Chapter Text
Once again, the plaque shifts and Simmons’ biometrics get scanned. The blast doors open, revealing a large room with a similar circular layout to Blonsky’s prison, though with vastly different contents; several workstations, display cases, and delicate looking lab equipment lines the walls of the room, which is dominated by a very small and very familiar starship, roughly the size of a tiny coupé, situated in the middle of the room and resting on a seemingly customized lifting apparatus.
“Welcome to Project Kr.” –Simmons says. “Or, at least, welcome to my attempt to make a palatable and concise presentation on what’s left of it.”
“ Mr. Dugan mentioned the research occurred off-base. ” –Lena prompts.
“Oh, um…yes, GUARDIAN.” –Simmons nods. She seems to be somewhat intimidated by Lena’s armor, which is, she supposes, understandable. “The Fridge is not built or equipped for serious research projects. Project Kr’s lab location was cleverly excluded from the files, though I’d wager it took place in the Sandbox, as most non-standard research initiatives the agency undertakes do. The relevant materials were brought here on Director Fury’s orders – a bit to Agent Dugan’s chagrin, as you might’ve caught.”
“I can’t imagine this whole setup is standard procedure.” –Kara agrees.
“Certainly not.” –Simmons says. “Even if what you’ve surmised about the Director’s intentions is true, I’d say this part is all for your benefit.”
Kara scowls, unsure of what to respond. Instead, she surveys the room. “No one from the project is joining you?”
Simmons shakes her head. “They’ve all been dismissed and reassigned to other projects already. All classified, I’m afraid. We’ll be joined shortly by Dr. Helen Cho, whom I believe you’re acquainted with already.”
“Yeah, Tony convinced her to come aboard as the Avengers’ head physician, at least on a temporary basis.” –Kara says.
“That makes sense. With the amount of abnormal genomes in the Avengers, both at present and likely to join at some point, a doctor with an additional – and, might I add, very impressive – background in genetics would be rather valuable.” –Simmons muses.
Lena hums, and the resulting rumbling over the suit’s speakers startles Simmons. “ She was given a significant volume of Kara’s blood to study. Was it related to this? ”
“In a way, I suppose. Dr. Cho is not related to Project Kr in any way, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is understandably wary about her independent research into Kryptonian blood. I have to assume she was given access to Kr’s materials in order to keep a close eye on any new discoveries, both from a research and security standpoint.”
“That checks out.” –Kara says, wearily. “Please, go on.”
Simmons does; she reiterates some of what Fury told her, as well as what she was able to glean from the report he sent over. The scientists were obviously already interested in learning anything they could about her starship, but given how quickly Kara’s powers manifested under Earth’s sun, S.H.I.E.L.D. practically salivated at the thought of giving her powers to their agents, or better yet, create new Kryptonians that could be trained practically from birth to defend humanity.
At this point, Kara’s pretty sure she’s lost the ability to be surprised by the agency’s moral bankruptcy.
Kryptonian DNA proved too complex for even the greatest minds in the agency, however, and despite their best efforts, the scientists couldn’t even manage to map it on their own, let alone find a way to modify it. Their breakthrough, such as it was, came in the form of gaining access to the ship’s biometrics scanner, which finally gave them the means to study the Kryptonian DNA left on the ship in the form of stray hairs, skin flakes, and even a couple specks of dry blood that somehow found their way inside.
Kara can’t help but wonder who it belonged to; she knows it isn’t hers, because as harrowing as her escape was, she wasn’t hurt. Was it her mother’s? A little nick in her hand as she rushed to open the cockpit and stuff her inside, their world crumbling all around them? Was it her father’s, or uncle Jor-El’s? A cut they couldn’t even feel as they feverishly put together the tiny starships, foregoing what would’ve otherwise been essential security checks as they did the impossible and built salvation out of old prototypes and scrapped machines?
Was it the blood of some poor, unfortunate soul whose corpse she stepped over, who didn’t even get to die with the rest of their people, killed hours before by the civil war that burned the skies on Krypton’s final day?
She feels a small bump from Lena’s massive arm, which brings her back to reality as Simmons continues explaining the failed attempts at reproducing Kryptonian DNA. “...hybridization between humans and Kryptonians was thus deemed possible , but the only viable avenue for it would’ve been…well, directly taking the necessary reproductive material from a living source. Namely, you. ”
“...I can’t exactly say I’m shocked.” –Kara mutters. “But I am kinda grossed out by the implications.”
Not that it would’ve worked, she thinks.
“In fairness, it was only a logical conclusion of their research, never an established goal. They never actually tried to get authorization to obtain it, and if they had, I’m confident that Director Fury would’ve shot that idea down instantly.” –Simmons says. “I won’t say there aren’t any scientists in the agency that would be willing to experiment on or with children and teens if they had the chance, but Directors Carter and Fury have both vehemently opposed that avenue of research. As you know, we’re not even allowed to register the identities of underaged Enhanced individuals, nor can we actively track their activities by S.H.I.E.L.D. policy.”
“ I’m not sure I buy the good intentions angle, but I suppose it would be a colossally stupid idea to so blatantly invite Kara’s wrath, even for S.H.I.E.L.D. ”
Kara crosses her arms. “Jury’s out on that.” –she grouses. “Were any of the experiments successful, doctor? Any at all?”
Simmons purses her lips. “...in a manner of speaking. As the project’s attempts to replicate Kryptonian abilities stalled or failed outright, they sought out alternatives that could potentially receive the benefits of our limited understanding of Kryptonian enhancements: robots, humans with cybernetic implants, plant life…”
“And animals.” –the voice of Helen Cho pipes up, walking over to them from the entrance to the room, followed by a couple of blank-faced S.H.I.E.L.D. technicians pulling a cart with a box on top, covered with a thick cloth emblazoned with the agency’s eagle sigil. “Good to see you up and about, Ms. Danvers. I still have a hard time believing how quickly you recovered from your injuries.”
Kara chooses to ignore the now familiar twinge of her scars, shooting a glance at Simmons instead, who seems unsurprised to hear that the Girl of Steel is not as invulnerable as advertised – she must’ve been briefed on her encounter with Kryptonite, or at least learned about its existence from the project and came to the right conclusions. She certainly seems smart enough for it “That makes two of us, doctor. I assume that cart’s related to your comment?”
