ jobs—they worked together sometimes, but my mom collaborated with the Warriors to develop weapons, which,” she looked down in shame, “kinda resulted in Doomsday.”

Lena frowned, “Oh.”

There was a heavy silence as they remembered the attack and its aftermath, destroying the city, ruining their friendship, ravaging Lena’s body …

“What about your dad?”

Kara’s smile returned slightly, “He worked more closely with the Mediators, his specialty focused on Raoism over millennia and the religion’s influence on Krypton and other planets. I used to think it was boring when I was a kid, but when I remember his stories, and when his hologram at the Fortress talks to me, they’re more interesting now.”

There was a nostalgic melancholy to her voice, “I just wish Mom and Dad survived in Argo City to tell me more.”

Lena scooted over and held Kara’s hand, giving it a firm press. “And now you can share what you love about Krypton with me.”

Shiny blue eyes softened into affection, she reciprocated the squeeze.

“What is the deal with the Council anyway?” Alex scoffs. “They can’t be the only ones running things if they’re known to deliberate for multiple days at—” She stops and points at the dish, “Are these baked sweet potatoes with shredded chicken?”

“While primarily carbon-based, the food here is not fit for human consumption,” Brainy chimes in, “Kryptonians can eat from most other biospheres, but the human gut microbiome is not as resilient. Even Naltorians might have trouble digesting traditional Kryptonian meals.”

“What Brainy said,” Clark chuckles, “We get Earth shipments as often as we can for Lois and the baby—and me of course—the people here don’t really eat for enjoyment, they eat because they have to, so the food here’s kind of …” He trails off and puckers his face with his wife’s. “Bleh.”

“Well, to answer your question, Alex,” Lois begins, returning her attention to the table. “The High Council has a democratically elected representative for all five guilds in Argo City, but they mostly make high-impact decisions. The general governing body is usually dominated by the Thinkers and Mediators.” She pauses, and it’s a disquieting silence. “And the Warriors are starting to dip their toes in more, the Sectarian politicians are doubling down.”

Clark scoffs out a snide comment before digging into his plate with his hands. “They’d give anything for Argo City to be a military regime like Krypton.”

“Guess history can repeat itself in even the most advanced aliens,” Nia hums, staring at her plate, then at Clark. “Do you guys have any utensils?”

“Mmph!” he muffles mid-bite. He removes his hands from his lips, motioning for a serving robot to distribute cutlery.

Surprise paints Alex’s face. “Kara didn’t tell me Kryptonians eat with their hands?”

Clark nods his head enthusiastically, “Sorry, Lois and I got used to it after a while, forgot we had utensils.”

“Huh, learn something new every day,” she murmurs.

“Are there a lot of differences between Argo City and Krypton?” Nia asks.

Clark makes a thoughtful expression, “I dunno all the details, you might have to ask K—” He suddenly deflates and his shoulders droop imperceptibly. “—ask Kara about that …”

Before the group can fall into a mournful stupor, Lena recovers, remembering Kara’s stories about broiling civil wars and social discord. She imagines Krypton’s destructive aftermath and rebuilding might’ve distracted the populace, but as they’ve settled it seems they’ve returned to brewing the political arena.

“It doesn’t seem like sectioning off the population into five classes would be conducive to long term cooperation,” she comments offhandedly.

“The Gir [Ideals]—the Sectarians,” Kara explained, pointing at the hologram. “They were the majority in Krypton’s politics when I grew up, it didn’t seem like it changed at Argo much, but the Awuhkh [Deserters] seemed a lot more vocal when I visited trying to find out more about Reign.”

Lena cleared her throat and saw her warm breath condense through the frigidness. “Kara.”

“Yeah?”

“I know this is an icy cavern in the middle of the Arctic,” Lena shivered, even through the layers in her wool coat. “But is there a thermostat in here?”

Kara instinctually moved a hand to her own shoulders, the action was instant, immediate in the way her compassion for others animated her. She unclipped her cape and draped it over Lena’s figure, a gentleness both intrinsic and learned under a yellow sun’s omnipotence-granting rays.

The frigid tundra dissolved into fragrant heartwoods and cashmere-like warmth.

Kara beamed, and no language could encapsulate how dazzling it was.

“It’s not,” Lois agrees, “It was fine at first, but it soured quickly. And their solution was to birth children with desirable traits from multiple guilds.”