“Indeed.” –she says, dismissing the techs, who power walk out of the room. “When it became clear that human enhancement and Kryptonian cloning was beyond human science, S.H.I.E.L.D. spent a great deal of money and time attempting to replicate the effects of Kryptonian genetic recombination with thousands of animal species, the vast majority of which still failed to even get past the computer simulation stage. A dozen species showed some sort of potential, but in practice, only two species were found to be viable, in no small part due to our own established predilection for messing with their gene pools: Felis catus, the common house cat…and Canis familiaris, the domesticated dog.”
She gently takes off the cloth, and Kara’s eyes widen like dinner plates. Inside the box is probably the last thing she could’ve ever expected to find in this cold, sterile place: a puppy. A dog with pristine, snow-white fur sleepily raises its head, beady little black eyes with faint blue streaks radiating from the pupils blearily surveying the scene around it. “Behold the ultimate result of Project Kr.” –Doctor Cho says, unable to hide her own befuddlement from her voice. “Krypto the Superdog.”
Her heart skips a beat as the puppy locks eyes with her, and it tilts its head, sniffing the air. “He recognizes you.” –Dr. Cho says, like she’s confirming a hypothesis.
“I-I…what? How? ” –Kara breathes, in shock.
“Krypto was raised surrounded by images and audio recordings of you, as well as scent samples taken from your ship.” –Simmons explains. “He actually took over a year to develop in an artificial womb, much longer than expected, and certainly longer than standard canine pregnancies. Only when the project lead had the bright idea to expose it to sunlight, inspired by your rapid, solar-boosted healing from the Kryptonite wound, did the little guy finish ‘cooking’, so to speak. Krypto’s only a few weeks old.”
“You’re skipping a rather important part.” –Lena says, all but reading Kara’s mind. “How did ‘Krypto’ come to be in the first place? And what on Earth would S.H.I.E.L.D. want a Kryptonian DNA-spliced dog for?”
“Honestly? Something to show for the years of research.” –Simmons says, sounding conflicted. “Even though the simulations clearly indicated there was little chance of success, Project Kr produced dozens of specimens – none of which were viable. Krypto was the last, best hope, and even he had only a 52% chance of surviving the gestation period. Practically a coin toss.”
The puppy awkwardly rises from its curled up position, lazily stretching across the box. He’s roughly the size of a cantaloupe, and his fluffy fur makes him look rather like a stuffed animal. He trots over to the edge of the blanket-filled box, getting up on his hind legs, squishy front paws dangling over the edge as he continues to study her.
Kara hesitantly reaches out, meaning to pet its head, or perhaps even pick him up, but Krypto beats her to it – that is, by starting to float towards her.
“ ...you actually gave the dog Kryptonian powers? ” –Lena balks.
“We…are not entirely sure.” –Simmons admits, as Krypto wobbly floats up to her waiting arms, kicking his little legs like he’s doggy-paddling through the air. “He can obviously float, and his biometrics indicate he shares Kara’s invulnerability, but he’s exhibited no other abilities so far. It is, however, likely that any other powers would develop as he matures, same as it would’ve been the case for Kryptonians. Judging by Kara’s own development, he will have the full range of his powers by the time he reaches sexual maturity - maybe a year or so from now, assuming he’s regularly exposed to sunlight.”
The rational part of Kara’s brain knows exactly what this is – same as the celebrated war hero at the door, the ship that saved her life, front and center in the room, the friendly S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist walking her through all of this, and the constant reassurances, this whole charade was undoubtedly Nick Fury, top to bottom, trying his level best to keep her from justifiably blowing up about the downright disturbing nature of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s disposition towards her and everything she brought with her from her home universe. She knows she should be asking a lot more questions, and probably storming the Triskelion or his newly repaired Helicarrier – wherever he’s scurried off to – if she doesn’t get good enough answers.
And yet…the tiny, living miracle in her arms beckons, and between Krypto and the disorientation of coming face to face with the trauma in her past…she has to admit Fury’s tactics are kinda working.
Wouldn’t be Nick Fury if they didn’t, she supposes.
“...we had dogs.” –she finds herself saying, her voice distant, like a ghost. “On Krypton, I mean.”
Dr. Cho’s eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”
“That wasn’t part of the files on your ship.” –Simmons adds, irrepressible curiosity clear in her tone. “Though they were largely corrupted.”
“Yeah…” –she says, absently scratching behind Krypto’s floppy ear. “Hey, can you, um, give us the room? We can continue the debrief in a little while. I think I, um…I just need to sit down and process for a sec.”
“Oh!” –Simmons says, trying her best to hide her disappointment. She mostly succeeds. “Of course, Supergirl. Take as much time as you need.”
Kara tries to put Krypto back in the crate, but he buries himself tightly against her chest. “He’s yours, Kara – same as everything in this room. Keep him.” –Dr. Cho says, gently. “I think you could use the warmth – and I don’t just mean that because we’re in the goddamn Arctic Circle. ”
She nods, uncertain, as the women exit the converted vault and the blast doors shutter behind them. The GUARDIAN opens up, and Lena starts climbing down from its chest. “Lena…your identity?” –Kara notes.
“I’ve scrambled the monitoring equipment in the room.” –she says. “And given their general ‘step on eggshells’ attitude regarding you at the moment, I doubt they’ll be storming in here anytime soon. Besides, I fully expect my identity to be public sooner rather than later, given our track record. Don’t worry about me.”
“Small chance of that.” –Kara says, offering a hint of a hollow smirk.
Lena searches her eyes, pale green on electric blue. “Would asking if you’re okay be as trite as I feel it would be?”
“Probably.” –Kara says. “But ask it anyway.”
Lena pulls up a couple of nearby rolling stools, and she guides Kara to sit by the ship that saved her life. “So…are you okay?”
Kara ponders her reply for what’s probably an uncomfortably long amount of time. The last time she felt this vulnerable around Lena, she was literally slapped for her honesty – something that her body could barely feel but her heart was shattered to pieces by. They’re rather different people than they were a few years ago, of course, and their circumstances have undoubtedly changed to be practically unrecognizable, but the same way her mental hang-ups have apparently prevented her from accessing the full measure of her power, the same way that the memory of Krypton clutches at her throat, sucker punches her stomach, and seizes her lungs – the same way the very mention of Doom draws her hand to the scar in her abdomen, the ghost of the blade still running her through – the version of Kara that flew into the stratosphere, tears trailing behind her as she held her cheek, still exists somewhere within her.