“Did it work?” Alex asks, cutting into her food, “I know Kara mentioned she was one of those projects.”

“She was?” Clark says in surprise, “She never said anything.”

The agent shoves a couple bites of food into her mouth promptly because she can hear some hurt in his tone.

“I remember going through some palimpsests about this,” Brainy ponders, “It had many of the sole guild members upset. Only so much can be put in a genome, there were concerns about efficiency, and they were sometimes compared to the Unengineered.”

“I’m sorry, but this sounds like something I’d read in a YA dystopian novel,” Nia states warily.

Clark and Lois laugh.

“They only provide some added mental and physical attributes to the children. I’m not sure how genomics on Earth works, so Kryptonian physiology is a whole new can of worms, but from what I know other aspects like appearance and personality weren’t messed with,” Lois reassures, “It might not be in our lifetimes, but one day it’ll be better, there’s been growing movement against the Guild System’s stringency for centuries.” She nods her head towards the city outside. “It’s been coming to a head recently.”

“At the end of the day it was up to the children’s own development to refine the skills they were given,” Clark adds.

“And if they didn’t?”

“Guildless. Though only sometimes,” Lois answers softly and with a sad look in her eyes. “It didn’t guarantee they’d be tossed aside, most of them would go back to their family members and live the rest of their lives, but there were also many who joined the militia as chahvehd dai —fodder soldiers—they aren’t expected to take that route, but being Guildless is a great shame. I imagine that social symptom was purposeful.”

Lena thinks about the Kryptonian reputation for progress and advanced technology, and how revered they are for their efficiency and diplomacy—she also thinks it’s a bit bullshit.

“Talk to me, Kara.”

Kara felt her entire body sag sitting upon the table, she wanted to be gathered into Lena’s arms again, wrapped in porcelain skin and reveling in the hardened heart that beat beneath a silk blouse. But she only stared ahead, past her best friend’s figure at the wall, trembling and quietly hiccuping all the while.

Lena swayed over, blocked her vision and stooped to meet her eyes, holding curled and trembling hands. She’d never seen this kind of vulnerability in Kara, one that evoked such hardship and misfortune so vicious.

Lena never heard anything about Kara’s childhood before the Danverses—always “it was an accident” or “I don’t remember much” in the way it was convenient and less cumbersome than whatever truths were locked behind those vague statements.

But there were those days when Lena could see the blue in Kara’s eyes dull and glaze over, it was the same look she had when she thought about Lex or her mother.

“You don’t have to say anything, I know how hard it can be when you don’t think anyone else will understand,” Lena murmured, “Let me take you home.”

Right now, Kara wasn’t the girl of steel—the pliant Pieta, soft flesh hidden in unyielding marble.

“Lena, I-I …”

She felt herself bend, and she wanted to give in so desperately, to grieve Krypton, to share her language, to sigh about the adversities she faced as a protector, to cry about the weight of a world she learned to love which sat atop her shoulders after losing another.

“I’m …”

But she wasn’t Kara Zor-El or Supergirl or Kryptonian—not to Lena Luthor. She was Kara Danvers.

But all those secrets could end, right here, right now.

“Lena, I’m …”

Supergirl.

Or not.

She trailed off when her friend handed her the pair of glasses.

“They dropped in the elevator,” Lena said with a kind and worried smile. “You might have to fix your hair up a bit too.” Careful fingers moved messy strands away from Kara’s face, and when she angled her gaze upward she saw the guilt and self-blame Lena’s green eyes bore, heralded when she dispersed lead into the atmosphere and inadvertently caused Mon-El’s departure.

Kara placed him in a pod and sent him away into the unknown, just as her parents did to her.

“You know, you kind of look like Supergirl.”

Kara took the glasses and pressed them against her eyes and she felt her heightened senses fizzle into a muted stupor.

No. She would always be Kara Danvers to Lena Luthor.

Lena’s the first to finish the meal, and she graciously excuses herself from the dining room where Lois insists on leading her back to her quarters.

It’s a long stretch of hallway, and she wonders how this entire structure was built—it cost a pretty penny by the looks of it, but then again, she remembers Kara mentioning her uncle Jor-El was a renowned general, and his son’s return might have yielded some privileges.