Ultimately, she decides, and beyond the rest of her complicated feelings, she trusts Lena.
“Can I tell you a secret?” –Kara finally asks, running her free hand along the pockmarked silver metal of the ship.
“I should hope so, yes.”
She gives a mirthless chuckle. “I know, it’s just…it’s embarrassing . And not the ha-ha funny kind of embarrassing.” –she explains. Kara pauses, almost afraid that the ghosts of her people will hear her through time, space, and dimensions, and judge her for what she’s about to admit. “...I don’t think I remember Krypton very well.”
Lena’s eyebrows shoot up, but she makes no immediate comment. Kara shrinks into herself regardless. “I don’t like thinking about it. I hate admitting it. Saying it out loud feels like a betrayal , or-or a failure at the very least. And I guess I’ve always sort of known , in the back of my mind, that my memories of Krypton would fade with time – after all, I’m almost at the point where I’ve lived as long on Earth as I ever did back home – but the Black Mercy’s illusion really forced me to realize it.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t notice at first, but upon reflection…almost everything it showed me was of Earth.” –she says. “My home, the neighborhood and people around me…even the Kryptonian clothes I wore; the designs were right, from what I can recall seeing and wearing myself, but I could tell they were cotton, silk…Earth fabrics, y’know?”
She takes hold of her indestructible crimson cape, wrapping it around Krypto, who’s already curled up into a bundle of warm fur and fallen asleep again. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it, but…this planet’s materials aren’t somehow the only thing out there. They aren’t universal . There’s a lot of similarities, sure, and clothing can generally be trusted to be fairly similar across the various humanoid species, but some of the fabrics on Krypton felt completely different from anything I’ve worn here.”
Something sparks in her memory, and she taps at the ship’s control panel, which immediately hums to life under her touch. It makes her wonder, with a not insignificant amount of vindictiveness, how long it would’ve taken the scientists to activate it without her. A pang of unexpected melancholy hits her as a projector manifests a hologram of a robot servitor with a wide, flat, saucer-like head, long, spindly arms, and stubby legs that end in miniature thrusters to float around with. “Even Kelex here, who practically raised me as much as my parents did, became some kind of fused entity with JARVIS.”
“Maybe it was just recency bias.” –Lena suggests, trying her best not to be distracted by the casual display of interdimensional alien technology in front of her. “Maybe that wretched thing grabbed the last few years of memories and built the scenario out of them.”
Kara shakes her head. “I wish that was the case, Lena. But it doesn’t work that way – that I remember.” –she says, wincing at the memory of aunt Astra and uncle Non being packed into cramped live-in coffins and sent to the infamous Fort Rozz, the hideous psychic plants strapped to their chests. “The Black Mercy shows you nothing more and nothing less than your deepest desires – no fleeting fancies, no short-term gratification…no matter what you might otherwise pretend or truly think you want, the illusion cuts through to the core of your being and builds a world from what it finds there.”
Lena blushes, pink dusting her cheeks. Given that she knows what Kara’s Black Mercy world looked like, this is tantamount to a confession. Kara continues on. “I want Krypton back – my family, my people, my home . I don’t think that’ll change for as long as I live.” –she says. “But…I think it’s also painfully obvious that my connection with it has faded. I remember my parents, my aunts and uncles. I remember baby Kal-El squirming in my arms, clear as day. But our customs, the places I grew up in, the animals and plants of my homeworld…even our language? It’s like for every day I live on Earth, I lose a day lived on Krypton – and unless I figure out a way to travel back to this …Earth-16, or whatever Doom called it…I don’t think I’m getting those memories back.”
She lets those words hang heavy in the air, focusing on Krypto’s slow breathing, staring at the rather cramped cockpit she once fit in, somehow. Her gaze drifts to the back of the vessel, which bears a significant scorch mark, a whole panel turned to long since cooled slag – was that where Doom blasted the ship, to change her course towards the Phantom Zone portal that brought her here? And that jagged tear in the metal nearby, would that be where the Kryptonite lodged itself? The one thing that can definitively kill her, packaged into the ship that saved her from oblivion, an unwanted souvenir of armageddon?
“Well…” –Lena says. “Maybe you could talk to me about it. Keep the memory alive that way.”
“Talking about Krypton hurts, Lena.” –she says, wincing at the stark tone of her voice. “I can talk to you all live-long-day about the Green Lantern Corps of Oa and the Guardians of the Universe who created their Power Rings, the gorgeous orange-skinned and green-eyed felid people of Tamaran, the constant conflict between Rann and Thanagar, the insectoid legions of the Reach, the debauchery and corruption of Rimbor, and so on, and so forth. But Krypton…? I don’t know if the words will come out. Don’t know if I want them to, rather.”
Lena purses her lips, like she’s wrestling with herself. “At the risk of bringing up your worst memories of me…they did come out, once. Until I stopped you, and ruined everything between us.”
Kara winces. “...I don’t know if we should have either of these conversations right now.”
“I think we should.” –Lena says, implacable as always. “Because I believe they are actually just the one.”
“...I’m listening.” –Kara says. “I guess.”
Lena leans forward. “You’re hurt, Kara. Kryptonite aside, you may be as physically invulnerable as they come, but I’ve always known you to be a sensitive soul, and you’ve taken wound after wound after wound, ever since you were a child. You survived the end of the world, for chrissakes! The extinction of your entire species! I don’t think I could function, if I were in your place, let alone be the awe-inspiring heroine that you’ve become. Christ, if I had witnessed what you have, I might’ve taken my own life. ” –she says, haunted. “And yet you feel this need to put up a front as impregnable as your skin – you plaster on that so very darling smile of yours and bend over backwards to reassure the rest of us that everything will be alright, when you aren’t, and I think by now it’s clear that you haven’t been for a long time.”
Kara doesn’t know what to say – Lena’s never been one to mince words, but this kind of emotionally charged ranting is kind of unprecedented for her. The ravenette sighs. “May I take my turn at the confessional booth?”