When they reach the common foyer near the guest rooms, a dash of pink catches Lena’s eye, and it’s a tall tree-like plant with rosy florals peppered on prominent blue-green foliage that almost shimmers under the warm lighting. There’s familiarity, a scintillating heartbeat in the midst of an otherwise mundane memory—and it’s the smell that does it, exhuming Kara Danvers from her mind’s sediment.

“A dar-essa.”

Lena’s question was answered before she could ask, observing the plant wasn’t native to Earth.

A light and humid breeze cut through the greenery atop the roof, the foliage scratching and brushing excitedly as the misty rainfall tapped on their leaves.

Kara gently held a blossom, stroked its pastel petals as she took note of their health. “They’re pretty slow-growing, but the yellow sun kinda …” An amused shrug. “One day they were in little pots and the next I had to move them to the rooftop,” she chuckled, “Lucky Supergirl gets a paycheck too.”

Lena glanced around the open space, analyzed all the alien plant life that dominated it, yet were externally shrouded by some Earthen flora. Presumably to hide a tenant’s otherworldly identity.

“You’ve quite the green thumb.”

Kara smiled and looked away, expression tinged with longing, and the sort of loss and melancholy that’d sporadically flash behind blankly staring eyes.

“I wanted to be a cultivator in the Laborer guild.”

“Botany?” Lena questioned, “I suppose I’m not too surprised.”

They shared smiles, tentative.

“Did your family support it?”

Kara tilted her head, almost unsure, “Mostly, but I think they were really hoping I’d be the next great El, and at that time it meant I was expected to figure out Krypton’s mining crisis, or at least be an architect, or artificer, or even work my way to an Uhmpahr [general] like my uncle, not grow plants.” She crouched slightly, resting a hand on her knee and craning her torso over the dar-essa’s pot, to look at the roots.

The next great El …

Lena pictured Kara as Supergirl, the house crest emblazoned and displayed proudly—she wondered if that’s what Kara’s parents wanted for her.

“I suppose being a champion for another planet is one of the greater things,” Lena commented, “Can’t quite go beyond a universe-saving hero, no?”

The statement was meant in jest and comfort, but it didn’t seem to have affected her friend in that way.

“I’m not sure they would’ve wanted that for me either …” she mumbled to herself.

Kara’s eyes fluttered, dewey beads dripped from long lashes and nostalgia grayed blue irises.

Lena frowned, glancing down at her friend, whose attention was still encompassing the dar-essa. In the time she knew her best friend as Kara Danvers, and only Kara Danvers, there were scattered moments exactly like this—jaded eyes, slow blinks, a watery and precarious voice, and some indescribable gloom that wrung the skin on her sunshine face and pulled her muscles taut. Lena chalked it up to Kara losing her birth parents to, what she then knew, was some unfortunate car accident—a relatively dull and unexceptional statistic that she had the misfortune of experiencing.

But Lena knew now what was really shuttered behind those lost moments, an unfathomable emptiness that befell her childhood, and the knowledge that Earth too, would fall during Kara’s lifetime.

Since discovering Kara Danvers was also Kara Zor-El, was Supergirl , Lena often pondered what sort of life her friend would live with fellow Kryptonians that shared her long life. And she could experience it in Argo City, the red sunset and all its glory—Lena’s sure they’d welcome her back with open arms and opportunity.

But instead Kara was here, tamping down at the damp and soft soil with her fingertips, sharing her anger and joy and despair with short-lived humans, navigating the immortality she unwillingly received.

Lena blinked the droplets from her eyes and approached, resting a palm on a hard shoulder blade. Kara startled belatedly with a miniscule twitch, a sideways glance, and a slow and ungraceful movement to sit on the ground with a tired thud. She pulled her knees to her chest, ribs too aching to sob.

Lena followed, seating herself next to the woman, an arm around the tops of heroic shoulders, and they both could feel their friendship mending, stitch by stitch.

Kara inhaled, removing her glasses, and there was a flare of incoming senses, sensations that she controlled with trained collectedness, and then her childhood was a liminal space in her palms.

It dawned on Lena then, the garden’s sweet, salty, and bitter perfume of Krypton mingled with sour fossil fuels and earthy petrichor.

“It smells like home,” Kara whispered, moving her stare from the dar-essa into the cloudy, sleet-colored sky.