She nods, mutely. Lena closes her eyes. “When we met again…I was terrified. It felt like decades ago, another life entirely, but I had once known, and much to my chagrin, I had once loved Kara Danvers – the epitome of the happy-go-lucky, girl-next-door archetype brought to life. Always smiling, ready to offer a kind word or a lame joke, perpetually looking forward to whatever life could throw at her. Cardigans, board games, and pot stickers.” –she says, fondly. “And now, before me, stood this …exalted version of the woman I’d once known, as if you’d undergone apotheosis – a figure chiseled from marble like the gods of old, bearing the honors of her House, dressed to reflect her new status as one of the larger than life icons of this era. And I could see the wrath in your eyes, the scorn and, yes, the hurt that justifiably remained from our last encounter. For a second – an utterly shameful moment, rivaled only by my cruel rejection of you, and of my true self – I genuinely feared you might kill me where I stood.”
She tries her best, but Kara’s unable to hide the shock in her expression. Lena holds up a hand before she can protest. “And then you did what you do best. Saved OsCorp from itself, saved the teenage vigilante in the spider pajamas. Saved me, later on, when my reckless choices almost got me killed – and almost got killed yourself for your trouble. And then…nothing.”
Kara frowns. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”
“After everything that happened to you, after everything you suffered…you carried on, business as usual. Maybe your smile was a little lacking, and your patience was a bit shorter than usual, but you plunged right into the Labyrinth of Greek myth to chase down your would-be killer like you were checking into your 9-to-5.” –Lena says. “Truth be told, you sort of left me waiting, Kara. I expected you to seek some retribution for what I’d done to you once the immediate crisis was resolved, braced for the dressing down I deserved, and…nothing. You’ve taken me on a beautiful cruise over the North American tundra, you’ve let me in on such a private moment as this, and I would bet my shiny new stock options in Stark Industries that, if the damn chimera dog hadn’t given you a minor crisis, and me the valor to voice my concerns, you would’ve continued on without taking a single moment to breathe in what little remains of your past . ”
“I’ve already forgiven you, Lena.” –Kara says, almost too quickly. “Even just after it happened, I knew why you’d done it. I couldn’t fault you for it.”
“You really could’ve, Kara. And perhaps you should’ve. ” –Lena counters. “You’ve let me off the hook and I do not feel like I’ve done enough to deserve it. God, but it makes me feel like I don’t deserve you, Kara, no matter how much I want to. And it’s not just me; how many people have hurt you, truly harmed you, that you’ve let off the hook? My father printing nigh-on libelous drivel about you every other day, second only to Spider-Man? Nick Fury creating what almost became a murder weapon out of fear and a truly disturbing lack of trust?”
Lena shakes her head. “Kara, I think the only person who’s legitimately earned your hatred is Victor von Doom, and I still would not be surprised if you told me you harbored some genuine admiration for the man who almost killed you.”
Kara cringes, because…it’s true. Even through all the pent-up rage, and the simmering horror at what he’s put her through, a small and quiet, but nevertheless present part of herself can’t help but be a little bit in awe at what the man has accomplished, at what he can do against even the mightiest heroes on the planet. It makes her sick to think about, and Lena bringing it up doesn’t help.
“Well, what the hell would you have me do, Lena?” –she demands.
Lena extends her hand. “ Talk to me, for starters? I’m a grown-ass woman, Kara, I can take it. I want you to feel free to be honest with me. What do you want to do?”
Kara scowls. “Well, the real question is: what can I do? Seriously Lena, what? Every moment, every second I have spent on this planet, I’ve had to hold back and restrain myself because, news flash, 99.9% of the creatures and objects on Earth might as well be made of paper maché to me.”
Kara swiftly buries her face in her hands, hiding the briefest flash of her glowing eyes. If Krypto’s bothered by the sudden motion, he doesn’t show it, still dozing away. “What do you think would happen if I decided to storm into the Bugle and give Jonah a piece of my mind? You know him better than I do, so tell me: how long do you think it would take for him to grab that ‘decorative’ 12-gauge mounted on the wall behind him and hurt himself, or someone else, trying to defend himself from me?”
She can feel the heat from her eyes on her palms – not quite blasting out, but definitely ready to go. “You think we’d be standing here if I’d decided I wasn’t in a forgiving mood about the Kryptonite? You don’t think I know Fury probably has a nuke or two with my name on it, just in case? You think I trust him to have given up all the Kryptonite he had? Even if that was the case, there is absolutely zero chance he didn’t set his people on figuring out a way to reproduce the effects, just in case. ”
She grits her teeth, reining in her powers. “And the truth is, I can’t blame him. How can I, being who I am? I can’t blame Jonah, or even you. I don’t get to be mad, Lena. I couldn’t even punch my frustrations out on a goddamn pillow if I wanted to without blowing straight through the bed, the floor, and the whole damn house underneath, too.”
She looks back up, the heat gone and the danger past. “I have nightmares about this. About…retaliating. Almost every time I dream, if it isn’t the usual, grotesque play by play of my last minutes on Krypton, it’s a crushed hand, from misjudging the grip. It’s a broken clavicle from an instinctive shove. My fist through a supervillain’s chest, from thinking them stronger than they truly were.” –she says, haunted. She meets Lena’s gaze. “...I’ve slapped you back, once or twice. How do you think that goes?”
Lena looks appropriately horrified at the notion. It breaks Kara’s heart, the way this supposed ‘date’ has gone, but…well, Lena wanted this. Honesty. And even through this terrible feeling, there is a glimmer of relief, in finally confiding this awful aspect of her existence with someone. Alex knows some, but Kara has always tried to protect her from the cruder aspects of her trauma – Kara’s pretty sure Alex has seen some awful things in her time as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but she doesn’t want to be the source of more.
Kara winces. “I’m sorry. I-I know it’s an awful thing to say, much less imagine. But…well, you know how I feel about you. A-And y’know, if we switched places…I think this is the kind of thing I’d like to know. I understand if that changes the way you see me. If it’s, y’know, a dealbreaker.”
“For heaven’s sake, Kara, my look of horror is not because I’m picturing my skull and gray matter splattering away at supersonic speeds. Not that I appreciate the mental picture, mind you.” –Lena finally says, rather flatly. “It’s because you’ve had to endure it on your own.”
The ravenette shakes her head. “I truly don’t understand how you became the person that you are. That part, I admit to – and you know how much I hate not being able to understand a new concept. But this macabre little corner of your mind isn’t nearly enough to make me change my mind about you. We’ve all got our demons, even if you choose to bury yours under kindness and understanding.”
Lena rises from her seat and closes the distance, embracing Kara so hard that she’s glad the puppy in her arms is indestructible. Krypto whines, breaking the spell, woken up by the jostling. The two of them separate, with Lena giving the dog the stink-eye (playfully, of course).
Kara hums, giving Krypto her finger to teeth on and wrestle with. “I try to be kind and understanding because that’s the person I wanna be, but…I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a self-defense mechanism, too. I can’t afford to be angry, most of the time, so I have to find ways to avoid it.”
“You deserve to be mad, Kara. You deserve to feel rage, like the rest of us. I don’t exactly know how, but there has to be a way for you to vent out your frustrations without hurting anyone. This is a start, but we can do better; there isn’t a problem out there that doesn’t have at least one solution.” –Lena says, firmly. “And, y’know, I’m rather good at solving problems.”
“Thank you, Lena.” –she says. “I’m sorry about all of this. Probably should’ve known it was a bad idea for a first date, huh?”
Lena shrugs. “All my previous dates have been with men, so it wouldn’t exactly be fair to compare. I’m just glad I can be with you, here and now, without my ex-Catholic hackles rising.”
Kara nods. “Do you…” –she says, and she kind of can’t believe she’s actually offering to go through with it. “Do you still want to hear about Krypton?”
Lena reaches out and holds her free hand. “I interrupted you once, Kara, and I regretted it for years. I’m more than happy to listen to you now.”
“You sure? I won’t hold it against you, I promise. It’s just…once I start, I…might not be able to stop.”
“Love, I am about to hear about an alien planet from another universe. About the culture and people that raised you. I might not let you stop myself. ”
Kara blushes. She takes in a deep breath, and centers herself by focusing on small, harmless details. The flecks of amber in the green of Lena’s eyes. The tiniest pinpricks of Krypto’s indestructible fangs on her similarly unbreakable skin. The cold, stale air in the room, the barest hint of the scent of burnt metal and fried electronics still lingering on her ship.
“Krypton…” –she says, forlorn, one final moment. And then she takes the plunge.
“Krypton was the fourth planet from the red star, Rao. It was a shimmering green and red pearl in the firmament, crowned by four great moons – Agoron, Wegthor, Koron, and Xenon.” –she begins, her voice shaky, the names uncomfortably foreign on her tongue. She’s heard humans who speak two or more languages complain, self-conscious and embarrassed, about being rusty and out of practice, and she understands them perfectly in this moment. There’s a bit of selfish comfort in knowing Lena can’t judge her for it, not knowing any better, but…the ghosts of Krypton can and will, she’s sure of it.
A stray memory saves her from the spiral, and a small smile graces her lips. “I don’t really remember how the math worked out, but there were always at least two moons in the sky. I remember being so excited on the rare occasions that all four would be visible at once, every two years or so – there was a festival based on the old faith, about Rao’s courting of Yuda, the goddess of the moons, and the story was about the sun god learning to love the lunar goddess, falling for each of her very different facets. Couples trying to get together would wear these beautiful headdresses, one with this crazy cool, animated flaming corona for the one who courted, and a rotating four-faced helm for the courted party. Very romantic.”
Lena hums. She clearly wants to speak, but Kara promised a monologue, and she means to deliver. Lena must be remembering her rushed, ill-fated explanation of who she was and where she came from. “I know, I told you relationships weren’t exactly a thing for Kryptonians.”
She nods, pleasantly surprised at the correct interpretation. “Honestly, I’m surprised that you remember any part of that conversation, but then again, you’ve always had a really good memory.” –Kara notes, then sighs. “There was nothing in our laws or traditions specifically forbidding romance. Sex, too. On a personal basis, people were free to be and love whomever they wanted. But Kryptonians were …uninterested in love, and had been for centuries by the time I was born. Like actually worshipping the old faith, it was considered antiquated, even obsolete to fall in love, to form a family. The government just…took care of it.”
Kara leans back to rest on the ship, as Krypto dozes off again. “The government was in control of virtually every facet of life on Krypton and the colonies, from food to reproduction. It wasn’t a bloodline thing, not really; they had established some kind of system or algorithm gods know how many centuries prior that dictated what kind of Kryptonian was needed at any given time – a Lawmaker, a Warrior, a Scientist, an Artist, a Priest, or a Laborer. Before a baby was even conceived, the government would assign them to one of the six corresponding guilds, and the person’s education would be focused on training them to take on their given role, once they came of age.”
“I was slated for the Lawmaker’s Guild, originally. I would’ve been a zyv– er, a Judicator, like my mom. But when I turned ten, something unheard of happened: I was switched. ” –she says.
She closes her eyes for a moment, faintly remembering her shock at discovering her fate had been changed – it seems so…small now, so far away it might as well be someone else’s story she’s telling. “The House of El was celebrated for its brilliant scientists and lawmakers – we were of high status, integral to the most prestigious organizations in the Empire. Even before Krypton abandoned its conquering ways and became an insular society, my ancestors had rarely been warriors…and now I would be forced to become one. Call it luck, or the system knowing our strengths, my designation as a warrior was an obvious, intentional punishment for my family, for daring to disrupt the status quo. For Kal-El’s existence, and uncle Jor-El’s discovery, which…I guess means it’s time to talk about my family.”
A wave of melancholy washes over her, as she thinks of her only living relative, as far as she’s aware, entire universes apart. Grief follows, as the faintest echo of her mother’s warmth and the reassuring tone of her father’s voice visit her mind, for too short a moment. “I feel like I’m about to give a eulogy.” –she admits, nervous. “And…maybe that is the right way to go about it. I never got to bury anyone, after all. There’s no gravestone I can visit, or an urn I can stop by and greet every morning. Beautiful death customs, humanity’s.”
At Lena’s questioning look, she shrugs. “Kryptonians were given to the Sun, literally. Burnt in a pyre as an offering to Rao in ancient times, the anonymous bones left to the wilds, but in my day, the bodies of our dead were launched directly into Rao’s scarlet embrace. Huge coffin ships would collect the remains and send them sailing towards our star every lorax. They would also load the ships with some kind of chemical that would tint the solar winds green on contact, just for a second, a great emerald flash visible from the planet’s surface that would signify their acceptance into the afterlife.”
Lena tilts her head at the familiar Kryptonian word, and Kara cringes, knowing exactly why. “Oh, a lorax is a Kryptonian month. I, um, I realize it’s also the name of a character in a children’s book here on Earth. It was a little confusing, growing up.” –she admits, chagrined. “I’ll dig up the time sheet I made while I was learning human time measurements. Ah, and…I guess I should bring up the fact that I’m technically twenty-four, not twenty.”
“...I’m sorry, what? ” –Lena blurts out, finally failing to contain herself, and scowling for it.
Kara chuckles, a bit of levity easing the weight off her shoulders just a little. So much for the monologue. “Yeah, sorry. I was twelve when I left Krypton. But, um…those were twelve Kryptonian years – which are called amzeto, by the way. I made the calculations just a few weeks after I got placed with the Danverses; a Kryptonian year came out to about 1.37 Earth years, so I was almost sixteen and a half years old by human standards. I was kind of a scrawny sixteen, though, before my big solar-boosted growth spurt a couple years later. And trying to reckon Kryptonian and human timekeeping gave everyone a migraine, so I just pretended I was twelve by local standards, picked the day of my landing as a birthday, and, y’know, it’s been eight years since then. So, yeah…twenty four and a half, in human years, just over eighteen by Kryptonian standards – either way, I’m of age, so, um…no worries on that front.”
Lena laughs, a little hysterically, which makes Kara frown with concern. “I’m fine, Kara, I promise. It’s simply caught me a little off guard – it’s such a small detail, but so very alien, too. In a way that hardly ever comes across from you.”
“Oh. I, er…sorry.” –Kara says. “I can stop, if you want.”
“No, please continue.” –Lena says. “Not my place to say, perhaps, but I believe you’ve promised your family a eulogy – and I really would love to hear about your people.”
“...I’m delaying, aren’t I?” –she shakes her head. “Sorry. Like I said, this is… really painful to talk about.”
Another deep breath. Another frigid waterfall to plunge down into.
“My mother was named Alura In-Ze. She was one of Krypton’s foremost Judicators – the judges and lawmakers of our society. She had a twin sister, named Astra – a, um…a fiery spirit, to put it mildly. She was married to uncle Non. I, uh…I never liked him much.” –she says, scrunching her nose, somewhat amused. “Anyway, mom was amazing. She couldn’t cook at all – Kelex handled meals, most of the time, and my dad would pitch in every couple weeks or so, when he wasn’t too busy in the lab. But she loved to bake – she would’ve gotten along with Eliza like a house on fire, I think.”
“She kept a lot of sadness inside.” –Kara recalls. “She didn’t like to show it, but even though she was really good at her job, she didn’t like it – the judicial aspect, at least. Krypton had long since outlawed the death penalty, or even prisons as humans understand them. Crimes like misdemeanors were handled with community service, like they are here, but more serious offenses, like kidnapping or murder…there were really only two options; the Black Mercy, or the Phantom Zone. Either way, a life sentence. That’s what happened to Aunt Astra and Uncle Non.”
Lena frowns. “What did they do?”
“They believed Uncle Zor-El’s claims about Krypton’s upcoming doom right away – they already hated the establishment, so I was never really sure if it was a convenient excuse to start a rebellion, or if they genuinely believed becoming terrorists was the right way to get the Council to do something. They, um, brought down a warship from orbit while some of the Council members were on board. They killed thousands of people, both crew and innocents on the ground. They were caught in a matter of days, and my mother was forced to sentence her own sister to an eternity in the Black Mercy’s embrace.”
Kara stares off into nothingness. “Mom was never the same after that. She couldn’t seem to focus most of the time, and her parents…they couldn’t exactly blame her, but they still stopped talking to her. Maybe it’s a little petty of me, but…I’m not that sorry about not remembering them very well.” –she admits. “Mom’s the one I remember best. Partly because I spent a lot of time with her and Aunt Astra growing up, and they looked pretty much identical, but also because…she was the last person I ever saw from Krypton. She sent me off while dad spent his last few precious moments getting Kal-El’s ship ready.”
Remember us, her mother had said, an agonized mixture of joy, terror, love, and heartbreak permeating her features, and we’ll always be with you. She’s kind of failed at it, evidently, little by little, but this…this is hopefully the start of finally, consciously making good on that promise.
“What about your dad?” –Lena gently prompts, after a few moments too long spent in silence.
“My father was named Zor-El.” –Kara says. “Second son of the House of El.”
“I notice his name makes up half of yours.”
She nods. “That was the custom. The males of our species were identified by their affiliation with a given House out of ancient, vestigial tradition – in this case, the House of El. The females had their given name and the name of their father as a last name. So I’m Kara, daughter of Zor of the House of El, and my mom and aunt were Alura and Astra, daughters of In of the House of Ze.” –she explains.
“Pretty short names all around, I see. And kind of an Icelandic way to go about naming people, particularly women. Though I’m surprised it’s so …binary, considering what you’ve told me about Krypton’s attitudes towards self-identification. What about people who weren’t part of a traditional family? Or identified differently themselves?”
Kara shrugs. “The House of El stuck to tradition, but again, you didn’t have to. A nonbinary person might pick a traditionally female name but proudly feature their House as part of their name. The male scion of a House could forgo their connection to it if there was a falling out. A person undergoing gender transition might’ve adopted the proper naming convention after reassignment. Kryptonian society didn’t really care what you did in your home or in your personal life – just as long as you fulfilled your assigned purpose towards the functioning of the Empire, of course.”
There’s a bitterness there that’s worth pondering, Kara thinks. Krypton’s destruction is a tragedy, no matter how you spin it, but there’s also no forgetting that the Empire was actively collapsing in on itself, even without the geological catastrophe. She ran past many dead bodies in her rush home, those final few minutes – how many died from the debris of the city shaking itself to pieces around her, and how many were killed by manic soldiers and desperate rebels shooting each other with little rhyme or reason in a meaningless final battle?
Kara clears her throat, the silence growing slightly uncomfortable. “A-anyway, my dad was a scientist. He was one of the best, too – he’d even been a member of the High Council for a short time, before his older brother, Uncle Jor-El, discovered the planet’s catastrophic tectonic instability, and the ridicule and scorn of their fellow scientists turned my uncle into a pariah, and my dad a ‘sentimental fool’ for supporting him.” –she describes. “He was already kind of ‘on notice’ for enabling Kal-El’s birth – the first naturally conceived child of Krypton in centuries – so this was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
“Truly? How was everyone else conceived? In-vitro fertilization?”
“No, not quite.” –Kara recalls, racking her brain for that information. “The Empire kept a comprehensive catalogue of every Kryptonian’s genetic sequence. I can’t remember the name of it, sorry.” –she says, pursing her lips. “When two or more Kryptonians got together and decided to have a baby, they would make a request with the government, and it would combine their DNA to produce their offspring, eliminating any congenital diseases and assigning them a Guild path. The child would gestate in an artificial womb and eventually be delivered to their parents.” –she describes, to Lena’s mild horror. “That’s how I was born, of course, same as the rest of my family, save for Kal. I was so fascinated by Aunt Lara’s pregnancy – it seemed about as alien as Tamaranean puberty to me. I still find it a little wild, I’ll admit, even though I know it’s the norm for humans.”
“Sounds dystopian as all hell.” –Lena notes. “What about accidental births?”
Kara winces. “There…weren’t any. We were chemically sterilized upon reaching sexual maturity – precisely so we wouldn’t have babies outside of the carefully controlled population system.” –she says. “I received the treatment a year or so before the end, so…can’t have kids the usual way.”
Lena balks. “You sound like you’re discussing the weather, Kara. I’m not gonna pretend like I have a particularly healthy relationship with motherhood, myself, but your government took away your reproductive rights, wholesale . That’s insane. ”
“It’s not like I knew any better, growing up, not until Kal-El came about. And it’s not like Krypton’s High Council is still around for me to take it out on them.” –she says, darkly. “You’d hear rumors about other species, about our ancestors, and the way they had children before. But the propaganda was everywhere, and it was drilled into you since birth – that the Kryptonian way of life was best, scientifically optimized, perfected. Only upon coming to Earth, did I realize how …sterile life on Krypton could be.”
She sighs. “I’m not saying it’s okay now, but…I made my peace with the idea of not having children of my own a long time ago.” –she says, neutrally. “I just found out today that humans and Kryptonians can produce viable offspring – hybrid sapients out in space aren’t somehow more common than the few animal hybrids you can find on Earth, it’s a super rare phenomenon even between humanoids. It just doesn’t work that way. The idea of never having kids…it was a little sad, sure, but it was just completely blown out of the water by the loss of my family and my homeworld. I haven’t thought about it in years. Plus, I’m big on adoption, for obvious reasons, so I just figured that would be the plan for me, if I ever decided I wanted to be a mother.”
“Would you?” –Lena finds herself asking. “Want to be a mother, I mean.”
Kara pauses, pondering the rather unexpected question. Her first instinct is to say yes, without much hesitation, but…well, she’s experienced so much loss in her rather short life that she’s honestly not sure if she could handle the prospect of having that risk hanging over her head – especially in as dangerous a career path as she’s chosen. She can’t help but think of her mom’s twisted grimace, a mortuary mask of sorts as she tearfully waved goodbye upon her takeoff, or her father’s all too brief glance back at her, as he helped Jor-El put the finishing touches on Kal’s ship.
Something awful gnaws at the back of her mind, thinking about her last memory of her dad. She puts it away for now, as best she can.
“I honestly don’t know, Lena. All I can think about with that question is my parents having to send me off, not knowing if I’d even survive – knowing for a fact that they were about to die. A-and even before that…that last year or so…my dad was so scared, almost all the time. He wasn’t as certain as his brother, didn’t see the pattern quite as clearly, but I think he knew we were doomed as a civilization, even if the planet miraculously stayed in one piece. He knew I didn’t have a future, that I wouldn’t have a chance to live a normal teenage life – or whatever passed for it on Krypton. He tried to put on a brave face for me, I could tell, but his smile just…it wouldn’t reach his eyes.”
…and there it is, that terrible realization she’s been putting off, springing forth from the back of her mind. What color were his eyes?, a seemingly innocent but cruel and vindictive voice asks of her, the simplest of questions – with an answer she’s coming up short on.
A sudden intake of air chokes her up. “...oh.” –she finds herself whispering. She remembers, right? People always said she had her father’s eyes, but…she remembers that it wasn’t true. Her mom would always correct people, in fact. She remembers that her eyes were identical to Kal’s, not her dad’s. Similar, maybe, but not quite the same.
So, what color were his eyes?
“ Fuck. ” –she curses. She has to remember. Her eyes frantically dart around – the room’s color palette of blues, whites, and greys surely has a close enough match, right?
Lena’s eyebrows might as well be strapped to the GUARDIAN’s jet boots, they shoot up so quickly. “What just happened?”
She barely hears the question, because she doesn’t find anything in this stupid room that sparks her memory. She can feel herself reaching out for a memory in her mind, but there’s nothing there – nothing concrete, nothing reliable, nothing she can grasp and hold onto. The vague outline of a face, the hazy idea of blue matching her gaze. Worse still, the more she digs, the more she realizes she’s missing; did her father sport a beard? Did he wear a bythozh in his last moments, as he normally used to?
Kara doesn’t know whether to sob or cackle in sheer disbelief. Why the fuck does she remember the Kryptonian word for the simple crowns worn by the scions of a House, but not the color of her father’s eyes?
“I-I can’t remember.” –she says, admitting defeat, her breaths turning short and panicked. “Why can’t I remember!?”
Lena frowns. “Well, what is it you’re trying to remember?”
“His face Lena!” –she yells, in abject desperation. “I can’t remember my dad’s face! ”
She gets up, suddenly, startling Krypto out of his slumber. He starts whining and yipping, trying to grab her attention, but she’s already spiraling. “How is that possible? How is that fair!? And it’s not just that, either!” –she rants. “I just remembered my grandfather was named In-Ze, and it’s only because I explained the structure of our names to you. I remembered how to translate zyvium as ‘judicator’ at the very last second. And what if my mom hadn’t had a twin? Would I have forgotten her face, too!?”
At some point, she let go of Krypto, who now awkwardly floats around her like a wayward moon. It doesn’t escape her notice that, if the poor puppy didn’t have powers, she probably would’ve dropped him in her panic – summarily out of character for her, to say the least.
“ Fuck! ” –she shouts, pushing herself away from the ship, which falls off the supports that held it aloft and crashes strepitously to the metal floor beneath. “What the fuck am I even doing here!? I’m giving you a stupid history lesson on our fucked-up society, like I’m being interviewed for a fucking documentary! Why do I remember that, and not the way I decorated my room, my favorite food, or the names of my school friends? Why can’t I remember the shit that actually fucking mattered to me!? ”
Lena gingerly reaches out and rubs her arm, trying to calm her down. “No one can blame you, Kara. We all start forgetting our childhoods as we grow up. You can’t be expected to be the sole record keeper for an entire civilization.”
Kara tearfully glares at her. Part of her regrets it immediately, but stopping her venting feels about ten times as hard as it was to haul an alien capital ship into orbit. “No? There’s no one else, Lena! Even if I was able to tell you every single detail I can remember, it’d be a horribly incomplete picture. You wouldn’t know Krypton, not like I used to.” –she rants.
She glances at Lena, catching the hurt in her face, then scoffs. “...y’know, it’s a good fucking thing that you cut me off when I was telling you about my past back then before I could realize just how much I’ve forgotten, because if you’d slapped me after going through this, I might’ve flown right into space and looked for a nice, cozy black hole to die in. ”
It’s an awful thing to say, and she’s fairly sure she doesn’t even mean it, but the hot flash of catharsis is undeniable – as is her instantly deflating anger, her shoulders drooping as Krypto finally finds his way back into her arms, shooting her a quizzical look before curling up and resuming his dozing almost immediately.
“...that was too much.” –Kara says, choked up. “I’m sorry.”
“...it didn’t seem like ‘too much’.” –Lena says, neutrally. “Seemed like precisely what you needed, if anything. And deserved, like I said earlier. One might argue I literally asked for this – even if I don’t particularly care for how it felt to hear your genuine thoughts on the matter.”
“I guess some of it was genuine. But I really have forgiven you, and the dying thing…” –she shakes her head. “...I’ve never actually had a death wish. I get why other people might, in my place – it’s brutal, to think about Krypton for anything longer than a moment, and realizing how much more of it I’ve already lost…well, you got to witness that reaction firsthand.”
“I’m sorry Kara, I truly am.” –Lena says. “But…that’s how memory works. That’s how history works. Here, and there, and everywhere, we try our best to remember – the good, the bad, and everything in between – but we can never know for certain. Even people with so-called photographic memory can forget. Our view of the past can never be completely accurate, and it’s not fair to yourself to expect otherwise.”
Kara sighs. “I know. I know. You’re right. It just…it feels like I’ve ditched Krypton for Earth, even if it wasn’t intentional. And this…remembrance thing we’re doing, it feels so petty and small. Like, logically, I understand that more people remembering even an incomplete picture of Krypton is better than nothing, but I can’t help but wonder what my people would think of their story being told by someone who desperately wishes she could remember more of her family and life as a twelve-year-old than their history and culture.”
“Well, I certainly can’t speak for the people of Krypton.” –Lena says. “But I can’t imagine anyone would hold your love of your family and home against you.”
Just then, Krypto snores. “ ...fascinating .” –Lena says, sarcastically. “The superdog is narcoleptic.”
Kara chuckles. “Sure seems like it. He’s really cute, isn’t he?”
Lena scrunches up her nose. “More of a cat person, myself. But I suppose he’s too adorable to deny, yes. Even if he is the result of amoral experimentation.”
“For once, I guess I can’t be too angry at S.H.I.E.L.D. for their dubious ways.” –Kara admits. “Not just because I guess I have a pet now, but because…they reminded me that we had dogs. I don’t really know how it’s possible – the same sort of convergent evolution that makes me seamlessly fit in as a human, maybe. And we didn’t have a million different breeds like you guys do, I don’t think. But we had canines of our own, and they were just as much a part of our families as dogs continue to be man’s best friend on Earth.”
She sniffles, burying her face in Krypto’s warm, fluffy fur. He kinda smells like corn chips, which is probably indicative of him needing a bath, but she somehow finds it comforting, even endearing. “Thank you, Lena. For being here. For listening. For…everything.”
Lena gives her an awkward half-hug, careful not to disturb the puppy again. It kinda turns into them resting their foreheads on each other’s, which she thinks is a good compromise.
“You cursed.” –Lena notes. “You never curse.”
“Yeah, well…that’s on purpose. Now you see why I try not to get too angry.” –she says, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
“Of course. Whatever will the small children say, if they hear the Supergirl say the F-word?” -she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Kara snorts. “I’m less worried about the children than I am about the parents, frankly.”
Lena hums. “I should get back in the armor. Your ship crashing to the ground followed by silence is probably cause enough for them to burst in any second, and I don’t particularly fancy the idea of facing Dum Dum Dugan without a few inches of titanium alloy separating us.”
“Good point.” –she says, as she awkwardly lifts the ship back up. “Hey, I know this was a complete bust, but…do you wanna go out? Like, actually go out, just you and me, no superhero business, no excuses or ulterior motives?”
Lena smiles, climbing into the suit. “You beat me to it, love. Tell you what: pick a day, and I’ll plan the whole affair.”
Kara smiles. “It’s a date, then.”
As the GUARDIAN seals back up, Kara notices that a tiny, coin-sized panel on her ship’s dashboard has opened, and a tiny sliver of silver metal pops out. She takes it, examining it closely – it’s a small, tapered cylinder, roughly two inches in length, reminiscent of a bullet’s shape. On the flat end, the symbol of her House is proudly displayed, while the metal on the sides becomes transparent to reveal a tiny, glowing crystal, the size of a single grain of rice.
She has absolutely no idea what it is. One final gift from her parents, from her lost culture, perhaps. But now, at least, she can find out.
Dugan and a small army of troopers all but burst into the repurposed vault, guns and melee weapons at the ready. Whatever they expected to find is probably not what they next encounter – Kara and the GUARDIAN standing before a now clearly crooked Kryptonian vessel, their heads bowed in respect.
Supergirl barely reacts to their presence, calmly petting Krypto’s fluffy head. “Dugan. Gentlemen.” –she says, diplomatically. “Care to join us in a moment of silence for Krypton and its ghosts?”